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I massaged the pad of my fingers on her clit in slow circles. I felt the tension building in her core when I plunged back inside. Swollen and very sensitive, I fluttered my tongue on her flesh like she was dying for me to do since she’d been exposed to me, or perhaps, before I was wedged between her legs. Her gaze latched onto me, almost as if she was unable to look away. She was fighting the calm before the storm as I feverishly flicked my tongue on her pussy until she rippled around my finger. Then I covered her cleft with my mouth. Closing her legs on either side of my face, her orgasm was violent as my face shook against her folds. Muffled screams clashed with the loud silence that had dominated the room.
As her legs fell wide open, she moved the pillow from her face, peering at me while she bit down on the bottom of her trembling lips. I washed my hands at the sink and she looked up at the ceiling; bliss filled her face.
“That’s how it is,” Mariska commented, her voice coming out drowsy.
I pivoted around to watch her. Sheets were wrapped around her waist as she finger combed her hair. She looked like I fucked her. Not like I’d given her some tongue and finger action.
“You’ve never had it like that?” I teased her and wiped my hand on the hand towel that was hung above the sink.
I bet those preppy boys she liked to date didn’t know the first thing about how to serve a woman. They just wanted to get it in and then call it a night. But, then again, Mariska didn’t act like the type of woman who would tolerate a guy who’d only gotten himself off. The prospect of sinking into her sent a thrill down my spine, the sensation traveling to my groin.
She diverted her gaze and slid from her bed, padding toward her closet where her tie dye bathrobe hung. “Not quite.” Her response came out shaky as she picked imaginary lint from the fabric.
When her stopped and headed to her bed again, I blocked her from moving. My suspicion that she was hedging made me feel like my stomach was lodged in my throat.
Chapter 8
Mariska
HUNTER LOOMED OVER ME. My dress almost pooled at my feet. The bed sheets that had covered me were on the floor. As he picked the sheets up and threw them back on my bed, I tugged the strings of my dress on my shoulder. There weren’t any stains and it hadn’t wrinkled. I wanted to look composed. One minute he’d been talk
ing about his friend and I’d observed how much he saw himself in his friend. Then, all of my senses had short-circuited. I didn’t hate him and I didn’t believe that I ever had.
“Have you ever had any kind of sex?”
I tried to resist how much heat flared between the apex of my thighs from how close he was to me. I was drowning in the depths of need and nervousness, but his instant hold over my shoulders was unyielding.
I hesitated for a minute and then I responded, “No, Hunter. I haven’t had any kind of sex with anyone.”
Steering from my arms, Hunter’s expression was loathing. He retrieved his book bag from the floor and carried it over his shoulder. “You should’ve said something.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Oh, is knowing whether or not I am a virgin a prerequisite for what you did? Because, if I am not mistaken, you enjoyed yourself.” I wanted to take back every kind word I’d said to him. He thought less of me, because I hadn’t had “real” sex yet.
“I can’t really say because I didn’t get to fuck you,” he said in the most menacing tone, “and your vag tasted like every other one I’ve lapped at.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling so reckless and naive. “Then there won’t be any need to come back for more. I guess when I need my next fix, I’ll go to Scott, or some of the other guys who live here.”
“I would’ve given you a trial run, but I don’t have any protection on me—and you probably don’t either.” A mocking smile crept across his lips and transformed into a smug sneer on a face that I’d thought rivaled most guys at UM. “What? You’re going to stay a virgin princess forever? Finally see that you’re not some rare gem?”
The sound of Scott’s voice calling my name from the other side of the door sent a prickle down the back of my neck. I remembered that tomorrow night he and I had a date. Hunter opened the door. My parents were behind Scott, the amiable expressions slipped from their faces and, in its place, were very severe ones. It was like the time the school had called home, because I’d skipped my fourth and fifth period classes. At the time, Beth had been set to leave Franklin Parks the next day in order to begin her scholarship program orientation. Jake and I had wanted to have one more day with her like we’d had most days in high school.
“Hey Mariska,” Scott said, ignoring Hunter’s undeniable presence. “I let your parents in.”
“Thanks Scott,” I said and I found myself fidgeting nervously.
“Mariska,” Mom addressed me as she entered the door, her eyes scanning the room as she twirled around.
“And what is he doing in your room?” Dad questioned me and I heard the door close.
“I’m Hunter,” he said. “Mariska offered me a can of soda, and now I am going home.”
Dad offered his hand to Hunter. “I am Jack Landry, Mariska’s father.”
Hunter nodded. “I’ll come back another time to see Beth—”
“At a more reasonable hour,” Mom cut in as Hunter breezed out of the room.
“Scott told us that you and him are going on another date tomorrow,” Dad said.
