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SIERRA

I ’m not the damsel in distress kind of girl. Nor am I the kind of girl who gets turned on by violence. I know some girls are super into watching a man take up a fight for them. Moni is kind of that way. She says watching a man fight on her behalf gets her hot. Personally, I’ve never understood how watching a man beat the tar out of another man was sexy.

Not until tonight.

Maybe it’s because I never had anybody fight for me like Slater did. I mean, I’m not saying he should go around beating the snot out of people just to turn me on. I don’t think I’d like it like that. But the fact that he got in between me and that creep at the bar, that he stepped in to protect me … I’ve never felt so cared for in my entire life. I’ve never felt so protected. And there’s just something about him putting himself at risk, about putting himself in danger—for me—that sparks something deep inside of me. It turns me on.

Lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, I listen to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore outside as I process all these feelings coursing through me. On the one hand, I know it’s wrong. Fighting is barbaric. And yet, I can’t deny that watching Slater take up for me like that sent a quiver through me. A quiver that ended with my panties being absolutely soaked.

As I ponder the evening, I realize it was more than the fact that Slater beat that guy to a pulp that left me in such a state. It was the way he cared for me after. It was how he made sure I was all right after the confrontation, as if I was the one involved in the fight. But he doted on me and made sure everybody in the bar knew that harassing me—or any other woman—was not going to be tolerated, and offenders would end up like that other guy. Nobody harassed me for the rest of the night—though I did notice quite a few other girls swooning over Slater after that.

Normally, I’m not a jealous girl. But I’m not going to lie. Watching those other girls making eyes at Slater and trying to get his attention awakened a green-eyed beast inside of me I never even knew existed. Watching them flaunt their perfect bodies, even more perfect breasts, and doing everything except offer to blow him right there behind the bar—although I wouldn’t be surprised to learn a couple of them had—made me want to gouge their eyes out. I have no claim to Slater, and he can certainly go home with any one of those if he wants to, but I can’t lie and say the mere thought of it doesn’t make me insanely and irrationally jealous.

To his credit, if he noticed any of the girls practically throwing their panties on his face, he gave no sign of it. Surprisingly, it seemed like he only had eyes for me. He kept checking in with me, making sure I was all right, and spent more time talking to me than anybody else. It felt like he was seeing me in ways nobody ever had before. It felt really nice.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text message, so I pick it off the nightstand. When I see it’s from Slater, I squeal a little. Quickly opening my texts, I read the message.

Slater: Thanks for coming into the bar tonight. Sorry things got so out of hand. Goodnight.

I read his words several times, my smile growing even wider. I set the phone back down as a stupid little giggle bursts from my mouth. As I think about how Slater’s silver-blue eyes bore into mine, I melt a little inside. My heart flutters, and I feel a familiar warmth between my legs. I bite my bottom lip as I squirm a little under the covers.

Sliding my hand down between my legs, I stroke myself through my panties and sigh as feelings of desire and lust wash through me. I’ve never had sex before and find myself wondering if Slater would be more turned on or turned off by that. Not that I’m judging how other women view sex or what they do, but for me, I just haven’t found somebody I want to have sex with. I’m definitely not a prude and have a high sexual motor, but my body is a prize, and my sexuality is something I value. And I’m not going to throw myself at a guy just to get his attention. I’m worth more than that. It’s why I’ve had to learn how to get myself off.

Slipping my hand into my panties, I strum my clit with my fingers, imagining they’re Slater’s. I picture him kissing me as his one hand roams my body and he plays with my button with the other. Biting my bottom lip, I stifle a cry as pleasure ripples through me. As I slide two fingers into my slippery wet pussy, I squeeze my eyes shut and press the back of my head into my pillow. As I pump my fingers, I picture Slater bending me over and pounding me hard from behind. He yanks my hair and slaps my ass as he fucks me, and I groan loud as I imagine having his thick, rigid tool seep inside of me.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” I whisper.

My body tingles and my skin feels like it’s on fire as I imagine him sitting me down on the counter, spreading my thighs, and plunging into me. Slater’s big, toned body engulfs mine as he pulls me to him and presses his mouth to mine. I feel like such a little girl next to him, which feeds into my dark, dirty fantasy—a fantasy I’ve had about him for years now. Our tongues lash one another as he pounds himself into me. My cries echo through my mind as I finger myself as hard as I picture him fucking me.

I honestly don’t know where this dirty streak in me came from. Perhaps it’s something in the porn I’ve watched, or maybe it’s just natural, I don’t know. But for years now, I’ve wanted to be Slater’s dirty little girl. I’ve wanted him to take my innocence. I’ve wanted him to be rough with me. I’ve pictured him picking me up and tossing me around the room, treating me roughly and giving it to me even rougher. I want him to pull my hair and spank my ass. I want to look into his eyes as he chokes me while he fucks me. And while he’s doing all of that, I want him to call me his dirty little girl.

It’s a dark side of me I’ve never even talked to Moni about, mostly because I’m embarrassed. But that’s what I want with Slater. It’s what I’ve always wanted and now that we’re back in each other’s orbits, older now, I want it even more.

“Oh, God. Yes, Daddy. Yes, baby.”

Rolling over onto my hands and knees, I reach between my legs and bury my fingers into my pussy again. I imagine Slater behind me, one hand yanking my hair, the other playing with my ass as he fucks me. I just want him to use me. The most pleasure he can give me is by treating me like his filthy little fucktoy.

“Oh, fuck. Yes, Daddy.”

My voice is breathy, and I’m feeling lightheaded as I work furiously, my fingers plunging into me over and over again. My eyes squeezed tight, I cling to the fantasy playing in my mind. He’s behind me, his hand wrapped around my throat, gripping me tight as he drives that beautifully thick cock into me.

“Slater, yes, Daddy. Just like that,” I gasp.

I drive my fingers as deep as I can and hold them there as a long, shuddering cry echoes around the room. My pussy pulses and throbs around my fingers as I come, and all of a sudden, it feels like I can’t breathe. My entire body shakes, and I moan Slater’s name as I collapse onto my belly, my fingers glistening with my juices and a feeling like fire flowing through my veins, gripping me.

It takes several minutes of lying there without moving before my heart slows, and I feel like I can breathe again. A shaky smile crosses my lips, and I roll over onto my back. My need to get off is sated for the moment, but I’m far from satisfied. There’s only one thing that’s truly going to satisfy me. As sleep comes to claim me and I drift away to the sound of the ocean outside the windows, one question floats through my mind…

Will I have the courage and strength to go after what I truly want?