One
↳ ᶜᵃˢᵖᶤᵃᶰ ↴
When men are hungry, they hunt.
The craving for love and lust is as old as time, a tale of the heart that loops on constant replay. Once the intro begins to hum its hypnotic tune, all are powerless but to dance along. Some hold on to the golden thread of happily-ever-after while others become inebriated, stumbling in search of answers they don’t yet have the questions for.
Blind to his part in this eternal composition, Caspian set down his textbook and leaned back from the small study table. Flipping through monotonous pages was pointless now. Not when he could be scouting out his newest target.
The campus clock tower rang in the distance, a forlorn bell signaling the end of another hour, and the hall bustled with a surge of students. A sea of uncharted opportunity. They all hurried to and from class, tapping on tinted glass screens or chatting in newly formed cliques. Studious ones carried large bags suitable for books and binders, and the more lax paraded on with little to nothing more than a pair of headphones.
Most didn’t note his presence, but the few that did either squared their shoulders in a masculine rivalry or blushed under his unapologetic gaze. Their attention was nothing new. Normally he welcomed a well-executed advance, but today he would pick the prize, not the other way around.
He let his eyes drift from one potential muse to the next, measuring their worthiness and appraising their unique styles. University came stocked with an endless supply of attractive women—blondes and brunettes, miniskirts and sundresses, small waists and thick thighs—yet none stood out.
A handful of women he’d already fucked mingled with the rest, but their appeal had gone. He needed something new. Someone exciting.
Unfamiliar.
A girl who would give him a challenge and make up for the sour taste left from last semester. This time, he’d learn his lesson. Some girls took extra effort to crack, and he’d be prepared to take the long route. After he played the game well enough, she would be on her knees singing his praises—and that would make his predestined victory all the better.
Wait.
Head on a swivel, he locked onto tantalizing hourglass curves. Her.
Hips swaying with purposeful stride, a plump peach ass filled out the pair of faded blue jeans as she passed by. Although hidden in the crowd, her aura spoke volumes. The poise of her posture held a certain regality, feminine yet determined. She didn’t need an entourage to look like a queen.
A stack of typical freshman textbooks was pressed to her supple chest, but one in particular piqued his interest. She clutched the thin notebook with extra care, its pages encased in intricate, perhaps even handmade, leather. It looked more like a personal journal than a composition notebook, certainly not meant for the scrawl of lackluster class notes. No, that book would contain something more important. More valuable. If it was anything similar to his own sketchbooks, then she might be exactly what he’d been looking for. But like a breeze that vanishes as soon as it’s noticed, the back of her cherry-red hair disappeared through a pair of lecture room doors.
His lips curled into a half smile, pulse quickening. Sophomore year had brought him a fresh batch of home-cooked girls ripe for the taking, and she was the cream of the crop. A wave of intrigue pricked over his skin and settled between his legs. This would either be very good or very bad, but either way she was exactly what he needed.
Outside of personal leisure, attending university had been a monotonous chore, a requirement imposed by the two people in his life who couldn’t agree on anything else. After their recent divorce, his parents forced a formal education down his throat with a silver spoon—as if they thought ensuring his success would make up for their failures at home. In any case, early on he decided to use the space how he wanted.
He tapped his foot on the scuffed tile floor as gears in his head sprung to life. He could either make a move now or find her after forming a proper plan. But planning wasn’t his forte, and letting another second pass without seeing her would be a waste, so the first option it was.
He snapped the neglected textbook shut and swung his backpack over his shoulder, eying the double doors she’d gone behind. No one else had filed into the room, meaning there wasn’t a lecture being held right now. Was she lost? Or was she resigned to be alone?
If the redhead was new to campus, then surely she’d appreciate someone showing her the ropes. Effortlessly, he could transform himself into a personal tour guide, and there were a few VIP spots he’d grant her access to if she was nice. It was no secret he was well equipped and well endowed, his sculpted muscles just as useful in the bedroom as they were in the gym.
Stepping forward, his thoughts raced ahead. That journal stole so much of his curiosity that he hadn’t gotten a decent look at her face. What shade would her eyes be, framed by that bright red hair? Would they burn into him when she looked his way? What about her lips? Would she be a tease or lure him in with a bashful smile?
How would her eyelashes darken her eyes, or her cheekbones highlight her face? What expression would she wear when he caught a real glimpse of her and she of him? Would she let slip the secrets she kept in that special journal?
The thought of her was like seeing a big, colorful lollipop in a candy shop window and dropping everything to go buy it. He appreciated the tiny taste he got, and for a moment he became even more enticed by the sample than seeing the whole thing. Humming to himself, he hoped this wasn’t the end of good surprises. The sweet taste of her soft skin was almost palpable on his lips. The satisfaction of hearing her moan his name faintly echoed in his ears.
Sturdy strides carried him to the closed oak doors while a hammering heart chiseled away at his chest. Hitting on girls had been his second nature, but this time a certain thrill saturated his veins. This would be a great start to the new school year, hopefully a sign of many more breathtaking girls to come.
His smile widened at the thought, prying the door open.
Yes, the first of many.
