Page 3 of Devious Gambit

“Make me,” he answered, snatching my phone in his big hand.

When I reached up to steal my phone back, he stepped away from me, proceeding to swipe and tap away on it.

“Please,” I begged, “it’s already damaged. I can’t afford a new one.”

“I noticed the cracked screen,” he said. “Are you a little clumsy, Rhys?”

“No, your friend did that,” I told him, rising to my feet to seize my phone back.

A shadow past over his handsome face and his eyes narrowed. “Who?”

“Sweeney.”

“Sweeney smashed your phone?” he asked again, stretching his arm up high, so I couldn’t reach, even when I jumped. I got a whiff of his of his minty deodorant and went a little weak at the knees. “Why did he smash your phone?”

“Because of Friday night!” I stressed. “And there you go acting dumb again.”

“Stay away from Sweeney, if you know what’s good for you,” he warned.

“Why would I go near that toxic bozo?” I growled.

Even though he was trying to be serious, a smirk spread across his face. “Bozo? Jeez, Rhys, don’t you know how to cuss properly?”

“No. Cussing and swearing is an unimaginative way to express oneself heatedly,” I hit back, dragging my chair over to him, so I could climb up and reach my phone.

Still holding my phone at arm’s length, I could see the enjoyment on his face, teasing and taunting his prey. “’Bozo’ is hardly a heated word, Rhys. ‘Fuck’ is so much better. You should try it. Go on, say it. Say fuck.”

“No. I say ‘damn’ sometimes,” I informed him, as I climbed onto the chair.

“Nasty.” He dropped his arm down, just as I stood over him on the chair. “I kinda like you on top,” he exclaimed, looking up at me. It was a strange moment of intimacy that left me gasping for air. His eyes ran all over my body stopping at the place between my thighs. “You’d look damn fine naked.”

His words both irritated and stirred me. I jumped off the chair and wrapped my arms around my body, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He placed my phone on the table and said, “I added my number to your contacts.”

“Why?” I hissed.

“If you want lessons.”

“In swearing and cussing?” I asked, horrified. “I hardly think anyone needs lessons in that sort of language.”

“No, Rhys,” he said with a wide mischievous smile on his square-jawed face. “Kissing and sex.”

“Pardon?”

“You heard me. I want to teach you how to kiss and fuck.”

“Teach me? Like, draw diagrams?”

He kept cracking up, even though I failed to see the funny side to this discussion. “No, teach you in practice.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Why not. You’ve got to lose your virginity sometime, may as well do it properly with a pro like me.” He pointed to his chest.

The jock stepped towards me, eating half the floor with a single stride. I proceeded to step back from his huge frame, hoping he’d get the message. The message wasn’t received because he took another step trapping me against a bookshelf of 18th century literature. Being ambushed between Wordsworth and Zeus, who smelt like heaven and looked like hell, wasn’t exactly how I imagined my day to play out. However, his actions reminded me of Adam Sweeney on Friday night, and I trembled in fear.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered.

Ignoring my pleas, he leaned over me placing his arms above my head, his face dangerously close to mine. “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want some fun with you.” His warm breath tickled my cheek as he spoke.

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