Page 11 of Piggy

Charlotte

A month passes.

We stretch out along the couch, me against one armrest, him at the other. His long legs cage me in, trapping me in place. My feet end up in his lap.

He’s got lotion in his hands, warm and slick, and he’s rubbing it into my arches like it’s his favorite thing to do.

“Wait... you did what? ” he says, his eyebrows lifting.

“I joined the gym!” I reply proudly.

His head tilts. That crease forms between his eyebrows, the one that means he’s thinking too much.

“Why?”

I pause and swallow. My smile slips.

“Charlotte,” he says again, firmer now, like I owe an explanation. “Why?”

I sigh in defeat. “Because... you told everyone at that pool party I had a pot belly. ”

I glance down at the curve of my stomach. It’s not flat. Never has been.

His groan is instant. “Fuck, baby. I was being a dick. You’re not fat. Swear.”

I peek up at him. “You really think my body’s okay?”

He doesn’t blink. “I think your body’s perfect. ”

My breath stutters.

Then he lifts my foot slowly and presses a kiss to my ankle.

“Especially these sexy little feet,” he murmurs. “I could fuck ’em.”

I gasp, mortified. “Grayson!”

He laughs, his grin wicked and amused. “You are so red right now.”

I cover my face. “Shut up!”

“My innocent Charlotte,” he says, dragging his thumb over my arch. “Still gets flustered over a little foot play.”

“I do not!” I huff, but quickly calm down, acting unaffected. “I’m not that innocent.”

He arches a brow like he doesn’t believe a word of it. Then—

Zip.

I freeze.

He undoes his jeans in one smooth motion, pulling out his length, thick, flushed, and already rock hard.

My lips part. I forget how to breathe.

Uh, oh .

He drags the head through the lotion smeared on my arch. The contact makes him subtly grunt under his breath, lifting his hips a little.

My body goes still. “Grayson—”

“Don’t worry about your body,” he says, voice a rumble. “Every fucking inch of you gets me hard.”

“It does?” I squeak.

He nods slowly, his eyes dark and fixed on mine. “Especially when you squirm like this.”

I try to stop moving. Fail. “I just... I don’t know what to do.”

There it is again. The crash of insecurity. He sees it, but smirks.

“You’re so goddamn cute,” he says, rubbing the head of his cock between my toes, making himself shudder. “I swear, I want to do such dirty, bad things to you.”

“You do?”

That smile, the cruel one, curls on his lips as he watches me fidget.

“I should film your face right now. All blushing and nervous. Think I’d show the guys?”

My jaw drops. “You wouldn’t!”

He leans forward slightly, that grin only getting cockier. “You’d let me.”

Oh gosh.

I so wouldn’t! But I giggle.

He lets out a shaky breath as my toes curl around him.

“You’ re doing perfect,” he murmurs. “That’s it, baby. Fuck... you have no idea what you do to me.”

I feel heat rush between my thighs.

This is insane. I’m letting him fuck my feet. And I like it.

“Look at you,” he taunts. “Letting me use you however I want.Bet you’re dripping, aren’t you?”

I press my thighs together.

I don’t answer.

I don’t have to.

Then he shifts, kneeling between my legs. Taking my feet, he cups them both around his cock, and presses them together tight. My arches cradle him, slick, soft, and a little stiff.

His length pulses between them, trapped. He starts to thrust. Slow at first, shallow glides, then deeper. Harder. His breath grows ragged.

The muscles in his abdomen tighten with each stroke, his body a powerful work of art looming over me.

My chest rises, tight with heat.

“Fuck,” he grits out, jaw locked, nostrils flaring.

Then—

His hand flies to the back of my neck and pulls me forward. Not rough, but certain , like this was always how it was meant to end.

His other hand fists around his cock, pumping fast.

And just before he explodes, he pushes the head past my lips.

I gasp and freeze .

The taste hits immediately. Bitter lotion, sharp salt, and something so hot and raw it makes my throat clench.

My lips seal around him reflexively, and I feel him throb.

He moans. Low. Primal.

My eyes shoot up. He’s watching me. Chest rising, muscles drawn tight, and his hand buried in my hair like he owns me. Like he knows I’m not going anywhere.

Slowly, so slowly, he pulls back.

His cock slips free, twitching, wet with spit and release.

I’m breathless. My mouth tingles. My throat burns.

And then, as if he forgot to guard himself, he blurts, “I’m so fucking obsessed with you — you endless tease.”

Not a compliment. Not a flirt.

A confession.

Like it slipped out before he could chain it down.

I lean back, lips still parted, blinking up at him, stunned and raw. My chest rises in shallow breaths, his taste still thick in my mouth.

His eyes are on mine. But his expression’s already shifting.

Walls going back up. But he plays it off well, effortlessly flipping everything back to me.

His thumb grazes my chin, then smears a streak across my bottom lip, wiping away a trace of him.

“That sweet little mouth,” he murmurs, eyes glazed. “Just opens for me. Always ready.”

I shiver .

He finds more on my upper lip and smears it across my cheek, and not gently.

“Such a sweet, yet dirty girl. So fucking proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he taunts, but there’s a low affection behind it.

I beam, smiling without meaning to. I am proud. I made him feel good.

He leans back against the couch, eyes still heavy with lust, but sharp now, as if he sees something I’m trying to hide.

“Say it.”

I blink. “What?”

He doesn’t answer. Just watches me.

So I breathe deep and ask, “What are the bad things you want to do to me? Like... even more kinky stuff?”

His smirk deepens.

“Kinky?” he repeats. “That was foreplay, Piggy. Try to keep up.”

I blush. “It was too! I just... I wanna do what you want. In bed. For you.”

His smirk fades into something darker. The softness evaporates. His voice drops.

“You already know what I like.”

I swallow. “Yeah. The girl who begs. Who proves she’s worthy of you.”

His eyes narrow. “And you want specifics.”

“I do.”

He stares at me for too long. Then lets out a small breath. Not quite a sigh. As if he’s tired of pretending.

“You sure?”

I nod quickly. “Please! I want to know everything about you.”