Match This! (The UnSocial Dater#1)

by Mj Fields

“You come in here, you don’t leave until I’m done with you,” he says intensely.

  “Is that a threat? If so I’m not afraid. Not one bit.”

  “Good,” he let’s go of my shirt and walks in.

  I follow.

  “Get naked,” he says as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it on the small sofa in his living room.

  I hesitate and he shakes his head, “Why is it that, all of the sudden, the girl climbing me and rubbing on me as I carried her seven blocks, is now acting like a little school girl?”

  I shrug, “Maybe I’m more a fan of public displays. Why don’t you take me back outside and let me ride you on the sidewalk as cars drive by?”

  His eyebrows raise and he bites his lower lip while looking me up and down. “You may be into that but I prefer my private life be a hell of a lot less...social.”

  “Well then we’ll have to compromise. I’ll ride you in here if you get me naked.”

  “A woman who likes the build?” He runs his hand through his hair and looks me up and down slower this time. “I like to fuck, blow off steam, get right to it. So if I’m compromising, by taking my time undressing you, next time you walk through the door, the clothes better hit the floor before your back hits my bed.”

  “I’ve heard talk of this bed twice now, yet I don’t see it, and my clothes are still on.” He steps to me and pushes the shirt off and then grabs the hem of my tank top and pulls it over my head.

  “No bra,” he groans. “I knew it.”

  His mouth is on my tit immediately. His hands push my skirt and underwear down as he moves from one breast to the next and I feel the pulsing between my legs start to intensify.

  I am completely and totally naked and he is devouring my tits. I wrap my arms around his neck and hold on, bracing myself for what it is I think I feel coming.

  Think I feel? Yes.

  I, Katherine Anne Brun, Catholic schoolgirl, am a dirty talking, internet porn browsing sex fiend, who has never actually had sex.

  I hear a thud and his pants hit the floor. His hands grip my ass and he lifts me up. Without warning, he impales me and stills.

  “Jesus,” he hisses as his hands grip my ass. “Don’t fucking move or I swear I’ll blow. Fuck girl, has anyone ever told you your pussy is insanely tight?”

  I let the booze fuck my head enough that I don’t feel the pain from the fucking below. “Uh huh,” Is all I can say.

  It’s not a lie; I’ve been fingered by guys and I’ve given a blowjob or two, okay exactly two. I’d just never given it up, until Jose’ Cuervo, Harvard, and Wentworth Miller, helped decide I should.

  “If your pussy is that tight I can’t even imagine what your ass will be like.”

  “You about to fuck me like you promised,” I ask because, one, I know after the initial pop and stretch passes the bump and grind takes place, and the pain and pleasure mingle and cause one hell of a party, and I’m ready to party.

  His laugh is dark and malicious as he walks us through the small apartment. With each step his dick moves inside me and I begin to get a taste of pleasure.

  It’s fucking delectable. I knew it would be.

  He pushes open his door and walks to the bed. He sits on the edge and his eyes roll as I descend further down him.

  I sink my nails into his back, “Easy tiger.”

  Says the man whose dick didn’t get the memo to go easy.

  His fingers bite into my hips as he rocks me slowly back and forth at a nice easy pace.

  Each time he pulls me against him, my clit gets nudged and electricity threatens to run through me. I gasp and he groans.

  “You like that, huh?”

  “Yes,” comes out in a throaty rasp that apparently gets him hotter.

  He pulls me tight against him and scoots up the bed. He lays back and holds my tits in his hands. “These things are fucking great.” He squeezes them and none too gently. I pull back and at this angle I feel something burn, a good burn.

  I move my hips, sway and rock so he is hitting that spot. The faster I move the more grunts and hisses he makes.

  Hot, so hot.

  “Don’t hold back. Come for me.”

  His hand grips my inner thigh and his thumb strums around my clit. Each time he nudges it, the pleasure intensifies.

  I spread wider and he tenses. God it is amazing to see him come undone under me.

  “Sexy little thing,” he groans.

  I put my hands behind me on his thighs and brace myself as I rock faster and faster.

  His body tenses beneath me, then he presses on my clit and I strangle out words that are totally incomprehensible.

  “You on the pill?” he hisses through his teeth.

  “No,” I cringe

  He pushes me to the side and sits up then grabs a tissue from the tissue box on his nightstand.

  “Fuck yes,” he groans as he pumps himself and jets off into a wad of tissues.

  He sighs and flops back, “That was close.”

  I’m not sure what to say in response, so I say nothing.

  Awkward.

  His chest is heaving and he looks over at me.

  “You staying?” I must look mortified because he chuckles, “Didn’t think so. But the offer is there. I’d love to tear into you again.”

  “What do you want me to do?” I ask without thinking.

  “Not sure. As I said I’m not looking for a relationship —”

  “Neither am I,” I say cutting him off.

  “Okay then,” he smiles as if this pleases him.

  I feel indifferent about it.

  As I walk away, I grab my clothes, throwing them on piece by piece as I walk towards the door.

  “Hey, what’s your name?” I hear him yell as I open the door.

  I don’t answer.

  I have no clue where the hell I am, and I’m drunk as a skunk. I stand at the curb hoping a cab comes by soon.

  ****

  Thirty minutes later I walk into the bar, where an angry, drunk, and slurring Cecilia meets me at the door.

  “Did you have a good time?”

  The Blaine look alike is holding her upright. “Dude, take her out back and fuck the bitch out of her.”

  MAD AS A HATTER

  I’m not sure when I fell asleep. Cecilia was bitching up a storm about how ridiculous it was that I left with a stranger and I practically tried to suffocate myself with a pillow hoping to drown out the sound of her voice. Fucking annoying.

  When I woke up Josie was standing in the door.

  “Creepy,” I groan as I sit up. “The eighth dwarf.”

  I swear she has stars in her eyes.

  “It’s too early for this.” I cover my head and then feel my mattress sink.

  “I thinks she’s mad about Blaine,” she whispers.

  “Oh, no. No. No. No. I don’t do drama.” I mumble and roll over so I am face down in the mattress.

  “Sorry. I just, well, I don’t either. When she was done yelling at you she came in my room and yelled at me. Something about calling shot gun?”

  I laugh and my head hurts, it hurts a lot, “Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Well what does that mean?” her whisper is urgent.

  “Means she wants to sit in the front, but in this case she thinks because she said she wanted him, he was hers. I say screw that.”

  “I didn’t say he was mine!” Cecilia hisses from the doorway. That ones voice is like nails on a chalkboard. Reminds me of my mother. “I have no idea what I even said, I was drunk.”

  I look up and Josie’s face is burning bright red.

  “No need to fight about it,” I grumble as I scoot lower and get out of the bed. “Girl code doesn’t state a crush is off limits. Did you fuck him?”

  “NO!” Both say at the same time, Cecilia in a screech, Josie in shock.

  “Well then, there you have it. I’m gonna shower, then I need to eat. Annenberg hall is calling my name.”

  ****

  On
ce behind the locked door in the bathroom I strip and look in the mirror. My breasts are covered in hickeys, and there is an ache between my legs. It’s not as awful as I heard others tell of though.

  I did not get laid down on a bed covered in rose petals, there was no soft music, or sweet words being sprinkled over me like the women my mother reads about. It was sex, hell it wasn’t even that, it was fucking.

  I lean into the mirror and try to find guilt, shame, or anguish.

  I find none.

  I was raised to believe marriage came before sex, birth control was against God, and so was abortion.

  I squint my eyes further searching for something, some hint of what I, Katherine Anne Teresa Brun, believed in.

  Still nothing.

  Life...nonsensical.

  When I walk out of the bathroom in my towel the air is thick with tension.

  “So do you like him?” Cecelia asks.

  Josie shrugs and looks away.

  “Well did you guys plan a date? Did he ask you to the fall formal? Did he kiss you?” Each question she asks seems a little more like an accusation than a question and poor Josie looks uncomfortable as hell.

  “Chill,” I say as I walk past them on opposite sides of the couch.

  “I’m just trying to help her out, clearly she hasn’t been around men like Blaine before and he may just be trying to get in her pants.”

  “Yeah, well,” I pause and shake my head. “Whatever.”

  I close the door behind me, as I get dressed.

  ****

  The ‘help’ didn’t stop coming. Cecilia shot questions at her like rapid fire on a damn machine gun.

  My head is pounding and I really am sick of the bullshit, so when I sit down with my tray next to Josie and look across the table Cecilia smiles at me. Before I can say anything she is defending herself.

  “I’m just giving her a pep talk.”

  “Where did you learn to give it, Guantanamo?” I asked rolling my eyes.

  Cecilia rolls her eyes back and is about to say something when Josie interrupts, “Let’s just leave it to fate okay? It may be nothing.”

  The bitch from yesterday walks by and gives Cecilia a fake smile and says hello, she does the same in return.

  As soon as she walked past she leans in towards Josie, “Fate gave Donna that unibrow, you really want to trust fate?”

  “You are such a bitch,” I half laugh.

  “Tell me I’m lying,” she says raising her perfectly shaped eyebrows.

  THE QUEEN

  “Same place tonight?” Cecilia pulls the cap off her lipstick and puts it on in the mirror.

  “Sure,” Josie says quickly.

  “I’m gonna hang back,” I say as I start to walk into my room.

  “No!” they both say at the same time.

  I’m not a stupid girl, I know damn well neither of them really want to go out with each other by themselves. They are like oil and water and apparently I am what keeps them separated, yet together.

  “You afraid you’ll run into,” Cecilia pauses, “You never did tell us his name, hell you didn’t even tell us about him at all.”

  “You didn’t ask, and honestly, I’m good with leaving it alone.”

  “Oh hell no,” Cecilia laughs. “Spill it, we want details.”

  “Leave it alone, and I’ll go.”

  Both agree quickly.

  ****

  When we walk into the bar the first person I see is Wentworth. He’s dancing with another girl and the scene reminds me of last night.

  I slip behind Cecilia, in hopes that he doesn’t see me.

  He doesn’t.

  Josie and I make it back to the same corner table. Cecilia is at the bar and Josie’s eyes are trained on Wentworth and the chick, her jaw is hanging open.

  She looks back at me, “Is that?”

  I nod.

  “It doesn’t bother you?”

  “It was just sex. We aren’t getting married.” I answer nonchalantly.

  “But —”

  “No, you promised back at the dorms. I don’t want to talk about it. Not a big deal, he is one of many,” or would be.

  When Cecilia returns she sets the tray down and points to them, “You see that?”

  “So?”

  “So what the hell?”

  I grab a shot and toss it back.

  “It was just sex. They aren’t getting married,” Josie says to her.

  Cecilia shrugs, “I’ll drink to that.”

  And so we did. We drank. When I returned from the bathroom I made sure my back was to Wentworth and the blonde.

  Yes it was just sex, and someday, someday soon, it wouldn’t piss me off that the man I gave it up to, doesn’t even recognize me.

  How fucked up is that? I think to myself.

  “Let’s dance,” Cecilia hands me another shot and we move to the dance floor.

  I made sure my back was to him, I didn’t want him to see me, nor did I want to see him, but that was a short lived hope.

  I feel hands grip my hips and look at Josie, she looks up at him, back at me and smiles.

  My heart is doing some extra beating thing and I don’t like that I like this, thing, him, whatever the hell it is. I don’t like that I like him. I will blame it on Jose, he’s the devil, the sin maker. Jose made me a whore.

  A hand leaves my hip and he turns me to face him, “What’s your name?”

  “Wednesday,” I answer with the day he fucked me. “I see Thursday right over there.” I nod towards the bitch throwing eye darts at me.

  “Nah, I was hoping to see you, she was just in case you didn’t show up.” He smirks.

  “Well let’s pretend I didn’t and you can go about your business.”

  “You don’t want that any more than I do, Wednesday.” Both hands are now on my hips and he pulls me closer. I put my hands on his chest to keep space between us.

  Mom would be proud, I’m ‘Making room for Jesus.’

  I don’t like this feeling, never have, it’s not like it will last, but it sucks when it’s-

  My hands are trapped between us, his lips are on mine. As much as I know I should fight it, the blonde dagger eyed bitch kind of pissed me off, so I go with it.

  “I was rough with you last night, I think I made you bleed.” He stops talking as he searches my eyes for an answer to the question I am sure he asked himself.

  ‘Was she a virgin?’

  “I want to make it up to you,” he says leaning in. His tongue swipes across my lips, “With my tongue.”

  My southern kitty gets the message before my brain has time to process it. I close my eyes and his lips come down on mine again, this time more gently. His tongue caresses mine, slow, soft strokes, then he sucks on my tongue. My hands clench the fabric of his tee-shirt and I moan.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers into my ear and then sucks on my earlobe.

  I look up and nod, then turn to my friends, “Be back —”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” he says and winks at me.

  He takes my hand and we walk towards the door. I look back at dagger chick, raise my finger and smirk.

  I feel like the Red Queen to her Alice, and I like it.

  ‘Off with your head, bitch.’

  MOCKING MY DREAMS

  He grabs my finger and chuckles, “That’s not very ladylike.”

  “I never pretended to act like a lady,” I shrug.

  “I will figure you out.”

  “It’s not all that hard, what you see is what you get,” I shrug as we walk down the sidewalk.

  “I like what I see.” He squeezes my hand. “And I like what I am about to get.”

  I say nothing because there really isn’t anything to say.

  “Are you always this quiet?”

  “I’m not much of a conversationalist.”

  He chuckles and shakes his head. “Antisocial.”

  “That too.” I nod.

  “I don’t know what I am going to
do about that,” he says.

  “Do about what?” I seriously have no clue what he thinks he’s going to ‘do’ about whatever he’s thinking.

  “You being unsocial,” he says looking down at me. “What if I want to take you to dinner, to a picnic, to-”

  “Men do those things to get laid, clearly you’re getting laid, so-”

  He grabs me and pulls me into him, and kisses me hard, like last night.

  I like this kind of kiss. It’s a promise for more to come. The only promise a person should truly believe in, one that’s effect is immediate.

  He pulls back, takes my hand and starts walking briskly towards his place, “What the hell is it about you?”

  Like I have a clue, I think to myself.

  “You are like, hell I don’t know, but I left a sure thing as soon as I saw you, because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  “I mean honestly it’s been less than twenty-four hours, if you did forget about me you’d either have been more shit faced than I was, or in need of a doctor,” I say.

  “You,” he shakes his head, “You’re something else.”

  “Odd that’s what my mother used to say when she was pissed at me.”

  He laughs, “Your real name?”

  “Kat.”

  “My name is Owen, Kat, I am so glad I met you.”

  Once inside his apartment he walks toward the kitchenette and opens the refrigerator.

  I start taking off my clothes, like he said last night. When he turns around I am just unhooking my bra.

  He stops dead in his tracks.

  “You’re my favorite.”

  “Is the list long?” I ask tossing my bra on the couch with my jeans and tee-shirt.

  “Does it bother you?” He asks as he walks towards me, his hand outstretched offering a beer.

  “It was a question, that’s all.” I take the beer and drink it half down.

  “Is yours?”

  I refuse to tell Wentworth that I have no list even though I hate lying, brutal honesty has always been my favorite way to go, it’s not an option. I shrug, “Not bad.”

  “So you, what have no problem sleeping around?”

  “What it’s okay for a man but not a woman?” I ask before drinking down the rest. I’m a little unnerved about this. “Hey, you know what, don’t answer that. No big deal this is just a thing you-”