I stare at her, totally speechless. Why is she back here? Is she ditching, too? My heart sinks at the thought. She couldn’t possibly be one of those posers, could she? I’ve spent all semester listening intently to her intelligent answers in class, getting sidetracked by those crazy wild hairstyles of hers. Sometimes there’s feathers and beads and clips in her hair. Sometimes there are blue or pink or purple highlights accentuating her heart-shaped face. Today it’s au naturel.
It’s my favorite look of hers yet.
The lights dim in the theater, and a moment later, the projector flickers on, casting a hush over the crowd. I realize I’ve been staring at Lila this entire time, like a fucking creeper, when she raises an eyebrow at me.
Shit. I’ve been caught. I avert my gaze but glance back just to double-check that Lila is, indeed, sitting there. She finds me again and smirks knowingly, then mouths something I can’t make out.
I squint my eyes and whisper, “What?” She chuckles and mouths the same thing again. I look around, but there’s not a single person near us. When I turn back, she’s smiling at me. I decide, if this is a dream, might as well see what this beautiful nymph wants from me. I move one seat closer to her. We’re almost right next to each other now. “Did you say something to me?” I ask in a hushed tone.
“Are you not interested in the film?” Her voice is like Grade A maple syrup, freshly pouring from a maple tree. I want her to keep talking just so I can listen to that lovely sound inching its way through my ears and straight to my heart. When she gives me an expectant look, I realize I haven’t responded yet.
“Oh, uh, I’ve already seen the film,” I lie.
She rolls her eyes. “You know, you can watch movies more than once. You might even learn something the second time around.”
Damn, she’s sassy. “True, but I’ve seen it so many times I’ve pretty much learned it all.” Jesus, cut the cocky lies, will ya?
“Oh, really? And what would you say you learned from this film?” She raises an eyebrow, challenging me to a film nerd duel. One that, even if I had seen this film, I’m not sure I’d beat her at. Shit, I can’t even remember what movie is supposed to be playing, let alone my own damn name. I give her a sarcastic answer that I know would make any film kid smirk.
“I learned what every old film teaches us—the best way to kiss a woman is to squish her against your face and squeeze her arms so tight the audience worries she might break.”
Lila laughs a melodic sound.
“SHHH!” Someone a few rows down hisses at us. The film has started, I realize. Crap, when did it start? How long have we been sitting here? It could have been days for all I know. I’m lost in those brown eyes.
“That’s so true,” Lila whispers. “If she doesn’t look like she’s in pain, it isn’t a good kiss.”
We share a smile, one that I’m sure lasts longer than any typical exchange of looks between two friends. Except we’re not even friends, we’re barely acquaintances. I’ve seen her in class, but she doesn’t even know I exist. Well, actually, now I’m starting to second guess that. We don’t break eye contact for what feels like an hour, but it isn’t awkward. Something about her pulls me closer. I scoot myself into the seat next to her and introduce myself.
“Hi, I’m Joe.” I extend my hand. She gives it a firm shake with her delicate, petite fingers.
“I know,” she says with a grin. Huh. I guess she did notice me. “How come you never introduced yourself before?” she asks.
“I, uh. I don’t know.” Maybe I’m always so entranced by your presence I can barely function? “I guess I was nervous,” I add.
“Nervous about what?” She leans closer. Her breath smells like grapefruit. Her dark brown eyes are alert and full, pulling me further in. I want to swim in their chocolatey goodness.
“You’re the coolest girl at Tempt U.,” I whisper, apparently unable to keep my embarrassing thoughts to myself in her presence.
Lila smiles. Is it my imagination, or did she just tilt her head toward me? We’re so close to each other... Does this mean she wants me to kiss her? Should I kiss her?
Lila halts those thoughts in their tracks when she says, “I’m also kind of mad at you.”
“Mad?” I ask, my raised voice garnering a warning look from some students a few rows down.
“I’ve wanted you to ask me out all semester, Joe. And now, there are only three weeks left before graduation.”
No way. Lila is interested in me? The flickering light of the projector makes it feel like a freaking dream, watching her say those words right to my face. But she’s staring at me expectantly with a beautiful little grin tugging at the corner of her perfectly full lips. If this is real, I can’t let this opportunity go to waste. I already let an entire fucking semester escape me. I could have been spending it with her, learning about her, what she likes, what her favorite foods are, her favorite pastimes.
“We could go out tonight,” I blurt out. “Wait, shit, I have class. Tomorrow. What do you want to do? Go to the movies?” It pours out of me like a waterfall.
“We’re already at the movies,” she grins.
“Oh, right. We could count this as a date?” I cringe, knowing that is the lamest thing I could have said. She deserves a magic carpet ride, not a freaking in-class movie date. Jesus, pull it together, Joe.
“Sure, I guess,” she mumbles. “It’d be a better date if we had popcorn.” Lila chuckles at me, and I realize my face is twisted in an intense, calculating expression. She shifts in her seat so that she’s leaning toward me.
“Okay. So, we’re on a date.” I state it like a fucking dork, but saying it aloud sends goosebumps down to my ankles. Now that we’re on a date, does she want me to do that thing where I fake a yawn and put my arm around her? Or should I ask her about her parents? Wait, why would I do that? It’s a fucking movie, just shut up and watch the screen! Shit. My heart is pounding out of my chest. Gulp.
I do the cliché thing, yawning and stretching out to put my arm over her shoulders. Lila stifles a laugh, and a blush spreads on my face. Hey, at least I’m trying here.
Lila snuggles up to me and grabs my hand with hers, lacing her fingers between mine. She pulls my arm over her shoulders and rests her head against my chest. I have to remind myself how to breathe. She’s so calm, so assured in her actions, it’s almost like how I imagine it’d feel if we’d been together for years. Yet everything about this moment has my every cell on fire.
She smells so sweet, like citrus. I open my mouth to say something out of pure nerves, but she seems to be focusing on the film. I love that she’s a nerd like me. The realization sends a wave of calm through my body. We’re just two nerds watching a film, I tell myself.
With my eyes on the screen, the somewhat familiar actors trigger a memory from class, and suddenly I remember what we’re watching. Apparently, it’s a classic film, but I don’t quite remember why. The black and white images flicker by, revealing a silvery blonde woman walking into a living room with a tall, black-haired man wearing a fedora. Pretty standard stuff here for a Hollywood film from the fifties. The Venetian blinds make me think it’s a noir film, but the shots focus on the features of the woman’s body, the man gulping at the sight of her breasts spilling from the top of her tight shirt. And then she starts undressing in front of him, and it hits me—this movie is famous for breaking all the production code rules in the fifties Hollywood rule book!
No one showed even a hint of ankle skin on screen before this film, and here they are, the main characters undressing each other in front of an audience. I can only imagine what audience members in the fifties thought when they saw this. I mean, the shot ends just above her sensitive parts, but an entire shoulder of skin? No hiding the implications of where the scene is heading? Those men and women must have been going nuts in their seats.
The man leans in to kiss the blonde woman, and to my surprise, it’s soft and sweet, nothing like the abrasive forceful kisses that always turn mo
dern audiences off. Suddenly I’m very excited about this film. I find myself leaning forward in my seat, hoping the film’s male hero will teach me some moves to use on Lila, but the sly minx next to me makes a move first.
Lila shifts in her seat, unlaces her fingers from mine, and lets my hand drop onto her boob. My heart pounds in my chest. Did she mean to do that? I sit as stiff as a statue, processing these thoughts until Lila reaches back to touch my hand. She squeezes my fingers around her breast so that I’m groping her.
Her petite breast feels like heaven in my hand. But this has to be a dream. Right? There’s no way she just did that. I turn to look at her, but Lila isn’t looking at me. She’s intently watching the film.
Hmm. I turn back to face the screen, thinking that with an overactive imagination and hormones running rampant, it’s pretty possible I imagined the whole thing—even the nub of her hard nipple poking through the thin, soft fabric of her dress.
I turn back to the screen and take in the scene in front of us. It’s getting pretty hot and heavy. At least, for fifties Hollywood standards. The actors lay on the couch, and the man kisses down the length of the woman’s body as he unbuttons her blouse. He ducks out of the shot, and the woman opens her mouth in an orgasmic O shape, leaving only the most exciting, dirty thoughts to the audience’s imagination. Especially to the imagination of the guy whose hand is currently on Lila Burdock’s boob.
I notice my pants grow tighter around the groin area. I glance down to find I’m sporting an erection. Great. Maybe I should reposition myself so that my boner isn’t so evident in the projector’s flickering light, but Lila reaches her hand down and rests it on my bulge.
That’s definitely not an accident.
She finally turns to me, and before I can say anything, Lila kisses me, just as the main actress rips off her bra.
Chapter Two
Lila
I smirk against Joe’s lips, aware that his eyes are wide open, and staring at the actress on screen. He’s distracted by the film once again. I have to stifle a chuckle, even though I don’t find any humor in it. He’s an inexperienced, curious boy, and I’ve been obsessed with his curiosity since the day we shared our first film history class together. He’s knowledgeful and bursting with an enthusiastic excitement for the classics. Whenever I go to sleep, I dream of him exploring my titillated body at his fingertips with the same curiosity he shows old Hollywood. He’s nerdy and smart and obsessed with film history. I’ve always been competing for his attention with the movies of our past.
When you’re crushing this hard on someone who’s eyes are always glued to the screen, how do you get their attention? Watching him in the flickering light before me, it hits me. I’ll have to give him something to look at.
I stand from my chair and move right in front of Joe, lowering myself onto his lap while unbuttoning my dress. He watches with an open mouth as I reveal my braless A-cups. It’s definitely a strong move, especially considering we haven’t said two words to each other before this. But I’ve imagined it’s us two in every love scene I’ve watched since our first class. Every script I write, every scene I imagine, every character the comes to life in my head ends up morphing into Joe. It’s an unhealthy obsession, and my bet is it’ll go away once I have him, once I know what he feels like.
But even just our brief interaction earlier, even just tasting him now, I know once I get what I want, there will be no satisfying this craving for Joe within me. The truth is, no man I’ve ever been with has had a head smart enough to make up for the one between their legs, but Joe is most definitely not those men. I want to give us a shot to see where this goes more than anything, but my attraction to him has been building for what feels like an eternity, and I can’t wait any longer. Even if we are going on a date tomorrow, I have to have Joe now.
I straddle Joe and watch with an amused smile as his jaw drops, utterly dumbfounded at the sight of real, 3D boobs, not those 2D things I’m sure he’s used to watching on the screen.
“Holy sh—” he starts, but I clap a hand over his mouth. Then I put a finger to my lips and mouths, shh.
“What are you doing?” He whispers. I plant a kiss on his jawline in response, silently working the belt off his pants with my quick fingers.
“Ohmygod,” he breathes.
“Is this okay?” I ask, knowing full well how enthusiastic he is. It’s not hard to see. Then I smirk because it actually is hard to see in here, but you know what I’m saying.
Joe nods and helps me with the zipper. His large, warm hands shake until I grab them and gently place them on his seat’s armrests. He grips the empty drink holders tightly as I unsheathe him and run my hand down his long, thick length. I’m practically salivating at the feeling of him in my hands. He’s soft and warm and hard as steel.
I wrap my hand around his base and slowly bring my grip to his tip, which is already beaded with salty liquid. I don’t take my eyes off of him as I pump up and down his erection. His eyes go in and out of focus with every movement I make. He grips the armrest ever tighter. I take my other hand and lick my fingers, rubbing circles over his tip. He sucks in a sharp breath and widens his eyes at me.
“That feels amazing,” he breathes.
I lean forward and whisper in his ear, “Classics aren’t the only kind of films I watch.”
He lets out a low groan. I knew he’d like that response. I watch his breathing grow shallower, his Adam’s apple shaking, his hips trying to pulse against me. The sight of him coming undone makes me want the same thing for myself, right now.
I grab his hand and place it on my bare breast. He’s hesitant to touch me at first, but I show him what I like by touching my other breast. I rub my nipple, rolling the sensitive little peak between my fingers. Joe does as I do, and when I drop my head back and writhe my hips ever so slightly, he takes the silent cue. He places both hands on my breasts and explores like I’ve wanted him to for a while now. I let out a soft moan, and his dick twitches in my hands.
I’m so wet I can feel it seeping through my panties. I reposition myself so that the aching spot between my legs is pressed up against his erection. I move against him, holding the armrests for support. Fuck he feels so good, and he’s not even inside me. I rock against him harder, and the seat squeaks slightly. Shit, we are so not in the right place for this. But there’s no stopping us now.
Joe lets out a loud groan, but I kiss him to shut him up, letting my fingers run through his messy blond hair. I pull his head back and kiss his neck, biting playfully.
He yelps in shock. Someone nearby whispers for us to shut up. I giggle softly against Joe’s skin, unphased by the fact that I’m half-naked in public. We could be found out at any moment, but it just makes this that much hotter. We’re in the perfect spot. It’s dark and quiet and dangerous. I’ve dreamed of fucking him here more than once, and now that dream is finally coming true.
“Touch me,” I whisper.
Joe stills his hands on my breasts, probably wondering how else I want him to touch me. I guide one of his hands to the heat between my legs, slipping his fingers beneath my panties. The moment his hot fingers touch my sensitive skin, I suck in a sharp breath. A shiver rips down my spine. He’s finally touching me.
Though he’s hesitant at first, I watch Joe’s expression as his eyes go wide, and he slowly explores the slickness I’m offering him. He bites his lip, his fingers moving in seemingly uncalculated, erratic movements that surprise me. It’s exhilarating, feeling his erection against me and his fingers massaging my clit in unexpected bursts of sensation. It makes me wonder if he’s ever touched a woman before.
“Are you a virgin?” I ask, overcome with nosy curiosity.
“Not all film nerds are virgins,” he says. I give him a narrow-eyed, suspicious look. “Is it that obvious?”
“Don’t worry,” I kiss him softly. “You’re doing great.” I move against him to prove it. He lets out a low growl that brings me almost to the edge. Shit, I want more of
him, and I don’t know if I can wait until our date tomorrow.
“I don’t have any condoms, but I’m on the pill,” I say, breathless already and eager to get him inside me.
“Oh,” his body stiffens. “I didn’t expect to have sex during class, so I don’t have any condoms.”
“It’s okay, I’m clean.” He nods wordlessly. “If you want this, too, I’m so ready for you, Joe.”
Joe smiles at me, a genuine, sweet smile that tells me he does. I reposition myself, careful not to overwhelm him with my obsessive nature. Slowly, I lower myself down onto him, relishing his thick length stretching me out as he comes deeper and deeper inside me. He holds his breath until I kiss him again. And when I do, he returns my kiss with enthusiasm and hunger.
Joe takes my face in his hands, gently pulling me toward him as our kiss deepens. I ride him slowly at first, but with every moan that sounds from the speakers in the theater and every eager new way that Joe touches me, I can’t help but move faster. Waves of ecstasy pound through my veins as I writhe against his hips. The chair creaks with each movement, but I don’t care. It feels too good to have Joe’s hands on me now, and I love watching his expression as I ride him to the edge. I’m the one making him feel this way, I’m the one who finally made a move, and now I’m the one who gets to watch him come undone. It adds a whole other level of intensity to know I’m making Joe feel this way for the first time. And if things between us go as I hope, it definitely won’t be the last.
Chapter Three
Joe
I’m having a hard time breathing here. From the erotic images on the screen and the beautiful woman writhing on top of me to the sounds of love-making filling the space in surround sound as waves of pure fucking pleasure burst inside me, it’s entirely surreal. And it’s actually happening, even though nothing cool ever happens to me. Unless you count that George Clooney waved at me during the premiere of Descendants, but now that I think of it, he could very well have been waving to the big-breasted blonde in the row behind me at the time.
Tempt University: Year One: A College Romance Collection Page 39