Pieces of Perfect (6 page)

Ten
 

My nails scraped against the muscles of his lower back as I worked my way up to his shoulder blades, massaging frantically, until my warm p
alms found the back of his neck and pushed his mouth even more forcefully against my own.

He was delicious. And soft. And I was urgent as he nipped at my bottom lip, licking his way down my skin from my chin to the front of my neck.

Yes . . . yes. Oh, God. Keep going.

My head fuzzed with all of the violent, perfect words I wanted to say as I grabbed a handful of his ruffled hair and pushed him further down, letting him know of my intent. My back arched slightly as I gripped the muted teal and white comforter with my other hand. I was lost. Passionate. Needy.
 

With one powerful grasp, he lifted my hips in the air, and my wetness found his mouth at last. His tongue fluttered across my clit as I invited his fingers to invade me and softly stroke my insides. Pulsations of pleasure slid up my spine. My ass again found the bed as he placed me down, sucking wildly at my slick opening.

I was a rush of heavy, demanding breaths. Persuasive moans. And unintelligible ramblings. My heels dug strenuously into the mattress, my legs straining to find the release I needed as I moved his strong hand to my aching chest, inciting him to twist and pull at my nipples gently.
 

Oh, shit. I’m close.

With a quick tug of his hair, I brought his face needily up to my lips again, thoroughly devouring him. Then, pushing on his powerful shoulders, I propelled him to his back, pulled myself ravenously on top of his well-sculpted body, and captured
all of him inside me with one rough, abrupt movement. I was rapid. Impatient as I moved back and forth, creating the friction I craved.
 

I leaned forward, commanding him to thrust in and out of me furiously while my orgasm built steadily and forcefully. Teetering on the edge, I felt as if I could explode in an instant.

*
              *              *

Unfortunately, the sound of my alarm interrupted my erotically blissful slumber. I hit the snooze button before closing my eyes, hoping to pick up where I had just left off.

But, it was useless. Why were men the only ones who were granted the pleasure of wet dreams?
 

My mind was a tornado of thoughts. Sexual. Confusing.

But also surprisingly certain. My dream had added new clarity to my recent desires.
I
had been the aggressor in my fantasy: a sure sign that I could no longer criticize myself for my physical passions. I shivered at the reality that I might even have to learn to embrace them.

However, despite my newfound revelation, there was still one question that remained unanswered.
 

Why had the man in my dream been
Adam?

Eleven

When I arrived at work Thursday morning, I felt invigorated. And free. The bullshit dread was gone. I would accept what the day brought me. And if it brought me Max, so be it.

I was again embroiled in a hearty discussion about the characters in
The Outsiders
during fourth period, when I heard my classroom door open.
 

“Sorry to interrupt, Miss Hamilton, but I wanted to stop by and check on my hockey players.”

I scanned the sea of super-geeks, uncoordinates, and shadow-fearers before me.

“None of these students play hockey,” I said, confused.

“Oh, then
. . . does anyone in here
want
to play hockey?”

Crickets.
 

“Okay
, then. Uh, Miss Hamilton, could I speak to you for a second?”
 

Here we go.
 

I took a deep breath, plastered a smile on my face, and began walking toward the door.

“Certainly, Mr. Samson.”

Once outside, he pushed the door closed. Then, he turned to me, wearing a mischievous grin.

“You know all the boys in that room want to fuck you right? They probably fantasize about it all day. And night. Some of the girls probably do, too.”
 

Wait, did I just hear him right? Gross!
 

“That’s
. . . the most inappropriate thing I’ve ever heard. And, considering some of the vulgarities that have already come out of your mouth, that’s really saying something.”
 

“Well, I’m nothing if not truthful.” He acted like this was a sufficient explanation and rapidly moved on to a different subject. “There’s one place you didn’t show me yesterday.”
 

“Where’s that?” I asked, still in a slight state of shock from his
initial comment.
 

“I’ll take you there. You have lunch next period, right?”

Now who was the stalker? How the hell had he found that out?
 

“Yes,” I replied warily.
 

“Ok
ay, we’ll go then. This period ends in about five minutes. I’ll wait in our stairwell for you.”

Before I could question him, or argue that
we
had no stairwell, he had walked off. I stood still and watched him go for a second before looking back in my classroom. 22 expectant eyes were looking back at me. This was going to be a long five minutes.
 

*
              *              *
 

The bell rang and my students began to file from the room. I took a moment to get myself together, smoothed out the navy blue skirt I had worn today, readjusted my white silk blouse, and then headed out the door to find Max. Though I had wanted to pretend that I didn’t know what he meant by
our
stairwell, he wouldn’t be fooled by it. I knew exactly where I was going. I just wish I could’ve been as sure about what I was going to do once I arrived there.

I walked into the stairwell, my knee high boots echoing. He was sitting on the steps, his eyes finding mine immediately. I didn’t want to stand in silence, left with my own thoughts screaming at me inside my head, so I spoke quickly.
 

“So where’s this place you’re talking about?”

“You’ll see.” As he stood and walked out of the stairwell and down the hallway, I concentrated on how much I hated surprises. But I definitely didn’t hate being behind him. He wore black cargo pants and a red Nike hoodie.
 
He was very casual chic and everything fit in all the right ways. As he made his way to the doors that led outside, butterflies began to take flight in my stomach.

Something about this building made me feel safe, like it was a fortress against regrets and bad decisions. But leaving it stripped me of my comfort. I began to fidget as we walked, partly because of the cold and partly because I knew no one would hear me if I screamed. Not that I thought I would need saving from Max. I somehow knew that he wouldn’t ever hurt me. However, I couldn’t say the same about myself. There was a great chance that I would need someone to save me from myself before this little trip was over.

We walked up a flight of stone steps and turned right into the football stadium we shared with our high school. He led me onto the bleachers, and started toward the top. As we climbed the metal stairs, our destination dawned on me. The announcer’s booth was directly in front of us. When we reached it, Max took out a key (
where the hell had he gotten that? And more importantly, what reason had he given for needing it?
) and unlocked the door to the booth. He motioned me inside and shut the door behind him.

One second we were looking at each other questioningly, and then next we were on each other. Hands savagely groping. Mouths tasting salty skin. I had never been up in the booth before, and with my eyes shut as I invaded the inside of his sweet mouth, it was difficult to get my bearings. He spun me around, pressing the backs of my legs against a worn wooden table that looked out over the field.  As he lifted me onto it with ease—his able hands clenching my ass—I threw some folders and papers out of our way toward a computer monitor and switchboard while he kicked two chairs to the side and spread my legs open so he could fit in between them.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, kissing me frantically, as he unbuttoned my blouse one handed and raked his fingers against my back with the other.

Um, what was I thinking?
That I hope Mr. Emerson’s
gym class is planning to play something indoors today.
The thought of 25 seventh graders watching me get fucked in an announcer’s booth while they were supposed to be playing flag football had not been on the “to do” list I had made for myself this morning. But that wasn’t what came out of my mouth.
 

“I’m thinking I want you to get me off,” I whispered into his ear. “Twice.”
Was that
me
who had just said that? Shit.
If I hadn’t actually felt the words leave my lips, I wouldn’t have believed it’d been me who had spoken them.
 

“Well, doll, I do consider myself a competitive person, so I’m always up for a challenge.” He retreated from me a moment and began to remove his sweatshirt, pulling his white t-shirt over his head at the same time.

God, he was gorgeous. Tan, despite the winter. Lean, but well-built. I could never tire of admiring him. I leaned back to study the muscles of his chest, which were already damp with beads of sweat and glistening in the afternoon sun. I let my eyes trace his tight abs to the little line of hair below his navel. All I could think about was how that hair would tickle the smoothness of my skin when he pounded into me senselessly. He continued to strip slowly, seductively, as he unbuttoned the top of his cargo pants granting me a moment to remember what was underneath, before finally pulling them down to free himself.

Leaning over, he hit a few buttons on the control panel. “What do you think? We
are
at a high school football field. How does a quarter sound to you?”

Huh?
What was he talking about?

He messed with the switchboard for a few seconds and then pointed up to the scoreboard at the end of the field, where "12:00" projected in neon red before beginning to tick down. Holy shit! He was going to time himself. Publicly.
 

Again, he stepped in front of me, this time looking me in the eyes. “Remove your shirt and your bra,” he said without taking his eyes off of mine. I did as instructed, but he didn’t look down at my breasts, which were already heavy and full at the thought of him touching me. He put his right hand tightly over his thickness and began to pull slowly. Steadily. “Keep your eyes on mine. Don't look away.” His breathing increased as he spoke. “Do you know I touched myself
like this twice last night and once this morning? And each time I came, all I could think about was you and how hot that tight little ass of yours looked in those black pants yesterday.”
 

So much for my “conservative” outfit choice.

I struggled not to look down, especially when I could see his sinewy biceps flexing with each movement out of my peripheral vision. I wanted to gaze at him touching himself, see what his dick looked like in his hand, while he gave himself the pleasure he had wanted so badly from me.

But the way he stared at me was intimate, so much so that I didn’t dare look away during such a private encounter. “Inhale,” he directed. “I want all of your senses focused on me.”

I breathed in twice, deeply, and smelled a mixture of soap and sweet wintergreen on him. I could see the game clock out of the corner of my eye. “10:32,” I said, swallowing hard. “You better get started if you wanna make your deadline,” I urged playfully. I didn't know how long I could keep my hands off of him
—or off of myself—if he kept this up.
 

He took his hand away so that he could grab hold of my skirt with both hands and pull it down. My underwear was the next to go.
 

“Oh, it’s not
my
deadline, darling. It’s yours. Do you have any idea what the biggest sexual organ in the human body is?”
 

Uh, yeah. I’m pretty sure I’m looking at it
, I thought as I glanced down at his throbbing cock, the tip already slick with pre-cum. God, I wanted to put my mouth around it. Lick the saltiness from him, and suck him off until he exploded with a rush inside my mouth.

“It’s actually the brain,” he said with a seductive smirk, obviously aware of what I had been thinking. “To achieve maximum pleasure, both your body and your mind need to be stimulated. This is especially true for women,” he said softly, allowing his cool breath to run along my shoulder as he spoke without touching me. He leaned in further to lick and nip along my collarbone, and I felt the tip of him touch my opening. I yearned for him to thrust into me, over and over again, until I was so sore I couldn’t walk.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he continued. “I’d have loved nothing more than to just yank your skirt up and have my way with you like I did in the airport.  Quickly.  And roughly.  And with no concern for anyone’s pleasure but my own. And one day I
will
do that again. But what you’ve asked me for requires a much more . . . deliberate approach.” He glanced over my right shoulder at the scoreboard. “Nine minutes left. I’ve hardly even touched you since I set you down,
and I’m willing to bet that you’re already fucking wet for me. Let’s find out, shall we?”

He pushed his index finger deep inside me and I instantly tilted my head back against the cool glass window. When he withdrew, he put his finger to his lips, slid it in his mouth, and ran his tongue along it before pulling it out. “You taste sweet. And smooth." Then he put the same finger inside my mouth. "Suck."

Jesus, he could probably make me come with his words alone.

But thankfully he wasn’t going to try. He knelt down, pulling me toward his waiting mouth, and positioning my legs over his powerful shoulders. “Watch me,” he commanded. My heart pounded in my chest, my breathing rapid and needy as he swirled his tongue inside me. He was so soft, but his rough stubble against the inside of my thighs created a heavenly combination.
 

I grabbed onto his tousled hair, pulling, running my fingers down the sides of his head as his speed increased. I felt myself get higher, closer to our mutual goal. I watched as he slid a finger and thumb inside me, spreading me wide as he sucked hungrily at my clit. I moved up and down, rubbing myself against his wet lips, pulling his face toward me further. “Keep going,” I breathed. “I’m so close.”

Humming gently against me, he looked up to watch my face. He stared into my eyes as I let myself go, clenching wildly around his tongue and his fingers, never once taking my eyes off of him.

Impatient, he pulled away from me and dropped me to the ground. He spun me around and stood behind me, pressing his erection
against me and forcing my bare breasts against the cold glass. I felt my nipples harden further.
4 minutes and 40 seconds
, I noted. He grabbed at my ponytail and pulled my head roughly to the right with a quick jerk, gaining access to my neck. With urgency, he kissed me along my shoulder blades before letting my hair down and pulling both of my arms up over my head and pinning them against the window with his right hand.