Hard Stick

by Paige North

  “I do,” I say, and dart out the door and back into my room. I emerge through the bathroom door— taking care to unlock it— a moment later with the star shaped ice cubes my tray makes. Gabe sees them and looks both amused and horrified, then more so when I pour the cheap beer over them.

  “You can’t tell anyone I drank in the dorms, you know,” I say after taking a sip. Truth is, no one would believe him even if he did. I don’t break the rules, after all. I enforce them. Always have. Until now, anyway. The thought makes me uncomfortable, so I force myself not to focus on it.

  “Promise,” Gabe says. “So. What position is your favorite?”

  “Um, excuse me?” I say, both disgusted and offended.

  “On the football field. What’s your favorite position? I want to see if I’m playing it,” Gabe says, giving me a pitying look, like my mind is in the gutter.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t really know any of the…positions. Except quarterback. Everyone knows the quarterback. Is that what you play?”

  “Tight end,” Gabe says, pretending to look dismayed. “Damn quarterbacks really get all the attention.”

  “What does a tight end even do?” I ask, taking another long drink.

  “Everything. Sort of…half lineman, half wide receiver.” I must look blank, because he sighs and says, “Tight ends do a little of everything. I made the team because the coach here likes to have a few guys playing the position, each with a specialty. So, I’m a tight end who specializes in blocking. Marcus Reuben specializes in pass catching. Lee Worthman is — you really have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  “Not a clue. I’m not into football,” I say. “Sorry.”

  He shrugs. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not even that into football. I’m just good at it. Made it onto the team at a walk on tryout since I wasn’t playing senior year, when scouts were watching. I’m not rich enough to turn down free college, so if I’ve got to hit some people to get this place paid for, I’m in.”

  “Why didn’t you play your senior year?” I ask. I don’t know much about football, but I know that’s pretty unheard of.

  Gabe takes a drink, then reaches for another can of beer. “That’s a story for another time.”

  “Oh yeah? Secretive,” I say, and Gabe shrugs, offering no further clarification. I’m only halfway through my drink, but I can already feel the slightest effects of it— I’m such a lightweight. I set it at my feet, knowing I need to slow down a little. I barely know Gabe, and something about him makes me feel reckless…which could be bad when mixed with too much alcohol.

  “Worried I’ll try something?” Gabe asks, lifting his eyebrows and nodding toward the drink I’ve just placed on the floor.

  “Just pacing myself,” I say.

  “But are you worried I’ll try something?” Gabe presses.

  I part my lips. Am I? I’m not sure. I think I’m more worried that I’ll …I don’t know, not try something exactly, but maybe say something, or imply something. Guys like Gabe— enormous and muscular and broad-shouldered and dark eyed— aren’t known for making passes at me, and I’ve never felt the need to humiliate myself by trying to make a pass at them. But…I’ve never been alone with a guy like Gabe. I’ve certainly never drank with one. And I’ve definitely never snuck into one’s room.

  “I mean, I wouldn’t dare try something with you,” Gabe says casually. “You hate me, remember? I stole your room.”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Oh. Well then, maybe I ought to see…” he says, frowning. He rises and takes a few steps toward me. The dim light from his desk lamp casts a shadow behind him, and I feel myself tense, trapped in the desk chair. Gabe, however, cuts to the side— so I have a clear path to rise and dart away if I want to. I wonder if this is on purpose. He stops when he’s behind me, and even though I could look over my shoulder and see what he’s up to, I feel frozen.

  No— frozen sort of makes it sound unpleasant. This is, much to my surprise, not at all unpleasant. I feel…

  Still.

  There’s no movement for a moment, no sound, really, save the ambient noise from outside the dorms. The quiet is too much for me to bear, so finally I say, “What are you doing?”

  “Trying something,” Gabe says from behind me.

  Chapter 3

  I’m about to ask what that means when suddenly, he reaches around me and gently lifts one of my arms into the air, pulling it straight like he’s coaxing a flower to bloom. “Do you have a boyfriend, Lucy?” he asks.

  “No,” I say, voice a little shaky. I could have said yes, of course. I could have lied, and maybe he would stop all this. But…I don’t want him to stop. I want to see where this goes.

  “That’s crazy. You were beautiful even when you were yelling at me earlier today, you know.”

  “I wasn’t yelling,” I start, but then I feel his fingertips on my side. He dances them along my side, up my arm, to my wrist. Each inch he touches lights up, nerves standing on end, and I feel a surge of wetness in my panties that startles me.

  “You were. I liked it.”

  “You like being yelled at?”

  “I like women who are strong,” he corrects, then presses his mouth to my wrist. I jolt and, before I really think about it, a small whimper escapes my lips. I can feel him smiling against the skin of my forearm.

  “I— what are you doing?” I finally ask, voice nearly a whisper.

  “I told you. Trying something. Do you want me to stop?” Gabe asks. His voice is low, like mine, and husky. I can tell he knows what my answer will be, even before I shake my head no.

  Gabe reaches for my other arm, then lifts it up so my hands are above my head, almost like he’s planning to tie them there. I wouldn’t be shocked if he did, and there’s a nervous, dark excitement about that possibility— an excitement I’ve never experienced before. I feel my core tighten in frantic, nervous anticipation, and then Gabe gives me a little tug, pulling me to standing.

  Without my arms, I’m a bit off balance, and wobble a touch before finding my footing. I realize that Gabe is still easily holding my hands above my head, even now that I’m standing, and it sinks in how much taller than me he is. More than a foot, easily. I’m ultra petite, and he’s…well.

  Our size difference is made exceptionally clear when Gabe suddenly lifts me from the ground. I’m not expecting it, obviously, and I gasp in surprise; Gabe chuckles. He’s got me cradled in his arms, though they feel so secure that they might as well be concrete beams.

  “Still trying something,” he says down at me, then walks toward the bed.

  “Oh, Gabe, I—” I start, the excitement being taken over by real panic. Gabe stops and looks down at me curiously. “I just— we can’t have sex,” I say quickly, spitting the words out.

  “No?” Gabe asks. He sounds surprised. Given the fact that I’m trembling with want in his arms, I can’t exactly blame him.

  “I mean, I sort of…I think I want to, but we can’t— I can’t. I haven’t had sex before,” I say.

  Gabe’s eyebrows lift high. “You’re a virgin.”

  “Yes.”

  “Wow,” Gabe says, and licks his lips, like this is incredibly shocking news. “Got it. Okay.”

  “So. If you want…I can go,” I say, and try to spin myself out of his arms. I’m flushing dark red now— I can feel the color creeping up my chest. I mean, I know I did the right thing. Turned on as I am, I barely know the guy, and even though my body wants to know what his would feel like in me, my mind knows it’s too soon for that. But…surely that means he’s going to lose interest.

  Gabe holds me tightly, keeping me from escaping. “Lucy, Lucy, Lucy,” he says, tsk-ing my name. “Sweet virgin Lucy. Let’s see what I can do for you without taking your innocence, hm?”

  “It’s okay, we don’t have to do anything, I can go—”

  “Shhhh,” he says, and continues toward the bed. He sets me down on it, and before I can react, he takes one of
my hands and presses it against the front of his pants. His erection is not only rock hard, but it’s huge. I gasp, and feel my eyes widen.

  “You’re going to do this to me then just go? Don’t be ridiculous.” He stops, then tilts his head to the side and presses his cock harder into my hand. “Just how much of a virgin are you, Lucy?”

  “I haven’t—” I’m at a loss. There are words somewhere in my throat, but they won’t emerge, and I lick my lips as I feel my fingers curling a bit against his pants, daring and curious to see what it would feel like to grip his cock in my hand. I’ve never done that before. I’ve hardly done anything before, and it must be obvious, because Gabe exhales, and I can practically feel the hunger on his breath.

  “Has a man seen you naked before, Lucy?” he asks, voice low. I shake my head. “Well. I’d like to be the first then. That’d be okay, right?”

  I nod, almost too fast. What am I doing? I’ve never let someone tell me what to do like this, never let someone lift me and move my body around like this, never been the one relinquishing control rather than taking it. But I want this. I want this so badly. I want him to take my clothes off. I want him to see me. I don’t want to ask for it, though, and I don’t want to do it myself, because the fact that Gabe is so confident as he looms over me is the thing that’s making my blood feel like fire in my veins.

  “I thought it would be. Let’s see…” Gabe says quietly. He leans back a bit, letting his eyes rake across me in a way that makes my hips pulse. He smiles at this, then drums his fingers gently alone my inner thigh. Even through my pants, it makes me moan.

  “We’ll start here,” he says, almost to himself, as he takes hold of the bottom of my t-shirt. He lets his hand rest on my bare stomach for a moment, watching my face as he does so. Whatever he sees must satisfy him; he slowly inches the shirt up. Cool air licks at my skin, higher, higher, until we’re finally into territory it’s never touched before in the presence of another. He finally pulls the shirt over my head; I wiggle to get out of it. It’s not until he tosses it aside entirely that it hits me: I’m lying on Gabe’s bed in my bra, and he’s practically salivating at the sight of me.

  “So sexy,” he mutters, then drags his fingers down the center of my chest, from throat to belly button. I shiver at his touch and lift my hips, hopeful that he’ll want to remove my pants next. Now that I’m here, now that I’m doing this, I feel like I’m tumbling down a hill of pleasure and can’t stop.

  “Relax, sweet girl. I live right next door, remember? There’s plenty of time. And I very much like taking my time…” Gabe says, pushing my hips back onto the bed. “Besides. I still have questions.”

  “Okay,” I gasp as he returns his fingers to my chest, dancing them up my sides, like he’s exploring every inch of my skin.

  “No one’s seen you naked— has anyone touched you like this?” he asks. I shake my head. “Really? Never?”

  “Not like this,” I manage. It’s absolutely the truth. I’ve had a few exes that awkwardly fumbled under my shirt, but never like this. Never so steadfastly avoiding my breasts, like they’re being saved for something else entirely.

  “Very nice,” Gabe says, nodding. “Let’s try something else then, hm?” He reaches over me, and for a moment, I’m encased in his arms. I arch up, suddenly wanting to feel my chest pressed to his, but I can’t quite reach him. As I do this, his fingers find and expertly unclasp my bra. He removes his arms from behind me and leans back, bra now laying loosely across my chest. It’s still covering me, but barely.

  “And has anyone done that before?” Gabe asks, almost growling.

  “No. No one’s ever done anything like this to me before,” I say. I’ve gone so, so still— I want him to take my bra off entirely, I want him to reveal me, not some foolish shakiness on my part.

  “Why not, Lucy?” he asks.

  “I…I just never wanted anyone badly enough,” I say, which is the summary to end all summaries. It’s true, though. No one’s made me feel like I feel with Gabe, right now. No one’s ever made me want to surrender. No one’s even turned me on, really— I might have thought they did, but now that I’m here with Gabe, I know those arousals were just shadows in comparison.

  “You flatter me,” Gabe says, smiling coyly. “I’m going to put my mouth on you now, Lucy.”

  “Okay,” I whimper, then, under my breath, barely audible, “Please.”

  He laughs a little, barely more than a breath. “And to think, you hated me this morning.”

  “I didn’t hate—” I start, but I stop when Gabe tugs at the corner of my bra, sliding it over my arms and off onto the floor in one quick move. I jolt, instinctively moving to cover myself, but there’s no time— Gabe lowers his head and kisses me between the breasts, licking his tongue up to my neck, along my throat. My nipples go hard. I want to be touched, I want to be stroked, I want to be felt.

  Gabe then pulls away in order to swing himself up onto the bed, straddling me. He seems to take up my entire body; his thighs are the same width as my waist, I’m sure of it. He lowers himself against me, so I can feel his cock pressing against my pussy, though he stops just short of letting his full weight rest against me.

  He places his hands on my waist, then, keeping his eyes on mine, slides them up my torso, stopping just underneath my breasts. My eyes well with want until he slowly, cautiously slides his thumbs over my hardened nipples.

  I cry out. Loud— louder than I expected, certainly louder than I meant to. Gabe looks thrilled, and begins to circle my nipples with his thumbs. I feel like I might burn away from pleasure; my legs and pussy begin to clench, like they want to feel him there, even though I don’t even have the experience to know what I want when it comes to my pussy.

  “That’s right,” Gabe murmurs. “Don’t fight it. Let me make you come. Have you ever come before?”

  I mean to answer out loud, really, but all I do is stare at him, pulsing my hips, panting now. He slides his fingers away from my nipples, leaving me feeling empty, almost lonely, but giving me the sense to answer his question. “I’m not sure,” I say shakily.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m not— I’m not sure. I think I have, but it’s hard to know,” I whisper.

  “And that was when you touch yourself, right? When you rub your clit…” he takes one of my hands in his and pulls it to his mouth, separating out my pointer finger. He slides my finger between his lips, letting his tongue drag along the underside. I feel myself exploding, shaking, wetness soaking my panties. How is he doing this? It’s my finger, for fuck’s sake, not even a particularly sexual body part, and yet—

  He massages my finger with his tongue for a moment, then pulls it from his mouth. I notice he’s pulsing against me the smallest bit, his cock pressing harder, then gentler, against my pussy. “I want you to know that you’ve orgasmed, Lucy,” he says. “There shouldn’t be any doubt.”

  “Please. Do it— do anything,” I hear myself saying.

  “Eventually. For now…” he drifts off, smiling, then releases my hand. He moves back a bit, then lowers his mouth to my chest again, this time directly over my right nipple. I whimper as I feel his hot breath on me. “I think you might scream when you come. You probably don’t want people to hear that, being an RA and all, do you?”

  I don’t care— at all. I don’t care about anything but the need for his mouth to be on my nipple, for him to suck on me, for him to have me. Gabe shifts a little, and his hand moves to my cheek. He gently slips his finger into my mouth, and I’m alarmed at how quickly I begin to lick it, to suck on it like he did to mine.

  “That should keep you a little quieter,” he muses as I relish the feeling of his finger between my lips. “Ready to come for me, sweet Lucy?”

  I nod, but he doesn’t wait for my response; he takes my nipple between his lips and immediately begins to roll it back and forth along his tongue. I moan— I try to moan, but the sound is muted by his thumb in my mouth. Desperate for an outlet, I suck on h
is thumb harder as he does the same to my nipple. He toys with it, biting gently, opening his mouth wide to fit more of my breast in. Then he switches to the other side, and I feel electricity racing through me, headed toward the ball of lightening that seems to be forming in my pussy.

  I haven’t ever orgasmed before. Not really— I know this now, because I’ve never felt like this before.

  Gabe presses his cock tighter to me, rubbing it against the front of my pussy hard enough that even through our clothes, I can feel his blood pulsing. I groan, losing my ability to suck on Gabe’s finger; he leaves his thumb in my mouth all the same, but uses his free hand to massage the breast he isn't sucking. I grab hold of his shoulders— I need something to keep my body from burning away.

  “Gabe,” I mumble through his fingers, through my own delirium.

  He growls against me, but answers by sucking my left nipple hard, long, running his tongue in circles as he does so.

  It hits me like a wave— pleasure like I’ve never known before. My body locks up, limbs and muscles and bones all going rigid as a long, low moan escapes my throat. I dig my fingers into Gabe’s skin, arch my back involuntarily, as explosions of pleasure ripple through me, my pussy soaking, my skin lighting up, vision going dangerously close to dark.

  I’m not sure when, exactly, he removes his finger from my mouth and his lips from my breasts. I feel like I’m waking up; he’s still over me, but now he’s staring down, a satisfied look on his face, like I’m a particularly notable piece of handiwork. I’m panting, sweating and shaky.

  “Did you enjoy that, Lucy?” Gabe asks quietly.

  “I—” Yes. That was one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. I didn’t even know I could do that. What was I even mistaking for an orgasm, before? I look up at him, at his muscles chest, his dark eyes. Tattooed bands on his arms, broad shoulders…and his cock, still hard against my pussy. I remember taking hold of it earlier, and find myself wanting to reach down, to unzip his pants and take it in my hand without fabric between us—