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But my sex life—or the lack thereof—is not my number one priority. It is the foul-mouthed Southie who unknowingly gave me the slip.
I’m still dodging around every obstacle in my way, just so I can catch up with Stone, when I realize that she’s not heading to the ethics class like her schedule dictates, but rather strolling toward the parking lot on the far side of campus as if she had all the time in the world.
The fuck?!
Is she blowing off her classes already? On the first week back to school, no less? I thought Stone had more sense than that. Or am I missing something? Maybe Easton’s guy slipped us a bogus schedule. Is the girl I had been enthralled by just a figment of the imagination of some douche looking to make a quick buck out of us? I haven’t even talked to Stone yet, and she’s already managed to piss me the hell off by crushing my expectations of the driven girl I imagined her to be.
I’m still fuming by the time I reach the parking lot. I’m only a few feet away when she opens the door to a beat-up blue truck, which looks older than dirt and twice as mean. It’s more like a metal death-box rather than means of acceptable transportation. To each his own, I suppose. However, her poor choice in vehicles is not even the worst thing in my line of sight at the moment.
Stone must be trying to find something hidden in that death trap of hers. And she’s having a hell of a time reaching whatever it is because the vexing girl begins to bend half her body into the front seat of the truck. She does it in such a way that her checkered skirt rises enough for me to see a little bit of the underlining of her smooth, ta
Stone is a short little thing, so when she jumps up a bit to give herself a better vantage point to grab whatever the fuck she’s insistent on getting, her skirt continues to inch a little bit higher—enough for a sliver of the sexy, black-laced panties to play peek-a-boo with every pair of male eyes, who are fortunate enough to be in the front row seat to an otherwise private show.
Fuck my life.
To add insult to injury, my cock thinks that now is an ideal time to stir awake, notifying me it’s fed up with its hibernation. Fucker wants to play and has fixed its sight on those pretty, black panties of hers, wanting to wipe its mushroom head on it.
‘Settle the fuck down. That ass isn’t for you,’ I reprimand my dick.
‘And why the fuck not? I mean, it’s right there, begging for us to make an introduction!’
I roll my eyes, shifting my half-mast self to a more comfortable position inside my jeans. Even though Easton’s course of action for befriending Stone was to get her in the sack as The Society ordered, I don’t think that will bode well for me. A girl like Stone must have some maniac, armed-to-the-teeth boyfriend who wouldn’t think twice in slashing my throat if I even thought about screwing his girl. At least that’s what I would do in his shoes if the roles were reversed. When my cock twitches again, I tell it as much, to keep the fucker in check.
‘Because an ass that fine usually has an owner, dickwad.’
‘How come you kissed her last Sunday night if she was already taken? You weren’t so worried about her having a man then, now were ya, buddy? Did you really think I wouldn’t notice you got some lip action, huh? I’m not dead, you know? Just needed some time off to get my shit together. You know how it is. So, thank you for making it worth my while to finally make an appearance. Good on you for bringing me this tasty treat and waking me the fuck up. Now go over there and let me get some.’
‘No.’
‘And why the hell not?’ my cock whines, sounding like a five-year-old.
‘Because that one right there is trouble.’
‘But we like trouble.’
‘Since the fuck when?’ I shout inwardly.
‘Since it looks that INSANELY HOT, moron!’
This is why men shouldn’t make decisions when the little head down there is in the driver’s seat, instead of the one on top of their shoulders. The fuckers don’t ever think five seconds beyond cumming, which is always a recipe for disaster. Though I might have looked spaced out there for a minute while having an internal debate with my dick, I look around the parking lot and see that I’m not alone in my discomfort. I count at least five other guys slowly adjusting their stiffies as they get out of their cars, obviously suffering from a similar predicament. It’s safe to say that I’m not the only one with an uncontrollable hard-on summoned by the little tattooed-slash-pierced she-devil.
Doesn’t she care she’s giving spank bank material to every guy in close proximity?
Apparently the answer to that question is a hard ‘no’ because, when Stone finally resurfaces from her scavenger hunt and straightens up back to her vertical self, my eyes instantly fix on the two-sizes-too-small, white T-shirt she has on, which leaves even less to the imagination. Just another perfect example of how this girl doesn’t give a flying fuck with what she’s throwing out into the world. Her round, firm breasts stretch out the soft material in a way that is most likely illegal in most states. Covering her two remarkable C cups are the words ‘Bite me,’ and by God, a bold request like that is impossible to go u
‘Now you’re getting it,’ my cock rasps excitedly.
His little stirring just reminds me that getting off is not on the agenda, no matter how much his insistent ass keeps whispering it in my ear. The slouching pout my dick makes doesn’t even register with me because, at this precise moment, an unamused Stone Be
And this, right here, is when I freeze.
What the fuck am I supposed to do now?
Initially, I had pla
Not this shit!
Instead of the meet-cute I had orchestrated, I look like a fucking stalker. I’m standing just a smidge away from her with a pissed-off expression on my face and a trickle of sweat on my brow from the unexpected sprint I had to make to get my ass over to her.
With an acrimonious glower dominating her light, emerald eyes, Stone crosses her arms over the same cleavage I had pictured my dick being in between not even two seconds ago, waiting impatiently for me to say something.
Think, Fi Open your mouth and say something! This is where Easton is right on the money when he ridicules me so. I don’t know how to talk to girls. It’s like they’re an entirely different species to me. I’ve never had the need for it, either. Most of the time, the girls who approach me do all the talking for me. They know my reputation and what exactly I’m about. I’m a one-time thing. They mount on, and I get off. No small talk really needed.