Ruthless knight

Cole

My phone buzzes in my pocket for the tenth time since class started. 

I chuckle to myself. I never pegged Sawyer for a stage five clinger. 

Sawyer: We are not having sex. 

Hitting the reply button, I type out my response. 

Cole: I know. School is such a cock blocker. We should cut the rest of the day and go back to my house. 

My lips twitch as I hit send. If her panties weren’t in a bunch before, they certainly will be now. 

Damn. Bad choice of words. Just thinking about Sawyer’s panties gives me a semi. 

I wonder if they’re the lacy and see-through kind.

Nah. Knowing her, they’re probably plain cotton. 

I

Sawyer: Are you out of your mind? We are never having sex. Not today, not tomorrow…not ever. Understand? 

Smiling to myself, I chew the end of my pen. 

Cole: If you feel that strongly about not fucking me, you should have put it in the contract. 

But she didn’t. 

There was no mention of her impending deflowering.  

I’d blame it on her being naïve and not knowing the full extent of the bet, but Bianca let it slip that Sawyer was hiding in the locker room.  

She heard everything. 

Yet, nothing in that contract said sex was off the table. 

In fact, her contract distinctly states that I can’t hook up with any other girls. 

Interesting word choice. A Freudian slip if there ever was one. 

Sawyer: I didn’t put it in the contract because I thought it was a given. 

Cole: I’ll be giving you something, all right. Babe. 

Sawyer: First of all—don’t ever call me babe. Secondly—you won’t be giving me a damn thing I don’t want.

Oh, she’ll want it. 

Sawyer: And just so we’re clear, what I’m referring to is your dick. 

I try a different approach. 

Cole: What about my fingers? 

Cole: Or my tongue.

Cole: I could always use them at the same time, too. As a matter of fact, that’s a specialty of mine. 

Sawyer: I’m good, champ. Thanks.

Christ. She’s a tougher nut to crack than I thought. 

Time to drop the bomb. 

Cole: Look, I appreciate a girl who’s a giver, but I wouldn’t feel right about you blowing me for the next six months and never returning the favor. 

It takes her ten whole minutes to respond. 

Sawyer: I beg your pardon?

Cole: Our contract specifically states we’re hooking up. But if sex, finger banging, and going to chow town on you are all off the table—that only leaves blow jobs. 

Sawyer: My God, Covington. There’s so much wrong with that statement I’m not even sure where to begin. 

Finally, we’re on the same page. 

Cole: That makes two of us. 

Sawyer: I never said anything about us hooking up in the contract. Are you illiterate? If so, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I can help. 

Cole: I’m not illiterate, Church. Your little contract specifically says I can’t hook up with any other girls.

Sawyer: What’s your point? 

Cole: The implication is there. ‘Any other girls’ indicates I’ll be hooking up with you. 

Sawyer: Did you steal Oakley’s weed stash? The only thing it indicates is that you can’t pass your cock around like a bag of chips, you moron. 

Jesus Christ. Six months is a long ass time. 

Cole: Sorry, but that’s unacceptable. 

Sawyer: Tough shit. You already accepted. 

Cole: If we don’t fuck, I lose the bet. 

Sawyer: Not my problem. I agreed to be your fake girlfriend. Not your hooker. 

Cole: Having sex with me wouldn’t make you a hooker. 

Sawyer: You’re right.

Eureka. About time she came around. 

Sawyer: It would make me an idiot. 

I slide my phone into my pocket. 

This isn’t over. 

Not until my cock is balls deep inside her and she’s screaming her Lord and Savior’s name.