The Fox and the Wolf Ch. 02

I'm not the kind of person to regret any decision I have made in my life so far. I put thought into my words and calculate my actions carefully before I proceed in any situation; but what happened last night with Christina was totally unplanned. I have been with quite a few girls in my life so far, but this one had a certain element to her that unsettled me, made me wild and angry, pissed off at how much she could get away with. She was one of those girls who thought men were her playthings and that she owned the world. Most of the time, I'm calm like the waters of a lake, but what she was doing... she sure knew how to rock the waters of the lake. I was never used to being taunted so badly. She was asking for it all the time. Still, I felt bad for hurting her; that's why I came back. To treat her well and to make it right - because I had called her a dumb whore, which I believed she was then, and I did things she might not have liked. It was in the heat of a moment, of course; she always looked so sexy, so fucking gorgeous that it had proven a challenge to keep my subtle and reserved demeanor up until I lost it when she was laid all over that couch, rubbing against Matt.

Now, I didn't know her well at the time. She could truly have been a dumb whore, for all I knew - that's what my buddies were telling me, and she was pretty convincing - but a man has to be a true to everyone. A man has to treat the monarch and the beggar the same way, and I had faltered from this value; I had treated her like shit. I suppose the hidden moral vigilante in me surfaced and led me to do what I normally wouldn't have; but it was also a matter of pride. I would not stay idle and have a girl toy with me, thinking she could win me over with some tricks. But I suppose she had won. Physically at least, she had bent me. It had crossed my mind to put her in my bed when I took her to my house and sleep beside her, and perhaps fuck her once or twice come morning. But I do not feel well when I lose control, so I told myself firmly no. She could've been playing boys like Matt and Tray on her fingers, but not me. I would just let her spend the night here, then drive her home; that would be my unspoken apology for the way I had treated her, and then we would be even.

The sound of the shower had been close to my ears for quite some time; I sat on the couch of the second living room, staring out the window in deep thought, massaging my temples with my eyes closed. The time to make my next move was near. I'd left beside her some of my clothes that I thought would fit her and a note containing a quick sketch of the house so she could find her way to the shower. When she was out, we'd have breakfast and I'd take her to school, and that would be the end of our post-club adventure, I told myself. That would be my next and final move. I repeated my plan in my head again, and again, like a mantra, as I drew the chessboard from underneath the glass table.

I set the game on the table, setting the pawns and the rest on their rightful places. I did that unconsciously as I repeated the mantra in my head, but the part of me that instructed me to set the pieces laughed at my silly plan to be done with Christie as soon as possible. When everything was on formation on the board, I looked across the table, to an empty armchair, where my opponent would sit. This time, I had the white pawns.

Outside the window, it was raining heavily. "Shit," I muttered. I hated having to drive in the rain. Autumn was my favorite season, as I was born in it, but I'd rather stay at home while it rained rather than having to go to school. The sound of the shower upstairs went off. I prepared to stand up and go make some breakfast, but I didn't hear the sound of the door. She was still in the bathroom. I crossed my arms and put my feet on the glass table, my ears on the lookout. Twenty minutes passed like this, with me wondering what the hell she was doing in the bathroom for so long. I couldn't help but thinking, women, right. But eventually, I heard the door open and I stood up and stepped to the kitchen. I figured she wouldn't like a cold breakfast, so I had to ready it when she showed up.

I was tending to the eggs and the bacon when Christina descended from the stairs. Involuntarily, my heart jumped in my chest when I saw her, but I smirked in disturbance at the same time. She wasn't wearing the clothes I'd left for her; I didn't like that. She'd searched through my stuff to find these, but I didn't dwell on it for long, because my mind wandered elsewhere.

She was wearing my favorite blue plaid button-down shirt that I usually wore on vacation and a pair of sweatpants in which she managed to look sexy in; she was barefoot, her toenails painted red. The top buttons of my shirt were left unbuttoned, on purpose, I was sure, leaving plenty exposed. Her left nipple was barely visible over a tile of white in my plaid shirt; she wasn't wearing a bra. The nerve, I thought. The way the shirt curved on her large breasts drew my eye, my mind involuntarily bringing up the image of her round, naked breasts upon the reflection of the bathroom's mirror, where I'd taken her; thankfully, her beautiful thighs and firm, plump butt were somewhat hidden in the sweatpants, else I was likely to get hard right then.

Christina was petite, but what she lacked in height she made up in flesh, which seemed to have gone to all the right places of her lithe frame. Even with the sweatpants on, it was obvious she had the powerful legs of a dancer, with thick thighs and no gap between them in sight; her butt protruded, round and plump, borderline on "too big". Matt had told me she was being made fun of for her big butt in elementary, but now boys of every taste in butts ogled at it. And like the rest of the curves of her body, her breasts completed the small hourglass figure. This girl was blessed from head to toe.

She was wearing make-up; the shades of her blue eyes were toned black, just the way I liked it - as if she could read my mind - and her cheeks were slightly pinker than they ought to be, giving her an adolescent look. Really, I thought, after the fucking I gave her last night, this girl had the time, will and patience to put make-up on. I disliked that so much, that I actually liked it, in a way. I guess I was confused. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail. She still walked a bit strangely, but that was to be expected; it was a mark of my performance that the hidden animal in me took pride in. She was standing at the base of the stairs, as if to present herself, smiling sexily at me; there didn't seem to be any sign of grievance. That bitch liked everything I did to her, I thought to myself. I drew the pan out of the fire, still looking at her above my glasses persistently.

"Good morning," I said to her coyly, letting the eggs slide onto our plates on the table.

"Hmm," she let out, still standing on the foot of the stairs. I knew she was examining me from head to toe. "A man who knows how to cook. Intriguing..." Her voice was a bit hoarse, as if her throat hurt, but her tone was seductive all the same.

"I like to be the one to cook the food I eat," I answered simply as I poured myself a coke and sat on the table; she took it she was invited too, as her plate was opposing to mine on the table. When she was coming over, I noticed my sweat pants were too big, too loose around her waist, and they were slipping off, revealing the very top of her ass crack; she was wearing nothing underneath, and the worst thing, she made no motion to pull the pants up. I felt the blood rush in my face, but I did my best to ignore her so obvious attempt to get me.

When she sat down slowly, she gritted her teeth and exhaled sharply; her butt was in pain. Wanting to be discreet, I looked down on my food, pretending not to notice.

"Is there any coffee?" she asked in a polite manner that I didn't know she had; she sounded sleepy at the same time.

"Nah, I don't drink coffee."

"Your drink has coffee in it," she replied smartly and I stared at her intently.

"Drink coke then," I said after a while, gesturing towards the fridge with my fork while eating my bacon. "Help yourself." I didn't like interrupting my meal.

She took a wounded look, as if she wanted me to pity her. "Wouldn't you get it for me? A lady shouldn't have to get up from the table."

It was things like this that made me angry about women. As if she wasn't perfectly able to stand the fuck up! I wouldn't mind doing her a few courtesies, of course - I'm all for that, it's my pleasure. But when they demanded courtesy, that really messed with my head. I shook my head, exhaled strongly and went to get her the coke. I put it next to her plate and she attempted to open it, but I held it firmly from the top. She looked up at me innocently; the girl I saw wasn't the girl I'd fucked last night. Just that look her blue eyes gave me was enough to get the thing in my pants stirring. I loved the sight of my dick stretching her mouth with those pretty lips and those eyes of hers looking up at me like I was her god. I suppose in this case it would pay off if I was pussy whipped or something, but I'm just not that kind of guy.

"Listen here," I said intensely, wanting to get my point across. "I got you this because you're my guest. Not because you batted your lashes." I let go of the coke and returned to my meal.

At first, she took an offended look; I imagined she was taking that look every time someone said something she did not like.

"Is that also why you let me sleep on the couch?!" she yelled at me.

"Yes, exactly. What, you thought I'd forsake my bed for a guest?" I laughed.

She looked at me as if she was shocked, her mouth half open. I knew it was all a play. At the same time, she didn't know the real reason I'd placed her in my couch last night; my bed was so straight and rigid, her ass would hurt all night. The couch on the other hand, sunk softly when you sat on it. She had been more comfortable there, but I thought trying to explain that would be of no use right now.

She huffed at me. "Why are you so uptight, Alex? You're like a brick wall. Can't you just relax for one second?"

Eating my food, I groaned, "I am relaxed." That's what I was used to saying, but mid-sentence I realized I wasn't at all relaxed. This girl was messing with my head with every word she said, in a way that I had never been messed with.

Her expression softened, as if she sensed the strange conflict in my head, or so I liked to think. She started eating, timidly, almost shyly. I couldn't help but notice her. She really was beautiful, and I loved anything beautiful. But I couldn't stand her attitude. A real pity, right?

When she was done, she drank a bit from her coke and wiped her mouth softly on a napkin. I noticed she had the table manners of a lady; I could dig that a lot. I liked a girl with class, although Christie had displayed minimal amounts of it ever since I first saw her a week ago. Now finished, she just sat there, looking at me; I could tell from the edge of my sight. I glanced once at her. Something in me stirred. That girl's lips begged to be kissed.

"Alex?" she asked.

I swallowed the bacon, quickly wiped my mouth on the napkin; it would never do to speak with your mouth full. "Christie?" I asked back and she let out a cute laugh, leaning on her elbow and smiling at me. I don't know what she thought was going on between us.

"I saw that portrait... you drew that, right?" she asked me. Apparently, she'd seen that. Of course I'd drawn that. Ever since I saw her in the first day of school, I was taken with her beauty. Her round face, her sexy smile, her straight hair, I just had to sketch her. Bitch or not, like I said earlier, I'm a fan of beautiful things. It was a good thing I didn't also use my imagination to add her naked breasts on the portrait; the humorous thought brought the hint of a smile on my face, which I hid with the back of my mouth.

"I drew it," I admitted after a moment and she giggled, obviously flattered.

"You think I'm beautiful?" she asked of me. I could feel her influence, numbing my mind. She smelled of lavender, like the bathroom we fucked in last night, and I could feel my cock growing in my pants. I only looked at her sternly, without saying a word. This was just one of her games, I figured. I wasn't fond of games, and I wasn't about to do her the courtesy everyone did when they complimented her. She could figure it out for herself, I thought. I stood up from the chair.

"Where are you going?" she asked me immediately, wanting to fish my answer.

"Dress up. We're going to school." I headed for the door, to the hanger, to get my sweater. The sound of the rain pounding heavily outside the door daunted me, though.

Christina stood up abruptly from the table. "Are you seriously serious?! It's raining like hell. I'm not going to school in this weather."

I took a glance at her ass, and the way she walked to me; surely, a 'School Queen' wouldn't want her subjects to know she had been fucked so hard in the ass that she couldn't walk properly the next day. "Is it the rain, or is it something else?" I muttered, quietly enough so she wouldn't hear me. Now I was being an ass.

In truth, I didn't like the thought of going to school either. Not only because of the rain, but also because of the boring classes. But like Christie, I didn't admit the real reason: the idea of spending some time here with her was appealing to my subconscious. I had been critical and evasive of her beauty so far, but it was not easy to keep it at bay. I had to drink in it, only then I thought I could resist; and the worst thing, I thought I could control it. "No school, then," I decided. "Go upstairs and find something to entertain yourself with," I told her and turned around, headed for the second living room. She wasn't going upstairs; she was following me instead. I turned again, ready to confront her, but she instead pounced on me and tried to kiss me. I stopped her. I held her waist with my hands, keeping her face a breath away from mine. We looked into each other's eyes and goosebumps ran through me. I knew it; she was big trouble. I almost got angry at her unauthorized advance.

"You're beautiful," she blurted, looking up at me admiringly. I couldn't help but grin.

"You'll make me blush," I said, wanting to sound sarcastic, but it didn't quite come off that way.

"Let me kiss you," she said demandingly in a girlish voice, pouting her lips in a cute way that would make a man's heart melt. Her breathing had quickened and her pupils had dilated. I knew my hands on her waist were having a drastic effect on both of us.

"You can't," I stated; that was my last line of defense, I had used the last ounce of my remaining strength to resist her. "I'm not your boyfriend, and I don't date whores. What happened last night was a one-time only. I only helped you out of guilt."

She was shocked by those words, her mouth half open. She abruptly let go of me. "Then I don't want your help," she shouted and what she did next, I did not anticipate; she threw her sweatpants down, revealing her naked beauty underneath. She was shaven and smooth down there; her pussy looked absolutely beautiful, peeking between her thick thighs. I did nothing to stop her, I didn't want to. My heart was pounding like crazy as I watched her unbutton the shirt and throw it on the floor. She wasn't wearing any bra; her full breasts were looking back at me with those round, tough and well lined rosy nipples that were a bit larger than average, but they looked just perfect for her breasts. I couldn't resist looking; no man could. This girl was deliberately beautiful, to mess with my usually orderly mind.

"And keep your clothes away from me," she yelled, having tossed them to the floor; she turned around and ran to the door, naked from top to bottom. My emotions flared at that moment; I felt anger for this childish move to taunt me further, I felt sorry for having been so harsh with her, and I felt the overwhelming need to make love to her. Just make love to her, and forget every one of our differences. All my emotions clashed, and it wasn't pretty. I wasn't going to be gentle. I ran, reached her and put my arm around her tight belly, stopping her right before she stepped through the door, which she had half-opened. Her butt was pressed against my crotch as she arched her back. I bowed slightly, holding my head close to hers. The rain pounded outside the door step, falling heavily from the roof.

"And where do you think you're going without my clothes?" I hissed angrily. "It's raining outside," I reminded her.

"I'll manage without you," she yelled and pushed me back. I was stunned for a moment.

Christina rushed outside in the rain, bare-ass naked, running funnily through the pathway of the garden towards the gate that led to the street. I could see the side of her tits as they bounced. I chased after her, gritting my teeth in a silent curse. I liked to think I understood people and their thoughts on a deeper level, but it seemed I'd never understand this girl's thought process. I ran after her like a mad dog; in all the absurdity of the situation, an involuntary smile found its way on my lips, because I humorously thought, there's hardly any straight man on this planet who wouldn't be running after that ass.

She reached the gate and grasped the iron bars, trying to open it; little did she know, it was locked. Even if she could open it, she wouldn't get far, because after a second I caught up to her. I grabbed her wrist and forced her around, pinning her against the bars; I showed her my teeth as I stared intently at her.

"Are you crazy?" I yelled. I tried to drag her off, but she held the bar with a surprising amount of strength. I felt the rain hit on my face, making my hair wet; there goes the gel I'd put there to make it stand.

"What do you think you're doing?" she screamed, "release me." She didn't mean it. "We're not dating," she said, bitterly; I knew she was crying, even though the rain hit her face.

"We're not dating," I agreed, "but you knew you wouldn't be leaving here naked like this," I stated the obvious, although I wasn't one hundred per cent sure. Who knows what went through this girl's head? "You can't toss my clothes to the floor and just walk away. You're only doing this to grab my attention," I continued harshly, though I was breathless, so close to her. Now, instead of dragging her away, I pushed her naked form against the bars and stole a glance to admire her naked beauty in the rain. For an eighteen year old girl, she looked stunningly feminine, womanly, the kind of female that is begging to be fucked, and to be fucked right. The wild part of me that I hid behind my carefully collected face roared; if I let it out, all my codes would fly out the window; that greedy animal would ravage her again, and not gently.

My glasses were a mess from the rain, and I couldn't see shit. Con of having the green colored eyes of my father, you see; they came with myopia, and without lenses or glasses, my sight was blurry, although I could see her pretty well as she was close. She pouted again with my hand on her wrist, staying submissively against the gate; she seemed so small and vulnerable. I suppose she was only tall when she was wearing heels. The rain was ruining her shades, but somehow I found her hotter that way; she did look like a fucked up whore.

She was speechless at my advance, so my face softened a bit. I couldn't watch her ache any more.

"What are you thinking, running in the rain like that?" I scolded her, a bit more gently; almost with concern, but I knew full well what was up. My hand moved involuntarily to caress her beautiful face as it was pelted by the raindrops; she gave me the same, childish, girly look she had given me when I dragged her in the bathroom yesterday, teasing the animal in me; I wanted to fuck her face so badly when she looked at me like that. My clothes were getting very wet, but I didn't give a fuck. This moment was worth a few wet clothes.