A Bad Influence (Machiavelli and Prodigious Masterpiece)

[Machiavelli]

Jackson, or, as most knew him, Jax, was that young man sent to the preppy private school to learn manners, become civilized, and become that upstanding member of society that his parents wanted him to be. He was also the young man that, despite these things, still wore his button-down shirt untucked and the tie crooked, smoked and drank and partied on the weekends, and drove a motorcycle. He was everything the bad boy of a proper private school should be.

And naturally, he had a close-knit group of followers. Every weekend they would throw a party at one of the houses, whoever's parents were gone for the night. If there weren't any openings, they'd find someone willing to sacrifice their home. Or even break into one of the homes that was for sale in the new development down the highway. Tonight, however, one of his guys had declared his home open for business. His little sister would be there, a girl a year behind them, but she never bothered them. Hell, she seemed at best frightened of them, and at worst a prim and proper goody-two shoes. Everything her brother wasn't, and the polar opposite of Jax.

And so, as the weekend began late on a Friday night, that house became a hub of drink, loud music, and horny teenagers grinding against each other. Arriving shortly after the party had truly begun, the roar of his bike dying as he approached the house, Jax was greeted with a roar of greetings and several offered drinks. A smile on his face, he cast the leather jacket he wore to one side as he took the first offered cup, lifting it above his head.

"Let's really get this party started!" He cheered out with a laugh.

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

Charlotte Evans was everything a private high school girl should be, and the average spectrum of her life didn't bother her in the slightest. As a child, she'd always held near-perfect attendance at school, performed in accelerated classes above her peers, and dutifully achieved the most badges in her girl scout troop. High school was no different for her. She had excellent grades, a good reputation, several close friends, and she was well-liked by everyone else. She was a member of three different clubs, and she always attended the school's social events.

She did not, however, attend parties.

It had never been a point of contention for her brother Michael, though sometimes he did make fun of her for it. Despite being so different, they were incredibly close. Michael never teased her in front of his friends, and he was protective of her. Her brother had once been better behaved, but then he'd met Jackson... For the most part, Michael's friends ignored her, and when they did acknowledge her it was usually friendly. Even still, there was something about Jackson that always put Charlotte on edge. She did her best to avoid eye contact whenever he was hanging out at the house because it never failed to give her goosebumps. He had a heinous reputation, though she'd never really seen him do anything terrible. As far as Charlotte was concerned, he was mostly irresponsible. Why did she feel so jumpy around him? She couldn't be sure, and she wasn't curious to find out.

So, when the party was getting underway, she was able to successfully tune it out, her door blocking out about half of the loud chaos. In fact, she had her homework for the weekend completed by the time Jackson arrived—not that she knew when that was. It wasn't lost on her that there were probably a lot of underclassmen in her house for the party, but she simply didn't care. Parties were nerve-racking for her as well. What were you even supposed to do at a party? It was just loud music, drinking, and a bunch of people squeezed into tight spaces no matter how big the house was. This was why she'd put off getting a snack, despite being hungry. Looking at her door she groaned, knowing that the only food in the house was passed that threshold.

Even though it was the weekend, she hadn't bothered to change out of her school uniform: plaid skirt, tucked-in shirt. The only differences were that she'd shed her shoes and socks, and was wearing a powder pink, knit cardigan that was almost to the hem of her skirt. Her hair pulled back in a loose, low pony tail, she made her way to the kitchen like a pro—avoiding every sloppy drunk person in her path. It was late enough in the party that all party drinks and snacks had been moved to other locations in the house, so the kitchen was like an abandoned graveyard. Perfect. Smiling to herself, she quickly gathered some cheese, crackers, and chopped herself some fruit. Pressing a halved strawberry between her lips, she sucked the juice from her index finger as she bent forward, scanning the fridge for something to drink.

 

[Machiavelli]

The party was alive. Of course, for high school teens, all it took was alcohol, maybe some drugs, and plenty of company to make a good time. And this house was big enough that there were side rooms and nooks for couples to hide off in and make out, or maybe a little more. Perhaps not even just couples. And it was normally about this time that Jax would have started his own scan for a pretty little thing who might want to get into his pants. He knew girls talked, and the evidence of that was more than obvious - he never had too much trouble finding the next curious cutie who wanted to see if the stories about his prowess and roughness in the bedroom were true.

He made sure to give them a good time.

But tonight? Something was different. Not that he hadn't gotten any interest, but more that he'd been distracted as he began his prowl, as it were. As he slipped through the living room to refill his cup with some of the spiked koolaid - the stuff that tasted just fine but DEFINITELY had something stronger in it (or maybe he was just too drunk to taste it...) - he saw the flash of a plaid skirt into the kitchen. And not a tiny plaid skirt, like a flirty girl might wear to a party to mock the school uniform - the skirt that was school uniform. He only knew one girl to wear that after they got home.

Slipping into the kitchen, he was proven right, finding Michael's sister, Charlotte, bent over looking in the fridge, presumably for a drink. Admiring the view for a moment - he'd never taken the time to realize exactly how hot the goody-two-shoes sister of his friend was. Of course, she wouldn't flirt her way into his pants in a million years, but perhaps tonight he liked the challenge.

"You won't find much in there." He said with a smile, crossing the room and sliding his hand into the small of her back as she straightened, and he lifted his cup, offering it to her. "Try this. Have a drink. Live a little." He offered, that smile not wavering. "I promise you'll like it."

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

"You won't find much in there."

Lost in thought, the sudden and close proximity of the voice startled Charlotte enough to have her snapping up straight. A hand slid over the small of her back and her head whipped to the side—leaving her more startled to discover it was none other than Jackson! Immediately she turned her body to face him, as well as took a step back: effectively forcing his hand off of her. In that movement she opened the refrigerator wider, leaving a steady stream of cold air blasting between them. This was also deliberate, considering the hot burst that had shot up her spine at his touch, which was nothing compared to the heat on her face when their eyes had met.

Her eyes flicked to the cup before reluctantly returning to his, one eyebrow raising higher than the other. "I don't drink." She said simply, shaking her head. Of course, he had to know this. "And I don't believe you—alcohol has to taste horrendous, given the way it smells." She wasn't used to anyone being in her personal space that wasn't close to her. She pulled out a pitcher of water from the fridge, giving Jackson an innocent, somewhat deliberate smile. "This is what I was looking for."

She pushed passed him, technically, refraining from brushing up against him in the process. Charlotte returned to her plate of fruit and cheese, reaching up into an upper cabinet for a glass on her tiptoes. "I'm not really here anyway. I don't do parties. I'll be back in my room in a second."

 

[Machiavelli]

She almost instantly jumped away from him, and he chuckled. "Easy there, no need to throw up the defenses." he laughed. She was flushed, though the cold air that streamed over them did its best to hide that fact. "No no no." He said, taking a drink from his cup. "You've never tried drinking. That's different than not drinking. And you're right, some alcohol does taste awful. But this doesn't. I figure, what's the point in getting drunk for fun if you're going to drink something that tastes awful to do it?" He said with a wink, even as she moved past him.

"Don't do parties." He repeated, shaking his head and moving to lean against the counter, a mere few inches away from her. "There you go again, saying you don't do something you've never tried. Come on, Char. Gotta live a little. Have some excitement in your life. Try a drink. Hell, try mine if you don't trust me to get one for you. If you don't like it, I won't push you to drink a second. But damn, girl. You've got all these people to talk to and to dance with and you want to hole up alone? Drinking water and... well, I can't fault you for the cheese and fruit, that looks delicious." He admitted, that charming smile on his lips again. Then he paused, biting his lip briefly.

"Or a wine to go with your cheese and fruit. Something sweet, like a moscato. I can find something you will like. And if I can't find it, I sure as hell can make it." He said with that smirk and laugh again. Jax was well-known as the resident bartender at these parties, whenever they felt so inclined to be elaborate enough to actually mix drinks in anything more complex than alcohol added to various drinks.

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

She didn't look up, stubbornly keeping her eyes trained on her glass as she slowly poured her water. She was, however, acutely aware that he was staying so incredibly close, and he was saying more words to her in the past two minutes than he had in the last two years. He finally got her to look up at him, her face revealing a little curiosity. No one had ever called her Char in her entire life. He was still handing the solo cup out for her and she could see that it held a suspicious, red liquid.

The first prickly edges of true curiosity began to itch at her. How was that possible? Not once had she ever been interested in anything like this, and in less than a full conversation Jackson was actually making her feel tempted? "Mmmm, I don't dance either." She said, biting down on her lip to keep from smiling, aware that he would catch her in her words again. The urge to smile was twice as surprising but this time that surprise twisted in her stomach, unsettling her. Then he smiled. More heat on her cheeks.

Why was he talking to her, anyway? It was then Charlotte began to realize how nervous she felt, her heartbeat a restless flutter. She wanted to hide away in her room, but just walking away from him felt too rude. "I wouldn't know what Moscato is if you hadn't just called it wine." She told him, shaking her head. It just didn't interest her, even if he had the ability to make it seem like some kind of secret she was missing out on. Then she wondered, if she took a drink, would he be satisfied and let her leave? "Fine."

Taking the cup from him, Charlotte took a small, timid drink. She was thirsty after all, and she had no clue that that could be a dangerous combination. Swallowing, she braced for a sharp tang, a burn of some kind, or a disgusting aftertaste. But nothing. It tasted like juice, like a Capri Sun, or something. "There's not alcohol in this." She said in disbelief, certain he was pranking her now—which would make sense. Stubborn, she took a larger drink, remembering again how thirsty she was. Still, only the delicious taste of juice.

 

[Machiavelli]

She finally looked up at him, and the corners of his lips curled again in a smile. "Don't dance? What do you do for fun? Don't even wiggle a little to nice music?" He said, aghast, though it wasn't quite clear if it was exaggerated astonishment or not.

Then, surprisingly, she took his cup, taking a sip. Then another. Her words made him laugh. "Oh darling, would I drink something nonalcoholic at a party? You may not know me well, but you should know me better than that." He said playfully. "Now, can I coax you out of the kitchen and into the party? Or maybe just get you your own cup?" He said with a charming smile once more, picking up her plate of food with one hand and the other pressing into the small of her back again, guiding her out of the kitchen. He didn't push her far, just into the living room, where he paused to pour another cup.

"Some of us were going to start a game of Cards Against Humanity, but somehow I imagine your innocent sensibilities might be a bit too shocked by that. So have a drink, try to relax." He said with a smile, sitting down on the couch, placing her plate in his lap, gesturing for her to join him, an arm outstretched as if waiting to wrap around her as she sat.

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

Her cheeks continued to burn at the word darling but she didn't have the courage to meet his eyes, only now it was paired with a warmth in her stomach as well. She attributed it to her own embarrassment, unaware of any true symptoms of alcohol—especially on an empty stomach. But before she could get a word in, he was talking about taking her into the party. To her horror, her light brown eyes widening, he picked up her plate of food.

"Oh, no, no, I d-don't—" She sputtered, stumbling over her words as his hand went to her lower back again, leading her into the living room. When he paused to pour another cup, she looked around, frankly a little panicked. No one looked her way, but she almost didn't recognize her own home. The music was heinously loud, and if he hadn't had her food, she would have scurried away immediately. The double doors leading out onto the back patio were wide open, many more partiers taking up space outside as well. "Look, I-I don't think—" Charlotte attempted to escape again, but he ignored her, leading her to one of the couches.

Looking down at the full cup he'd replaced in her hands, she felt totally lost. Looking back toward the kitchen, every bone in her body told her to go and fix a different snack. But the last of the strawberries was currently sitting on his lap....and she really wanted strawberries. With a facial expression that was clear she was staying only for the food, Charlotte perched herself on the edge of the couch, technically beside him but not anywhere near as close as he had intended. She didn't lean back, either. With her knees pressed together primly, she let the drink rest on one, holding it with her left hand.

"Or, I could take my snack back to my room and you could go play your game with your friends." Reaching for a strawberry, she looked around again, suddenly frantic. Michael was one of his friends. What if Michael saw her out here on a couch with Jackson? But after another scan, the area was mostly people coupled off "talking" or making out. Which only made her more uncomfortable. Reaching back to his lap, this time she selected a cube of cheese. Despite the fact that the atmosphere was totally out of her character, this was her favorite couch in the whole house, she supposed. Even more thirsty after the cheese, Charlotte took a rather large gulp of her drink, and then another. Pausing after, it took a few beats before her eyes went wide, turning to him. "I forgot this was alcohol." She admitted, startled. There was still no unpleasant taste, but the warmth in her stomach bloomed brighter.

 

[Machiavelli]

He let out a laugh as she didn't even bother to hide her nerves about the party. "Oh, hush hush. Like I don't get to spend enough time with friends. It seems only fair that I spend a little time coaxing you out of your shell. I do like a challenge." He said with a smirk and a wink, taking a drink from his own cup. As she commented that she'd forgotten that her drink was alcoholic, he let out a genuine laugh, lips parting into a wide, charming smile once more.

"See? I wouldn't lie to you, would I?" He said with another wink. "Don't answer that." he added, his tongue flicking to the corner of his mouth briefly as he took a drink of his own. "We'll just have to make sure you have water before bed. Don't you worry. If I'm gonna teach you how to party and how to drink, I'll teach you how to survive the experience too." He plucked a strawberry from the plate, biting into it and holding it between his lips, his eyes locking with hers briefly. They flared with a playful, energetic light, as if daring her to come and get the fruit with her own mouth. Then his eyes slid away, and the moment was gone, and the rest of the red berry vanished between his lips.

"So. You don't dance, hm? Not even a little? Can't wiggle to some music? That's all it is, really. I couldn't dance a ballroom dance to save my life, but move my body to a beat and wave my hands around? Even I can manage that."

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

Normally when someone was laughing at her, all Charlotte could do was clam up and sneak away as quickly as possible. Somehow Jackson's laugh was infectious though, and she found herself fighting the urge to laugh with him. The giggles bubbled up from the warmth in her stomach, and it was all she could do to push them back down again. He wasn't even being that funny, but she wasn't questioning it very much either. He started explaining some kind of rule about drinking water, but she just shook her head. "Oh, I'm not getting drunk. I'm going back to my room soon."

But this was said almost entirely inside her cup, and she followed it up by taking another long drink. Letting the cup rest back down on her knee, she looked over at him as he reached for a piece of strawberry. It was like everything around her slowed down, the heat beginning to bloom through her entire body. Like a magnet, her eyes were drawn from his lips up to his eyes. What was happening? But he looked away before panic and confusion truly set in, and instead she was left wondering if she'd just been imagining things. Her heart was racing, but suddenly the noise of the party sounded duller, like she wasn't as focused in on it. Jackson pulled her attention in by bringing up dancing again.

"Nope." She replied, reaching for a small cube of melon, popping it into her mouth. "Well, I don't party so why would I ever dance?" She asked simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She grabbed another piece of melon, then she slowly, innocently sucked the juice from the tip of her index finger. She was about to take a drink when another giggle bubbled up, but she couldn't contain it this time. "Well...unless you count one of those middle school dances where I did one slow dance with Howard Borowsky and threw up on his shoes in the middle of it." It was normally a horrific memory for her but Charlotte suddenly found the humor in it, her eyes even closing as she let out a true laugh. She'd also shared because she knew Jackson would know Howard: he was captain of the Debate Team and generally considered a bit of a nerd.

 

[Machiavelli]

He raised an eyebrow as she spoke, mumbled from inside her cup. "Not getting drunk, hm? Then let me not get drunk with you." He teased, and took another long drink from his own cup, eyeing her as she sucked the fruit juices from her finger, and he quickly got a flash, imagining what her mouth would look like sucking other things. After all, he'd already gotten the shy girl out of her shell some... Let's see how far he could make it.

Hhe laughed openly with her as she recounted her memory, a smile crossing his lips. "Howard? Oh damn, girl, you can do better than that. Did you have a little too much spiked punch at that middle school dance? The incident scare you away from parties altogether?" He teased again, and the arm around her pulled her slightly to him.

"Well Char, I don't dance much either, to tell the truth. I'd much rather chat and drink and enjoy time with people. And flirt. Flirting is far more enjoyable than dancing. You should try that sometime too."

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

"Mmmm~" She merely hummed happily as he talked about Howard, finishing off her drink—although now she wasn't sure if she was still thirsty or not...though she could probably go for more. Sitting the empty cup on the coffee table before leaning back, she had to wonder how long his arm had been around her. Aware of it now, her fear response felt dulled but her heart rate certainly kicked up. "Um, no, but you definitely won't see me joining the debate team any time soon." She commented, unable to even recall the last time she and Howard had said so much as one word to each other.

There was something especially amazing about leaning back against the couch for her in that moment, not to mention the warmth of having his arm around her coupled with the warmth inside her. How long had his arm been around her? Just as she was about to pull away he brought up dancing again. "Dancing is just an excuse for people to touch each other." Her fingertips immediately went to her mouth in shock. It had just blurted out of her as fast as it had popped into her mind. Looking up at him, it was startling to discover how close he was now.

"I-I don't really do that, either...mm, flirt, I mean. I don't flirt." Her light brown eyes were wide, stuck on his gaze, unable to move. Finally the heat bubbling in her was too much. "It's so warm in here." She stammered, nervously shifting next to him to try and shrug out of her cardigan.

 

[Machiavelli]

As her words about dancing left her mouth, he gave her a surprised, but pleased look, laughing openly, clearly pleased by her words. "Oh is it now?" He said with a little wink, taking another drink. "And what? You don't want to touch anyone? Not even me?" He said, not even trying to be subtle with that flirt. Tempting her, teasing her while she was trying new things. Then she suddenly began to shift and squirm, as if fighting with her cardigan. "Oh, hold still, hold on." He said with another smile, his hands instantly going to her, helping her out of the garment, fingers brushing her neck, wrists, arms as he helped her out and draped it over the arm of the chair.

"It's the drink." He said with a glance at her cup. "It's only about 65 degrees outside but..." He gave a pointed look out the opened bay doors as a guy in only his boxers did a dive into the pool. "The alcohol makes it feel a lot warmer. But that's not the fun parts about it. The fun is that it lets people be free and open and excited. Let loose and have fun. makes you all warm and happy inside, hm?" He said, his gaze lingering on her and sweeping down her body for a moment.

"So tell me Char, would you even know if I were flirting with you?"

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

Charlotte knew he was helping, but she continued to shift and squirm, her body reacting to his touch—a twist of her waist as his hand closed over her wrist, an arch of the spine as his fingers slid along her neck. And everywhere he touched left a warm, tingling sensation. His first pointed remark about flirting went completely over her head as she tried to get more comfortable, suddenly feeling very restless. She probably would have even listened if he'd tried to get her to dance, she suddenly felt so jittery.

It's the drink. Her brows knit down in confusion, her eyes following his outside. The doors were open. She'd realized that earlier but...it was the beginning of Autumn. She didn't feel the least bit cold anymore, but she had been cold enough for a cardigan not even twenty minutes ago. Stunned, she looked back at Jackson for some kind of guidance, and he did exactly that. It dawned on her then, and would've been sobering if she hadn't been so drunk. She was actually drunk.

Startled, her spine tensed as his eyes scrolled over her body. No one had done that to her in her entire life! Heat burst through her, up her neck to her cheeks. She felt simultaneously aware of everything and underwater at the same time. Looking at the cup and then back to him, she realized he'd let her finish the entire thing and she didn't even know what it was. He'd gotten her drunk in less than fifteen minutes! Was it even possible for something like that to happen that fast? And what did he mean flirting?

It was too much for her to comprehend, especially now. "I need to go back to my room." She declared, her hand going up to her forehead as she stood up. The room tilted and she nearly fell back into the couch. Another rush of the alcohol hit her and walking was the strangest thing she'd ever experienced. Once at the stairs her hand had slapped to the wall to help hold her up—try as she might, her feet never felt like they were on solid ground. By the time she made it to the top of the stairs she could barely remember going up them, but in the dark hallway her open door with light streaming out was like a beacon of hope. Safety.

 

[Machiavelli]

She squirmed, back arching, as he helped her out of her cardigan. That little squirm made other thoughts go through his head, and he'd now decided on whose pants he was getting into tonight. Watching her squirm was surprisingly hot. Maybe it was her sweet, innocent demeanor, maybe it was the fucking plaid skirt and white buttondown. He didn't know. Didn't really care either.

Jax watched as the slow realization crept over her, the feeling of warmth and the impact of the alcohol. That realization clearly startled her, and she left the cup on the edge of the couch, standing up quickly. She quickly wobbled and stumbled a little, but managed to stay upright. "Oh, no you don't, not without help." He said, and grabbed a bottle of water from the table with one hand as the other pressed to her back, trying to stabilize her as she staggered to the stairs and up them.

She made her way toward her lit room, and he made no efforts to stop her, and once they were inside, he set the bottle down on her nightstand. Without pausing, he turned back to her, pulling her swiftly and easily to him, a hand sliding into her hair as he tilted her head up and his lips to hers, kissing her without warning. It was a intense, hot kiss, in no way gentle, but, unlike some guys, he didn't force it any further than it needed to go for the moment. He simply wanted to leave her breathless, not shove his tongue down her throat.

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

Letting go of the doorframe to move into her room, she glanced behind her and became aware of his presence. Then she remembered feeling his hands on her back and hip as she'd tried to make it upstairs. He'd been helping her out the entire way. For some reason this touched her deeply, eliciting a bright smile. "Thanks for helping me." She said, crossing to her bed, desperate to be off her feet.

Her room was exactly what one would think it would be: soft whites, light wood tones, and hints of pinks, peach, and mint. Her bed was full-size and incredibly plush, a white, fluffy duvet pulled back halfway. Trying to get her backpack off the bed, her hand didn't quite finish the job and instead the heavy bag slid the rest of the way down, hitting the floor with a heavy thump—narrowly missing her foot. Charlotte didn't even flinch. She moved to turn on the lamp that sat at her nightstand, but found Jackson in her way. Surprised, she didn't get the chance to ask him what he wanted.

It happened so suddenly, she thought she was falling. In the time it took her to blink her body was flush against his, her hands lifting up in surprise and landing on his chest. Wide-eyed and so incredibly close to his face, she tried to arch back but his fingers slid into her hair. Then, like a flash, he was on her. At first, her lips were merely a subject to his, moving as they moved against hers. But his mouth was so warm, all of him was, really. Charlotte could feel every hard line of his body on hers. Her fingers clenched into his fists, grabbing up his shirt in the motion. With that, the thick mists of her mind dimmed and her mouth moved against his. His hand had tilted her head back, but in her shock her head completely dropped back. She'd never been kissed like this. Jackson was kissing her. She pulled away suddenly, the parting of their lips mid-kiss noisy in the quiet room. "What are you doing?!" She demanded, out of breath—nearly panting.

It was enough to pull her back into her right mind, or as right as she could be in her state. She attempted to push against his chest, to put space between them.

 

[Machiavelli]

Her body pressed soft to his, her lovely, delicious curves that she hid away now obvious as they pressed against the muscular lines of his body. Her fist balled slightly in his shirt as her lips moved against his, whether by instinct or desire. Then, suddenly, she broke the kiss, pushing back against him, but his hands didn't move, one placed firmly in the center of her back, the other slid just under her plaid skirt to pull her close by her soft thigh. His fingertips brushed teasingly along her inner thigh, soft, light strokes.

"I'm kissing you. I didn't really think that needed explanation." He said with a flirty smirk, and pulled her back toward him, his grip tightening as his fingers slid up to more firmly grab her ass. "I don't think we're finished exploring all the things that you secretly want to do. Now we both know that you like the warm, happy feeling of alcohol, why don't we find out if you like my hands on your body..." He whispered, the hand from her back brushing her hair from her face before trailing down to her neck, unbuttoning the top button of her white shirt. "You can't tell me you've never imagined what it would be like... To have someone's hand between your legs. Mouth kissing at your skin. Tongue trailing down your body." He whispered, eyes on hers, filled with a new fire.

Then, spinning her around, he pushed her down onto the bed with a purr, his hands grabbing at her shirt and ripping it off her, buttons scattering into the room chaotically.

"Tonight, we're going to discover every secret desire we can."

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

He was kissing her. It was like his words repeated in her brain, but she just stared at him, absolutely stunned. His hand was up her skirt! He gripped onto her ass and she gasped, her pelvis forced to press up against his. Her heart was racing, her blood pumping loudly in her ears. She tried to push back again, but it was no use—the room was spinning, and it was like he was twice as fast as she was. 'Why don't we find out if you like my hands on your body?' Her eyes were hazy as they looked into his, her innocent confusion apparent. "What?"

It wasn't that she hadn't understood, it was that she couldn't believe it. Why was Jackson coming onto her, of all people?! Squirming against him as he unbuttoned the top button of her uniform shirt, the feeling of his fingers on her neck sent a jolt down her spine and it was more than a little unsettling. But then, the things he whispered to her caused her to freeze, her eyes unable to look away from him. A bright blush overtook her cheeks and everything he said pushed images into her mind, she couldn't stop them. His hand between her legs, his mouth where he'd just been touching her neck. She'd never even experienced these things! It was sudden, the throb between her legs that she'd never felt before until now. It was like Jackson had spoken it into existence, his words sliding passed her thighs before his hand could.

Obviously embarrassed, it was even easier for him to push her down onto her bed. Crying out in shock, nothing could have prepared her for his hands going to her chest, or the clatter of her buttons landing all over the floor as he ripped her shirt open. "Jackson!" She exclaimed, frantically trying to wrap her shirt around her now that it couldn't be closed again—she was wearing a simple white cotton bra with a small bow between the breasts. "You're acting crazy, I don't have secrets!" She was about to threaten to scream when the thumping bass of downstairs re-entered her conscious. The party downstairs meant that no one would hear them, and if no one had seen them come up... "Get out, now." She attempted to stand and slid past him, trying to leave the room as well because she didn't know if he would listen to her or not.

 

[Machiavelli]

Jax didn't just dismiss her outburst, he ignored it, a hand placed on her soft stomach, easily enough to hold her slim body down to the bed. "Don't have secrets? What, has the perfect Miss Char never even touched herself? Don't have any desires at all? Not the least bit curious? Then let me awaken you." He teased, almost taunting, but in a manner with a smile and a laugh. His free hand pulled down her bra with a rough yank, his eyes flaring as her perky, pale breasts were exposed. "Mm, see. You're a sexy little thing... You could have anyone you wanted if you flaunted it a bit more." He whispered, fingertips trailing softly over the sensitive skin before swirling around the buds of her nipples, roughly rolling them.

As she struggled to get up and move past him, he easily flipped her over, stomach on the bed, and casually flipped her skirt up, exposing her pert ass next. With a rough slap, he ripped the panties from her body next, dropping them without a second thought to the floor. His fingers slid between her legs, playing slowly over the folds there, caressing, seeking out any hot wetness that would give away her arousal. Meanwhile, his other hand undid the button of his own jeans, working out his thick, hard cock.

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

Her back arched as he pushed her back down onto the bed, forcing her shirt open again. Her hands went to his wrists, but to her horror he yanked down her bra like he could barely feel her resistance. "Wait! Wait, wait, wait—" She sputtered, begging him to slow down, or to stop, she wasn't sure which. Charlotte had never been this exposed in front of anyone, she even used the stalls to change for gym class! As if he couldn't hear her, his hands were on her breasts, his thumbs on her nipples. Heat practically burned along her skin, more embarrassment flaring up as her nipples hardened. Then he captured each rosebud between his fingers and rolled them, her head dropped back immediately. Biting down on her lip to keep down the cry that almost left her, she was practically panting at this point.

In one last act of desperation, she attempted to turn on her side and stand up, but he used her momentum against her and flipped her over. The room spun again and she closed her eyes, trying to calm down. But he worked fast, her fingers digging into the sheets as he ripped off her panties next. True fear rippled through the embarrassment this time—and all the while the throb between her legs beat harder and harder. "Jackson, please—ahhh" Gasping as his hand cupped her sex, he touched what no one else had ever touched. Wide-eyed, stunned, her hips squirmed in protest. "Jackson, stop!" She said finally, feeling how her own heat radiated against his fingers. She felt it then, just a little wetness, barely anything at all. "I-I really am a virgin, this isn't a joke!"

 

[Machiavelli]

Her pants for him to wait were totally ignored. It wasn't anything new. Girls were never ready for his pace, even if they knew they wanted him. He was hot and heavy and hard. Of course, those girls always came back for more. The girls that didn't want affection or sweetness in bed knew what he could offer - a good, hard, rough fuck. Now, Char didn't know it yet, but she was doing to get the same pleasure, as best he could offer. He'd make her cum until she couldn't anymore. And maybe after he was finished with her the first time, he'd play with her until he was ready for a second round, just to see how many times she could orgasm before she squirmed around, dripping wet under him.

"Stop?" He said softly, his fingers slowly stroking through the light hint of wetness and the hot petals of her sex. "It doesn't feel like you really want me to stop." He teased, and his finger slowly massaged her clit through her folds. "It feels like you might be getting wet... That it turns you on to be exposed for me. That you want this." He uttered, and then shifted, a thick, hot, long cock pressing against her thigh suddenly.

"I don't doubt you're a virgin, but unlike some of the guys downstairs - I'm actually going to make you cum as I take it. I just want to show you all the pleasures you're missing." His fingers probed further, working with expert touches. "Wouldn't you rather it be me than some guy who just wants to fuck you for the fun of it? Wouldn't you rather it be me, showing you how amazing it is. After all, I was right about the drink. And I'm right about this."

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

Her cheek pressed into the mattress, Charlotte finally opened her eyes as Jax repeated her request. Was he going to stop? She should've known better, at this point. She was naïve, but she wasn't unaware of the rumors about him. His fingers slowly played over the bare petals of her sex, and she felt it, too—she was getting wetter. He taunted her with it, and more heat burned along her neck and face.

Then his fingers found that sensitive, hot button. Unaware of it, it took her completely by surprise. Her hips bucked but his hand stayed put. Turning her face into the bed, embarrassed, the throb was a steady pulse as he stayed there, slowly teasing that one spot. 'I don't doubt you're a virgin,' He'd probably spotted her from a mile away, she realized through the haze of alcohol. Then she felt him. His member, just as hot, pressed against her skin and her hips bucked again in shock.

Then he brought up other guys downstairs and she turned her head again, "But I wouldn't..." She didn't talk to any of them, so when would she be in a position to sleep with them anyway? It was difficult to form coherent sentences when you were drunk, it was harder with someone's fingers casually slipping deeper into your sex. 'Wouldn't you rather it be me?' Blinking slowly, trying to steady her breathing, she tried to make sense of his argument. She was stuck. Obviously she didn't want it be just some guy at all, but he had to know that. "I don't...I don't know!" She said honestly, pushing her hair out of her face with a shaky hand. The way he presented it, her answer should be yes, but that didn't feel quite right either. The alcohol still bubbling in stomach wasn't helping. "The room keeps tilting—I don't know what's right right now."

 

[Machiavelli]

Her hips bucked first at the attention her clit was getting, and he only focused more intently on that sensitive spot, then again when his cock pressed against her skin. She shuddered and squirmed slightly, flustered and uncertain, and his fingers forked into her hair and pulled lightly, pulling her back into a sexy arch. The other hand, sliding out of her, guided just the very tip of his cock into her, stretching her for the first time as the thick head entered.

"Shhhh... Don't think." He breathed, scattering kisses along her shoulder and neck, the hand in her hair turning her head to his desire. His other hand slid to her breast, cupping it and gently teasing the nipple again. "Just feel." He whispered.

Then he thrust in, a quick, sharp motion, pushing his cock deeper inside her with a groaning thrust. Her light wetness helped him glide deeper, and he was easily half-buried into her with that first rough thrust. "Better hold on, babygirl, because I'm going to fuck you silly." He purred, and began to deliver on his promise.

Quick, long, deep, hard thrusts in a steady rhythm began to assault her, a hand in her hair controlling her head as he kissed, nibbled, and bit at her neck. The other roamed her body, everywhere from her soft breasts down to her hot clit as he pounded her body relentlessly.

 

[Prodigious Masterpiece]

She made a small, vulnerable sound as his fingers forked into her hair. It would've been a whimper but he pulled much gentler than she'd been anticipating. He forced her up on her hands, and though she didn't get to dwell on it, it was a lot more comfortable. He began to press into her and her back arched even more, the muscles in her body tensing. It seemed he could sense this, because immediately his mouth was at her ear. "Jackson, I don't—" He shushed her, almost gently, his lips pressing into her neck.

But she still trembled underneath him, totally overwhelmed. The straps of her bra and her shirt hung at the middle of her back, hooked in the crook of her elbows. His mouth moved along her shoulder, as his hand moved to cup her breast again. His fingers found her nipple and she squirmed again, feeling the tip of him pressed into her entrance. Then, without hesitation, he thrust in. The cry that left her was swallowed up by a sharp gasp, the pain immediate and obvious. Breathing heavily, she felt her inner walls resist, slowly stretching as his thick cock forced himself in. Her walls squeezed tightly around him, throbbing as her body throbbed.

"Oh my God." Was all she could say, afraid it would hurt like that every time. He seemed totally unperturbed, and definitely didn't plan on slowing down. Squeezing her eyes shut, her body braced for impact—squeezing tighter as a result. But as he thrust fully inside of her there was no more resistance, he merely filled her up. Stunned, his thrusts continued, the sound of their bodies meeting beginning to the fill the room. More heat bloomed, and she was rapidly getting wetter. Then, finally, he thrust into her, her walls squeezing, and the pleasure tightened. Sucking in a sharp breath, he thrust again, it was deeper, harder, tighter. Charlotte finally understood, as his hand slid back down between her legs, that her trouble was just beginning.

 

[Machiavelli]

He loved how she squirmed against him, and particularly how the pleasure seemed to make her body move, no matter how she wanted to resist. As he began to fuck her hard and fast, he felt her tighten down, clenching around him. She was already tight as hell, and as she began to grow more wet and aroused, it only made her hot tightness more pleasurable. "Mmm, fuck..." he breathed into her ear, lips nibbling lightly. "I can feel you getting wet around my cock... you do like this, don't you? I promised you would..." He uttered, and then his fingers found her clit again, slowly toying with that sensitive bud as his body slammed into hers roughly again and again, his hand in her hair guiding her to rock back against each and every thrust.

"God, you're tight as fuck. I'm going to make you scream in pleasure. Not going to be done until you're squirming and panting and spent." He warned, and his pace quickened just a bit, a growl purring in her ear as he began to fuck her with wild abandon, no softness or gentleness. Just wild, unbridled lust and desire lost on her body as he scanned her, drinking her in with his eyes and hands.