An Illicit Pursuit (25 page)

Rage and anger begin boiling in my blood, and
I fist my hands on my sides. Did my talks get so much into him that
he jerked off fantasizing about Pat?

To be honest, though, that’s only fair,
considering how I can’t stop myself from grabbing my cock every
time I think about his girlfriend. “Yeah, that’s right. I don’t
want to hear anything about her.”

“What’s your problem, dude? She’s the nicest
girl in the whole wide world. You can’t behave like she’s some dog
shit on the street.”

“Believe me I don’t. And I recommend you
don’t do it, either.” I turn around and aimlessly look at the girls
jumping in the water.

“Who’s blonde everywhere? Will I get to show
her my bedroom?” Brad’s dense voice interrupts our conversation,
and I manage to step away, before my fists launch at his face.

Heading toward the kitchen, I grab myself a
cold Corona and stroll around the swimming pool, occasionally
glancing toward Taylor. She’s sipping from her coke and moving her
body leisurely in rhythm to the music.

I force myself not to contemplate her plans
of losing her virginity tonight. The best I can do in my
circumstance is to come to terms with the fact that I can’t have
her. But, knowing someone else will have her—will be her first, to
top it off—is killing me in the slowest and most torturous way
possible. I’d be much happier if she had chosen to become a
catholic nun than getting off around someone else’s cock. Even if
it’s my best friend’s.

Fuck. I shouldn’t go there. If I want to get
out of this party alive, I should stop right now and just enjoy the
cold beverage in my hand.

Brad is now playing catch with some girls and
throwing the unfortunate ones who are slow enough for his turtle
speed into the swimming pool. One particular girl manages to escape
his grip and pushes him into the water, earning loud laughter from
the other guests. Even Jack and Taylor are among the ones laughing
at Brad’s flutters in the water. Only then, I notice how tense the
muscles on my face are, probably making me look lethal. Working on
softening my expression, I drop on a lounger on the most deserted
side of the garden and rest my head against it. I suppose nobody
will notice my absence if I doze off a little. As soon as I close
my eyes, though, Jack shows up at my side and nudges at my
elbow.

“Hey, I gotta go. Something urgent came up at
home. Will you drive Taylor back?”

Reluctantly, I open my eyes and rub them, as
if I’ve just woken up. “Huh?”

“Will you please take Taylor back to her
home? She wants to stay a little longer with her friend over
there,” Jack says, pointing toward a group of girls on the other
side of the swimming pool.

“Whatever.” I shrug.

“Hey, don’t be an asshole to her. You hear
me?”

“I won’t,” I say and punch his shoulder in a
friendly manner. He smiles at me, then blows a kiss toward Taylor,
and leaves.

Now that Jack is gone, I feel less inclined
to follow my
‘don’t stare longer than five seconds’
rule and
start watching Taylor ’til my eyes have their fill of her. I
remember putting on my sun glasses to hide my intense study of her
body.

She’s ample in all the right places. Her
shoulders are medium wide, her waist a tiny circle compared to her
large chest and curvy hips. Her hair is tied back into a thick pony
tail, reaching down to her waist. She’s twirling it, perhaps
unconsciously, in her hands as she chats and laughs with her
friend. She’s got me so hypnotized with her beauty that I can’t
lose even a second to scan the girl she’s talking to or anyone else
in the party.

Brad appears behind the group Taylor is in,
and yes I lose more than a few second on that jerk. More so when
he’s drunk, because the level of unpredictability that comes with
his dumbness augments tenfold with alcohol. As I expected, he pulls
something utterly irritating and sweeps Taylor off of her feet and
throws her into the swimming pool.

I spring to my feet, completely
thunderstruck, and leap the distance between my seat and the
swimming pool in a flash, throwing off my sandals, ready to jump in
the water. Taylor emerges from the water and lifts her hand up
toward me. I grab it gently and pull her out of the pool.

She steps out, drenched to the bones, her
soggy shirt glued to her body, revealing the generous curves of her
breasts and stiff nipples. She’s so wildly sexy, every second
that’s passing without me taking her hard and deep is a torture.
Like walking-on-broken-glass or testicles-pierced-with-hot-needles
kinds of torture.

I tear my eyes away from her breasts and
lower them to save her from my lecherous gaze only to have them
land on another mind-blowing sight.

Holy mother of sweet baby Jesus!

Her damp bikini bottoms. They’re not just
some wet bikini bottoms. They’re her bikini bottoms that are snugly
slid between the hairless lips of her dripping pussy, and the hem
of her shirt is too far above to cover the most arousing sight I’ve
ever gotten to view.

As if I wasn’t already burning with
uncontrollable animal lust for her, as if my mind hadn’t stopped
working altogether for everything except her, now some sadistic
force in the universe deems it suitable that I witness, close-up,
her naked pussy popping out of her bikini bottoms.

Her virgin pussy, for crying out loud.

The air is sucked out of my lungs. I can feel
the blood stop circulating and instead pooling in my groin. My cock
is thickening to its full size beneath my shorts. Apparently my
brain is shut out completely, too, because my eyes remain locked in
the same angle long after she smoothed down her shirt. With the
universe against me, I won’t be surprised at all if my face has
some drool or anything less than decent expression on it.

“I want to go home,” Taylor says, snapping me
out of my utterly embarrassing trance.

I don’t move but manage to keep my gaze down
when I reply her, “Okay, no problem. I’ll meet you at the front
door in five.”

Stepping back into my sandals, I storm out of
the pool area toward the front door. I’m glad the party is ending
for me. No sooner than I drop her at her place, I’ll be free from
her forceful spell. I pace up and down on the porch, glancing at my
watch every half minute, running my hand through my hair when I’m
not checking the time.

Part of me wants to go under memory-erasing
surgery to wipe the sight of her half-bare sex from my mind, yet
the other part wishes every detail of it will be carved into my
brain forever. My cock is still painfully hard. I consider hiding
in a bathroom to jerk off or, better yet, pay a surprise visit to
Taylor while she’s stripping off her wet clothes.

What wouldn’t I give to take her virginal
pussy, to be the first man to stretch out her taut inner muscles,
and introduce her womb to a full load of my seed? I’m desperate to
the point of being willing to ruin my friendship with Jack, if
Taylor was okay with letting me take her.

When the five minutes stretched toward ten, I
decide to look for her and set about going through the labyrinth
called a beach house.

A shrill cry shoots my adrenaline up, and I
find myself rushing toward the sound with no less than the speed of
light, or at least it feels that way, until I arrive in front of
the room Taylor’s frantic cries are coming from.

I slam into the locked door with my shoulder
and open it with my adrenaline-filled, super strength with one blow
to witness Brad’s large torso covering Taylor on the bed and Taylor
struggling to be freed beneath him. I see red and feel my ears
flame with rage.

Digging my fingers into Brad’s hair, I yank
him out of the bed and haul him into the hallway. The crack I hear
when his head crashes into the wall is like music to my ears. I’d
make a full song out of more head banging, if Taylor didn’t need my
help to get up from the bed.

Thank god, she still has her shirt and bikini
bottoms on. That means I haven’t arrived too late, doesn’t it?

I close the door and take slow steps toward
her, so as not to frighten her more than she already is, kneel on
the bed beside her, and pull her shirt down to cover her waist and
hips. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he didn’t. But, he would have if you
hadn’t come.” Her jaw is shaking violently, so is her body. I slip
my arm beneath her neck and help her sit. Her arms hug her torso,
big drops of tears moistening her cheeks.

“Everything is okay now. I’m here. He can’t
hurt you anymore. Nobody can.” I probably should stay away from
her, but I can’t keep myself from circling my arm around her
shoulders and haul her over to my chest. She fists her hand in my
shirt, rests her head on my shoulder, and cries for some minutes,
still shaking with the shock and probably with the cold due to her
wet shirt.

That motherfucker, cocksucker jerk. How dare
he give an innocent girl the fear of her life? I’ll make sure to
give him the pain he inflicted multiple times more.

“Do you have any dry clothes to change into?”
I whisper to her ear in order not to startle her.

She nods, her fingers still locked around my
shirt. She’s scared to hell, and my chest swells with the need to
protect her. Not just from Brad, but from the entire world. I
wouldn’t let her alone for a minute to ensure her safety if she’d
let me.

“Can you put them on by yourself?” Not that
I’ll offer to help her. God forbid if I see her fully naked— my
mind is fucked-up as is. But I can call her friend for help.

She nods again.

“Okay, you put on your dry clothes first;
then let’s get the fuck out of here. I’ll be calling the police to
report the assault.” I assist her to her feet and squeeze her
shoulder gently before letting her go.

She reluctantly lets go of her grip on my
shirt and looks up at me. “No, no. Please don’t. I don’t want Jack
to know about it.”

“Why not? He has right to know what an ass
his cousin is. And Brad needs a thorough punishment for what he
did. Imagine if he tries to do the same thing to another girl.”

“He won’t. He’s too drunk, that’s why—”

“Don’t defend that motherfucker to me.” I
raise my voice but immediately regret it when she takes a step away
from me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just think he
needs a lesson, but I’ll do whatever you want. If you don’t want me
to call the police, then I won’t.” Wow, that’s a first; I, who
never takes no for an answer at work, caving in so easily.

“Thank you,” she whispers and stares deep
into my eyes for the briefest of moments. In that concise instant,
I realize I’m ready to cave in to everything she wishes as long as
she doesn’t deprive me of those soul-sucker eyes of hers.

I drag my feet out of the room and close the
door behind me. Brad is nowhere to be seen, but the murmurs coming
from down the hall tell me he’s being taken care of. And not the
type of care my fists would have given him if he was around. A
small circle of blood smeared on the wall somehow calms my agitated
nerves to a bearable degree. At least he isn’t getting out of it
without a punishment. I hope the scar won’t fade away and will stay
as a reminder of his violent actions and their consequences.

I hear Taylor’s muffled cries behind the
door, and my hands start shaking with the still-fuming anger. This
level of aggression is new to me, and I don’t know how to calm
myself, except for punching and kicking holes into the wall until
every square inch of it has my mark.

The door opens and Taylor steps out, wearing
a cream T-shirt and black mid-thigh shorts, holding a handbag. “I’m
ready,” she says, keeping her eyes firmly on the floor. She must be
trying to hide the obvious fact that she’s been crying, but I feel
it has more to do with her feeling ashamed of what happened in
there. That must be why she doesn’t want Jack to find out about it.
Is she thinking it’s her fault?

“Let’s go.” I take her bag and start to walk,
putting a safe distance between us, but she moves in closer until
our arms touch as we cross the hall and enter the kitchen. Is she
afraid that Brad will come out and finish what he started? I’ll rip
off his genitals before he can so much as look at her again. I
place my hand at the small of her back and guide her out.

Opening the door of the passenger seat of my
car for her, I give her the handbag and watch her climb into the
car and place the bag on the floor in front of her legs. After I
get behind the wheel and insert the key in the ignition, I turn to
her. “We have to go to the police.”

“We don’t have to do anything. Please, can’t
you just drive me back home?” She’s staring out of the window, her
eyebrows firmly pulled together.

“Jack isn’t from the stone age. He won’t
suspect your innocence or blame you for anything.”

“It has nothing to do with what Jack might
think about me.”

“Then, why? Why don’t you want the guy who
came close to raping you to get his punishment?”

“He’s his parents’ only child.”

I shrug. “So?”

She turns to meet my gaze, her hands
fidgeting in her lap, and I try hard not to take notice of her nude
legs. “I met his parents. They’re both very nice people. I don’t
want them suffering for what Brad did while he was heavily
intoxicated.”

What kind of fucking reasoning is that? It
makes no sense. A lot of offenders must have exemplary parents and
still are better behind bars than out on the streets. But, of
course, I won’t be able to argue with her, because she’s using her
enchanting eyes on me, manipulating my thoughts until I
surrender.

“Then, better pray he doesn’t hurt another
girl.” I turn the key and listen to the engine roar to life. We
spend the one-hour drive to L.A. with no talking at all. She
reclines the seat and closes her eyes, resting her head on the back
of the seat. Her bag rolls on the floor between her wide-spread
legs that are waggling with the car. If my head wasn’t still dizzy
with raging fury, my cock would very likely jump to its full size.
Even so, I glimpse her creamy thighs at every opportunity,
remembering the sight of her dripping sex, only to feel shitty for
viewing her as a sexual object. I’m no different than Brad. At
least he had the excuse of being drunk.