With a few slow pumps, he has made his way fully inside me. I’m tight, but I’m wet. And I can feel his cock fill each and every one of my gaps. He places one of my legs upon his chest, moving me to my side as he begins to drive into me in a spinning angle. It’s a sensation I’ve never felt before, but it’s deeper, harder, rougher.
All I can do is take it, grinding my hips into his as he begins to pick up a rhythm. In, out, in, out. I can hardly keep up with him, but with each push and pull, I want more. I want him more. I want me more. I bring my tied arms to my mouth and bite down on my fingers, needing to suppress a wail of a pleasure scream.
My body heats up as every bit of me loosens around him. My skin tingles and pricks, and I can even feel the hairs on my head begin to stand up on their own. Everything about his cock is magical. I push harder back, his balls hitting my ass in time with his movements.
And then, the room goes silent. He’s still pounding into me, but my body has lost all control. I know I’m calling out to him, asking him to stop, but wanting him to finish me. But I can’t hear a word or make out what I’m trying to say. It’s like I’ve become an entirely different person as that same light from the door envelopes me and the waves of his cock fucking me wash over my body.
I cry out once more – loudly. Loud enough to wake up Erin who has fallen asleep in the loveseat next to me. She turns her head side to side as she comes to. “Jesus, Michelle,” she says groggily, “what’s the matter?”
I’m panting, unable to catch my breath. I’m soaking wet in my own sweat…and juices. I look at her with eyes wide and wild as I attempt to lie. “It was just a nightmare,” I say vaguely, almost trying to convince myself it’s true.
Chapter 5: Missing Pieces
CAL
Maddie looks up at me with these big, swollen eyes, and I’m melting. This girl knows how to twist me around in knots, more than any woman I've ever been with. She’s got that direct line to my soft spot, and even though I’m enraged, furious at how she acted, I still can’t stand to yell at her.
I kneel down to her, taking her tiny hands in mind and wipe her cheeks with my thumb. I lower my voice, sweeting it for her, “Listen, Maddie. If your mother was here, she would be doing these things, but she’s not. I’m not gonna pretend that you ain’t been raised like you ought to be. You shouldn’t have to see half the crap you do, but I wanna do right by you.”
Maddie nods her little head knowingly, her mess of curls falling around her face. She brushes them away, stiffens her chin, and looks back up at me. She’s a tough girl, and she isn’t one to show weakness. That’s one thing I can be proud of teaching her.
“Was Miss Springer mad?” Her voice is cracking, but she pulls it out amongst the sniffles and chokes.
She surprises me with this question. That annoying, stuck up bitch doesn’t know zilch about Maddie. Nor does she really care about her. She’s just one of those needle nosed ladies who need to be put in their place. I laugh as I ask jokingly, “What do you care about that teacher? I thought you hated her.”
“No!” Maddie exclaims, breaking her tears. “Miss Springer is cool. She treats me right. She stands up for me, and she doesn’t make me read out loud in class unless I want to. And she never yells at me.”
A teacher that doesn’t yell…now that is a surprise. By the way her classroom was all perfect and set, you’d think that woman would yell about a fly getting in the room – let alone Maddie beating the shit out of some asshole kid. Maybe she’s not what I think she is. Maybe she isn’t the kind of bitch that gets off on power trips. Maybe I underestimated her.
Maddie certainly seems to care, and I can guess why. This isn’t a place of love and affection. And I’m on night rides out to the drop points so much that she spends more time with the underlings and the club’s old ladies than she does with me. When I do see her, it’s moments in between club meetings or school runs.
And I’m sure when she’s here, and I’m not, she’s seeing some bad shit, too. Just last week, a guy came in shot up in the shoulder. His white t-shirt and colors jacket had to be cut off of him so the club doc could stitch him up on our kitchen table – the same table we had breakfast at most mornings. I remember Maddie slipping in to get a glass of milk before her bedtime. It was if there wasn’t a guy having vodka and vicodin poured down his throat so Doc could stitch him up.
I clear my throat before reassuring Maddie that her teacher was still on her side, “Tomorrow, I’m gonna walk you into your new classroom. Michelle – I mean Miss Springer – is gonna send your homework there. If you’re good for the rest of the quarter with no more fights, no more cursing, you’re gonna be back in there. You think you can handle that?”
Maddie lights up, her eyes beaming with hope. “Fuck yeah!” She looks distraught as she catches herself, “Oh – shit – I mean, heck yeah!”