Page 85 of Crossing the Line
A Pearl of a Surprise
Paisley Grove
Hercules’s lips brush against mine, testing the waters. His intense eyes draw me into his soul as his tongue cautiously slips into my mouth. My eyelids flutter closed as sheer gratification ends our deep eye contact.
I am like putty in Hercules’s strong embrace. My legs are weak. His tongue never tasted and felt so delicious—minty, warm, and honeyed.
He grips my butt cheeks and presses me against his cock. He’s overly ready to be inside me. All I can think about is that “birthday cake.”Maybe we should get it over with already.
His mouth trails wet warm kisses down the side of my neck as one hand finds its way under my blouse and bra. I gasp as he softly squeezes the round of my breast and then pinches my nipple.
“I need it, baby,” he sighs.
Then the flight attendant clears her throat.
I’m dizzy, and my eyelids are heavy as I turn toward the woman with the long dark hair. Hercules faces her too. She looks flustered when she says we’re preparing for landing.
He nods briskly, his way of thanking her. She turns and escapes faster than a roadrunner. Then Hercules and I stare into each other’s eyes again. Unfortunately, my lust for him hasn’t been quelled, and I don’t think his has either.
“Thank you for letting me do that,” Hercules whispers, his voice thick with desire.
I would say that he’s welcome, but I don’t feel that’s the appropriate response. I do want to thank him for just going for it and kissing me. It may have very well been our last kiss ever.
It takes a while for Hercules and me to let go of each other. But slowly, his hands abandon my body, and then his firm front side, including his manhood, is no longer against me. We watch each other as the pilot announces that we will be touching down in seven minutes. I feel as if my lips are mimicking his barely perceptible smile. Our thoughts might be the same too. I’m wondering what this thing between us is. I used to have a crush on Michael Rosa in third grade. His dark hair and brown eyes were insanely gorgeous. I used to make out with my pillow, pretending it was him. But today, I can’t really picture Michael’s face or what he might look like at twenty-nine or thirty. There were also Norman Jones, Kwan Lee, and Sean Pratt, all beautiful boy crushes, each having mysterious, quiet demeanors and quick eyes that saw what no one else was looking at. A lot like Hercules. But still, I regard what I felt for them with embarrassment. I was a young girl. I knew nothing about those boys. Their quietness could’ve been fear. Life isn’t easy for most kids.
However, when I first saw Hercules, I knew I felt something different. The way we would stare at each other all the time was different. No matter where we were, if we were in the same vicinity, we would gawk at each other or fail at not doing it.
I recall the time I went to his rowing match. He was the boy in the front of the canoe, facing the guy who sat opposite the rest of the team. I later learned that Hercules was the “stroke.”
The race was pulse-pounding. It looked as if DMA would lose by a hair, but they came back strong for a decisive victory. He never saw me behind three layers of spectators who were jumping up and down, hugging and cheering. Our schoolmates who had seen me regarded me snidely as if to ask, “What’s she doing here?” I didn’t stay long after that. I went back to the car, where Greg, our driver, was parked and waiting for me.
Then Mr. Northam put us on that project together. Hercules and I designed an app for his crew team that helped them time each team member’s strokes for maximum benefit, which resulted in DMA winning the championship—first for the region, then for the state, and then for the world. The rowing team still uses the app today. The school owns the intellectual property. I never let my family know Hercules and I were working on a class project together. If I’d done that, they probably would have insisted that Mr. Northam assign me a new partner, and I didn’t want that to happen.
“Remember that app we made in Mr. Northam’s class?” I ask as the airplane drops lower.
Every part of Hercules’s face is smiling—his lips, cheeks, and eyes. “Very much so.”
“Did you ever mention our project to your family?”
Hercules lifts his eyebrow. “Just one person.”
“Oh,” I say, bracing myself as the wheels of the airplane hit the runway.
“Garnet handled the whole deal with the school.”
It takes me a moment to process what he just said.Garnet?
I look at him incredulously. “Your grandfather?”
Nodding, Hercules says, “He made sure the school couldn’t monetize our software and that either you or I only—not GIT or LTI—could buy back our rights and ownership from the school district whenever we wanted.”
I’m speechless.Why would Hercules’s grandfather do anything for Gregory’s granddaughter?
“And you never bought the rights back?” I ask. “Because the script we made had some great parts to it. My skills in high school were pretty advanced.” I grin, proud of myself.
Smiling, Hercules seems to consider what I asked. “I couldn’t have done it without your consent. Plus, I didn’t even know how the hell you did it! You were the brains, PG.”
I leer at him shamelessly. I am throbbing downtown, and I don’t care. “But you were the brawn.”
