Troublemaker

by Kayley Loring

  The last thing I see before I close my eyes is the look of absolute lip-biting concentration as he stares down at my bouncing breasts.

  Just when I think nothing could possibly feel better than this, he slaps my butt cheek and then flips me around so I’m on my knees, facing away from him.

  And I did not think I would like this, but wow.

  Alex Vega has found yet another new angle on sex, and I give this one an A plus.

  One hand on my shoulder, one on the small of my back, he is breathing so hard and really giving it to me, but I have a feeling he’s still going easier on me than he could.

  “Harder” is all I say.

  He grunts, squeezes my shoulder appreciatively, and then he goes harder. Faster. And if I could remember how to count, I would list so many things that I like about this night. But there’s no list, there’s just an explosion of energy and stars and an unbelievable need to have this man come while he’s fucking me. Finally, finally.

  I scream his name and let myself go because I know he’s waiting for me.

  And I want to give him this release.

  Finally, finally.

  His movement slows, the pitch of his voice rises, and when he grabs on to my hips and pulls me up and into him one last time—the sound of this man coming is as soft as his lips and as rough as the stubble on his chin and as dark as his eyes and as devastating as his hands.

  We collapse together, sweaty and spent.

  Maybe this is the best part—the stillness and weight of a man like this, pressed down on me. This man. I can feel his heart thumping against my back. Not one millimeter of space between us. If he weren’t on top of me, I might float up to the ceiling.

  There’s no list.

  There’s just Alex.

  And this bed.

  And the rest of the night.

  And the beautiful blank notebook of a new relationship ahead of us.

  26

  Alex

  When I return to the bedroom after going outside to bring the food and wine back in, I find Emilia under the covers. All languid, hair tousled, absentmindedly touching her fingers to her lips as she stares out the window. That mental image is going in the memory bank. Along with every single other thing that’s happened tonight.

  I pick her skirt up from off the floor, place it on a chair along with the discarded shirt that I brought from the kitchen. Then I take my pants off and climb into bed beside her, propping my head up with one hand and caressing the smooth skin of her arm with the other. She doesn’t stop looking out the window, and I like that she isn’t all clingy. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop touching her.

  “I like that tree outside your window. There was a eucalyptus tree in front of the house I grew up in. I used to read under it.”

  “The view of that tree is my favorite thing about this room. Second favorite, after having you in it.”

  Christ. If some guy said that in a script I was reading, I would cross it out with a red pen and write give me a fucking break in the margin. But it’s true. I like having her in here.

  “I’m so embarrassed that you just said that out loud,” she snickers while turning to face me. Her blue eyes are glistening. She reaches for my face and kisses my forehead.

  “Are you crying?”

  “No. Shut up. You are.” She blinks rapidly. “You made my eyeballs orgasm, so they’re still a little moist, that’s all.” She sighs and touches my cheek. “And I’m just so glad I’m here. I spent so many hours of my life lying in bed with my ex in Paso Robles, staring out the window and feeling guilty about secretly wishing I was somewhere else. With someone else.” She takes a deep breath before continuing. “I like being here with you.”

  “You can stay the night.” I push the stray strands of hair from her face and press a kiss to her cheek. “I don’t have to be anywhere until ten tomorrow. We’re having brunch at my friend’s house.”

  I watch her decide what to say, and my cock and I know before she even opens her mouth that I’m going to sleep alone tonight. “I shouldn’t leave my dog alone overnight. I’m taking him to the library tomorrow morning, so I need him to be calm.”

  “So your dog does know how to read.”

  She laughs. “He’s a therapy dog. Kids read to him.”

  I prop myself up on both elbows. “Explain.”

  “Kids who are shy or nervous about reading sometimes feel more comfortable reading to a dog. Or anything that they feel isn’t judging them. They have read-to-a-dog programs all over the country. We did it in Paso Robles. I started taking him to the library here. He just lies down in a corner and kids take turns reading to him, in private. It’s really sweet.”

  “I love that. That is the best excuse I’ve ever heard for fucking and running.”

  She gives me a light arm punch for that. “I’m not running. And I don’t believe any woman has ever given you an excuse to leave your bed.”

  “Obviously not. I mean, I’m one of the hottest bachelors in Hollywood, but I’ve heard stories about excuses. From less-hot Hollywood bachelors… Don’t go yet. Did you want to eat? We can go downstairs, or I can bring it up.”

  “Not yet,” she says, sitting up. “I’m not quite done with you.”

  My cock and I are very optimistic again all of a sudden. “No?”

  She dips down to kiss my chest and then straddles my waist. I’m looking up at her sweet face through a curtain of blonde hair and she’s biting her lower lip, and I already know that I’m going to feel extra lonely when she’s gone. I don’t ever want her to be done with me. She sweeps her nipples across my chest before straightening her back and reaching behind her ass to where I am already standing at attention for her. With a flick of her neck, her hair flies over one shoulder, and now I really prefer this view to the one out my window.

  I squeeze her ass. “Fuck. Miss Stiles. I like what you’re doing with your hand down there.”

  “Do you? Well, you know, I’m one of the hottest teachers in Silver Lake.”

  “Oh, you’re the hottest. In the entire surrounding area, including Los Feliz, I’m sure of it.”

  “Oh really?” One of her hands grips me a little tighter, and she reaches the other one around to do something amazing to the head of my cock.

  “All of LA county, in fact.” I manage to say.

  “Well, let’s not exaggerate, Mr. Vega.” She gently slides a hand down to my balls and squeezes her thighs and her ass tight, and fucking hell I just like this woman so much. I try to lift myself up to kiss her, but she leans back. Little tease. She bites her lip again. I want to bite that lip. But I also want her to keep doing what she’s doing.

  And she does.

  For another few seconds or a minute, or maybe an hour, I have no idea.

  I refuse to come until I’m inside her again, but I’m so ready.

  She is bathed in moonlight now, and every inch of her silky, slender naked body should be kissed. By me. With the reverence and urgency of an eager student, but I lie here in silent awe of her. Falling slowly and hard and fast all at once. I want her. This is who I want.

  “Why don’t you reach inside that drawer,” she says, her voice so husky. She is the star and director of this scene, and I am here to support her in any way I can.

  She raises herself up as I retrieve a condom, and then I watch her roll it on, and then I watch her position herself over me.

  “Are you ready?” she asks, smirking.

  Little vixen.

  “You could say that, yeah.”

  She circles her hand around the base of my shaft and lowers herself, slowly, so slowly. For a few seconds or a minute or maybe an hour, I have no idea. But I can’t tear my eyes away from that place where we connect.

  “Fuck. Baby.”

  “It’s good,” she whispers. “So fucking good.”

  She is definitely my kind of girl.

  When she’s taken me in, as deep as I can get, we’re both still and silent. Holding our breaths tog
ether and then releasing them with a shudder and a moan. I’ll admit, I had wondered what would be left between us, if you took away the banter and the tension. It’s this. This quiet connection that’s as sweet as it is intense. And hot. It’s really fucking hot.

  She rolls her hips, slowly at first. Her head is tilted back, her eyes are shut, her lips are parted, and even though I’m inside her, it’s not close enough. I reach for her face. I don’t want to let go of her soft, rounded hip, but I need to touch that beautiful face. “Eres tan hermosa,” I mutter, stroking her jaw with the back of my fingers. Because “you’re so gorgeous” isn’t enough either, and someone else has probably already said it to her.

  “Alejandro,” she whispers. And she takes my thumb into her mouth, sucking on it, like that time in her classroom. Only this time there’s no frosting and more hunger and there’s no pulling away from it. She starts grinding against me, rocking back and forth, and makes the slightest movement with her hand. Trying to get me to sit up, and I do.

  My tongue replaces my thumb in her mouth, and I maneuver us to the edge of the bed so my feet are on the floor and she can wrap her arms and legs around me, and we can kiss and kiss like this. For seconds or minutes or hours. Some flip has been switched, and she is on fire now. Still, she alternates fast and hot movements with slow and steady so I don’t come too quick. She’s a goddess, and I wish I had more hands and mouths to savor her with, but I massage and squeeze and drag my fingernails and lick and suck and bite every part of her that I can access.

  Her back’s arching and she’s tense and pulsating and undulating and grasping at me, and I will keep thrusting and hang on until her pained moans and cries of pleasure subside. Watching her become more sexually confident and then fall apart like this, in the throes of ecstasy, is the best Christmas present I will ever get.

  She combs her fingers through my hair and kisses me hard, breathless, and I know she wants me to come now. She wraps her arms tight around my back, and I do. Long and hard and breathless and just so fucking grateful.

  I empty myself until there can’t possibly be anything left except the silent connection again. Sweet and intense, and exhausted. More than anything else and still not enough.

  Her heart’s beating furiously against mine and her heavy breaths are an erotic song of satisfaction in my ear, and I will stay here like this. Still inside her, still holding her, until she pulls away from me. It’s not like being struck by lightning. It’s more like drowning and being saved at the same time.

  Miss Stiles has claimed every part of me, including my heart, and it’s full again.

  ALEX VEGA INSPIRATION JOURNAL – December

  - Reading everything, but especially Pablo Neruda.

  My dad gave me his books to read in Spanish and English when I was fifteen. He said it would help me to learn Spanish, but more than that it would teach me how to be a passionate man of the world—or at least how to write like one.

  I’ve always had a thing for his love poems because I wanted to own the feelings they describe and evoke. But it’s like having an animated conversation with someone who speaks a foreign language that you barely understand. You nod and smile and kind of get what they’re saying, but there are so many questions.

  And then you meet one woman and suddenly you recognize her in every sentence. She becomes the best translator of all the words that were strung together as an ode to a woman. Or maybe everyone who’s ever written about being in lust and enamored with a beautiful woman has met Emilia Stiles.

  “How like you are to the longest kiss,

  its fixed shock seems to nourish you….”

  -- Pablo Neruda

  I wasn’t in search of a translator or a muse, but I’ve found one.

  Too bad I can’t write poetry for shit. Too bad it takes so long and so many people and so many millions to get a movie made. But I’m inspired. I see the big picture, and it’s filled with Ryder and work and Emilia and all the kisses.

  WHAT I’D GIVE ALEX FOR X-MAS IF I HADN’T TOLD HIM WE SHOULDN’T EXCHANGE X-MAS PRESENTS - Emilia

  1. A stack of brand-new notebooks and a bouquet of pencils.

  2. A very tasteful framed poster of Will Ferrell in Elf.

  3. A basket full of reindeer Rice Krispies treats. The reindeer have candy cane boners.

  4. A DVD case of the Disney Peter Pan movie, but the DVD inside would be the security footage of us making out on the ride at Disneyland.

  5. A parent homework assignment. The assignment is to come to Paso Robles and fuck me in my parents’ basement and then sneak Atticus and me out of here and drive us back to LA. And fuck me in the car a few times along the way when my dog isn’t looking.

  6. A million kisses. If only he were here. Fuck, I wish he were here.

  7. I should be giving him my heart. My whole heart, without reservation. But I can’t get over the feeling that it’s wrong to be with him like this now. Unless it’s in secret. I trust him completely. I just can’t give anything up for a man again. No matter how I feel about him. I won’t give up my self-respect as a teacher or the respect of my peers or my principal or the other students’ parents.

  -- What I’m actually going to give him…is something I have never wanted to give anyone else. And I’m slightly terrified.

  27

  Emilia

  “What are you wearing, and why are you making me look at it?”

  “My mom made it for me.” I stand up and back away from my laptop camera so Franklin can get a better look at me posing in my red knit sweater with a snowman on the front. “I match my parents. We just took family pictures.”

  “Take it off. I’m begging you.”

  “Funny you should say that,” I say, climbing back onto the guest bed and not removing my sweater. “I need some advice.”

  “And I’m giving it to you. You should take off that sweater. Or I’m ending this call.”

  “Hang on.” I check to make sure the door to my parents’ guest room is locked and listen at the door to make sure no one’s in the hallway outside of it. And then I get back on the bed in front of my laptop. “Okay, so there’s something I want to give Alex as a surprise Christmas present.”

  “I thought you told him you aren’t exchanging presents.”

  “Exactly—that’s why it’s a surprise.”

  Franklin covers his eyes. “Okay, you have exactly ten minutes, and then I have to go back downstairs and help my mom with something.”

  I lower my voice and lean in toward the camera. “So, I want to do a little Christmas sexting.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “How do I do that?”

  He laughs and removes his hands from his eyes. “You’ve never sexted with a guy before?”

  “Not really. How do I initiate it?”

  “Well, he’s a guy. You could literally just start with a boob pic, or request a dick pic, and I promise you he’ll take it from there.”

  “I don’t want to exchange pictures. Just words. Dirty words.” I hold up my notepad and pen. “So what should I write?”

  “You want me to ghost write your sexts with the Sexy Daddy? How many cups of your mom’s mulled wine have you had?”

  “Exactly the right amount to sext with the Sexy Daddy. I just need a few suggestions. To get me going. Like, should I tell him I’m naked?”

  “Amateur! Do you need me to explain to you what goes in what hole too?

  I ignore that because I’m writing Hi. I’m naked. on my notepad.

  “I guess I just need you to tell me how it usually works. Do I tell him what I want him to do? Do I tell him what I think about when I’m touching myself? Do I describe what I’m doing to myself while I’m thinking about him?”

  “All of the above. You don’t need my help for this, little dirty bird. You can fly on your own.”

  “You don’t think he’ll think it’s creepy?”

  “Do I think that a single man whom you’ve had sex with will think it’s creepy that you’re sending
him dirty text messages? Hmmm…”

  “Just give me some suggestions to get me going. Come on!”

  Franklin stares at me for a weird couple of seconds before saying, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are you sure you want to write dirty text messages to him? If you’re dating him in secret and you’re so worried about people at school finding out—you do take your phone to school with you, you know? People steal phones.”

  “I’ll just delete the texts when we’re done. I’ll ask him to delete them on his phone too. I trust him.”

  “Okay, well…” He calls out to his mother, disappears from view for a moment, and then returns and says, “I have to go. Just text me if you really need me. I’ll keep my phone with me.”

  “Ugh. Fine. What are you helping your mom with?”

  His mouth becomes a straight line and he barely moves it to say, “I have to put on pajamas and drink hot toddies while watching A Charlie Brown Christmas with her. It’s a tradition. Shut up, goodbye!”

  He ends the call before I can tell him how cute that is. I love Christmas. I miss Alex, though. I even miss Ryder.

  It has been a day and a half since I’ve seen Alex. I’ve been wandering around my parents’ house with a big dopey grin on my face. I just tell them that I’m glad to have a break from school. I can’t tell them that the real reason I’m so happy is because I’m secretly dating the father of one of my students. They will have strong opinions about it, and I don’t want them or anyone else to burst my bubble. It’s a beautiful bubble. I’m going to enjoy being in it while I can.