Sweet Rome (Sweet Home 1.5)

“Fine!” she screamed. “I care because you kissed me! You kissed me like you had no other choice, dammit! I don’t like being just another plaything when I trusted you with me. I never do that and now I remember exactly why!”

Now we were getting somewhere.

“For your information, I didn’t screw her. In fact, I told her in no uncertain terms that I was done for good. What you’d said to me made sense… about living my own life. You got through to me. You… affected me. And get this straight… you are no one’s plaything, Shakespeare. I may f**k around, but I wouldn’t f**k around on you.”

Those damn lips opened again, but I’d had enough of her shit so I laid my finger over her mouth, trapping her in my hold. “You’re brave, Shakespeare, speaking to me like this. I don’t… tolerate it from anyone. People around here know not to approach me. They have the sense to leave things alone.”

Her eyes narrowed and she asked, “Are you threatening me?”

My c**k was iron-stiff, my tether about to snap, but this small English chick was taking me on like a gladiator.

“Not threatening, Shakespeare, commending. I’m finding you and that mouth of yours a real turn-on. But I’m more interested in teaching you how to keep it shut.”

Her body was betraying her; I caught the swallow of her throat and the squirming of her thighs. She liked the way I was being with her, and the thought that this Miss Goody Two-Shoes might actually like me like this was only driving me more insane.

“Save that kind of talk for when you screw Shelly again,” she snapped.

“I told you I didn’t f**kin’ touch her!” I tried to say calmly, but it came out as more of a low growl.

“That’s not what she’s been saying.” Her voice was getting breathy; she was losing the hard-ass front she’d adopted.

Both calmer now, I tried to make her understand how I was feeling. “I couldn’t care less what she says. I thought you were different, Mol. Why make a dig about Shelly or football after what I’d told you I was going through?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, she began rubbing at her temples. “Look, I’m just in a crappy mood. I shouldn’t have come at you like that and I apologize for betraying your confidence. It was bad manners on my part. I was pissed off at you, have been pissed off at you for days. I don’t know how to be around you. You… confuse me.”

Talk about conflicted. I was so pissed at her for that earlier performance, but I craved her. I had no idea why, but I’d never wanted a chick like her before, every fiber of my being screaming at me to take her, possess her. As my mind swirled with these thoughts, my grip on her momentarily loosened, and she attempted to slip past me.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” I snapped.

“I’m leaving. I’m done with this… done with us and whatever the hell just happened.”

Done? She wasn’t done. We were just getting started.

When she tried to wiggle past me again, I gave up my restraint and growled, “You’re f**king driving me insane, Shakespeare!” And grabbing her tightly around the back of her neck, I smashed those f**king pouting lips against mine.

Shit it felt good.

I ate at her mouth, devoured everything she had like a starving man at a feast. My tongue relentlessly explored, and she welcomed everything I gave. She was perfect, this was perfect, and I was becoming more than a little obsessed.

I heard the thud of her books as she threw them to the floor and felt her hands grip the loose material of my shirt. I was taking her and she was taking me right back. She wanted this as much as me.

I was a man possessed. Gripping her tightly around her arms, I thrust her against the wall, my c**k pressing against her pu**y, grinding, and groaning against her mouth. She expelled a loud moan, and suddenly, reality came crashing back. I was mauling Mol in a friggin’ hallway.

Dread built in my stomach. I was supposed to avoid doing shit like this, get through this year with ease. Molly was proving to be a huge f**king distraction. On the one hand, I wanted to taste more of her, but on the other, I wanted her to stay really f**king far away.

I expelled an angry groan. “Fuck, Mol, why can’t I get you outta my head? You’re all I f**kin’ think about and I don’t know how to deal.”

She looked stunning: face flushed, lips swollen, eyes bright with need. “You do?” she whispered, and I could see she liked those words that were stupidly spilling out of my mouth.

“Every minute. Of. Every. Day.”

Thrusting my hands behind my head, I watched as she began to gather her things, preparing to leave. We needed to clear up this shit between us, whatever the heck it was.

“I don’t know what to do about you. It’s rattling me and I don’t like it. I’ve never gotten like this over some girl.” I cursed myself for saying that. This was Molly I was talking about, not some groupie slut. “But I don’t think you’re just some girl. I’ve thought that from the minute I saw you all flustered in the hall on the first day of classes. Christ, I haven’t been able to taste anything but you since we kissed at the damn initiation.”

I waited for her response, but instead, she took off, running, shouting back, “I-I n-need to get to the library.”

I almost punched the wall as her tight ass ran away from me as fast as possible. I started to follow but decided to just let her go and made myself stand still. I watched her bluster away, but when she shyly glanced back, I assured her, “This is far from over, Shakespeare… far from f**kin’ over!” And then she was gone, leaving me pent up with anger, confused to all hell, and stuck with the biggest hard-on I’d ever had in my life.