Page 16

“Stop,” I whimper, a tear escaping to slide down my cheek. Any enjoyment has been lost to a tidal swell of fear and in a burst of panic, I shout, “Let go of me you fucking psycho!”

His finger slides out of me, and he stands, lowering me to my knees on the floor.

I open my mouth to scream, and he jams his hand inside, muffling my yell, clamping my tongue in place and surging so deep my eyes water. I gag on the taste of myself, saliva coursing forth in a wave until it dribbles over my lips, coating his fingers.

“Watch how you talk to me,” he says in a flat voice. “Because if Iwerea psychopath, for the five grand this is costing, I could make a call, and someone will find you tomorrow with your knickers twisted around your ankles and your pretty face obliterated by a shotgun.”

Adrenaline surges through my bloodstream.

I can read the truth in his blank eyes.

Like the flick of a switch, he changes direction again, withdrawing his fingers from my mouth and crouching to hug me tight. He drags my head into the curve under his neck, his lips buzzing against my ear.

“Shh,” he whispers. “It’s okay. If you don’t want me to fuck you, I won’t. You don’t want to come on my fingers, you don’t have to. Now open your mouth and keep your gag reflex under control for the next few minutes, then you can be on your way.”

He presses on my chin, and I open my mouth as he stands, too frightened now to risk a protest. The head of his cock nudges back inside and he thrusts his hips, bumping against my hard palette.

“Relax your shoulders,” he orders. “Open your jaw as wide as you can.” When I stiffen, he tugs a lock of my hair. “No. Don’t think. Just obey me. Open your jaw like you’re doing the biggest yawn ever.”

The muscles are already sore, but I open wide, fighting the urge to tense as his eyes fix on me.

“See. You’ve got a big fucking gob. All you need to do is stretch around me.” He’s reverted back to his original persona like he flicked a switch. “It’s not rocket science.”

My lips stretch around him again and he lets me set the pace. Even when he surges deeper, bumping the back of my throat, he withdraws so I can swallow the resulting spit out of the way and leave the way clear to try again.

His fingers soften on my hair until he’s stroking me, massaging my scalp with his fingertips, brushing strands of hair back from my face, the ends wet with my drool.

“Fucking hell,” he says, other hand cupping my neck, stroking behind my ear, massaging the top of my spine. “That’s so much better.” His eyelids droop like he’s sleepy, a soft smile curving his sculpted lips. “You’re a natural.”

The praise seeps into me until I’m buzzing. Followed by an immediate shot of guilt that I’m deriving pleasure moments after he scared me.

“That’s the way, Freckles. You’re doing so well.”

His voice grows stronger, louder. A new ache pulls inside my chest.

“Just like that,” he moans as I let his fat cock batter against my throat, aching as he gives a final groan and thick liquid pulses onto my tongue.

“Hold it.”

Slowly, he eases back enough for me to inhale through my nose, a thin stream of air that’s cut off as he gently pumps back into my mouth, adding another smaller spurt of cum before withdrawing, tucking himself away.

“Show me,” he croons, pulling me to my feet.

I open my mouth and cum spills over my bottom lip as he tilts me back and forth.

Then he roughly shoves his tongue into my mouth, licking, syphoning his release from me, sweeping his tongue across mine to ensure he gets it all. The slow suction along my tongue as he withdraws makes my centre throb with an unresolved ache.

He licks along my lips and around them, finding the last traces of the creamy drops before his eyes meet mine, dancing with fresh enjoyment. “That was perfect, Freckles, but you’re not allowed my DNA until you’ve earned it. I know how you poor girls have your tricks.”

White hot ribbons of shame course through my body. A late tear slides down my cheek and he catches it on the ball of his thumb, licking it, savouring the taste.

“Your eyes turn turquoise when you cry, did you know that?” He runs his knuckles down my cheek, expression crashing into softness. “You’re so fucking pretty.” He hands me my bra, then opens his locker and withdraws the rugby shirt he must have worn for today’s game. “I’ll replace your blouse but if you wear this, everyone will know to leave you alone.”

I pull it over my head, the sweat and mud from his recent game soaking into my skin. The musk of his body and deodorant and aftershave combine, growing stronger as my body heats the fabric. The scent makes my mouth water, and I take a few surreptitious sniffs.

“You know I like you, Francesca. You could be my girl.” He bends to kiss my cheek, then stays there, not saying anything more, his stubbled cheek scratching against mine.

I’m too confused to answer. Was that a question? Surely, he can’t expect me to say yes.