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— Jerome, tú... ¿no me reconoces en absoluto? (Jerome, you… you don’t recognize me at all?) — forgetting for a moment that she was speaking Spanish and brushing a strand of long black hair behind her ear, Sofia asked. Her large silver hoop earrings chimed softly, and the thin chain with a pendant swayed slightly on her neck.
Jerome stood by the doorway of the small room, still gripping a plastic cup of beer. The music behind the wall boomed with bass — the freshman party was in full swing — but here it was quiet enough to talk. He frowned as he looked at the girl in front of him: a bright Latina in a tight black strapless top that hugged her full breasts, and light-blue high-waisted jeans with three buttons, clinging snugly to her hips.
— Whaaaat?! Speak English! — he growled, trying to act like the tough guy he had carefully been shaping himself into since getting into Santa Monica College. He stepped closer, boldly eyeing her from head to toe, and added with a filthy smirk: — Maybe you’ll start doing what you called me here for?
Sofia flinched and instinctively stepped half a pace back. Right away, as if on purpose, her breasts — the ones she had been living with for two years now — bounced heavily, pulling the top painfully tight, and the hoop earrings clinked again, revealing her awkward movement more loudly than any words.
— No… — she shook her head quickly. — I no… no’ this. I no for this.
Jerome snorted and leaned closer, still smirking, as if testing how far he could push.
— Then why’d you latch onto me, huh? — He pretended to inspect her pendant, the shine of the buttons on her jeans, then paused his gaze where the top was barely holding its ground. — Party, a separate room, pretty girl. It’s obvious.
— I… I speak… — she forced out. — Bad English. Leetle. You… Jerome, yes?
— And why does it even matter who I am? Fine, if it makes you feel better, — he snorted and took another sip of beer, — Jerome Harper. Happy now?
Sofia swallowed. Something inside tightened painfully, and for a second she forgot what to do with her hands. Her fingers found the hem of her top on their own, as if trying to cover what couldn’t be covered. She realized she only made it worse, because the gesture caught Jerome’s attention, and she jerked her hands away. Her breasts bounced again, and Sofia quickly pressed her palms to her sides, pissed at her body — the body that had been like this for the last two years since waking up in that lab he’d gone to for “the easiest 150 thousand dollars in his life.”
— ¡Mierda! ¡Malditas tetas! (Fuck! Damn these tits!) — slipped out of her before she realized it, noticing that it only amused Jerome. Or did it? That smile was starting to scare her. It wasn’t the lazy, filthy smirk he’d given her a moment ago. It had become… attentive. Too attentive. Especially to her breasts.
— Ha, — he exhaled shortly. — You’re fiery...Full story (17 800 characters - 6 parts + add. images) is open to subscribers here or on Patreon