me.”
Jesus. This man. He’s not gonna be easy. He’s gonna make me work for everything.
“Show me,” he says again, only this time with more force.
I reach down between my legs and play with myself, gathering the wetness on the tips of my fingers. I hold them up and they glisten in the light filtering through from the freeway.
He steps forward again, closing the distance between us, takes my fingers in his hand and places them in his mouth.
I have to close my eyes. My knees get a little weak and I’m eternally grateful that this stucco wall is holding me up.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Shannon.”
“What?” I gasp.
But he’s already turned away. “Mateo,” I whisper-yell. “Mateo.”
“Stay away from Danny Alexander, Shannon. He’s bad news.”
And then Mateo pushes the gate open and walks through.
“Who the fuck is Danny Alexander?” I ask myself.
Chapter Twelve
I figure it out, of course . Sunday is Danny Alexander. I just didn’t know his last name.
A second later I get a text.
Unknown Number: I mean it. Stay away from him. Walk to school tomorrow .
Shannon: Who is this?
Unknown Number: Funny girl. I’ll make you pay for that tomorrow in class.
Shannon: I think I owe you one, actually. So I’ll take that ride and let him know I don’t need any more on the way. I’m not going to drop a friend for a guy like you.
Unknown Number: What kind of guy am I?
Shannon: The kind who gets me wet and leaves me hanging.
My phone rings and I almost drop it. “Hello?”
“Rub one out while I’m on the phone then.”
“What?”
“Shannon, I’m serious about saying things twice. I hate it. Don’t ask me for clarification when you heard me perfectly well.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. Now go into your bedroom, lie down on your futon, and play with yourself until you come.”
I just stand there.
“Let me know when you’re in bed.”
I let out a frustrated exhale, but I walk to my room, slip inside, and lie down.
“Turn on the light.”
“Why?”
“So I can watch.”
I look up at my patio-facing window and there he is. I can barely make him out in the darkness, but I see him well enough.
“Do it,” he says. “You might like to think you’re in control, but you’re not. I am.”
“You’re creepy, Mateo.”
“Thank you. But you’re keeping me waiting.”
“I told you, I don’t like stalkers.”
“I’m not a stalker. I’m your boyfriend.”
How many times can he stun me silent in one day?
I get up and flip the light on, walk back to my futon, and lie down. But instead of lying down the right way, so my feet face the opposite wall, I lie down sideways, so Mateo can watch.
I’m sick. I realize this.
But I’m turned on like crazy too. So I close my eyes and reach between my legs.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” he says into the phone. “Stick your fingers inside yourself.”
I gush at that. Like, I’m so fucking wet, I might have a problem.
Mateo starts breathing harder on the other end of the phone. “Are you getting off?” I ask.
“Shh,” he says back. But I know he is. I picture him in my head. His fat cock in his fist as he pumps up and down along his shaft. I picture myself lying on the desk in the classroom, panting with surprise and lust. I picture the look on his face when he came on my shirt.
I come with that picture in my head. We groan at the same time, him in the phone next to my ear.
“Feel better?”
I nod.
“Lick your fingers.”
God, I want to come again. Like right now. But I do as he says and place them in my mouth.
“What do they taste like?”
“You,” I say softly. “They taste like you.”
I don’t even bother looking up at the window. I can almost feel his smile. “You’re perfect,” he whispers back. “Should we make it even?”
“Wha—How?”
“I’ll let you watch me get off tomorrow in class. Don’t be late.”
And then I get the hang-up beeps. I stare at the phone for several
Jesus. This man. He’s not gonna be easy. He’s gonna make me work for everything.
“Show me,” he says again, only this time with more force.
I reach down between my legs and play with myself, gathering the wetness on the tips of my fingers. I hold them up and they glisten in the light filtering through from the freeway.
He steps forward again, closing the distance between us, takes my fingers in his hand and places them in his mouth.
I have to close my eyes. My knees get a little weak and I’m eternally grateful that this stucco wall is holding me up.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Shannon.”
“What?” I gasp.
But he’s already turned away. “Mateo,” I whisper-yell. “Mateo.”
“Stay away from Danny Alexander, Shannon. He’s bad news.”
And then Mateo pushes the gate open and walks through.
“Who the fuck is Danny Alexander?” I ask myself.
Chapter Twelve
I figure it out, of course . Sunday is Danny Alexander. I just didn’t know his last name.
A second later I get a text.
Unknown Number: I mean it. Stay away from him. Walk to school tomorrow .
Shannon: Who is this?
Unknown Number: Funny girl. I’ll make you pay for that tomorrow in class.
Shannon: I think I owe you one, actually. So I’ll take that ride and let him know I don’t need any more on the way. I’m not going to drop a friend for a guy like you.
Unknown Number: What kind of guy am I?
Shannon: The kind who gets me wet and leaves me hanging.
My phone rings and I almost drop it. “Hello?”
“Rub one out while I’m on the phone then.”
“What?”
“Shannon, I’m serious about saying things twice. I hate it. Don’t ask me for clarification when you heard me perfectly well.”
“I’m not—”
“You are. Now go into your bedroom, lie down on your futon, and play with yourself until you come.”
I just stand there.
“Let me know when you’re in bed.”
I let out a frustrated exhale, but I walk to my room, slip inside, and lie down.
“Turn on the light.”
“Why?”
“So I can watch.”
I look up at my patio-facing window and there he is. I can barely make him out in the darkness, but I see him well enough.
“Do it,” he says. “You might like to think you’re in control, but you’re not. I am.”
“You’re creepy, Mateo.”
“Thank you. But you’re keeping me waiting.”
“I told you, I don’t like stalkers.”
“I’m not a stalker. I’m your boyfriend.”
How many times can he stun me silent in one day?
I get up and flip the light on, walk back to my futon, and lie down. But instead of lying down the right way, so my feet face the opposite wall, I lie down sideways, so Mateo can watch.
I’m sick. I realize this.
But I’m turned on like crazy too. So I close my eyes and reach between my legs.
“Fuck, you’re hot,” he says into the phone. “Stick your fingers inside yourself.”
I gush at that. Like, I’m so fucking wet, I might have a problem.
Mateo starts breathing harder on the other end of the phone. “Are you getting off?” I ask.
“Shh,” he says back. But I know he is. I picture him in my head. His fat cock in his fist as he pumps up and down along his shaft. I picture myself lying on the desk in the classroom, panting with surprise and lust. I picture the look on his face when he came on my shirt.
I come with that picture in my head. We groan at the same time, him in the phone next to my ear.
“Feel better?”
I nod.
“Lick your fingers.”
God, I want to come again. Like right now. But I do as he says and place them in my mouth.
“What do they taste like?”
“You,” I say softly. “They taste like you.”
I don’t even bother looking up at the window. I can almost feel his smile. “You’re perfect,” he whispers back. “Should we make it even?”
“Wha—How?”
“I’ll let you watch me get off tomorrow in class. Don’t be late.”
And then I get the hang-up beeps. I stare at the phone for several
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