by Kat T. Masen
When I was eight, my mom dragged me to a shopping mall where the cast of Dallas was appearing. Never had I seen my mom so excited to meet a bunch of old folks who were royalty in the soap opera world. My dad found it both hilarious and pathetic but gave her some extra spending money to buy a new dress, should she be lucky enough to get a photograph.
I never forgot the moment when one of the lead actors asked a question to the crowd, picked my mom to answer, then welcomed her up onto the stage. Every woman in that overcrowded shopping mall was green with envy. On the car ride home and for days following, it was all she could talk about. Her wildest dream came true, and maybe, one day, if I am fortunate enough, it could happen to me.
I wasn’t aspiring to meet the cast of Dallas, but I had high hopes that the cast of Friends would make it out to Virginia. It never happened, of course.
Making out with Haden Cooper—the biggest jerk to walk the planet—is not my wildest dream. Yet everything about what is happening between us in this dark and secluded alleyway is the wildest thing to happen to me. Dreams and reality become a hazy fog. What the hell am I doing? Purposefully, I move my hands toward my thigh, pinching myself in hopes that it’s all a dream, but low and behold, each pinch only causes me to scowl as his lips press hard against mine.
It was supposed to cause him pain. So why the hell is he kissing me back?
I try to pull away, but he has my body pinned against the dirty brick wall, and my head is telling me to kick the Jerk in the balls.
What the fuck is that thing my body is doing? Thinking about all the places where he could stick that tongue of his.
I bite his lip with slight force, coercing him to pull away, but his body is pressed hard against mine, and like ice, my body is melting under his touch. I know this is wrong, yet something is happening that excites me in a way I have never experienced. I loathe him. He is annoying, and his sole purpose on this earth is to push my buttons.
And he happens to be pushing the right ones.
His tongue is circling mine at a slow yet intense pace, teasing it enough to make me moan. I am unable to pull away now and surprise even myself with my hands moving to his hair, tugging it until he grunts in my mouth. These sounds are foreign, and the excitement is overwhelming.
I know I have too much pride to allow this to happen, and slowly coming to my senses, I make a proper attempt at moving my mouth away from his and using my upper body to twist out of his grip. Of course, it is fruitless, and with a forceful body slam, his groin presses against me so hard that I feel it throbbing, exciting me further.
Pulling away, his warm breath smothers the air between our faces. “This,” he says, with a low rumbling growl, “is payback for smashing my face.”
This beautiful yet damaged face is only inches away from mine and so close that I can count the tiny freckles along the bridge of his nose. His lashes are long and curl just above his hazel eyes. Even as we stand in the dark, and I am heavily intoxicated, the color of his eyes has this shimmery light speckle that I never noticed before. Well, why would you notice? You’re too busy telling him to shove it where the sun don’t shine. So, no point giving him a bigger head, excuse the pun, and telling him how pretty he is. Give it back—jerk style.
“You deserved it,” I tell him, catching my breath in between his ravenous kisses.
“Then you, Malone… deserve this.”
Against the wall in the dark and dirty alley, he pulls my dress above my thigh, scratching my skin as he clasps his grip firmly on my ass. I beg myself to stop this madness, but the desire has driven me into such a blissful paradise that my body is in full control, not my head. His kisses are heavy against my neck as I arch to the right, giving him free rein to my sensitive spot. My body is sinking further, my pumps barely able to hold myself up with my legs quivering in anticipation.
It’s the alcohol making me want him.
It’s a rebound.
You want to forget Jason was with another woman.
You’re an idiot and will regret this.
What was that last part my brain was saying?
The frenzy in his touch drives me to move my hands inside his shirt, and his body, cool as steel, is sculpted with lean muscle. I want him inside me. The thought is dangerously exciting and very off-limits. I feel the ache inside me, hungry for him to fill me and take me to places that previously only existed in my wildest imagination, one that never involved him.
“You’re such a fucking tease, Malone. You know that?”
“I don’t tease, you’re just greedy and can’t help yourself.”
“Maybe you’re right,” he tells me, running his teeth along my lobe.
I can’t even hold a conversation here, not when his hands move into my dress and are squeezing my breasts in a desperate plea. His constant rub against my nipples is driving me insane, and I am this close to stripping in the cool night air, so he can suck on them like the hungry beast he is.
I lose my train of thought and giggle. Fueled by the alcohol, I struggle to stop making my skin feeling so highly sensitive with every flick of his tongue. He lets me go, and my laughter stops. He produces a silver foil packet, and my body tenses immediately. Is this really happening? There is no turning back.
Back away right now, Presley!
My pathetic pleas are soon forgotten as he slams his lips against mine while fiddling with his belt buckle.
He is off-limits.
Think of the consequences. The office will go into gossip overdrive if this ever leaked.
You’re giving him what he wants.
Unless, of course, you make this about what you want.
What the hell do I want?
I want to be lost in a moment, drowning in ecstasy, reminded why I gave up everything I had worked so hard for, and roll around in the green, green grass that is supposed to be on the other side.
But reality knocks me out cold, and in the distance, the noise of the night traffic becomes apparent. Even then, the tearing of the packet is the only sound I focus on.
I can tell him to stop.
You don’t want him to stop, just admit it.
“Relax, I’ll make you forget he ever existed.”
He enters me as I fight for air. His entire cock is buried inside, leaving me breathless as my body adjusts to his size. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensations rather than making eye contact with him. A part of me knows I will regret this once I’m sober.
Something feels different—odd, yet arousing. He takes his time, easing in and out, but even then, I sense his struggle. He wants it rough. He wants to fuck me like a jackrabbit. Wasn’t that what he said? Knowing that he is desperate to unleash his savage desire, I open my eyes and focus on his face. His eyes have met mine, and something odd passes between us. It’s a silent agreement that this is a one-time release, a tension fuck, and both of us have our reasons for doing it.
He wants me to forget Jason.
And all I’m thinking is Jason who?
With my face in his hands, he thrusts inside me in sync with the roll of his tongue as I moan helplessly into his mouth, unfamiliar with the pressure down below. It climbs so fast I feel possessed in my own skin.
“Is this more?” he grunts in my ear, plunging deeper into me. The jagged edge of the brick wall is scratching my skin.
I’m barely able to string a sentence together. “More what?”
He slows down, easing in and out at a teasing pace. “You wanted more, is this the more you wanted?”
I have no idea what he is talking about due to the bottle of wine, and God knows how many other drinks I had at the bar. It clicks a few moments later, and like my conscience has been freed from wearing handcuffs, there is a moment of clarity, and all I can see is Jason’s face.
“I can’t… I can’t do this,” I mumble.
Haden stops, and under his glasses, his eyes are raging in a fury.
“You will do this. You know how much shit you give me in the office? You’re
begging for me to fuck you hard. This is what you need, Presley. You need to be fucked so hard that you will never forget this moment.”
His stern voice, almost demanding, turns any fear I had into raw, heated, unadulterated excitement. I do the most unexpected thing, dropping to my knees and ripping the condom off so his cock is bare in front of me.
Sweet Jesus! The silver barbell is shining so bright, pierced directly into the tip of his cock. I have never seen one, let alone been fucked by one, which explains why it feels so different.
“Like what you see?”
It’s not a question, rather the cocky bastard thinking he is some sex god because I can’t stop staring at it. I’m drunk, I know, but fuck me dead, his cock is so full and large. No fucking wonder you were screaming in pleasure.
I take it in my mouth, slowly then forcefully, and watch him crumble. The moans escape his mouth are hidden pleas begging me to take him in further. The second his tip hits the back of my throat, I use my hands to control the speed, all the while stroking him.
He is completely losing control.
Serves him right.
His hands move to the back of my head. With his fingers running through my hair, he moans loudly, and in a sudden move, he pushes me away, turning me around to face the brick wall.
“Fucking tease. Now it’s payback.”
Another foil packet rips, and he re-enters me in just one short breath.
There is no holding back as he slams inside me—this time, his thrusts are hard and fast without any delicacy. I beg him to fuck me harder, surprised by my own words, and he obeys with a brush against my clit that throws my body into a complete meltdown.
“I feel you. You want to come, Presley?”
I nod, not sure if words come out of my mouth.
He gives a final thrust with the loudest groan, and just when I’m about to see stars, on the brink of orgasmic paradise, he pulls out of me, and my buzz is gone.
What the fuck?
I don’t turn around instantly, allowing my brain to catch up with reality. My heart is thumping like a jackhammer, my breathing out of control as my lungs struggle to coordinate with my brain.
Did he just…
The sound of his zipper being pulled up alarms me, followed by a gentle kiss on my bare shoulder. Without seeing his face, his breath lingers against my ear as he whispers, “Now you know how it feels.”
And then, it clicks. As I turn around, I instinctively cover my breasts with my hands and attempt to adjust my dress.
He walks toward the motorcycle parked beside the door and climbs on. With his helmet in his hand, he blows me a kiss, then places his helmet on and jumps on the accelerator. He rides off with a rev of the engine, leaving me alone in the alley.
I watch him drive off, all the while thinking this is some fucking horrid nightmare.
Did he just fuck me then leave me hanging without a happy ending?
I stomp my feet in frustration, screaming out into the air, “You fucking JERK!”
What have I just done?
I don’t have a second to think any longer, vomiting profusely onto the ground before I’m rescued by a worried Vicky and taken home.
Six
I spend the weekend in hangover hell, dressed permanently in my sweatpants that have a huge hole in the crotch which I only noticed after I came home from the grocery store. To make matters worse, I happen to be wearing my big-girl panties, which are often referred to as ‘Menstrual cycle couture’ because I was fresh out of clean, sexy ones and had zip energy to do laundry. They are unflattering, have some weird cat pattern on them, and I could swear the old man in the cereal aisle spotted my Kitty peeking out from the hole.
Cats—it’s an omen.
When you spend most of the weekend making friends with the basin, you vow never to touch an ounce of alcohol again. This is why drinking and being single is a deadly combination. Tequila was to blame. It always is. Nothing ever good comes from doing tequila shots.
Friday night is a huge blur, but I know one thing—I screwed the Jerk in the back of the alley.
Now my life is officially over.
There haven’t been many moments in my life where I prayed a genie would appear and grant me three wishes, but right now, I’m on my knees begging for a magical wish to erase what happened.
The details of our ‘fling’ are a little hazy, and when I say hazy, I mean I don’t remember anything apart from him driving off on his motorcycle without finishing our rendezvous and me vomiting like the exorcist with Vicky trying to salvage my hair.
When I spot the red mark on my neck, a memory of him biting my flesh like a deprived vampire flashes before me, and I shrivel up in embarrassment. I used almost a whole tube of toothpaste to keep the redness down. It takes me back to high school when I looked like a leper dating this jock, Calvin. I was forced to wear scarves during the summer and pulled it off as some new fashion trend. My mother was so gullible.
Vicky apologized a million times for having to visit her parents on Sunday, leaving me to fend for myself and come up with a solution. I figured I’d take the mature approach and ignore him. Then I realized that won’t work, and the only way to face my demons is to confront him head-on. I’ve even gone to lengths preparing a speech. I’ve devised a plan of attack, and after I finish my laundry, the old Presley’s slowly making her way back from her ‘girls gone wild vacation.’
This, in turn, causes me a sleepless night and being exhausted when I wake the next morning. I decide I need to burn the excess energy and pent-up frustration by doing some major cardio at the gym. Trina arrives with Sarah again, and with a quick smile, I pretend to be busy on the treadmill with my headphones, hoping to avoid a conversation. If they catch wind of this, it will make me look just as pathetic as Trina.
With my music on shuffle, I purposely skip past the ballads and settle for some heavy metal as I push myself to ridiculous speeds, almost falling off the machine. Zoning out of my surroundings, the memory of the way he entered me and how my body reacted comes back to me, and a throb between my legs grows. For a split second, I close my eyes, and it’s like a movie replaying in my head.
Bits and pieces.
Piercings.
Wait! Piercings?
“Hey, Presley! You look lost with the fairies. Anything wrong?”
Trina is standing in front of my machine, and it’s a given that I cannot avoid her.
“Just a lot on my mind. You know, work stuff,” I lie.
“I understand. So, listen… about the other day… I’ve decided to speak to Haden one more time, and if that’s it, well… you’re right, I have to let it go.”
His name alone causes my head to contract into a massive migraine.
“Are you sure, Trina? Jerks like him ain’t worth your time. Besides, you know Allan at the front desk? He asked me about you.”
Her eyes light up immediately. “Allan, with the bulging arms?”
I nod. “Seems the shy type. Maybe just ease yourself in with light conversation.”
She pats my shoulder, thanking me, and is already at the front desk by the time I have a chance to take a breath. I hate lying, but she’s so young and needs to stay away from the Jerk. Yeah, where was that rational thinking on Friday night.
I wipe my face and step off the treadmill with unsteady legs, barely able to hold myself up. Leaning on the machine to catch my balance, I glance toward the exit and see the Jerk with Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him. Oh, hell no, it’s a double whammy. There is only one exit unless, of course, I exit through the fire door which, in turn, would cause alarm and force everyone to look at me. I would make such a shit fugitive. I procrastinate way too much.
Yeah, except for Friday night.
There you go again.
My brain is working a million miles a minute considering every possible way to avoid him. I change my mind. I’m not mature, and seeing his face makes me want to slap it repeatedly then shove it between my legs so I can get my happ
y ending.
I’m pathetic. There are no other words to describe me right now.
This reminds me of a recurring dream I have about being naked. Usually, I’m on my way to work riding the bus completely naked. No one is directly looking at me, but for some reason, I can’t find any clothes, and nobody will lend me anything. It’s embarrassing and leaves me feeling exposed and ashamed. The similarities to that dream are uncanny. And even though I’m fully dressed, all eyes are on me, judging me on what happened with the Jerk. Or so I think.
Trina is busily flirting with Allan, Sarah is in the Zumba class eyeing the cute gay guy next to her, and so I am officially on my own without any friend to save me. Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I send an SOS text to Vicky.
Me: At the gym. The Jerk is here. HELP!!!
I wait impatiently, but she doesn’t respond, and I am running out of time. I need to get to the change rooms which are located next to where Haden is standing. He hasn’t noticed me yet, so I watch him from the corner of my eye.
He is laughing, and it’s only now I notice he isn’t wearing his glasses. He looks completely different, dressed in black shorts with a tight gray tank top that shows off his biceps. Oh, wow.
Okay, pep-talk time. Don’t you dare drool over a jerk who sweet-talked you into the alley and left you high and dry—or more appropriately—low and wet. You didn’t finish college to end up following a guy like a pathetic puppy dog. Yes, he is extremely good-looking. Yes, his hair looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial, and yes, maybe his body is as irresistible as the new salted caramel sweets they keep showing on television.
I don’t know whether I’m hungry, horny, or need to buy new shampoo. One thing’s for sure, Mr. Smokin’ Hot beside him is walking my way.
“Hey, gorgeous girl from Friday night.”
His smile is endearing, and shyness overcomes me. Perhaps being covered in sweat without any makeup is a surefire way to lower my confidence.
“Hey, gorgeous guy from Friday night,” I repeat back.