Page 9

Persistence: The consistent state of being.

Y et why did I feel like there were no consistencies in my life at all? Nothing but death.

“Fuck.”

I ground harder into the woman underneath me. My dick was deep in this woman, yet I felt like I couldn’t get comfortable. The other female was on her hands and knees, turned around where her ass faced me. The dildo vibrated her clit, and the crescendo of the two moaning should have made me feral.

“Oh god, yes. Stranger, yes!” Thing one said. I ignored that she didn’t know my name, and honestly, I didn’t know or care about either of their names either.

“Mmm, I want that dick next. Let me suck all of the come off for you daddy.” At least thing two was patient.

I smacked her ass hard, the echo vibrating through my apartment.

The other girl flipped around, and started to suck my balls, while getting fucked by the dildo by thing one.

Usually, I didn’t fuck in this shit hole, but there had been a murder, and the streets were closed down temporarily until they scraped off a dead guy from the concrete.

Easy bar lays were the only option until that cleared.

“You are a god! You know every single spot inside me. Oh, god.”

That pissed me off, and I fucked her harder, gripping the bitch underneath me by the throat, and flipping her ass over to use.

“I’m not a fucking god, you filthy slut. Now shut the fuck up while I bring you to one.”

She orgasmed. The pulsing sensation made my dick jump half-heartedly and squeeze out my release onto the other girls tits and stomach.

This was what sex was for me now: a constant need to ‘get off’ but only managing to get to some form of peak and mechanically dripping a pathetic mess without so much as feeling a single flutter.

Yippee.

I don’t know why I even bother.

I guess, it simply kept the thing from waking me up at night.

I hadn’t seen the woman in three days. The one that clouded my mind, and the reason these two whores were red heads. Nothing quite like that lemon strawberry, but enough to imagine the threads I pulled were that feisty student of mine.

Damnit Roe, You need to stop fantasizing about fucking a student. Like you don’t have enough issues.

I figured she’d probably dropped my class anyways, which made sense. I couldn’t blame her, but I had to admit it annoyed me that she wasn’t there anymore.

Her name was still on my roster, so I called it out every day after her absence. I would do so until she was removed from the registrar’s list for good.

“Fallon” fell out of my mouth as I was tracing the name against the back of the woman underneath me. The other one fell asleep. I guess her orgasm was enough, and that promise of licking anything went out the window.

Thing one purred like a fucking cat and that broke the spell of my mind. An eerie feeling crept up my back, and the wind was cold. I felt…hollow.

The next day, back at the university I was still on edge, still couldn’t shake that cold hollow feeling. And I did what the master brothers do best.

Fuck.

After the substitute pulled her dress down, I didn’t waste time yanking open the supply closet door.

Ducking out, I thought I was in the clear as I rounded the corner by the library. I had vacated the area, but still…

I smelled like sex and chemicals that could kill an entire army of bugs, but the sub’s perfume still clung to me, and I couldn’t shake how it didn’t smell anything like—

“Oof…” I slammed into a warm body on the other side of the bookshelves.

My hasty getaway made me clumsy and tired. I reached down, scooping up the fallen books and the flurry of papers floating to the ground. My eyes caught sight of her, freezing me in place, just staring up like an idiot.

Fallon was looking away, her big doe eyes fixated on a random spot on the floor, refusing to meet my gaze.

So, she had dropped my class after all.

The feeling of disappointment washed over me like that shit perfume, so I straightened and gave her back her stuff.

She still wasn’t looking at me and instead mechanically reached out to take the shit back. Her hand bumped into my arm, and the contact felt like electricity shocking my ass. The sensation wasn’t so much like the cattle prods back home, but not unpleasant like that either.

This felt…right.

I eyed her arm, not bothering to help her grab the items. The craving for her to look at me was intense. I had been robbed of her presence for three goddamn days, and I wouldn’t allow the theft to continue anymore. Anger and that unending lust for her raged inside me, and I grabbed her wrist.

“Since when do you have a problem watching me, Little Voyeur?”

She stiffened underneath my grasp, and her beautiful eyes shot to mine.

“There you are,” I praised, pulling that wrist to my chest, caging it by my heart, and pushing her back against the bookshelf.

She gasped, and the books slipped through her fingers again.

I didn’t care.

I had been jacking myself raw and fucking everything that walked by for the hours she had been avoiding me, and seeing her now, I felt like a parched man brought to fresh water.

“Perception,” I said, watching her skin pulse wildly on her exposed neck.

Maybe If I got a taste of this woman, I could shake her from my system and get back to fucking reality. A girl making me this crazy wasn’t okay, especially a student.

Slowly, so as not to startle the little doe, I showed her my hand, flexing the intricate patterns of the tattoos on my fingers that disappeared into my button-down shirt.

“What?” she said, her gaze following my hand.

“Tell me what I said about perception,” I demanded, running my fingertips over her black stockings just above her knees.

She swallowed hard, and I grinned. At this moment, I felt every bit the monster I had been labeled as for the six years I lived in that prison, and fuck me If I didn’t love it.

I wanted to taste her fear.

And I would.

“Perception is how we view someone,” she answered, her proud, sassy attitude still there with her muted fear.

I loved seeing her this way. She wasn’t some mousy girl who cried in the face of danger. She was calculative, always trying to find a way out. She decided to play my game in this case while her eyes searched for an escape.

I growled, pushing her harder into the bookshelf, knocking dusty leather-bound knowledge folders on the ground. Dust plumed in our faces, and she coughed, but I just put my finger to my lips when another sound was heard.

This felt…warm.

The librarian. She was milling around this area, and her humming was in the distance. Fallon heard the worker, too, and she opened her mouth, rearing up to scream.

I wrapped my hand around Fallon’s plush little lips, slowly shaking my head when she glared and bucked under my weight. I smiled wide, pressing my knee under her skirt right to the center of her heat.

Her glare deepened as she gasped underneath my palm.

“You wanna scream, Little Voyeur? I will make you scream.” The promise in my gaze made her shake, finally understanding her reality.

I felt her soaking me through the material on my pants covering my knee, and the knowledge of her pussy drenched for me made me rock hard. I pressed my hard-on into her, rocking back and forth. More books fell, and that singing, fucking librarian moved closer.

Fallon whimpered underneath my hand, her breathing picking up with the pace of my grinding knee. I growled again, angry that my leg was what felt her heat, my hands having to hold her fucking still and keep her quiet.

I wanted to taste her cunt. I craved to watch it glisten and spill over for me.

She was a thief to take that away. God, my dick was going to fall off because of these fucking pants and how tight they were, constricting my blood flow.

It didn’t matter that I had fucked all those women before.

Those were a shoddy substitute for what I really wanted…

Her.

I groaned in pleasure and pain, Fallon’s eyes beginning to roll in the back of her head. Glancing at one of the books on the ground, I noticed it was a bible. No wonder it was dusty. We were in the ‘Faith and Religion’ section of the library.

It was never used despite this college being a faith-based university.

The irony was that all these ‘good little rule followers’ never bothered to learn about the one they worshiped.

I wanted to learn, Fallon…learn everything there was to know about her and worship her fucking flesh like the gods of these forgotten books.

She didn’t look very godly, though. Her plaid skirt hiked around my knee, her stockings all tugged and unrolled, her strawberry lemon hair swirled against the shelf in disarray, and her eyes looked like a demon-possessed.

My god, she was beautiful. The most tempting damnation as she came on my leg.

Tempt me, baby.

I would gladly walk through hell for a single taste of that cunt.

“I may not be a god,” I said to her, the dazed expression on her face sexy as hell, standing up to my full height and slamming her in front of me on her knees. “But you will fucking pray, Little Voyeur. Pray now that I don’t suffocate you.”

She gasped and started to speak, but I pulled my belt free, wrapped it around her neck, and pulled her into me, my pants falling down and my cock springing free from the goddamn dress pants that were worse than a prison.

Her mouth on my head made me want to explode right then, but when she took an experimental taste, I could feel the precome bead on her lips.

“Fuck you,” she said her tone barely a whisper.

“Gladly,” I replied, pulling harder on the belt so she was forced to throat my thick cock.

Her gagging made me nearly come, and I let go of the belt. The fucking buckle clacked on the floor like a gunshot in the quiet library, and I cursed when the spell over Fallon was visibly broken.

The gasp of the librarian a few shelves over, and the sound of her scurrying closer made me curse harder. Fallon used my scrambling to get my shit together to bolt away from me, taking off behind the shelves.

“Fucking hell, woman.”

Now, I felt like an absolute moron trapped in the very net I set. The librarian’s shuffling grew loud, and I plopped down on the ground, grabbing a fallen book and placing it over my dick, barely hiding it.

The lady finally came around the corner. Just in time for me to press my back against the shelf and look down at the random words on the page, my mess of precome soiling the pages hidden behind the leather bindings.

“Sir?” she said, clearly confused but unable to see my real sins.

“Yeah?” I replied, my anger at the situation biting through my tone.

She shrunk back a bit, shyly standing by the end of the aisle.

“What are you doing back here?”

I rubbed my hand against my face—the question on my chest. Staring at the place where Fallon ran off, I growled.

“I don’t fucking know,” I said aloud, gesturing to the books above me that were holy bullshit. “Tempting a goddamn angel to sell herself to the devil.”