Fuck Valentine's Day(7)By: C.M. Stunich
“Hey beautiful,” Quinn whispered after a few seconds.
“Do you think you could, um, help me out a little?” Quinn sat back and showed me his, uh, problem. It was about six inches long and totally uncircumcised.
I sort of panicked and shoved him off onto the floor. Not because of the whole not circumcised thing, but because I had just orgasmed in the arms of a guy who hadn't even known my name until like, two days ago.
“Where are you going?” he asked as I stumbled out of bed with the sheets wrapped around my waist. “You've got that condom on your bedside table. You sure you don't want to finish?” I grabbed a bra from the top drawer of my dresser and yanked a random dress off its hanger without bothering to look at what it was.
“Sorry, Quinn. I have to get to calc.” I paused. “You should go, too. We have a pop quiz today.”
An hour later, I was digging under my seat surreptitiously trying to find my newest clue while Quinn's hand slid up my thigh, once again reminding me that I was wearing a short, black dress and no panties. I am not a commando girl under normal circumstances and I have to say, the extra breeze factor was not all it's cracked up to be.
“You wanna go back to your place after this?” Quinn asked as I slid my eyes over to him and tried not to turn bright as fuck red. His lips were a bit swollen, nicked by my teeth, and he was leaning back, gazing at me from those pretty blue eyes like I was the perfect catch. Aha! My hand finally brushed the edge of something, and I grabbed onto it like it was a lifeline.
“Um, not sure,” I whispered as Preston Ellis appeared in the corner of my eye, handsome and studious, as always. His glasses were clean and polished, shining under the bright lights as he ascended the steps to the stage and took over for the world's laziest professor, one who thought student assistants were there so he could hit on some of his favorite coeds during class. Namely the ones who sat in the front row and forgot to cross their legs when they wore shirt skirts. Considering my commando status, I didn't just remember, I seriously considered gluing my knees together to keep my bits hidden.
“We're going to be moving on to chapter seven … ” Preston began as I dragged my prize out from beneath the seat and set it in my lap. I had to try really, really hard not to keep staring at the cut on his forehead. Or his ass when he turned around. Either way, the man was distracting as all get out.
“I was thinking, if you wanted, we could even go somewhere else, you know. That is, if you're into that kind of thing.” I ignored Quinn and examined my clue. It was a wooden box with a red envelope taped to the top. Fortunately, Quinn was too busy checking out my tits to really notice that I had something in my lap much less where it had come from. I opened the envelope first.
You found them. Nice job, Andi. Can I call you Andi? Inside the box you'll find one of my favorite Valentine's Day treats along with your next clue. Enjoy.
I tucked the note into my textbook and cracked open the lid to the box. Inside, layered in pink velvet, were a pair of metal handcuffs. Real nice ones. Fancy ones with a heart shaped key and everything. Goose bumps sprung up all over my skin and I found my pulse racing like I had just run a marathon.
Rational Andi: Yeah. Seriously. Do you need anymore proof? This fuck is a stalker. Like a big time stalker.
Horny Andi: Yum. Handcuffs.
Rational Andi: Which this bitch is going to use to attach you to the bumper of his cargo van and drag you along the interstate. Are you insane? Go to the campus police. Now. Get a Doberman pinscher. Something. Anything. Hello? Are you even listening? Pause. Aw, go fuck yourself. And don't come crawling to me when you're lit up with seventy-five watts and draped over a brass lamp.
I slammed the lid shut on the box and cringed when the sound rang out through the quiet space between Preston's words. When I looked up, not only was he staring at me, but so was half the class. Nice. I swallowed hard, grabbed Quinn's hand and dragged him out the door. As soon as we hit the pavement, he was pushing me up against a wall and kissing my neck. Whoa. Talk about sending wrong messages. First, I turned him down, then I practically fucked him, and now … wow … I couldn't give a shit less about him. I needed to find Mystery Man before curiosity really did kill the cat. Or the pussy. Whatever.
“I knew you were hot for me,” he whispered as I tried to get my raging hormones under control. Despite what Rational Andi thought, I was intrigued. This guy, whoever he was, had me at handcuffs. Damn, but I was falling for him and I hadn't even met him yet.
Rational Andi: He's probably, like, three hundred friggin' pounds with a hairy beer belly and a lisp.