Smoke and Mirrors

Illicit

Sarah sat opposite him and uncrossed her legs, just slightly opening them. She was giving him a peek at what he could have if he only let his barriers down and admitted he wanted her as much as she needed him.

She was young, just having turned nineteen and a freshman in college, although her studies were not on her mind at the moment. From the first time Sarah saw him, she wanted him. However, this was anything but a crush; this was a deep-seated yearning, a desire so strong, so extreme, that she was prepared to do anything to have him.

Even if only once.

Sarah knew that once she felt him move inside her, when that explosive moment occurred, she would struggle to contain the ache for another touch.

She daintily tried to get his attention by re-crossing her legs, her passionate green eyes never leaving his face. Her lips slightly parted, and her heartbeat accelerated as she saw his gaze just skim her bare, long, long legs.

Sarah was wearing a skirt that came to mid-thigh. It was a simple block color, a beautiful, hypnotic purple. She was also wearing a black tank top with thin spaghetti straps, showing off her toned shoulders, thin arms, and most importantly, her pert breasts. She knew that he liked her in these outfits, because every time she'd walk past him, she'd see a slight twitch of his mouth before he averted his eyes and almost ran away.

The first time that had happened, she was feeling like shit. She missed her family, and she was still ill from the tail end of a vicious cold. It was toward the end of summer and she was having hot and cold flushes, thanks to a low-grade fever. Sarah had worn the first thing she could find that was clean (because she'd been too ill to do laundry) and trudged across the open green fields, sniffling, on her way to class.

She noticed him, and although her nose was red, she was coughing, and her hair was unkempt, she managed to straighten her back and make an attempt to look human. She saw him stop walking, and his mouth popped open as he stared at her.

Great – I look like shit and I see him, of all people.

He was walking in her direction when he saw her, and his damn heart almost beat out of his chest. God damn it, she's beautiful, even when she's ill.

"Hello," Sarah said as she quickly headed for him.

"Morning," he returned, though the moment she was within reach and could stop to have a conversation, he bolted away from her.

Typical – he sees me looking sick and runs.

But that's when she noticed that look. The lustful dark eyes of a man who wanted to rip her clothes off and bury himself inside her. Severe, carnal hunger rolled off him like the heat that roars and crackles from an open hot fire.

Sarah saw it with one glance over his shoulder directed back at her, and he knew it when she saw it.

I'm so fucking screwed, he thought as he fled quickly from the most perfect, most stunning woman he'd ever seen.

Today though, Sarah was going in for the kill.

She knew there was desire on his part. Every time she passed him, she was sure to tease him in the smallest, most intimate of ways. Just a minor, gentle touch to his forearm would usually send a frenzied spark straight to both their cores.

Or maybe she'd bend down to tie her shoelaces (which she now often wore as a 'just in case') and look up at him from beneath her lashes, giving him the look she'd use if she were on her knees in front of him. Taking his erect cock in her mouth, pleasuring him while he combed his fingers through her hair and fucked her mouth. Thrusting his hips toward her lips, forcing his hard-on as far down her throat as she'd be able to take him, causing tears to roll down her cheeks as she serviced him with pure enthusiasm.