Sunday

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Sunday Page 4

by Kaia Bennett

She blushed and laughed weakly at Bobby's comment. Bobby was always giving her compliments. She looked up at Flynn, ready to shake his hand and pretend they were strangers.

  "Yeah, we know each other. We're partnered together for a project in Psych," he said, before taking a drag off his cigarette.

  Her jaw went from a vice grip, to slack as wet laundry.

  "You enjoy the party?" he asked.

  He said it like it was a normal question, like he didn't know how much she had enjoyed certain parts of it. She looked down and mumbled something about it being nice, but now she was feeling sick.

  They ended up on the porch for almost twenty minutes, with her trying to hold a casual conversation with Cherise, while Flynn flirted with the redhead and talked to Luca and Bobby about the college football team. If she really had been sick she would've been pissed at how long it was taking her to escape this party.

  After a few minutes, she hugged Bobby and Cherise, and then grabbed Luca's hand. Flynn spoke again as they were making a dash for their car.

  "Oh, Gia, we're still meeting tomorrow for Psych at my place, right?"

  Goddamn motherfucking sonofabitch! she screamed in her head. She’d forgotten tomorrow was Sunday. She knew what game he was playing. If she acted funny around him now, it would look suspicious. If she mentioned that they were originally going to meet in the library, it would look suspicious. Hell, if she looked at him for too long, it would look suspicious. Flynn had not only met her boyfriend, but now he was toying with her right in front of him. And she couldn't do anything to stop it.

  "Yeah, I guess so," she said.

  "Cool. Feel better," he said, before turning back to the redhead.

  Gia couldn't see very well in the dark, but she could've sworn his lips turned up in a smile just for her to see.

  ***

  At eight minutes past twelve thirty, Gia sat in the library looking this way and that, legs crossed and foot wiggling nervously. Last night, when the post-orgasmic fever was replaced by pure rage, she’d texted Flynn.

  We are meeting in the library. Period. Can't stay long. Luca will be there.

  It had taken almost half an hour to write that, and she thought it was pretty good. Short, sweet and strong. There was no way in hell she was going to be caught alone with him again. The only problem was she wasn't sure if he had gotten it since he hadn't responded. She almost hoped he hadn’t gotten her message, so she could skip seeing him altogether. Not that it mattered if he wasn't in sight. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see him, smell him, and feel him.

  It was like a sickness. The first time he had touched her, she’d been aroused, yes; but more than that, she had been afraid. Afraid of her own responses, and how a guy she didn't even like could claim them on a whim. Every sensation from that day was clear in her mind, but scattered. A tongue here, a hand there, his voice and the way his fingers had invaded her; it had been like riding a roller coaster with her eyes closed.

  Last night, her eyes had been wide open and everything had been in vivid Technicolor. She couldn't blink for too long, be still for too long, or her body would take over and Flynn would flood her thoughts. She could still see his eyes in the mirror; hear his voice in her ear. She could still feel his cock ramming into her, his thick fingertips circling her clit, and she could taste her own sweet musk on his fingers.

  Even now, in a room full of students, she couldn't stop her hips from rocking subtly against the seat.

  "Miss me," a voice whispered in her ear.

  Gia squealed loudly and bumped her knee underneath the table. The extent of her surprise was measured in the pain that throbbed like a pulse through her leg. She cradled it, dropping her head to the table while he laughed and took a seat.

  "So skittish,” Flynn said. “If I didn't know better, I'd think I make you nervous."

  Anger made her forget that glaring at him soon turned into staring and thinking thoughts she could only pray weren’t written all over her face. He was wearing light blue jeans and a white button-down shirt. The first few buttons were undone so that, from her angle, she caught a sliver of the black ink on his defined chest. The sleeves were rolled up on his veined forearms, the ones she had gripped with such urgency less than twenty-four hours ago. His dirty blond hair looked darker, probably still damp from a shower. And if last night’s events had somehow miraculously slipped her mind, his green eyes were there, shining so blatantly with what he had done to her.

  Flynn watched her turn away and sit up straighter than any human spine should allow. In fact, he’d been watching her for a good five minutes from the second floor balcony before he approached her. Every few seconds, she would look up and down the entrance lounge of the library, waiting for him to enter. Then she would nibble on her lip and return to "reading" her research book, which had yet to have a page turned.

  There was something refreshingly cute about her looking for him, even if it was because she was terrified of being in the same room with him. He’d held out for as long as he could, before she started to think he wasn't going to show and left.

  "I would have been expecting you if you had written back." Gia muttered sourly.

  He ignored her, pulling his laptop out of his bag and setting it up. When he was done he pulled out a pair of earphones and turned to her.

  "This is the video I made for the presentation," he said, handing her the earphones.

  Instinctively she backed away from his approaching hand. He didn't seem fazed and set them down in front of her instead. He rested his temple on his knuckles, and waited. She put the earphones in and he turned to the computer to load the video he had edited for the beginning of their presentation.

  Gia stole a glance at Flynn’s profile while he fiddled around with the mouse. She felt her fingertips pulse with an almost palpable need to touch him. She wanted to run her fingers through those shaggy curls falling into his eyes. She wanted to stroke down the slope of his forehead, down his straight nose, over the indent above his upper lip, and then, the soft, pink curves of his mouth. She wanted to trace his chin, draw her fingers around to his jaw line and down that long, pale neck.

  And throttle him.

  Fucking prick.

  It had only been five minutes and she was already in heat. She would have to worry about that later, because music was playing and suddenly she couldn't remember what she’d been thinking about. Clips from all the movies, real life footage, and documentaries she had watched for research had been edited together. Their project topic was the stigma on mental health patients, and as the images flashed before her eyes, she became enthralled. All of her research was coming to life.

  They could only use eight minutes of footage maximum, so that the students didn't try to run down their time with fluff. Flynn had made a video in half that amount of time, and it was anything but a ploy to fill space during their presentation. When the film was over, Gia turned to him with a look of pure shock.

  "Where did you learn how to edit like that?” she asked. “And how did you remember all the stuff I watched for research?"

  "Shh!"

  Someone two tables down had volunteered to be the annoying library silence monitor and Gia clammed up.

  Flynn gave a crooked grin and reached across her face before she could move. He pulled out one of the earphones and she blushed. She hadn't even realized they were still in and that she was talking loudly because of them.

  "One of my majors is film, and I listen when people tell me things," he replied, simply.

  "You have two majors? But...how…you sleep in class!"

  "I sleep in Psych," he corrected, "which is a joke. I'm just taking it again 'cause I need the General Education credits."

  His fingers stroked down her jaw, around her chin, then up to her ear, and Gia felt like she was sinking in quicksand, trapped under his fingers and his eyes as they teased her skin.

  "That pretty little mouth is hanging wide open," he said, flicking his gaze up to hers.

  Immed
iately, her eyes turned to stone, a sharp contrast to her body, which was shaking like jelly as he pulled out the other earphone and retraced his stroke.

  "You should close it before something finds its way in there. Again."

  His smile was just for her as the tip of his index finger teased the outline of her lip. He watched her lips move, her pink tongue coming out of hiding to gently lick the all too familiar digit.

  "Ow! Shit!" he hissed, as quietly as possible, shaking out his hand and the throbbing finger she had just bitten.

  "Shouldn't put your hands where they don't belong," she admonished, scooting her chair over slightly, thanking her lucky stars they were seated in the back row.

  To her surprise, he chuckled lightly, sucking on his finger. The gesture, as well as the silver ring on his thumb, made her mouth water.

  "I'm starting to think you have a fetish for biting," he said, scooting closer.

  "A sadist like you probably likes it," she hissed, scooting away again. "Can you even get it up for a girl that's willing to fuck you?"

  As soon as she said it, she wished she hadn't. Hadn't she been more than willing? That's what the look he was giving her said. That's what the throbbing between her clenching thighs confirmed.

  "If I'm a sadist," Flynn whispered, holding her chair immobile so that she couldn't move as he scooted up next to her, "then doesn't that make you a masochist?"

  She had moved so far that she was pinned up against the leg of the table. Gia looked up, searching the room, looking for someone to notice what he was doing, but hoping that they didn't. The fact that it was relatively empty in the lounge on a nice Sunday afternoon could work for or against her.

  "I'd believe you were a masochist. You seemed to like that little spanking I gave you,” he murmured teasingly. “Right here.”

  There was nowhere to run and no way to hide her arousal as he slipped his hand under the table, and ran it up her thigh until his fingers could brush gently back and forth over her jean-covered mound.

  She could feel his eyes on her as her breathing grew short, her eyes darting frantically over the top of the table.

  "We are in the middle of a crowded room," she said through gritted teeth. It was as if she were trying to convince herself that it couldn't be happening.

  "Then you better keep quiet and act natural."

  His fingers were insistent, tunneling in between her legs until he had breached the tiny gap that even her vice-like clenching couldn't close. She exhaled sharply, her eyes growing unfocused as he found her clit through the fabric and pressed firmly.

  "This hot already," he murmured, more to himself than to her. She heard his breath catch when her hips pumped, pressing her heat against his rolling fingers.

  She bit her lip against a moan and shivered, feeling the wetness pool between her thighs.

  "Should have remembered this would be hard for you,” he whispered. “I bet you wanna scream right now."

  He wasn't even looking at her, just leaning over as if he were reading her book with her, his chin resting on his hand while the other arm crossed his body to get to her. Anyone paying attention would have noticed only the slightest movement in his arm, and a girl shivering beside him.

  "Stop...Luca will be here..." She tried to say the word soon, but his fingers stole it from her. They circled rapidly, sliding in deeper. She reached under the table, trying to push him away.

  His hand was quick, slipping away to curl around hers. She gasped, both at the grip of his larger hand around hers, and at the loss of his steady rubbing. She fought it as much as she could, trying to pull back as discreetly as possible. She didn't comprehend where he was leading her hand until he pressed it against the hard length of him hidden beneath his loose jeans.

  Slowly, so that he didn't draw too much attention, he stroked her stiff hand up and down. He was torturing her with the feel of his larger hand wrapped around hers, making her shake with the realization she was growing more and more willing by the second. She wouldn’t look him in the eye while her fingers went from being lax against him to softly cupping him.

  "You feel that, how hard that is?" he whispered.

  Her grip tightened on him, the same way nervousness and lust had tightened their grip on her. She could hear him breathing through his nose, taking deep controlled breaths that stuttered every now and then when he pressed her hand harder against him.

  "I think you liked it stroking inside of you...or, did you like my tongue better?"

  A rush of arousal soaked her panties. Her eyes had grown so unfocused all she could see was the swirling patterns of the wood grain on the table, and the black type of the book in front of them. Her chest was too tight. She couldn't breath. She needed more of his heat in her palm, to really touch and see what his jeans kept hidden, what had filled her so completely just hours before.

  And then, suddenly he was moving her hand away from his crotch, giving her a devilish grin before turning away.

  "Hey, man," Flynn said, and Gia turned in a barely concealed panic to see her boyfriend approaching. She had forgotten he was coming and the shame was a splash of cold water over her hot sex.

  "Hey, Flynn, what's goin' on?" Luca said, flashing a perfectly dimpled grin. He greeted Gia with a "Hey, babe," and a kiss, before pulling up a chair at the end of the table.

  "So, how's the work coming," Luca asked, nodding towards Flynn's laptop.

  "Coming along nicely," Flynn answered.

  Gia wondered if she had become a full-fledged pervert, or if Flynn had really been that obvious when he’d said the word "coming".

  "We're stopping now," she said, firmly.

  Flynn caught the emphasis of her words clearly. In response, he stroked a finger along her outer thigh. She tried her best to look unaffected by his relentless caress.

  "Good, because I'm starving, and you promised me food if I got out of bed," Luca said, checking his phone. It was buzzing with a text.

  Gia was mortified. He just had to mention she’d practically bribed him to come and get her. Could she look – or be - any more helpless? And couldn't her clueless boyfriend tell that she was frazzled to within an inch of her life?

  "You can tag along if you want. Gigi and me, we’re just going to the diner with some friends," Luca offered.

  She winced at the old nickname. When they had first started going out two years ago, it had been an annoying joke. She hadn’t wanted a nickname, especially one as stupid as Gigi. Somehow, it had stuck, and now it was popping up around other people. If that weren't enough, the warning glance she darted at Flynn that said Don't you fucking dare say ‘yes’, was greeted with a raised eyebrow and barely contained amusement. Apparently, he thought her nickname was corny, too.

  After a moment, which felt like an eternity, Flynn said, "Wish I could, but I switched shifts to go to Bobby's last night. I gotta head to work soon."

  "Aw, dude, that sucks," Luca said sympathetically.

  "Yeah, but it was definitely worth the trouble," he replied, climbing to his feet at the same time as Luca. He didn't even need to see her face to get the satisfaction of knowing that Gia knew exactly why he thought the party had been worth it.

  "Where do you work anyway?" Luca asked, putting his phone away.

  Gia had noticed that not only was she not talking, but she was the last one seated while Flynn gathered the rest of his things.

  "I wait tables at Ambrosia, usually during the week, and bartend at Proof on the weekends."

  "You have two jobs?" Gia and Luca exclaimed at the same time.

  Luca looked at Gia quizzically, and laughed. "You didn't know that already? You've been working together for, like, a month."

  "Oh, well, we don't really talk about that stuff," Flynn said, looking at Gia.

  Translation: She’d never asked.

  "Yeah, I get it,” Luca said with a knowing nod, “She's kind of a one track mind when it comes to schoolwork."

  She felt sick. She should have been responding to Luca's
comment, playfully admitting that she was a Type A personality. But, once again, the wrong guy was taking precedence in her thoughts. Not only was Flynn laying the wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing routine on thick, but he had completely leveled her perception of him. She was taking on a full course load and working at a café during the week. Sometimes she was utterly exhausted.

  Flynn was a sex fiend, a player, and an asshole completely devoid of a moral compass. Where the hell did he get off being busier and a harder worker than her?

  She felt like a zombie when they finally made their way out to the exit and out into the sunny afternoon, walking at a leisurely pace towards the parking lot. She was all but silent, throwing in an occasional nod or “yeah, uh-huh” when appropriate. For the most part, Flynn and Luca did all the talking. They finally reached the large student parking lot and the two men in her life stood talking for a few moments, one completely oblivious to her discomfort, the other blatantly ignoring it. It was as if nothing had happened, as if her world hadn't been shaken like a snow globe, with her just waiting to see how it would all fall down around her. She could almost pretend that nothing had changed.

  Maybe, if she had gone against her gut instinct about Flynn in the beginning, maybe been nicer to him, she wouldn't have become his little toy. Maybe it would have been the difference between being a fellow student, and being the girl who could still feel a phantom cock plunging into her every time he entered her thoughts. When the conversation finally wound down, she felt as if she was exhaling a month’s worth of air from her lungs. She could finally relax a little. Or, so she thought.

  "See you Wednesday, Gia," Flynn said, before walking towards the opposite end of the lot.

  On anyone else's lips, the words would have been congenial, wholesome. On Flynn's, it was a sinister promise. She walked alongside Luca and sighed, looking heavenward.

  God just had to take Sunday's off, didn't He?

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was Tuesday night and Flynn was beat. He had gone straight from class during the day to serving snooty upper-crusts overpriced food in the evening. He dropped his bag on the couch, kicked off his shoes and clicked on the lights as he headed for the shower. He couldn't wait to wash the day off.

 

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