Ride Home Ch 02

Comments and emails are very much appreciated. I'm also pretty active on the forums if you prefer to reach out there. This works as a stand-alone, but I suggest reading Ch. 01 for context about John and Charley's relationship.

###

I sat at the desk in my bedroom, shuffling through my ancient Greek dictionary, searching for the meaning of the word "νόθος". The electric glow of the desk lamp made my eyes hurt and the constant, faint hum made my headache, but I was determined to get my paper written out before I headed off to campus the next morning. A friend and I had agreed to proofread each other's work before we had to turn them in.

A frigid draft invaded my bedroom through the thin window pane and I shivered beneath my long, heavy flannel nightgown. It was the week before Thanksgiving and it was already bitterly cold. Maybe John would give me a ride home from campus if I asked him.

Desire tugged at my loins and I pressed my thighs together, forcing myself to concentrate on the Iliad. I would deal with my desire when I lay down to sleep. My face flushed hot with shame. Every morning when I woke and every night when I went to bed, I pulled my nightgown over my hips and slid my hand under my panties, rubbing and stroking my clit while I imagined John's wet, greedy mouth on my nipples, licking and sucking me until I moaned with wanton pleasure. Coming against my own hand was wonderful, but I would've rather come against John's. Or around his big, thick cock.

I knocked a pile of papers to the floor with my elbow, their crisp fluttering snapping me back to reality. I pushed the dictionary away from me with a sigh, sliding off my chair to clean up the mess. When I touched myself, I tried to imagine what it would feel like to have John push his silky smooth, yet rock-hard, cock inside my tiny virgin pussy, but I couldn't imagine feeling anything but pain. He was so big.

In my fantasies, I skipped past the actual sex to the part where a flushed and breathless John would spill his hot seed inside me, filling me up with rope after rope of his sticky come. Would I be able to feel its heat inside my wet, needy pussy? Or the way his cock twitched and spasmed as he groaned?

I slid the papers over each other and set them on the desk while my clit throbbed and a rush of wetness dampened my panties. I would take care of the ache between my legs and then finish my paper. I wouldn't be able to concentrate otherwise.

Something tapped against my bedroom window, the unfamiliar sound making me jump. The second time, I saw it. A small object struck my window and then fell back down into the darkness. I stood, moving in front of the window as a tall, strapping figure in a dark coat and cap tossed another stone. It tapped the glass with a soft plink.

The pale yellow glow of the streetlight at the end of the alley that ran along the side of my house illuminated John's chiseled features. He smiled at me and I swooned; this golden Apollo come to bless me with his presence.

He mouthed something at me and I shook my head, fumbling at the window latch, the cold metal biting into my fingers. The ancient hinges whined their shrill protest as I pulled the window open, praying my grandma wouldn't wake up. A blast of freezing air made me shudder.

I wrapped my arms around myself as if that would keep me warm. "What are you doing here?"

He slid his bare hands into his coat pockets. "I just wanted to see your pretty face, but now that I've heard your lovely voice, I want to be close to you."

I shivered in the bitter cold. "I've missed you."

"Can I come up?"

I bit my lip, calculating the odds of creeping down the rickety old staircase past my grandma's bedroom and opening the door to let John in without waking her up. Even if she didn't, what would John and I do? Talk in the kitchen? Sneak him up to my bedroom? Heat radiated from my core at the thought of having John all to myself, but the risk of being caught was too great.

"If only my grandmother wasn't such a light sleeper," I called down to him as loudly as I dared.

"She won't hear me climb up to you." He stepped forward, wedging himself into the tight corner between the chimney and the exterior of the house, pressing his palms flat against the red bricks and pushing himself up with his legs.

I gripped the edge of the window. "John, you're insane. Get down before you fall and I have to call an ambulance."

He paused to laugh, his frozen breath swirling around his mouth. "What would people say about sweet little Charley Donovan sneaking men into her bedroom window in the dead of night? You'd be better off leaving me in the street."

"Never," I said as he climbed higher. "I'd suffer any blow to my reputation for you."

His eyes brightened, the pale streetlight bringing out the warm ring of gold around his pupils. "It's little statements like that." He paused to catch his breath. "That make you worth the risk of a cracked skull. If I am insane, it's out of desire for you."

Despite the cold, my face flushed hot. I held my breath as he scaled the wall, terrified and excited all at the same time. He stopped just outside my window, eyes darting back and forth between the window ledge and his feet. I reached for him, my heart pounding in my chest.

He shook his head. "Back up."

I opened my mouth to argue, but the tightness in his jaw gave me pause. I stepped back, arms clutching my elbows.

He lunged for the window ledge in a mad leap, his hands slapping against the metal frame as he gripped it. He swung his leg inside, but the leather sole of his heel slipped and his leg disappeared outside the warm safety of my bedroom.

I hurried forward. "John."

"Get out of the way."

I backpedaled and he swung his leg back over the window ledge, this time heaving the rest of his body into the room, landing on the floor with a thud and a goofy grin.

"I'm getting old. I could've done that in my sleep when I was a fresh-faced youth." He climbed to his feet and closed the window. "God, it's cold."

I chuckled weakly, somehow shy as I marveled at the sheer size and strength of the man before me.

He turned and shrugged off his coat and cap, laying them over his arm, and glancing around my bedroom before his eyes met mine.

A thousand little butterflies hatched in my stomach. Except for my thin, cotton panties, I was completely naked beneath my nightgown. It was strange having him in my most intimate space; as if the worn rug on the floor, the messy desk, the unmade bed, and the plain oak wardrobe laid my soul bare before him.

He smiled, eyes flickering down to my shapeless nightgown. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I was busy with an assignment." I reached for his coat and cap, cursing my silly schoolgirl reaction.

"Well, I'm sorry to have interrupted. I just wanted to see you."

He handed me his things and I placed them on a trunk at the foot of my single bed.

"Is that a hope chest?" His lips pulled back into a mocking grin.

"My grandmother's old-fashioned," I said, warm blush creeping down my neck.

He held his arms out and I hurried to press myself against his solid body, squeezing him tight as he embraced me, nuzzling the top of my head.

"I'm glad you're here," I murmured, my cheek resting against his throat, musky aftershave tickling my nostrils. "You smell nice."

He laughed, the deep baritone reverberating through me.

I wiggled free, suddenly hot.

"You smell nice, too." He reached behind my ear, his frigid fingers brushing the back of my neck as he pulled part of my dark, curly hair over my shoulder, laughing again when I shuddered. He cupped my cheek and leaned down for a gentle kiss on the lips. "What are you studying?"

"Greek."

He arched his eyebrows. "Greek?"

"Ancient Greek. The Iliad. I have to translate a section of it into English without losing any of the poetic element," I said.

"Aren't there already English translations of the Iliad?"

"This is just for practice."

"You think you'll have to translate Ancient Greek into English in your everyday life?" he asked.

"It's supposed to make me a well-rounded, thoughtful individual."

He grasped my forearms, thumbs rubbing circles on the insides of my elbows. "By 'well-rounded', do you mean 'worldly'?" I can't teach you Ancient Greek, but I can teach you about the world."

The casual tone in his voice nettled me. I pulled away from him and stepped toward my desk.

He followed, catching me by the shoulders and sliding onto the chair before I could sit down. He pressed me onto his lap and slid his hands under my arms, wrapping his around me and pulling me close. "Did I offend you? I thought a girl studying the Classics would be more comfortable discussing sexuality."

I bristled, trying not to think about how close his semi-hard cock was to my wet pussy. "I fooled around with you because I like you. Very much. I thought you felt the same."

He rested his forehead on my shoulder. "I do. You thought correct. Forgive me, Charley. I never meant to imply that you or I don't take this seriously. I have no intention of hurting you. I only want to make you feel good."

I twisted in his lap, kissing him softly on the mouth. "You can. After I finish this."

He sighed, leaning against me as I pulled my papers close. "Good thing I am a patient man."

We sat together like that for a while, the only sounds were the hum of the electric lamp and his steady breathing in my ear. It wasn't the most comfortable way to study, but the joy bubbling through me made the slight discomfort worth it. I hoped he was taking whatever was happening between us seriously because if he wasn't, I was liable to end up with a broken heart.

"I've always preferred fairy tales to Greek myths," he said. "I'd rather read about Sigurd braving the fire for Brunhilde than Agamemnon sacrificing his only daughter to start a war."

"That's actually not in the Iliad. It's from a play written by Euripides. And Iphigenia doesn't die. The goddess Artemis rescued her," I said, fretting over a word choice. "And besides, Sigurd and Brunhilde have an unhappy ending, too, don't they?"

"My mother always ended that story with true love's first kiss and happily ever after. I prefer her version." His legs shifted beneath me and his cock flexed into my buttock.

I rested my hand on the desk, unable to concentrate on the correct verb tense.

"When I was a child," he said, warmth growing between us. "I loved Arthurian legends. I used to disappear into the woods behind my house for hours and pull tree branches out of a creek pretending I had discovered Excaliber."

I smiled, trying to imagine what he must've been like as a little boy. "That sounds fun. I used to love Robin Hood. Oh, and Ivanhoe. My mother used to read that to me and my brother when we were little."

"Robin Hood is fun, but I'm not familiar with Ivanhoe."

"They've made a film. I think it's supposed to come out in February of next year. Elizabeth Taylor is going to be Rebecca and Joan Fontaine plays Rowena. We should go see it," I said.

"Are you asking me out on a date?" His tone was playful.

I glanced over my shoulder. "I am. I'll even pay. I can use my babysitting money."

He shook his head against my shoulder. "No. What kind of a man would I be if I let you do such a thing?"

"A progressive one?"

He laughed. "I'm more of a gentleman."

"Good." I turned back to my work, crossing out two misspelled words. "I prefer gentlemen."

"Then why did you offer to pay?"

"I was testing you."

He chuckled, running his fingers through my loose curls. "I supposed I passed."

"You did." I flipped through the dictionary, hoping I sounded aloof and sexy instead of shy and flustered.

He brushed my hair away from the back of my neck, kissing it. "It's a date."

I stifled a gasp, the flesh where he had put his lips burned with pleasure, sending a wave of goosebumps over my skin. I licked my lips. "You should read the book before we go. You have plenty of time."

"I don't read as much as I did when I was a boy," he said.

"Oh, John, don't tell me that. I don't know if I can be friends with someone who doesn't read."

He kissed my neck a second time. "I don't want to be your friend, Charley. I want to be your lover."

I dropped my pen, my composure crumbling. Heat and desire radiated from my core. I shifted my weight, suddenly anxious I'd soak through my panties and nightgown onto his trousers.

He turned my hips so I had to face him. "Does that really shock you?" He cupped my cheek, running his thumb over my bottom lip. His cock stiffened and a blush crept up his neck.

"No," I finally said. "I'm just not used to speaking about things so plainly."

He slipped his hand under my nightgown, making me shiver with anticipation as he brushed his fingertips over my stomach. Some strange, sexy impulse compelled me to grind my weight against the hardness trapped between us.

He stifled a guttural groan. "You don't have to be shy, Charley. It's just the two of us here." He cupped one of my breasts, his face hot with need. "I want to make you feel good."

I kissed him. "I want to make you feel good too."

He tucked one arm under my knees and supported my back with the other, the chair scraping against the floor as he stood, carrying me to the bed.

"We have to be quiet-"

He silenced me with a hard kiss, groaning as he laid me down and climbed on top of me, pressing his groin in between my thighs.

I whimpered against his lips and he slid his tongue into my mouth, coaxing me into mimicking his movements. I was powerless beneath his warm, solid form and lost in his deep, passionate kisses. Having a man I wasn't married to in my bed in the dead of night was so risqué, so naughty. I wasn't sure which would overwhelm me first: the titillating excitement or the terror of being caught.

John ground his pelvis against mine with a throaty grunt, his erection impossibly big and hard through his underwear and trousers. A prickle of fear dampened my enjoyment. I wouldn't be able to hide bloody sheets from my grandma. I knew some girls didn't bleed their first time, but John's cock was so big. He'd tear me to shreds for sure.

I pushed my tongue into his mouth, hoping to distract him from grinding against me. He sucked me deeper inside, groaning as he ground even harder.

I broke our kiss, grasping his broad shoulders. "John, I don't - I can't - I'm not ready to go all the way."

I held my breath, silently pleading for him to be as understanding and gentle as he was the night we fooled around in his car.

His eyes softened and he rolled off me, wedging himself between me and the wall.

"I'm sorry," I blurted, suddenly ashamed.

He hushed me, kissing the tip of my nose and then softly on my lips. "Don't be. Remember, you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I'd never pressure you, baby girl."

My heart melted with affection for my gentleman and I kissed him, grabbing his wrist and putting his hand over my breast. My cheeks burned in my chilly bedroom. "Can we - you - do what you did last time?"

His face darkened with lust. "What did I do last time?"

I couldn't form the words, my lips, tongue, and voice all out of sync.

He squeezed my beast, massaging it with his palm over my flannel nightgown. "You have to tell me what you want, Charley."

I licked my lips. "I - you - kiss my breasts."

He grinned, then lowered his hand to the hem of my nightgown, pulling it over my head. A throaty growl rumbled in his chest as he rubbed and stroked my bare breasts, making me shudder with pleasure.

"I love your big, perfect tits." He threw his leg over my waist and climbed over top of me, burying his face in my cleavage and showering me with kisses.

I gasped and arched my back toward him. He felt even better than I remembered, kissing each of my nipples until I writhed and moaned beneath him.

"You want me to suck on them?" He asked.

I nodded with a wanton whimper.

"You have to say it."

"I want you to," I said, arching with need and anticipation.

He shook his head, a wicked grin on his face. "Say it, Charley. Say, 'John, I want you to suck on my big, stiff, pink nipples'".

A rush of wetness soaked my panties. What a naughty thing to say; to want.

"I won't do it if you don't say it."

I bit my lip. "John, I want you to suck on my big, stiff, pink nipples."

"That's my girl." He lowered his head to my right, kissing it before sucking it into his hot mouth.

I moaned and bucked my hips as he worshiped my big titties, swimming in delicious ecstasy as he went back and forth, licking, sucking, and biting at my nipples. My clit and pussy both throbbed, aching with want of release.

When I couldn't stand it anymore, I pushed his hand down to my soaked panties. "John, I want you to stroke my clit and make me come."

He pulled my nipple from his mouth, pushing himself to his knees to unbutton his shirt. A thin, sleeveless white undershirt failed to cover all the thick blonde hair that grew over his chest. He threw his dress shirt on the floor and pulled the undershirt over his head, tossing it away. His body hair grew down over his abs, darkening to a tawny brown as it disappeared beneath his trousers.

I momentarily forgot what I had said about my clit. At that moment, all I wanted was for him to pin me against the mattress with his muscular, masculine form and tickle me with all that scratchy hair.

"Look at me, Charley. I want you to look into my eyes when I make you come." He pulled my sodden panties over my hips, the chill of the room against my wet sex making me shiver.

I started to sit up, reaching to help him untangle the twisted cotton from my thighs, but he pushed me onto my back, yanking my panties down my shins and over my feet.

John rested the pad of his thumb at the base of my neck, his fingers gentle against my throat. "Look at me."

Our eyes met and he pushed my legs apart, hand sliding down to stroke my swollen clit with his other thumb. Pleasure bloomed from my tender bud, radiating up and down my body. I clapped my hands over my mouth to stifle the sound of my wanton moaning, drawing my legs back over my chest, giving him more access to my needy pussy.

"I would be your Paris," he said, his voice a sexy rasp, his eyes hot with passion and want. "Ready to steal you away from your master's house."

Two more hard strokes and I was undone, writing and moaning as he teased electric pleasure from my core, my back arching and my legs shaking. He rubbed the insides of my thighs, smirking down at the panting, flustered mess in my bed.

I let my hands fall beside my head, embarrassed over coming so quickly. He must've thought me such a slut.

He sucked my wetness off his thumb and leaned over me for a deep kiss. I arched into him, eager to feel his powerful physique against mine, his tongue hot and needy as it teased mine. I stroked his toned arms and ran my fingers through his course body hair, tracing his well-defined muscles underneath.

He pulled away to press his cheek against mine, his breath hot in my ear. "You taste so good, Charley. I want more of you."

I slid my hands over his shoulders and twirled his silky hair around my fingers, at a loss for words. He left a trail of kisses down my neck and over my heaving titties, stopping to give each nipple a gentle suckle. I shuddered and squealed, still delirious from coming.

He hovered over my abdomen, kissing and nuzzling his face against my pale torso. "You're perfect." He ran his rough tongue over my belly button, making me gasp, the tickling sensation sending a jolt to my clit. "Tight and fit." He rubbed my flat stomach with his palm. "You're like a fantasy come to life. Even Pygmalion would fall for you."

His hands returned to massage the inside of my thighs as he showered the smooth plane of my abdomen with light kisses. My clit pulsed back to life and the sheet beneath me clung to my bottom, damp and sticky from my wetness. I moaned softly, stroking his head. His kisses trailed lower and lower and I gasped when his chin brushed my pubic hair.