A Perfect Ten

  “Oren,” I whimpered. Seated deep, he’d felt amazing. But moving and rubbing his cock against every nerve ending in my channel was pure torture, amazing, marvelous torture. Inner muscles were quivering and contracting out of control around him. None of my previous orgasms—not even the self-inflicted ones—had ever had such an extreme buildup.

  Grabbing my hair—and not too gently—he thrust again and growled into my ear. “Stop...calling...me—”

  But I was too busy coming to care what name I was shouting, so I just kept chanting, “Ohmigod, ohmigod, Orrrrrennnn.”

  He cursed and pounded harder, pulling my hair snugger and growling out his own release as I pulsed around him, my nipples throbbing and core convulsing with every tug on my scalp.

  It was the single greatest orgasm to ever claim me...and definitely the strangest. Who knew hair pulling would get me off like that?

  After I finally stopped coming, Oren slumped onto me, making the small table wobble perilously under us. His damp chest stuck to my back and pushed my breasts forward, smashing them against the cool wood.

  Panting in my ear, he sounded sapped of all energy. “Holy...fuck.”

  “S-sorry, I...I called you Oren again,” I tried to say, though it was nearly impossible from the way he was squishing out any air that might’ve circulated through my lungs.

  He hissed out an amused sound. “I didn’t mind it so much that time.”

  I smiled. “I guess it was time to give that name a new kind of memory.”

  “Hmm.” His voice went distant as if he didn’t want to share such an intimacy with me.

  Making new memories was only meant to happen with friends and lovers, not strangers humping in the dark.

  That’s when the first wave of queasy reality sliced through me. This hadn’t meant to him what it had meant to me. In my head, I’d known that all along. But now that it was all said and done, I was actually living it. He was still buried inside me, and to me, it was intimate and bonding. To him, it was empty, emotionless fucking.

  I bit my lip, forcing myself not to cry. What the hell had I just done?

  I pressed my forehead to the table a bit too hard and made it thump.

  Oren’s fingers eased back into my hair. “Did pulling your hair really make you come?”

  I’m pretty sure it had been an accumulation of everything that had made me come, but the hair thing...oh yeah, my muscles quivered around his length, remembering how it had felt when he’d done that. So I said, “Yeah. Weird, huh?”

  “What? Hair pulling’s never turned you on before?”

  “I...no one’s actually pulled it before, you know, during...”

  He gave another experimental tug. My body clamped around his and we both sucked in a breath as he started growing inside me.

  “Damn.” Once again hard enough to pull out and nudge his way back in, he groaned. “I’m going to need another condom.” But instead of leaving me, he thrust forward the next time he backed his hips away. “Fuck, you feel good.”

  “Oren,” I sobbed, my body growing tingly and tense all over again.

  “Yeah,” he growled. “Say it again.”

  “Oren.”

  He reached around and pinched my clit lightly. I convulsed and started coming, calling out his name. I was barely finished when he yanked out of me abruptly.

  “Wha—?” What was he doing?

  “New condom,” he choked. As he abandoned me completely, leaving me chilled, I straightened and rubbed my arms briskly, still coming down from the tingles seizing me.

  When I took a step from the table, I winced. “Ouch. I think your table just left a permanent indention in my hip.”

  “Poor baby,” he murmured, returning to me. “Here. The bed will be more comfortable.”

  I sighed, thinking he’d pull back the covers and we’d climb in together and snuggle a bit, maybe finally kiss. But no. He bent me over the bed exactly as he’d bent me over the table. I wasn’t prepared when he entered me. The startling penetration caused me to jump. “Oh God! Oren...”

  Moving deep and slow with each pass, he leaned into me heavily and even braced his arms on either side of me so he could press his front to my back. “You know,” he murmured into my ear as he began to stroke his fingers through my hair. “Kelly’s only ever called me Ten.”

  I frowned, wondering who the hell Kelly was and why he was talking about her while he was inside me. I really didn’t want to kill him before he could give me a fourth orgasm.

  “She has short, coarse, curly locks, too,” he added as he continued to comb my hair with his fingers. “Nothing this long, or straight, or silky soft.”

  “Oh, shit.” Now I remembered who Kelly was.

  I was supposed to be Kelly.

  My mystery visitor tried to squirm out from under me, but I covered her completely, pinning her to the bed. No way was I letting her up until I drew Big O Number Four from her. So I pushed into her deeper, literally imprisoning us together. God, that felt good. The tight, wet, warm clasp of her pussy was pure nirvana.

  You wouldn’t think one woman would feel all that different on the inside from another. But she did. Holy fuck, did she ever. She felt better than any other woman to let me into her body.

  I tightened my grip in her silken hair, because I needed to latch on to something and also because I loved the way it seemed to set her off. Then I began to thrust with more intensity. She gave a startled sound and panted harder, getting closer to that next orgasm I was so hungry to claim. I could tell by the clenching of every muscle in her body she only had seconds to go. When she threw her head back, I sank my teeth into the tightly corded muscles of her shoulders, reveling in her approaching explosion. She sounded good when she came. Real good.

  “I knew the second you walked into this room you weren’t Kelly,” I murmured into her ear, and then pressed my lips against her temple because the familiar scent from her hair had my balls tightening. “But that’s okay. I like fucking a stranger.”

  That was a lie, though, since fucking a stranger wasn’t what I felt like I was doing at all. What I really liked was imagining she could be whoever I wanted her to be, not who she really was.

  “Not knowing who you are just makes this hotter.” Imagining she was Caroline was what made it hotter.

  And just like that, she came. The hot little muscle squeezing my cock quivered and constricted, and I couldn’t hold back. I poured into her, grinding my hips into her ass as I submerged myself as far as I could and just let it all go. She buried her face into my sheets and screamed. I felt my own moan rising, so I bit the back of her shoulder again and slid my palms up her arms until I reached her fingers where she was gripping the sheets. Then I covered her hands and clutched the sheets right along with her.

  The storm rolled through us, and I kept holding her that way long after it was over.

  I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to roll her onto her back so I could press my chest up against her tits and stamp my mouth to hers, part her lips, and wet my tongue against hers. I wanted to taste her and share our next thousand breaths together. Which scared the fucking shit out of me. Because I never wanted to kiss them. I was never this sweet and tender with them.

  And that meant I knew she was different. She was—

  She wiggled under me. “Get...off.”

  “What? Ouch. Shit, woman.” She rammed her ass back, dislodging me from inside her, and caught me in the stomach. It didn’t hurt, but it did surprise me enough to rear up. “What the hell?”

  I reached for her, but she was a little escape artist when she wanted to be. She shot out of the bed and scrambled for the door while my seeking fingers grasped nothing but cool air.

  “Hey!” I finally caught an elbow but didn’t get a good enough hold because she immediately wiggled free. Her shoes clattered across the floor before my bedroom door burst open and then slammed shut. I listened to her race down the hall and slam the front door as well.

  Blowing out a long bre
ath, I rolled onto my back and stared up at my dark ceiling, seeing basically nothing.

  What had just happened had been...yeah. That had been something else.

  I’d known she wasn’t Kelly immediately. The lack of giggling and constant talking had kind of tipped me off. Then she’d gone and let it escape that she’d never been with me before. Her mentioning rumors of me only doing it in the dark from behind let me know she had to be someone from Kelly’s clique, though.

  I’d been a little bored lately, you see, so I’d started up this game with myself where I fucked each girl from the same group in a specific position. For example, I did all the Alpha Delta Pi sorority sisters in reverse cowgirl. Teaching majors were strictly oral. And the athlete groupies got it doggie style. That way, when they talked amongst themselves, they all realized I did them the same way, and they began to think I had some weird tick, or something.

  Not really sure why I’d started up such a bizarre game with myself, but it amused the hell out of me to fuck with their heads.

  So, that’s why I assumed my new midnight visitor was another football groupie... Until the first moment she’d forgotten to disguise her voice or when she’d said my name in that tone I’d recognize anywhere.

  I’d frozen solid, with my hand on her warm, bare thigh, not sure what to do and completely unable to believe Caroline was in my bedroom, bent over my table. Suddenly harder than I’d ever been in my life, I shook my head, trying to deny it. I mean, no possible way could that have been Caroline’s flesh that had heated my palm. Uh-uh.

  First of all, she wouldn’t have the audacity. Okay, scratch that; she definitely had the nerve. That was one of the reasons I was so hot for her. She could be a gutsy little spitfire whenever she put her mind to it.

  But she wouldn’t...damn, she wouldn’t stroll in here posing as Kelly, would she? She’d been pissed at me earlier this evening; I would’ve thought she’d be more likely to smash my nuts into a hand vise than give my cock the ride of its life.

  So, yeah, I had to be wrong. It hadn’t been her, no matter how much her voice had sounded like Caroline’s, no matter how much she’d smelled like Caroline, and no matter how much she’d felt as I would imagine Caroline would feel. Silky hair, soft skin, perfectly firm but malleable breasts, and the tightest, hottest pussy to ever squeeze my cock.

  Oh, shit. Had I just had my cock inside Caroline’s pussy? I’d definitely treated her as I’d never treated a woman in the sack before, admitting that personal shit about my sister, kissing her temple, holding hands while we came together.

  But no. No fucking way. It couldn’t be.

  Still...the idea of it turned me on like nothing else.

  I lay there in my bed that felt extra empty without her and I started to grow hard again, just thinking about the possibility that I might’ve just had my dick in the woman I’d been craving for nearly a year.

  I shuddered. No, no, no. It hadn’t been her. I’d only been giving her Caroline’s qualities because she was the one woman I wanted more than anything and I didn’t know who she really was.

  Sitting up on my mattress, I flipped on my bedside light. But no matter how fast my midnight visitor had lit out of here, she hadn’t left anything behind; nothing to prove she’d been Caroline, but nothing to disprove it either. I was fleetingly tempted to race after her and find out who she’d really been—I could probably still catch her in the parking lot—but then...did I honestly want to know?

  I ran my hands through my hair and then I squeezed my head hard, telling myself Kelly had just switched off with one of her friends this evening because...hell, who knew why. Who cared? I still couldn’t get over how good it’d been.

  But getting off from hair pulling? Hmm. Interesting.

  I finally got around to tossing my condom, then I flopped onto my bed, naked. I stared up in the direction of my dark ceiling, reliving every minute of my midnight visit.

  My brain was still tangled with thoughts of her the next morning...until some asshole interrupted my fond memories.

  “Hey, how do you spell informative?”

  “Hmm?” I grunted when Gamble kicked me under the table. “What?”

  “Informative,” he said. “How’s it spelled?”

  We were accustomed to hanging out on Saturday mornings; it used to be football practice morning. But with us both being seniors and the season long over, we no longer had practice to attend; we wouldn’t be back next year to play. So, we’d been meeting up at the local coffee shop every Saturday morning. And boring-ass old men that we were becoming, we usually did homework together.

  Yeah, I said homework. My homeboy had turned into a homework-finishing machine in the past year. It was a little embarrassing, but I went along with it because, hell, I don’t know. He was my friend, and friends sacrificed for each other and did shit like homework with their buddies who’d turned into pussies for the women they loved and wanted to impress with good grades. So, I sacrificed my precious Saturday mornings and did homework with my pal instead of what we used to do together, which was hit on chicks.

  I kind of missed the hitting-on-chicks era, and yet, I kind of didn’t. It’d gotten a little monotonous and stale lately. I don’t know if it was Gam’s settling down that had changed things, or something in me. Damn, maybe I was getting as old and boring as Gamble was. Shit, that couldn’t be good. So, in an effort to preserve my Ten-ness, I still tried to put some effort into flirting with every girl who passed our table for the both of us, even though my heart was no longer in it.

  “E, n, formative. Fuck, I don’t know.” I sent him a scowl. “Aren’t you the one married to the goddamn English teacher?”

  “I can’t ask her.” Gam stared at me as if I was whack. “If she helped me out, the dick administration would know it’s not my work by the quality of the writing.”

  “Then purposely spell it wrong. Or better yet, use a dumber word you can spell and would actually use in a sentence.” I shook my head. What a freak.

  Gam ground his teeth and scowled. “But I want to amaze Aspen and make a good grade. English is her thing; I can’t suck at an English essay.”

  I sighed and held up my index finger. “Reason number one why I will never fall for a fucking English teacher: because I refuse to pretend to like English essays.”

  As my buddy grumbled obscenities at me, I went back to ignoring him and chewing on my pen, wearing the end down to a mangled nub. It was still weird that he was married now. He’d tied the knot with his woman on New Year’s Day, three months ago.

  The moment they’d repeated their vows echoed through my brain. As his best man, I’d had to stand right up there with a front-row view so I could hear their words, plain as day. Up until that moment when he was pledging his life to his woman, I’d done a damn fine job of not looking across them toward the maid of honor. But when Noel’s clear voice started promising to love and cherish, and all that shit, I’d caved in and glanced at her.

  Caroline.

  Fuck me, but she’d been glancing back, and looking stunning in her maid of honor dress. So I’d stared at her through the rest of the entire freaking service. If she would’ve looked away first, I might’ve too, but she hadn’t, so there I was, screwed into staring back and getting a stiffy in the middle of a wedding because I’d so desperately wanted to mount my best friend’s little sister.

  “Ha!” Gam crowed suddenly, making me jump out of my freaking skin, the douche. “It’s I, n, formative, you fucker.” He set the smartphone he was consulting on the table by his laptop and began to type, copying the spelling.

  I scowled at him. “Good for you.” I found myself frowning at him a lot lately. But I couldn’t help it; sometimes I just wanted to wring his idiot neck for so constantly telling me to stay away from Caroline. Didn’t he know that forbidding me only made me want to crowd in as close as I could until I was fucking inside her?

  But thinking about being inside her made me think of last night, which made me even more irritab
le because I knew it couldn’t have been her, no matter how much I’d wanted it to be.

  I sniffed and stared at the opened page of my calculus book without seeing a fucking thing. “Wow, Gam can spell. Yay.” My voice was dry as I lifted my fisted hands like fake pom-poms and waved them for him.

  He kicked me under the table again. “Douche.”

  I kicked back harder. “Finger banger.”

  “Rotten crotch.” His shoe caught me in the shin, but I refused to flinch.

  “Brown diver.” I slammed my heel down on the tip of his sneaker, hoping to catch his toes. Success came when he winced.

  Yes! I rule. Gamble drools.

  Rolling his tongue over his teeth, he scowled. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  I shrugged. “I could do this all day, motherfucker.”

  “What a loser.” He shook his head and returned to his assignment, taking the high road to maturity.

  I snorted, betting myself he’d kick me again before our homework session was over.

  I was about to call him a prick when a pair of ladies passing our table cooed, “Hey, Noel,” and then, “Hi, Ten,” as more of an afterthought.

  “Hey,” Noel said, not even daring to lift his face and make eye contact as he waved his pen at them in a half-hearted greeting. I waved too and watched them continue past as they got into the end of the line for a drink.

  Instead of slipping out of my chair and following the lovely ladies who’d just waved at us, though, I went back to chewing on my pen and staring at my calculus assignment.

  “Hey.” Noel kicked me again—just as I knew he would—right in the soft spot on my shin that he’d gotten before. Fucker hurt.

  “What the hell?” I snapped, glaring at him. “Stop kicking me.”

  He blinked as if my request was completely unfounded. Then he shook his head. “What is wrong with you?”

  I hoped I didn’t pale, but it felt like I did, like every ounce of blood in my face drained down to irritate the knots forming in my stomach. Then I panicked, my palms turning all cold and sweaty, and I didn’t know why. But I felt instantly guilty, as if I had fucked his sister the night before. And I hadn’t. I knew I hadn’t, because the woman I’d been inside had not been Caroline. End of discussion.