Dirty Rush by Taylor Bell is what happens when you take the creative minds behind Babe Walker (author of the New York Times bestselling White Girl Problems series) and add Rebecca Martinson to the mix. Rebecca Martinson — yes, that b*tch — the former Delta Gamma sister responsible for the scathing, expletive-filled email that verbally assaulted her entire chapter for being "so f*cking boring" at social functions and threatened to "c*nt punt" every last one of them if their behavior didn't shape up. Dirty Rush is a no-holds-barred look at what really happens when you "go Greek."
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"Why don't we anchor here for a bit and chill? I haven't even shown you the berth yet."
"Okay. That sounds cute."
Jack turned off the motor and led me down to the lower cabin. It was cozy, with a little kitchen and a tiny bedroom at the front. Finally, some real privacy.
"This is it." He sat down on the bed.
"I love it."
"Good. I love it too. I've spent a lot of time on this boat."
"Like with your family and stuff?"
"Yeah, but also alone. This was like my own private hideaway when I was in high school. I would just come here to get away from sh*t."
"I'm sure all the ladies in high school wanted to 'check out' your dad's boat."
"Well, honestly, no. I wasn't that smooth with the girls back then. I wish I had been. This would have been a killer spot, but it wasn't in the cards. I was a skinny, pimply geek."
"I highly doubt that."
"No. I'm being serious. When I got to college freshman year, I was five nine, and a hundred forty-five pounds. Sounds sexy, doesn't it?
"I have a hard time believing that you weren't cute, even if you were scrawny."
"I wish I had been, but sadly, all I did here was watch old movies on VHS and read the entire Hunger Games trilogy, over and over. Are you completely turned on right now?" Jack sheepishly smiled.
"I gotta say, you're constantly surprising me. You're not the guy I thought you were . . . like . . . in a good way. A really good way."
"Did you think I was going to end up being this meathead frat brother or something?"
"Maybe at first?"
"Oh my God! I can't believe you. That's hilarious."
"Well, I don't know? I met you on, like, my second day here. I think I had a lot of wrong ideas about who everyone was and how they would act."
"Did you honestly think that an average meathead would willfully enroll in a women's studies class at eight-thirty a.m. on Mondays?"
"Point taken," I said as I closed the sliding door to the bedroom and sat next to Jack on the bed.
"Never judge a frat boy by his cover."
Jack leaned in to kiss me, and as his lips touched mine, we both laid back onto the little mattress. I was so into him I couldn't contain it. It really isn't a myth—college boys actually are better/cuter/hotter than high school guys. As Jack's body rolled on top of me I wanted to scream, but I knew I had to keep it inside. If the cokeheads made their way downstairs we'd never have any alone time for the rest of the day.
"Do you have a condom?" I asked as I pulled him closer into me.
"Really? You're okay doing it in here?"
"Yes. We can just try to be quiet. So, do you have one?"
Jack hopped up, took his wallet out, and took his shirt and pants off as I stripped down to my bra and panties in record time. He placed the condom on a little wood ledge next to the bed and jumped back on top of me. There was something about his demeanor that was so disarming. Like he was confident, but also there was a tenderness about the way his body moved that made me feel completely free with mine.
Jack kissed me all over and worked his way down to my thighs, slowly removing my underwear. I knew what was coming next and my body quivered in anticipation.
"It's a real turn-on that you're a 'glass-half-full' kind of girl. Most college girls are constantly complaining about everything."
He moved in quickly and starting kissing me again, but this time with much more intensity. As we made out I slowly inched toward my bed. Jack wrapped his arms around me with his hands on my ass and lightly lifted me up, and placed me gently on the bed.
The next couple minutes were kind of perfect. We were totally in a rhythm with one another. I felt like he and I had been doing this for years, like we learned to kiss at the same kissing school. Gone was the self-conscious bullsh*t that usually accompanies a first hookup. I was just there, in the room, completely focused on him. My mind didn't drift once to think about whether I was wearing the right bra, or if he thought my thighs were too jiggly or if he liked me liked me. In fact, this was probably the first time I'd ever been with a guy and felt this level of comfort. It was really . . . interesting.
"I've been thinking about kissing you like this since the moment I saw you," Jack said, as he pulled away for a second.
He was looking right into my eyes.
"I'm happy to help make your dreams a reality."
"You're so f*cking sexy to me."
"So are you."
Jack got up on his knees and pulled off his shirt.
"Can I take yours off? Is that okay?"
Jack then leaned in and started kissing my neck and collarbone as he unbuttoned my shirt. He kissed his way down to my chest and then removed my bra with no trouble. His hair smelled so f*cking good I wanted to scream. Guys are always in a f*cking rush, but he was definitely not. He was taking his time and I loved it. I could feel my heart pounding through my chest.
Jack must have felt it too. His head was right there. I wanted him to hear it. My whole body was gearing up for whatever he had in store.
That's when the phone rang. The landline. I didn't recognize it at first because I don't think I'd heard it ring once during my entire time at CDU. It was so jarring and loud and could not have come at a more awkward time. Who was calling me at 10:30 on a Saturday night? I hadn't given that number to anyone. Even my family called me on my cell phone.
The ringing didn't seem to have broken Jack's focus, because he continued to caress and kiss my body. I was relieved when the phone stopped because I wanted to enjoy every moment of this.
"These need to come off right now," Jack whispered as he started taking down my jeans.
Thank God I got a wax before I came to school.
What happened next can only be described in one word: nirvana. After kissing his way down my stomach, over my hips, and onto my thighs, Jack went there. When I say that he went down on me, I really mean that Jack took my whole notion of pleasure, smashed it with a steel-toed boot, and proceeded to redefine the boundaries of ecstasy.
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