When he leaned in, his gold chain tapped my shoulder. “Still think I’m scared’a girls like you?” he asked, and my thighs clenched, my breathin' jagged. “Lemme make somethin’ real clear—there ain’t‘girls like you’and‘girls like Vic.’That’s the most bitch-ass, judgmental shit I ever heard. I don’t split women into fuckin’ categories. That ain’t me.”
His grip was loose enough that I could escape if I wanted to.
But I didn't. I stared at the warped reflection, my face, my sweat, the way my tits were pressed up against the glass, and him standin' behind me with his jaw locked, thick cock pressin' between my cheeks.
His warm breath fogged the side of my face. “I don’t beg. And I don’t get off on girls who only feel important if someone’s starin’ at ‘em. You need validation? Go find a mirror.” He tightened his hold. “Throwin’ yourself at my dick to fix your self-worth? Nah. You ain’t gonna find your confidence in my jeans, sweetheart. That’s not how this goes.”
A chuckle rolled off my tongue—fake, forced. “Stop actin’ like you ain’t thought about this all night,” I scoffed, but my pulse was kickin' hard in my neck. “I see the way you tryna play all hard, like you ain’t starin’ at my ass every time I turn my back, your dick wonderin’ what it tastes like.”
His hand dropped from my wrist, but he didn't back away. “Still runnin’ your mouth, but all I hear is insecurity.” His words grazed hot down my neck. "Fuckin' pathetic. Baddest girl in Jersey till one guy don't want you, then it's a meltdown."
I could swear he was smirkin’.
But when I caught his eyes in the glass, they were dead serious.
“I ain’t playin' games, but I'll teach you a lesson, yeah? How 'bout you prove it ain’t about me not wantin’ you. Show me you already know you got it.” He leaned in, voice grazin’ my ear, his nose brushin’ my cheek. “Take them shorts off. Lay on the hood. Spread those fuckin’ legs. Show me where all that confidence went."
Swear to God—that was what he said, and the words knocked the breath outta me, sendin' my heart racin’. Then he backed off, night air slidin’ between us while he waited on my next move.
I fuckin' knew it. He wanted me like every other guy. What he loved was the game, the pushback, the work, the challenge. And yeah, he was fuckin' good at it. But I was better.
“You think I won’t?” I fired back, voice hoarse, throat already on the edge of a moan as I turned to face him.
He looked off, down the street, like he was ready to leave. “I really don’t give a fuck what you do.”
I pulled in a breath, wishin’ it was nicotine, and thought—maybe this is all a fuckin’ joke?But nah. Once I was spread open, showin’ him everything, he wasn't goin’ anywhere. He wouldn't be able to help himself. He'd beg to fuck me, same as I been sayin'.
I unhooked the button of my shorts, peeled the zipper down, and let them drop to my heels. I remember the feel of the air hittin' my thighs, coolin’ the sweat dotted along my hips as I stepped out of 'em. One foot, then the other.
Harding stood a few feet off, hand in his pocket, the other grippin’ the shirt hangin’ off his shoulder, his eyes trackin' my every move, watchin’, waitin’.
I turned, ass facin’ him, and bent over to snatch up my shorts, low and slow on purpose. Ass high, back dipped, pussy on full display. I caught him starin’, his jaw flexin’, mouth practically waterin'.
He didn’t ask for my shirt, but I peeled it off anyway, provin’ I wasn't scared. I faced him when I did it, my tits out, nipples hard from the night air. Swear, Harding swallowed like they already belonged in his mouth.
I folded my clothes, laid 'em on the hood, then hiked myself up—one knee, then the other. Metal creaked, the hood sizzlin’ under my bare ass, beads of sweat slippin' between my tits as I laid back.
I kept my knees together while tryin' to catch my breath, feet propped on the grill. Harding was still waitin', half-shadowed, eyes dark as oil.
“C’mon. Spread ‘em, sweetheart.”
Part of me was screamin’—don’t do this, don’t give him this much.But the other part of me was sick of waitin' on anyone else to make me feel good. If he wanted a show, I'd give him one he'd jack off to for the rest of his life. And if I was gonna get burned, it might as well be by the hottest fucker I'd ever laid eyes on.
I pulled both feet to the edge of the hood, and my knees fell open until I was spread over steel, hips tilted up to the stars, hot summer air lickin’ my pussy.
Harding stepped in, eyes locked on my pussy, his knuckles draggin' the edge of the hot hood, chain swingin’ as he planteda palm beside my bent knee. “Remind me—who was s’posed to be beggin’ again?” His words scraped off his lips, no smile, no heat. “That was the bet, right? Get me on my knees?” A chuckle slipped out from under his tongue. “Now look at you—legs wide open for me, sweaty-ass pussy drippin’ down your hood, waitin’ for me to decide what the fuck happens next.”
But he couldn't take his eyes off my pussy, starin' between my spread thighs, beggin' for a taste like it was the juciest thing he'd ever seen. Just to test him, I started closin' my legs, but he stopped me.
“Nuh-uh.” He caught both knees, spread me back open till my knees were pinned to the hood—spread fuckin' eagle. Then a smug smirk crept up, loaded with filth. He wet his lip, nudged his chin. “Use your fingers. Pull open your pussy for me. Show me everything.”
He was still testin' me, too. He didn't think I would.
I kept my chin high while my fingers slid down between my thighs. Then I stretched myself open with both hands. The last time I felt that exposed was when I walked out of the ocean and my wet clothes suctioned to my bony-ass body, moldin’ my skeletal shape for everyone to see.
I wasn't that girl anymore.
Harding stared, tryin' to school his expression, actin' bored.
