Bad Boy Blues

“Yeah.”

His thumb traces the torn skin of my lip in the middle. “I make you cry too.”

I blink and a tear slips out; I didn’t even know it was hovering at the edge. “Yes.”

Wiping off my tear, he whispers, “I won’t stop. I don’t know how.”

He will stop. I’ll make him stop.

This cycle of bullying that started with his dad. It ends with us.

I’ll change our story.

If he’s a false prince, then I’m his street Cinderella. I don’t need glass slippers or a pretty gown to change our stars. I can do it in my quiet leather boots and my gray uniform.

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

His nostrils flare at my answer, as he watches me with a strange possession. It’s dark and scary and thrilling. It makes me hold onto him even tighter.

But he easily shakes off my limbs and steps back.

Suddenly I’m adrift and my legs come down on the ground, my spine sliding along the metal door of the truck. They are shaky and numb, and my feet are bare. My Mary Janes fell from them a long time ago and I’ve completely forgotten how to stand on my own.

“Zach?”

And to my shock, he comes down on his knees – falls, almost – and grabs my hips to keep me steady. His face reaches up to the bottom of my breasts and he buries his nose in the valley. It doesn’t matter if they are covered with clothes, Zach has a habit of destroying all the barriers between us.

Wrapping my hands around him, I whisper, “What are you doing?”

He lifts his head and stares into my eyes. I notice all the dirt smudges on my white shirt, how twisted up and stretched out my buttons are, straining against my heaving breasts.

Zach doesn’t answer me. Not until he sits back on his haunches and lifts my right leg, draping it over his shoulder.

“Kissing you,” he says simply.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he says, dragging the hem of my skirt up.

I stop him and try to push it down. “Zach.”

“What?” he bites out.

“Aren’t you supposed to be closer to my lips, if you want to kiss me?”

It’s a wonder I can balance myself on one leg because he’s not letting go of the one he holds captive, and he isn’t letting go of my skirt either so it’s banded mid-thigh.

Slowly, Zach smirks. “I’m trying to be.”

“You’re what?”

“Trying to get close to your lips.”

I fist his hair. “What… I… Whose truck is this?”

That’s the only question I can come up with right now.

He shrugs, like he doesn’t care. “The fuck I know.”

I look around; it’s all deserted even though there’s a large crowd behind us. “What if someone comes?”

Zach chuckles.

His hands are much larger than mine and he uses that to his advantage and pushes the skirt up and up, exposing my panties.

“That’s always your first concern, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want anyone to see us, see me half naked.”

He glances at my simple cotton boy shorts and fingers the seam of them, making me shudder. “You know, I thought I was dreaming the other night. When you were sprawled all over me. You wanted me to kiss you that night too, didn’t you?”

“I was sprawled because you pulled me down, and yes. But.” I exhale out a shaky breath. “I don’t know how this is kissing.”

He smiles, and then his thumb gets inside my panties and makes contact with the outer edge of my core, making me jerk.

I gasp out his name when the blunt pad of his thumb flicks it. So casually, like it’s mundane, him touching the edge of my pussy.

“It’s kissing because I’m gonna put my lips on your lips.”

At this, his thumb gets further inside my panties and rubs along the center of my core. Finally, I get what he means and it makes me blush like I’ve absorbed all the heat from the air around us.

“I didn’t mean that kind of kissing.”

Zach’s smile is still in place, a lopsided, horny smile. “Not my problem. This is how I kiss, Blue, when…” He trails off and leans in, like he just can’t help himself. He can’t help himself from taking a sniff of my covered core.

It makes him groan and my head falls back on another whimper.

“When what?” I manage to ask anyhow.

His lips are right there, right on my clit, separated by just cotton underwear. “When my dick’s pissed off.”

I look down, grabbing the side of his face. “Your dick?”

“Uh-huh.” He nods, dragging his nose up and down my pussy.

His stubble feels even scratchier under my fingers right now. In fact, everything feels scratchier when it touches my body. His soft t-shirt, his velvet hair, the air around me.

“Why?” I breathe out, shifting restlessly on one foot.

He’s still rubbing the center of my core with his thumb, sniffing my scent. “Because of you.”