by Sam Mariano
I cried out his name as I felt his tongue move up inside of me. Then he urged the lips apart and his tongue moved up, connecting with my most sensitive spot. I gasped as his tongue flicked at it. It felt so good, but I wanted more. Compared to the much larger organ he had been pounding inside of me only moments before, I felt like he was just teasing me with his tongue.
And he was.
I tangled my hands in his hair, tugging as hard as I pleased, but he didn't stop. Apparently hair-pulling didn't bother him anymore than it bothered me, which pleased me.
I felt his mouth pull away from me, and I did murmur, "Don't stop."
He positioned himself back between my legs, but instead of pushing inside of me, he waited at the entrance, butting against me, teasing me, but not doing anything more.
I was so frustrated that I would have probably begged him to be inside of me again if that was what it took, but he just leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Nikki, are you sure you don't want me to fuck you?"
"Yes. No!" I said quickly, trying to form the proper response.
"Which is it?" he asked, moving less than an inch inside of me.
"Yes, I do," I finally said, hating that he made me say it.
"You do... what?"
I glared up at him, my labored breathing not really helping my case.
"Say it, Nikki," he said, looking at me intensely with those beautiful blue eyes of his.
I growled in frustration, but then, swallowing my pride, I said, "I want you to fuck me."
"Good girl," he groaned, thrusting hard inside of me.
"Fuck you," I gasped, arching my back.
I saw that this surprised him, and one blonde eyebrow shot up, but I saw no reason to hold back then, so I dug my nails into his back again and bucked against him.
He grabbed a fistful of my hair again and tugged so hard that it jerked my head back, but that only intensified the pressure building inside of me, making my entire body feel like it was going to explode. I was so caught up in the moment, nearly out of my mind with need, that when I finally felt myself getting close, my breaths coming out in pants, I could barely make out what he was saying when, as he took me harder and faster than he had before, he whispered, "I'm going to drive you this crazy every single time, Nikki."
But he sent me soaring over the edge as he said my name, and all I could do was cry out my release, tightening my legs around him as the most earth shattering feeling flooded my entire body. I felt him pump into me one last time, then he groaned and took his own release before finally falling down limp beside me on the bed.
As my body began to recover, I rolled over to wrap my arms around him, snuggling my face into his chest.
I was only there for about three seconds, however, when he gently but firmly moved me off of him. I didn't know what he was doing, but I realized that he appeared to be getting off the bed, picking his boxers up and pulling them back on.
Confused, I pushed myself up on my elbow and frowned at him.
"What are you doing?" I asked, my confusion evident in my voice.
"Leaving," he said simply.
My eyes widened. "What? Why?"
He glanced back at the bed, pulling his jeans up and zipping them. "We're done here."
"But..." I started to protest, wanting to demand my rightful cuddling since the sex was done and over with.
"But what?" he asked, looking distinctly amused as he seemed to read my thoughts. "You didn't think cuddling was part of our arrangement, did you?"
My lips tightened, any pleasant feelings I might have been starting to have about him evaporating instantly.
"Get out," I spat.
He merely smirked, picking his shirt up from off the ground.
I felt so pissed off that I realized if he didn't hurry up, I was going to grab my alarm clock off the end table and whip it right at his smug head.
"I want to see the tape you made," I stated as I watched him put his shirt on.
"Why?" he asked, his tone idle, almost bored.
"Because if you don't show it to me, I'm never going to let you anywhere near me again, and if you want to broadcast the video on the school website, you can be my guest," I replied icily.
He watched me for a couple seconds before nodding. "Fine."
I had gotten my way, but I still felt so angry that I wanted to hit him, so I couldn't bring myself to feel any satisfaction over my small victory.
"I like you better when you're drunk," he remarked. "You're nicer."
"I like you better when I'm drunk, too," I shot back. "I can imagine you're someone else."
"Someone you don't hate as much?" he replied, not looking at all wounded.
"There's no one that I hate more, so that could be just about anyone," I replied sweetly.
He shook his head, a smile still on that smug face of his and he said, "See you tomorrow, Nikki. Oh," he added as an afterthought, "and thanks for the notes."
I merely glared, not responding, and waited until he was out of the room before I released a growl of anger and frustration.
That bastard!
Ooh, I hated him so much! He was frustrating and mean and... confusing, and I hated him with a passion! Never had I hated someone as much as I hated Derek in that moment as he walked out of my room.
I finally rolled out of bed and went in to take a nice hot shower, hoping to clean my body everywhere that he had soiled it with his awful touch.
Even after my shower, I felt so dirty and so angry, and I imagined myself as one of those Elmer Fudd cartoons, my face red and smoke coming out of my ears.
As if blackmailing me and making me admit to liking his touch –even though I loathed him—wasn't enough, he just had to outdo himself. Heaven forbid he leave me feeling like a human being. Oh no. A Noble would absolutely have to leave me feeling like dirt on the bottom of his shoe.
They were so much alike that it made me sick, I thought angrily as I yanked the blankets and the sheets off my bed, hauling them out of my room and toward the washing machine.
I stewed angrily until my boiling blood cooled to a steady simmer, then I sat on my bare bed and pulled out my journal, deciding to get my feelings out on paper before my head exploded.
The next day I decided to walk to school to get some of my leftover negative energy out. I wasn't as enraged as I had been the night before, but I was still pretty pissed off.
What really confused me was the fact that he had been so nice to me Monday. I had been absolutely certain that he wasn't as bad as I thought he was.
After the previous night, I decided he wasn't as bad as I thought he was—he was worse.
But it still confused me, and I hated to be confused. I had some kind of innate need to understand things, so Derek's little Jekyll and Hyde routine really threw me.
I felt downright used, manipulated, and I wanted nothing more than to take his pretty little head right off his stupid shoulders.
As I walked into the school, I told myself to get a grip. Yes, the previous night had been terrible and Derek had been a complete dickhead, but I really shouldn't have expected more from him. He was his father's son, after all, and I knew better than anyone the way my mother been treated by his douchebag of a father. Honestly, expecting more from the son had probably been foolish.
Still, when I noticed Derek sitting on my desk, I felt my blood pressure skyrocket.
I told myself to calm down, that he wasn't worth it, that it wasn't a big deal. It was just sex, and sex didn't mean anything, so there was no need to let him rile me.
But I hadn't been prepared for the final insult, so I was somehow still surprised when he leaned down beside me and dropped a single dollar bill on top of my books.
"Your tip," he whispered.
I gritted my teeth, my jaw locked so tight that it actually hurt, and I picked the dollar bill up, tearing it in half and then ripping it into tiny pieces and throwing them at him. I wanted so badly to say something that would really wound him, but I was so
furious that I couldn't even think straight.
He clicked his tongue at me and said, "So ungrateful. But I guess the experience was tip enough for you, huh?" he said, smiling that smug little smile of his.
I didn't even realize what I was about to say, but it came spilling out of my mouth with more venom than I knew I was capable of: "I wish you would have been in the car with her."
Instantly, his smile fell off his face, and I knew that I had drawn blood.
I looked away then, stubbornly ignoring him and opening up my book to the appropriate page. He stood there long enough that I thought he was going to say something, but the teacher told everyone to take their seats, so he slowly made his way back to his own desk.
I was glad that I had hurt him, and I knew I should feel better about it, but for some reason, I felt guilty tears burning behind my eyes.
Even though he was cruel, even though I hated him, I was already starting to wish I hadn't said that to him. I had basically just wished him dead, and I had never said something so awful to anyone before. I had never even thought something quite so terrible before. And I didn't even mean it. As much as I hated him, as cruel as he was, I wouldn't truly wish he was dead, I had just been so angry, and then he had made it worse by adding insult to injury...
When the incredibly long class was finally over, I tried to make eye contact with Derek, but he walked right past my desk, his jaw set.
He had some nerve being mad at me, I told myself. But still, I felt something like guilt settle in my stomach, and as I went to class after class, it only got worse. It was gnawing away at me, and while initially I used my anger to try to excuse it, by lunch I felt so sick to my stomach that I decided to apologize.
When I walked into the lunch room, however, the first thing I saw was Derek with his arm around Kayla, leaning in and whispering something in her ear as she giggled.
The guilty feeling seemed to dissipate, and I found myself simply standing there, staring.
Derek looked up as if he sensed my presence, and that time he did make eye contact with me. He kept watching me as he leaned in even closer and started to kiss Kayla's ear.
What an asshole, I thought, feeling unreasonably angry. No doubt he would cuddle with her, I thought scathingly.
I decided that I hated her, too, and I was glad I had fucked her boyfriend the night before. In fact, I kind of felt like marching up to her table and telling her, watching that stupid little smile fall right off her face in front of all her friends.
Instead, I turned around and walked out of the lunch room, knowing I would lose my appetite in there, so instead I headed for the vending machines.
Chapter Five-
That whole day was spent alternating between extreme anger and even more extreme anger. I felt so angry that I didn't even know what to do with myself—not a feeling I was used to.
I wished I had never met Derek Noble.
I might not truly wish him dead, but I certainly wished I would’ve never laid eyes on him. I wished Alex wouldn't have moved back to town. He could have easily found another girlfriend in... well, I didn't even know where he had lived, because my mom had never cared to mention that fact, but I knew it was a couple hours away. No one would have known my story, I could have had a somewhat normal life, and most importantly, I never would have met Derek Noble.
The next day, however, my temper had cooled enough for me to realize that I didn't have to just sit back and watch his attempts to taunt me by rubbing Kayla in my face. Two could play that game.
So I didn't allow him to exile me at lunch that day. Instead, I waited for Andy, and walked into lunch with him, smiling at whatever story he was telling me, pretending the story of his grandmother camping wasn't boring me to death. Oh, I doted on him, all right, and then I picked the table right in front of Derek's, that way he would have a front row seat.
I wondered later if Andy was suspicious that I was suddenly so affectionate, touching him, resting my head on his shoulder, whispering in his ear and giving him a little kiss. I did lose myself in the game for a moment, so intent on making sure I gave Derek a good show that I didn't even consider what Andy was going to think, and at one point I even lightly bit his ear.
Andy looked over at me in shock, never having seen that side of me before, and I did have the grace to blush a little. He was blushing, too, which annoyed me for some reason. If I would have nipped Derek's ear, he wouldn't have blushed, he would have returned a heated look and done something to indicate his interest.
Yes, chimed a little voice in my head, then he would fuck the hell out of you and leave you lying in bed by yourself, feeling like a two dollar whore.
Oh, right.
Still, I couldn't help feeling a little more than satisfied when I heard someone noisily stand up behind me, then I saw Derek, looking quite annoyed, leaving the lunch room in a huff, muttering something about "whores" making him lose his appetite.
May as well act like a whore if he's going to make me feel like one, I thought sourly.
My interest in Andy waned once I knew I no longer had an audience to nauseate, but I think Andy was relieved, because he didn't know what to do with me when I was being affectionate. When he had tried to take my hand under the table after Derek left, I neatly avoided it by finally taking an interest in my food.
Derek and I continued this little game all week. He never called me, never asked or demanded that I pay another "payment," and every moment that we were near each other, we were doing everything we could to make the other person mad, using any and every weapon at our disposal.
Stephanie noticed that my moods were always bad, but I blamed it on school, saying I just had a lot going on and I was worried about my grades.
Andy noticed, too, but his idea of cheering me up would always include touching me, even innocently, and his touch, innocent or otherwise, was only welcome if Derek might be able to see.
Strangely, even Alex noticed that I was in a sour mood most of the time, one time remarking, "What crawled up your ass?"
I ignored him and his girlfriend and just went to my room to get lost in a book.
On Friday, Stephanie got a bright idea to cheer me up. Since neither of us worked that night, she decided we should go to the football game. I was immediately opposed to the idea, especially once she told me that Derek and Kayla were going. I stubbornly refused, too, until she innocently added, "And if it's Derek you're worried about, I already told him and Kayla I was inviting you to come with me, he even thought it was a great idea."
Of course he did, I thought sullenly.
But I couldn't very well say no, because Derek would be convinced I was sitting at home instead of going to the game because of him.
Instead, I called Andy and asked him to go with me. At least if I had to sit there, I was going to have a protective shield with me.
It did occur to me that I was simply using Andy, and not only was that wrong since I was his girlfriend, but it was wrong even as his friend. Andy was the first person to ignore my past and befriend me, and I repaid him by using him?
But when my conscience would try to speak up, my hatred for Derek would always override it.
When we showed up at the game, I had an arm wrapped around Andy and a smile on my face.
Throughout the game, I paid very little attention to what was going on out on the field. For some reason that I didn't quite understand, Kayla seemed to take as much pleasure as Derek did in tormenting me, and when he would do, say or whisper something to make her giggle, she would playfully swat him, saying stupidly, "You're so bad!" and then she would look at me like the cat that got the cream.
Talk about confusing.
Not that I sat there prudishly. Not by any means. I was so far up Andy's ass it wasn't even funny, giggling at things he said, hanging adoringly on his arm, stealing kisses here and there. That time when he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close and saying, "I love you," I forced myself to say, "I love you, too."
I
was so caught up in the game I was playing with Derek that I didn't even have the decency to feel bad about it.
However, I could only take so much, and by the time the game was almost over, Kayla was actually sitting in Derek's lap, much more concerned with snuggling than football. Seeing him with his arms around her made me irrationally angry, thinking he could cuddle with her, but not me. What made her so much better than me?
"Excuse me," I finally said, making up some excuse about having to use the restroom.
Instead of using the bathroom, I just walked toward them, then made my way up under the bleachers, not wanting to be around anyone, not wanting to fake it with Andy anymore.
I felt so angry that I was beginning to feel sad, and that made me even angrier. I didn't know why I was feeling sad, but I assumed all the anger was just taking its toll on me. My lack of proper sleep probably wasn't helping. I kept having absurd dreams at night, dreams of stupid things like Derek and Kayla. In one of my less reasonable dreams, I didn't seem to hate Derek. Quite the opposite, I seemed to like him. And I remember in the first part of the dream he was kissing me at that park, and I was feeling uncharacteristically girly, practically head over heels for him. He was wearing a jean jacket, and he kissed me like he cared. Then, in the next flash, Derek was sitting in some sort of small room with a few lockers, a chair and a table, and he was saying, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen." I remember feeling devastated, I remember him looking so sorry that I just wanted to hold him and cry, and I remember asking, "So you're back together?"
"I guess," he replied in my dream.
"Do you love her?" I asked him.
He just sat there, staring blankly at his shoes, which, I remember, had yellow laces.
"Do you?" I asked again. "Or are you just with her because of the baby?"
I no more than said that and I jerked myself out of the dream, feeling panicked and disoriented. I felt that way for a full minute before I started sorting the dream out, and realized that I had jumbled everything together. That was –at least partially—the conversation my mother had with Mike when they found out Sarah was pregnant with Derek. I had recast everybody, but in the dream I truly felt like it was me, and I felt strangely heartbroken, like I could hardly breathe.