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I hated that I liked the way the word sounded on his lips. Angelita. Maybe it was because nobody called me that except my dad—everyone called me Kik. Or Kevin. Or maybe it was because he used the proper Spanish pronunciation—swallowing the g so that the beginning of the word rhymed with hang.
While I was still contemplating that fact, he caught me off guard by moving himself further up the bed, and deftly pinning both my hands down into the mattress.
“So how do you feel about screwing with Papá just a few feet down the hall? These walls and doors don’t seem all that sturdy, he’d probably hear the whole thing.”
I started struggling before he’d even completed the sentence. There was no fucking way. I tried with all my might to free my hands from his grasp, but he just pushed harder and squeezed them tighter.
“Relax. I’m yanking your chain, but like I said, I am hungry.” The devilish gleam in his cool steel eyes told me he wasn’t talking about food—or least, not the kind served at any restaurant. He transferred both my hands to one of his, and used the other to quickly drag the zipper down on my work pants. I’d always hated them—the plaid knickerbockers were itchy and uncomfortable, and also deeply unflattering. Not that I’d need to worry about that again, as I wouldn’t be working at the golf club anymore.
The unexpected upside of the terrible design was that the baggy and ill-fitting crotch area somehow gave the appearance of having a dick. Ironic really, given that I was supposed to be a dude the whole time. On actual dudes I guessed the effect was to make them look like they were working with more below the belt than they actually were, so nobody was complaining about that. The matching plaid V-neck sweater also did a good job of giving my beestings the appearance of pecs. The whole effect had worked like a charm, until Drew came on the scene and ruined everything.
As I bucked and struggled—careful not to make any noise, as I didn’t want to alert my Dad to what was going on—I hissed at Drew under my breath.
“What the fuck? You said you wanted to go eat, so let’s go.”
“I also said I wanted to take the edge off my hunger right here, and now.”
With those words, he pulled at the button on my pants, tugging so hard that it pinged off and clattered somewhere around the room. With the button and zipper dispensed with, he yanked impatiently at the waistband, grabbing hold of my panties at the same time, and pulling both down my thighs.
“Oh shit.” He muttered the words more to himself than anything, as he took in the sight of me bared to him. He let go of my hands, so that he could lower his lips to my entrance. With my hands now free, I instinctively shoved them into his hair, pulling hard, in a bid to stop him.
“Drew—”
“Not a negotiation.” The end of the word was lost, along with my will to fight, as he plunged his tongue inside me. My body bucked in response, coming alive as sensation swept through me. I carried on pulling at his hair, but I wasn’t sure which was stronger—my desire to make him stop, or my need to have him continue.
After a little while of working me over with just his tongue, alternating between licking and sucking my clit, and pushing in and out of me, he switched things up, plunging two fingers inside me. I had to bite my lip hard to stop from crying out, and was only partially successful. I clamped my eyes shut and drove my nails into Drew’s scalp, not caring what kind of damage I inflicted.
Desperate to take my arousal to the next level, I began rotating my hips in slow, steady circles, enjoying the friction of my lips against his. I arched my back, tilting my pelvis to allow me to push harder against his mouth, and increase the pleasure. He obliged me by pushing deeper and sucking harder.
It was the strangest feeling—both loving and hating what I was going through, in equal measure, and at the same time. I loved it because it felt amazing, but I resented that Drew could make me feel good in any way shape or form, when at any other time, I detested everything about him. As my arousal climbed to dizzying heights I shut out the world around me, and cleared my mind of all thoughts other than of my pleasure. I focused on my impending climax, blocking out all the negativity associated with it, and going with the flow of the high I knew was coming my way.
“Let’s go.” My eyes snapped open, and I blinked myopically, trying to work out what the hell was going on.
“What?”
“The restaurant. We need to bounce.”
“But…”
“But what? Is there something I can help you with?” His leer said it all. This was just another way in which he was fucking with me, showing me who was in control, and exactly how much power he had over me. My body was still alive with unspent arousal—I was tingling from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, and it felt as though a pod of dolphins was practicing leaps in my stomach. I was dripping wet, and throbbing with need.
As I watched Drew sucking his fingers clean, then wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, I desperately wanted to slip my own hands down my body to finish the job he’d started, then so abruptly brought to an end. Instead, I looked at him long and hard, hoping I could somehow inflict bodily harm just by the power of my stare.
“That was a delicious appetizer, but now I’m ready for the main course. Are you coming—no pun intended—or are you just going to lie there staring at me? And like I said before, it’s a nice place, so you can’t go dressed in your work uniform.”
“Go to hell.”
“Ha! Thanks for the offer, but I do believe I’m already there. I have been for years.”
I had no idea what he meant by that, but the candid words, coupled by the wistful look on his face took me by surprise. If the asshole hadn’t just intentionally left me hanging for what was lining up to be the orgasm to end all orgasms, I might even have given a little bit of a fuck about what he was referring to. As it was, I wanted to make hamburger out of his face.
“I’m not going to dinner with you. I suddenly lost my appetite.”
“I don’t remember saying it was up for negotiation. Besides, I’m still starving. In fact, I’m hungrier now than I was before.” He licked his lips like a fox who’d just gone on a rampage in a henhouse—which wasn’t too far from the truth.
“And I don’t remember ever saying yes. In fact, I distinctly remember saying no, multiple, times.”
“Listen, patience isn’t one of my strong points as it is, and what little I had was eroded while waiting for you, like I said before. So if I have to carry you out of here and into the car, I will—even in those gross golf clothes—but I doubt you want to make a scene in front of your dad. Besides, you’ll wreck my already precarious mood, and I think we can both agree that course of action is to be avoided.”
