The Trip…

The sleek contours of DJ Long's Gray CL-Class Luxury Coup Mercedes Benz hummed down the Long Island Expressway. It's incredibly powerful engine, muffled by the sound inhibiters built into the car, caused a steady hum as he speed up to get around a car with clear and concise move. Inside the climate controlled, leather bound, interior, DJ Long was tuning his girlfriend in and out from her now three hour long rant. He was thankful that he had been insightful enough to bring a pair of sunglasses to hide the many eye rolls that had crossed his face since they had left the parking garage.

"You know what else David Jacob Long," Marissa said in an almost hysterical tone, "The next time that you want to look at Porn, you remember, that will be the only naked chick that you'll be seeing for a very long time. You see, you're like Superman and I was born with something that I like to call Sexual Kryptonite. I am not afraid to do it. I will cut your perving ass off, is that what you really want DJ Long?"

DJ turned and offered her a skeptical gaze through his sunglasses, what the fuck did she just say? Did she just really imply that he was afraid of her cutting off their intimate activities? That was a laugh, Marissa was a prude. God bless her soul, he loved her, but if she implied that she held a sexual hold over him, she was a fool. Laughing harshly, he would have clapped his hands together in amusement if he wasn't driving a $150,000 Dollar Car at the moment. Instead, he shook his head in pure amusement, "Sexual Kryptonite, please spare me. I get more action from my hand then you give out in a month. I'll grant you that it's great when it happens, but that's if it happens. Lording Sex over me isn't the way to get me to fall into line, you don't do things without very good incentive. That was the best thing that Mom ever taught me, besides respond with something sarcastic and shoot first and then shoot again."

"That's rich," Marissa laughed, "And that's something that you really want to tell the girl that you're dating, you get more action from your hand then her. It just tells me that you're a loser."

"Prude," He hissed at her.

"Loser," Marissa replied icily.

"Bitch," DJ shot back, he was growing indignant.

"Fruit," She smirked as DJ's anger grew.

"Fruit? Oh that does it, I'll show you fruit," DJ seethed and after looking over his left shoulder, singled to pull over to the shoulder of the actual road.

After making sure that there were no cars coming on the driver's side, he opened his door and shut it quickly before running to the other side of the car. On their left side was an entrance to a beach, DJ could hear the Atlantic Ocean and it's light roar as he opened Marissa's door. Pulling Marissa out of the car by her wrist and ignoring her confused look. He shut her door behind her and locked the car with his automatic lock on his key. Luckily, he noticed as he was fueled by the anger over her last comment, the beach looked secluded enough with its rolling dunes. 'Perfect…' he grinned as he pulled the confused Marissa behind him. When he reached a spot that he judged that no one could see from either the road or the beach, he spun her around and smirked.

"What the hell are you doing? Is this like your dumping ground? Are you a serial killer?" Marissa screamed with indignation.

DJ shook his head with a smile and with an exertion of the strength that he had inherited from both of his parents. He picked her up by the waist and roughly put her down on the nearest sand dune. With his father's grin and his mother's eyes, it made for one convincing face when he was about to do something mischievous. Leaning down, he kissed her roughly on the mouth and ground his hips into hers, "I am about to prove to you once and for all that I am no fruit, and you know what?"

He lightly nipped on her ear before leaning close to her ear, "You'll be the one begging me afterwards."

And then he began to focus all of his ministrations on her neck and committing his hands to removing her clothes, "Wait DJ! My Hair, you're going to get sand in my hair-…ohh…- to hell w-with it."

"Wow," Marissa said after thirty, of what was perhaps the best minutes of her life, "I mean …WOW!"

DJ chuckled and nodded his head, "You took the words right out of my mouth, now are we squared away, are you still pissed at me?"

Ignoring the fact that she must have had half of the beach in her hair, she turned and smiled at him, "I'm not the type of girl that'll take a very good fuck and forget, but you know what, you are sorry and I'll take your word for it. So yeah, we're cool for now."

He raised his eyebrow, looking to where Marissa had thrown his shirt, "What do you mean, for now?"

Marissa smirked, "Until you piss me off again."

DJ chuckled, "West Hampton is just up the road, you want to head up there and maybe we can share a hotdog or something?"

A mischievous glint in her own eyes appeared, "Yeah, sure, in thirty minutes or so."

"Rissa?" DJ questioned but before he could ask anymore, he was pinned down when Marissa straddled him.

"I'm going to show you that I'm not prude," She winked before she leaned in.

AN:/ I suppose that I'm taking this time to develop Marissa and DJ's relationship, so I suppose that this is not longer a one shot, seeing as their one more chapter and this is the third. I'm exploring their relationship because someone approached me for permission to write a DJ/Marissa centered piece and it's for their benefit. Nothing has been laid down yet, so I won't tell you who is planning to write this, but when I get confirmation that it's on the drawing Board, I'll announce it to you all. There'll be one more chapter and I'll put the stake in this one in the series that wouldn't die.