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“Patrick, please...” Eyes closed, bottom lip caught between her teeth, she grinds her hips against me, urging me to move but I don’t.
Angling her farther off the wall, hands wrapped around her waist, I lift her up the length of my cock until just the tip is still buried inside her. “You want to come on my cock?” I say, lowering her just enough to make her moan. “If that’s what you want, you just have to ask.”
One of her hands slips off my shoulder and down my torso to find the place where we’re joined, her fingertips grazing the base of my cock as she finds her clit so she can stroke herself. “Please, Patrick... please let me...”
She lets her eyes slip closed on a shuttering sigh.
That sigh breaks something inside me. I’m no longer able to hide behind the calm, and there’s nothing reasonable about what I want to do to her. I want to fuck her for hours. Days. Make her come over and over, licking and sucking every inch of her until she’s completely wrecked.
Hands still wrapped around her waist, I slam her down the length of my shaft so hard and fast her eyes fly open, the fingers gripping my shoulder rake into my skin, the pain of it so thin and sweet I can feel my ball contract, getting ready to release. I fight the sensation off with a vicious growl. I’m not ready to let this end. Not yet.
Instead, I do what she wants. I fuck her like it’s my job.
I pound into her, my hips pound against the soft cradle of her thighs with deep, hard thrusts that bang her shoulders into the wall I have her pinned against with each spine-shattering stroke.
I step into her to bury my face in her throat with a groan, slipping my arm between her back and the wall to cushion her from the blows. “Is this it,” I rasp against her neck, using my free hand to angle her hips so that each of my thrusts rub the base of my cock against the clit she’s fingering. The smell of her—salty and sweet. Dark and warm—beg me to take a taste. “Is this what you want?” I lave my tongue along the column of her throat, but it’s not enough. I bare my teeth to the hammering pulse at the base of her neck, grazing and nipping against her skin but that’s not enough either.
“Yes... oh god, Patrick...” She’s sobbing now, ankles locked around my hips. Nails clawing into my shoulders while her other hand pushes up between us to squeeze her own breast. “I’m coming, I’m...”
She shatters around me, her pussy baring down on my cock, gripping it like a fist. I keep fucking her through her orgasm, my hips pounding against hers, hard and fast. Her hands latch on to my shoulders again, the heels of her cherry-red heels digging into my ass like spurs, urging me to take what I want. To use her the way she used me.
My own orgasm hits me like a speeding train, my balls tightening and tingling while stars explode in front of my eyes. She cries out again, the inner walls of her pussy tightening, pulling me deeper. I crush her against me, pinning her between my chest and wall, her arms and legs wrapped around me. Hair tangled and wild. Breath ragged and harsh.
The euphoria doesn’t last. Within seconds, I remember how I got here. How she played me. How she pushed me. Years of games and frustration—of being jerked around like a puppet—for nothing more than her own personal amusement.
I’m a chump.
The thought has me stepping back. 24-hours ago I would have done just about anything to be where I am now. And now, I just want to disappear.
I’m hurt. And that makes me angry... it also makes me a little dangerous.
We looked at each other, long and hard, for a few seconds. Assessing one another carefully. She must know I’m angry, can probably see it written all over my face. “Will you at least let me explain?” she says, pushing her long, thick tangle of hair out of her eyes.
I shake my head. I didn’t wanted to hear an explanation while I was fucking her and I sure as hell wasn’t in the mood for one now. “That’s not necessary,” I say, jerking the condom off my cock before zipping up my pants for the second time in one night. “I think I understand perfectly.” I drop the condom, unceremoniously, into the wastepaper basket by her door.
She watches me, arms crossed over her chest—whether it’s to hide herself from me or because she’s angry, I don’t know. “I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.” I bend down to retrieve her robe and toss it at her. “You’re just sorry you got caught.” I say before I walk out. The last thing I hear before I leave is her bedroom door as it quietly clicks shut.
Twenty-one
Patrick
I find Conner whereI left him, only this time he isn’t alone. Hemmed into the booth by a trio of co-eds—two blondes and a redhead—he saw me coming. By the time I slid into the booth across from him, my cousin wears the kind of grin that would make the Cheshire Cat wonder what he’d been up to.
“It worked,” he says, taking in my misbuttoned shirt, undone belt and generally disheveled appearance. “Fuck me, it actually worked.”
“What worked?” I say, scanning the crowded bar for Lisa. I spot her over by the pool tables, slinging drinks. When she sees me, she cuts me a quick smile—one that says she’s embarrassed about what happened but not so embarrassed that she wouldn’t give it another go. The blonde sitting next to me slides across the booth, inching a bit closer—so close her smooth, bare thigh is pressed against me and I can smell pop princess perfume. She’s been looking at me, practically licking her chops, since I sat down. I try out my Gilroy grin again, letting her have it. She responds by putting her hand on my knee.
Will wonders never cease?
“You banged Legs.” Conner says it proudly—like I’ve just birthed him a son and I look at him, suddenly putting it all together.
Lisa and the handsy blonde forgotten, I lean across the table. “What did you do, Conner?” I ask, even though I’ve already guessed. He’s the reason Cari walked in on Lisa and me. He’d somehow gotten her to come home early from her date.
He leans away from me and laughs. “Me?” he says, green eyes round with feigned innocence. “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You guys look alike,” the girl sitting to Conner’s left says, flipping her bleach-blonde hair over a self-tanned shoulder. “Are you twins?”