Page 12 of Freak
“But what?” I asked, my forehead leaning onto Summer’s as she stood up, struggling, attempting—but failing—to reach her lips with mine. The spit from my mouth nearly fell out onto my chin.
“But you fucking betrayed me…” she growled into my ear, the heat of her breath surprised me, just as much as the sudden chill that engulfed my entire hard torso.
Summer ripped my shirt, her black, stiletto nails digging into the curved peaks of my abs as buttons scattered onto the floor. I leaned as far as I could as she stepped out of the closet, begging to get closer, to suck the sweet sugar cane scent out from her flesh.
“Is this what you want?” I bit into my words, heated and elated, but also agitated from restraint. Summer looked up to my hands, my knuckles cracking from my clenched fist.
“I want to give you everything you deserve,” she replied, her thumb and finger pinching the black velvety string that held her dress in place. “I want to see you suffer. To be a fucking, wet, humiliated mess! To be haunted by unjust shame.” She rolled her shoulder out of her dress, and exposed the length of her arm from its sheer fabric.
“How the fuck you going to do that?” I baited, daring her to get closer, to cross into the darkness.
“I’m going to treat you like the little disposable garbage that you are. My fuck toy, my object. If I want to beat you, I will, if I want to milk you, I will… if I so wish to piss in your fucking mouth, I’ll do as I fucking please.” She pulled off her next sleeve, tugging the sequin dress past her chest, and down to her waist.
My eyes felt red, fucking hot, unblinking at the sight of her perfect, little tits, perked and soft, caught in the iridescent shine of a full Virginia moon outside. She adjusted her neck, shifting the carefully placed strips of leather that laced across her body.
I wanted to drop to my knees, but couldn’t, begging to lick that perfect slit of a navel, to suck open the gold buckles that hoisted the frame of her rosy, pink nipples. She was in a harness, a fucking sexy tamer to whatever beastly desire that now coiled up from my toes and into my rock-hard cock.
She seemed to take notice, shimmying her hips out of her dress.
“I always wanted to ask you…” she started. “What’s a pocket pussy?”
I swallowed, rejuvenating how dry my mouth felt.
“I don’t understand.”
“Jake called you a pocket pussy the same day you shoved me into the closet. You seemed so upset by that.”
“It might not mean what you think… it was a dig on how un-versatile I was on the field.”
She sneered.
“I hated how he said that… and how men in general use the word pussy to describe weak things.” Her dress fell past her thighs, dripping into a puddle by her black heels. “Men are weak… don’t you agree?”
Summer’s harness continued, strapped to her thighs, but absent to the space between her legs, leaving her perfectly bare pussy on complete display.
I trembled.
“Yes, Ms. Evans.”
She palmed the side of her body, running her hands down past her hips and right to her slit. Fuck. She circled that perfect, little pussy, its silky wet lube a whistle to my insatiable appetite.
“Does my pussy make you weak, boy?” she circled her clit, spreading her lips for my eyes as an unbearable tease.
I yanked on the chains, my wrists burning as the wood bar above creaked from how hard I fought its strength. She shook her head with a tsk.
“Yes, Ms. Evans. So fucking weak.”
She stepped closer, pinching her tits for my eyes.
“You want a sniff, you dog?”
I chewed the top of my lip, leaning as far as I could, hungry for even the hint of her cunt.
“A taste?” she asked. “Stick your tongue out.”
I snarled, my forearms expanding, my triceps embossed with sweaty veins, as my tongue fell out of my mouth.
Closer and closer, I fought to reach her, her soft scent finally notable, but her taste an agonizing millimeter away. And as soon as I thought I had it, she pulled back, her hand engulfing what little of my neck she could wrap around, shoving me back against the wall.
