I look over at her, her face no longer turned toward me and my heart feels bereft. Without, somehow. But, it gives me time to really look at her.
At first glance to someone else, she would look like nothing special. Sure her blonde hair looks like spun gold and her face is as milky as vanilla, but other than that, nothing about her would call to someone who is not religious.
She is covered from her neck to just above her ankles, She wears no lipstick but her lips look like they have been bit by collagen. My mind immediately pictures them more swollen from being wrapped around my meat which would stretch her mouth beyond the point she could even open it. Shit. My hand discreetly slips down and adds pressure to my cock that is now awake.
“I am Alejandro, but you can call me Alex.” I say drawing her attention once more. I should be chained and beaten for putting that sad look on her face. She nods her head and turns her eyes from me and I immediately regret it and want her blues back on me. Everything is surrounded by blackness again now that she is no longer sharing her light with me. Hell. I knew this move would be a bad idea.
CHAPTER 4
I am going straight to hell. Here I am sitting in religion class, with my bible open where I should be listening to the teacher as she discusses Galatians 5:1 which ironically is talking about desires of the flesh and instead of following along, I keep sneaking peeks at my new classmate.
At first glance, he is obviously a ‘bad boy,’ right? I mean he is covered in tattoos, some of which I can see clearly are Marvel heroes. One on his neck is a name of someone that I cannot make out. My mind is repeating how sinful it is to mark your body, but the canvas he has made of himself is beautiful to me.
His tattoos are fascinating, but they are not what I keeps me looking at him. No, it is the muscles that are defined in his arms. He is not overly muscular like those wrestlers you see on magazine covers, but he is more built then any of the boys here. Including the athletes. Each contour of his face is defined more when he grinds his teeth, makes his jaw jut out much like ‘The Rock.’ His hair is dark and wavy. It’s messy like he ran his hands through it and walked out the door unlike the perfectly coiffed and put together boys here.
It is his eyes however, that have me intrigued. They are not only dark in color like warm coffee, but I swear I could see his soul and that is the most alluring. There are shadows in his eyes with no holes for light inside of them. I don’t know if they are from pain or something even more devastating, but they pulled me in the moment he looked at me and I wanted to touch his face and promise him that everything would be ok.
I am so captivated by this man, yes, I called him a man. It is very clear he is not a boy. He has my direct attention even when I should be looking straight ahead and then like he has been alerted to my gaze, his eyes meet mine and my stomach begins to constrict. I am talking about a full blown stomach spasm mixed with something else I don't understand. It’s this throbbing tickle that is moving over my entire body. Good Lord, it is hot in here.
I want to turn away and break the connection but something about his gaze holds me… keeps me from moving. His eyes go from blank to something moving and fluid, like cream stirring into coffee. I was just saying there was something dark about him, but right now, his eyes are torrent, chaotic and have a radiant glare in them.
Unable to hide under the table, my body simply reacts and retracts on the inside, but the thickness of the air, I can’t hide from myself. “You stare at all the punks in this town like that?” His voice is rough and gritty. I feel like I should recoil from the molasses laden accusation, but instead, I answer him like he has rights to my honesty.
“No,” I whisper and put my head down.
“Good.” My head comes up and his eyes are doing that swirling thing again. I can’t hide the gasp that shudders through me. Not because he is scaring me, but in response to the way my body is reacting to everything about him. With a cocky smirk on his face, his pinky finger grazes my hand and I suck in my breath unsure of what to do.