Again, I read his note multiple times before I can gather enough sense to look up at him. I can’t decide which I like more: him saying my name or writing it.
I guess I love it all. Just like I love him.
My darling, darling Arrow.
I pout at him, at his no-sex rule and his nostrils flare.
Then I pen him a request. Okay, fine. But will you take me for a ride tonight?
He reads my note and thinks about it for a second before answering, Midnight tonight.
It’s a date. Yay!
I hear his sigh and when he passes me his reply, I hear him growl it in my ears, making me want to laugh.
Can we get back to trigonometry now?
***
I find him by his Ducati at midnight.
This is the first time I’ve snuck out all alone, without any help from my girls. I was a little nervous about it, but it turned out okay. What I should be more nervous about, or at least more anticipatory about, is the fact that I’m breaking one of his rules for the first time ever.
I’m wearing a skirt.
I borrowed it from Poe again, this one plaid too but with good-girl pleats and bad-girl length that barely covers my ass.
He’s gonna freak, I know. But whatever. He can punish me if he likes. I have his jacket on though, which drowns me so it’s not as if anyone can see anything.
Anyway, I’m here now.
I pause a moment to take him in. He’s leaning against his motorcycle in his usual, familiar clothes that are already making me feel warm, smoking a cigarette.
His little bad habit.
A tiny rule that he breaks because it helps him relax and de-stress.
God, he’s so hard on himself, isn’t he?
So hard and critical. So tied up in severe knots.
That’s why I came up with this idea. This ride at midnight. If I can’t make him believe that he’s not a failure, then at least I can help him let loose.
This broken boy.
This new Arrow.
The one who looks like a quintessential bad boy right now – seemingly dark hair, dark intentions, waiting for his teenage sweetheart that he’s going to take away on his motorcycle. He’s going to find a dark alley or a lonely corner under a rusty bridge somewhere and corrupt every little innocent part of her with those big hands and darling lips.
I begin walking toward him and the sound of my feet makes him look at me.
As soon as he does, he straightens up and lets out a puff of smoke and I start to run toward him like I did in our backyard.
Although I stumble just when I reach him, but he catches me, as usual. Panting, I hug him and close my eyes, pressing my cheek against his ribs, exactly where his heart is.
“If you don’t stop doing that, I’ll have to assume you’re doing it on purpose,” he drawls, his arms around me squeezing.
I rub my cheek on his chest. “Doing what on purpose?”
“Falling.”
“Why would I do that on purpose?”
“So I could catch you.”
I kiss his dead heart and look up. “Maybe I am.”
He narrows his eyes at me as he squeezes me tighter and mutters, “Pain in the ass.”
That I am and I’m going to become even more of a pain now.
“You’re smoking,” I tell him as I watch tendrils of smoke snake out of his gorgeous mouth.
“You’re late.”
“Why are you smoking?”
“Haven’t we had this conversation before?”
We have and that’s why I ask, my eyebrows raised, “So what are you trying to forget tonight?”
He stares down at me for a beat before growling, “We lost.”
“The game?”
The clench of his jaw is my answer.
I raise my hand to cup his sharp cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“We had it,” he says, his eyes boring into mine. “We almost had it. It went into overtime and they had Rodriguez in the penalty shootout. It should’ve been me. I should’ve been there, taking that shot. And now we’re out for the season. I –”
“Hey, hey,” I cut him off, rising up on my tiptoes. “You will be there. You will do it. You just have to hold on for a little while.” His jaw pulses under my palm and his eyes burn bright with anger, with self-hatred and I kiss his hot, smoking lips, trying to soften him up. “So will you please put out your cigarette so I can give you the gift I brought for you?”
Arrow simply watches me for a few seconds before the aggression leaches out of his body and he asks, “You brought me a gift?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It’s not a poem, is it?”
I swat his chest and a soft chuckle escapes him. “No, you idiot. Just help me up.”
Again, he stares at me a beat before throwing his cigarette away and boosting me up and soon, I’m climbing over his body, my thighs around his slim waist and my arms clutching his shoulders.
But that’s not the exciting part.
The exciting part is when he notices.
That I’ve broken his rule.
His hands grab my naked thighs, before inching up and covering the cheeks of my ass.
Bare cheeks.
“You’re wearing a skirt,” he growls, this time laced with sexual, dominating intent rather than anger.
Good.
At least he’s not focusing on lost games.
I bite my lip and squirm in his lap, my bare pussy – I’m not wearing my thong tonight too – rubbing up against his t-shirt. “I know. I’m breaking one of your rules. So you can punish me if you like. But. Gift first!” I go fishing for his gift in my jacket pocket and produce it with a flourish. “That’s why I was late. Because I stopped to bring this for you.”
He doesn’t look at it right away.
In fact, he stares into my eyes as he parts the cheeks of my ass with punishing fingers and when I bite my lip, only then does he glance down at my offering – a little flower, a gardenia, with a tiny green stem that I clipped for him from the garden.
“You brought me a flower,” he rumbles, lifting his eyes.
I nod. “Yes. It’s the official flower of St. Mary’s, which you already know. But did you know that it also stands for purity and innocence?”
And secret love.
It also stands for secret love. But I’m not going to tell him that. Because this isn’t about love, what we have. This is about making him feel better, even for a little while.
Instead of taking the flower, Arrow grabs a fistful of my ass and bounces me in his lap. “Purity and innocence.”
I undulate against him shamelessly, trying to hold on to the flower with my trembling fingers. “Yes.”
He bounces me again, causing an ache in my clit. “Yeah, I can see that. How innocent you look right now, giving me this flower. No bra. No panties. Nothing to cover up your perky, bouncing tits and your out-of-control pussy.” He leans forward and bites my lower lip. “How innocent you looked last night, in my bed, when you gave up that flower between your legs.”
I shudder. “Uh-huh. Totally. Innocent. But no one calls it a flower, Arrow.”
“No? So what is it called then?”
His casual question is accompanied by a very casual flick of his thumb along the crease of my ass, making me moan.
But somehow, I manage to answer him demurely. “The p-word.”
“Ah, the p-word.” His thumb still moves up and down my crease. “Peach, you mean.”
I shake my head and bite his lip. “You know what I mean, asshole. Stop teasing me and take my flower.”
He chuckles then before snatching my mouth in a kiss and bringing his thumb down to my soppy pussy where he wreaks havoc on my clit. He doesn’t let go until I climax.
Until I’m coming on his t-shirt.
Only then he slides me down his body with hooded eyes, takes my flower and takes me out on a date.
&n
bsp; First stop is the ice cream parlor, all the way in the college town of Middlemarch. It’s almost deserted, with only a handful of people inside the store. When he asks for a vanilla cone for himself, I chirp in and tell the guy behind the counter that my guy will take a chocolate cone with all the chips and sprinkles and trappings, just like me.
When Arrow gives me a look, I say, “You wanna be boring all your life or do you wanna be awesome like me?”
At which, Arrow grabs the back of my neck and lays a hard kiss on my lips, right in front of the counter guy.
Once we have our ice creams, we go outside and I straddle the Ducati that he parked on the empty street, and lick my cone.
At first he’s simply leaning against the motorcycle, his face both lit up and shadowed under the insufficient street light as he watches me lick my ice cream. Then he throws away his cone and straddles the bike too.
Eyes heavy, he grabs my waist and yanks me over to him, my juices probably streaking a path across his leather seat. “I ruined your seat.”
He drapes my bare legs over his powerful thighs, opening them up. “Not yet, you haven’t.”
Before I can say anything else, he sticks his hand under the jacket that I’m wearing and in turn, under the hem of my skirt and kisses me with ice-cream cold lips.
Shivering, I kiss him back, forgetting about the cone in my hand.
I jump when I feel something on my pussy.
Something other than his fingers.
Something like my flower.
The flower I gave him back at St. Mary’s that he pocketed, right where his dead heart is.
Arrow is touching me with it.
I don’t know when he got it out and when he snuck it under my skirt but he’s sliding the flower along my slit, twirling it over my clit.
“Arrow…” I moan, my thighs trying to snap closed, but they can’t because he has them trapped over his thighs and around his hips.
“Now there’s a flower between your legs, isn’t there?” he murmurs, chuckling, blowing hot, sweet breath over my lips as he plays with my core and again, doesn’t let me go until I come.
Until I ruin his gift and his fingers with my juices.
Until I ruin my fingers too, with sticky, melted ice cream.
Then he takes me away again.
He takes me everywhere I want to go.
Until I tell him to find us a secluded spot because I wanna suck him off and lick him like my ice cream cone.
We stop under a rusty bridge in Bardstown, and in under five seconds, I have him against a brick pillar and me, on my knees, looking up at him.
I reach up and massage his hard cock through his jeans. I rub my cheek on the imprint of his dick, feeling his inferno-heat on my skin, as he looks down at me.
“I’m always so cold, Arrow,” I tell him. “You’re the only one who makes me feel warm. You’re my sun.”
His jaw becomes hard and cruel almost, his hands fisted at his sides. “So are you going to thank me for it?”
I reach up and kiss one, his fist I mean.
I kiss his knuckles, lick them, trying to soften them up, and it works.
His fingers open up.
They get hold of my jaw, forcing me to look up. “Unzip me.”
Of course, I jump to do his bidding.
When I’m done, he pushes down his jeans and a second later, I’m looking at his cock, his beautiful cock with a pretty arch and that vein running underneath, all fat and juicy for me.
“Your dick is so pretty,” I whisper as I stare at it with wide eyes, my knees grinding on the concrete, my nails raking up and down his partially-covered thighs.
His stomach tightens up and his pretty dick lurches. “Pretty.”
“Uh-huh. So, so pretty.”
He fists my hair and pulls at it, making me arch my neck, my back, making me lose my balance and fall against his thigh. “Pretty is not the word I’d call my dick, but I’ll give you a pass tonight.”
I clench my thighs. “Why?”
“Because you’re going to put it in your mouth and suck it like your life depends on it. And because I’m going to fuck your pouty lips like I fucked your pouty pussy last night. And when you struggle to take me in, because I’m so big and fat for your innocent schoolgirl mouth, you’ll make me blow. Right on your tongue, and when I do that, you’re going to swallow it all, aren’t you? You’re going to swallow everything I give you like a good girl. So you can call it whatever the fuck you want, baby, because all I care about is sliding into your mouth and riding it to heaven,” he says with clenched teeth and flushed cheeks, all dominating and large like the sun he is.
My breaths come out as a series of hiccups as I nod eagerly, my cheek bumping with the curve of his dick.
“I will, I will,” I whisper, eagerly.
His eyes glow. “Then what are you waiting for?”
At this, I take him into my mouth.
I suck on his head with my pouty lips, his flavor exploding. Not only on my tongue but everywhere. My toes and my legs and my stomach and my chest.
Everywhere I feel his heat and his spice.
He pulls his t-shirt up and moves it out of the way to watch me pleasure him. His eyes bore into mine and it makes me both shy and bold at the same time. Or at least, it makes my mouth bold and I begin vacuuming him in.
But my eyes can’t keep up. His stare is too much and I have to close them.
Even so, I feel his lustful stare.
I even see him in my head.
I see him, leaning against the wall like a god or a king, as I serve him like the overeager groupie I am. I dig my tongue into the tiny slit of his cock up top, curling it to scoop out his cum, and when he grunts above me, his hips arching off the wall, I feel that everywhere too.
Just like his taste, I feel his lusty, animal noises in every part of my body.
Especially in my hands when I wrap them around his beautiful dick, before enveloping it in my mouth as much as I can and fucking him.
God, his dick is beautiful. A piece of art on my tongue.
So heavy and meaty.
So flavorful.
His dick is my baby and I make love to it with my tongue and my lips.
It works because he grunts again.
Not only that, his hips are moving and arching and when I open my eyes to look up, I see that his head is thrown back, bunched up in a thick frown and he’s got his t-shirt clenched between his teeth as he pumps his hips.
That clench. Holy fuck.
The strain in his jaw and those tight muscles on his abdomen. The sweat misting his hot flesh as he fists my hair.
Everything about him is so fucking beautiful that I redouble my efforts. I move my hands faster. I move my lips faster too. And he becomes harder, plumper, prettier and tastier in my mouth.
So much more aggressive and harsher until he simply explodes.
His cock jerks and shoots cum down my throat and I swallow it all like he told me to.
I drink up the liquid heat of his orgasm. It flows down my throat and settles in my stomach, warming me up.
I keep doing it until he’s done.
Until he sighs out a big breath and his fists loosen up. Until he relaxes against the wall and looks down at me with slitted eyes.
When our gazes clash, I pant and wipe my mouth off with the back of my hand. “Thank you.”
A big puff of air escapes him and, bending down, he puts his hands under my armpits and pulls me up, making me climb his body once again.
I rest my head against his shoulders. “You taste like fire, all hot and tangy.”
His answer is to place a soft, silent kiss on my forehead and walk back to his motorcycle.
An hour later when he drops me off at St. Mary’s and I sneak back into my room, I can still taste him on my lips.
I’m so high on it, so engrossed in his fiery taste, that my heart punches right out of my chest when I
hear my roommate’s first words to me. “Did you go somewhere?”
I’m almost all the way down on the bed, my blanket poised over me when she asks me this. And I don’t know how but I answer her.
“Yes. Bathroom.”
It comes out squeaky and high and all the things that should tell her that I’m lying.
I’m fucking lying.
But she accepts it and turns around in the bed to face away from me and promptly starts snoring.
Elanor gives me weird looks the next day and the day after that, and the day after that.
Or maybe it’s me.
Maybe I’m imagining things.
Because honestly, she always gives me weird looks, along with her other three friends. Although they don’t harass me anymore.
Not since Arrow put them in their place.
So I don’t know if I should be worried about what happened that night, the night I got back from my ride with Arrow.
I don’t know if I should be worried that my roommate might know something. And if she knows then other people might come to know too.
People like the principal, my guardian, Leah.
She’ll be super disappointed in me for sneaking out and breaking rules like this, when her main aim in sending me here was to learn to follow them. If she finds out that I go to see Arrow, then I don’t know how severely she might react.
I’m not an ideal candidate for her son. Not that we’re in any kind of a relationship but still.
And my sister.
She’ll definitely think I’m a whore. Even though in my heart I know that I’m not.
Not to mention my letters.
I still need to hide them. But the thought of not having them close gives me so much anxiety that I haven’t been able to move the shoeboxes.
But I will.
I promise myself that I’ll be smart and I’ll hide them as soon as I get a chance.
Meanwhile though, I should stop.
I know. I shouldn’t take the risk.
If by some miracle Elanor doesn’t know anything and I’m imagining everything, then I got really lucky that night.
I shouldn’t tempt fate.
In fact, I’m not the only one who’s tempting fate. There’s someone else too.
My Darling Arrow Page 24