I shouldn’t find the size of it shocking, now that I’ve had Wes’ dick shoved down my throat, but it still gives me pause. Ford’s isn’t quite as long, but it’s decidedly thicker, the barbell below the base of the head glinting as he wraps his fist around his girth and gives it a lazy stroke.
“You’d better close that mouth if you don’t want me to stick my cock in it.”
I hadn’t even realized I was gaping at the sight of him. I snap my mouth closed, eyes pinging back up to meet his own.
Why does some part of me want to taste that pierced cock?
I shove that depraved thought out of my head as quickly as it entered, ignoring the heartbeat pulsing steadily between my thighs.
Ford brings his hand up to his mouth, spitting in his palm and smearing it over his dick while keeping his eyes locked on mine the entire time. Then he shuffles forward, grabbing onto my breasts and squeezing them together, punching his hips forward to slide his shaft into the valley between.
“Fuck,” he groans, head dropping back as he starts thrusting.
I hope he doesn’t expect me to know what I’m doing here. I haven’t even had regular sex yet– something likethisis way out of my wheelhouse.
Though the way he’s using my body makes me feel like nothing but a nameless, faceless doll, I can’t ignore the heat crawling up my neck or the dull throb pounding between my legs. I squeeze them together to alleviate the ache, my eyes pinging between Ford’s rapturous expression and the head of his dick popping out from between the tops of my boobs with every forward thrust.
His thumbs start moving back and forth over the hard buds of my nipples, tweaking and toying with them until I’m squirming, my breath coming out in short pants to match his own. My reaction doesn’t escape his notice, and Ford starts thrusting faster, a wolfish grin stretching his lips.
“You like that, Ava?” he taunts, pinching my left nipple so hard that I can’t hold back my squeal. “Bet you can’t wait for me to fuck that tight little virgin pussy someday, can you?”
Why does that suggestion make me even hotter?
He pinches my other nipple and I bite my lip to stifle a moan as he presses my boobs together tighter, increasing the friction on his dick sliding back and forth between them.
“Shit, I’m gonna come,” he chokes, his thrusts growing more frantic. “Stick out your tongue.”
I don’t even know why I do it.
Stupidity? Temporary insanity?
Whatever it is, I regret the action as soon as he punches his hips forward with a groan and hot ropes of cum spurt out from the tip of his dick, landing on my chest and chin and tongue.
“Fuck,” he pants, his body stilling as his cock twitches between my breasts. He finally releases them, reaching up to smear his cum into my skin, bringing more of it to my mouthand forcing his fingers past my lips. I choke on his digits as he shoves them inside, grinning cruelly above me.
The salty taste of him slides down my throat, and I’m not sure which is worse– the fact that I just let him use me like that, or the overwhelming heat pulsing in my core that says some twisted part of me might’ve enjoyed it.
CHAPTER 21
RAF
The thundering beatbuilds around me as I mindlessly pound on my drum set, my eyes slipping closed and my body moving without thought. I’ve been playing for so many years that it’s second nature at this point, like riding a bike or just fucking breathing.
I don’t play any song in particular. I just fall into a beat that feels right, my foot working the pedal of the kick drum as my sticks beat against the batter heads at a steady rhythm.
The sound of drums has always had a calming effect on me. The rattle of the snare, the crash of the hi hat… each piece of my kit produces a distinct tone, the cacophony of sound blending into an achingly familiar medley. I soak it in, allowing it to reverberate around me as I play, my mind drifting, the shadows clearing.
Most of them, anyway. A fight is usually a cathartic release for me, but tonight I’m more wound up than usual. It seems that no amount of pounding my fists into someone’s face or my sticks against the drumheads can alleviate the ever-present tension that’s been coiled inside me since my stepsister showed up on campus.
This ismycampus. She has no right to be here, playing all sweet and innocent when she’s the spawn of the whore that tore my family apart.
I hate everything about Ava. I hate her face because she looks just like her mother. I hate the way she acts like she’s above everyone else when she’s just a trashy little nobody. But most of all, I fuckinghatehow one look at her gets my dick hard, which makes me no better than my piece of shit father.
He let my mother wither away. I was by her side as the cancer ate away at her body, the treatments making her feel even sicker and robbing her of any sense of joy in those final months. I held her hand as she drew her last breath, her eyes wide and fearful as the life drained from them. And where was her husband, the one who vowed till death do they part?
Balls deep in his fucking whore, that’s where.
Breathe.
