Now that I’ve settled the reason behind my actions in my head, I’m no closer to turning away from her.
She sees me staring at her. She’s dazed as hell. I snatch her small handbag from her and rip it open, glancing inside. Her baggie is tiny, but almost empty. I growl at her and she stands up.
“Georgiana,” I bite out.
She drops to her knees. Even before her little fingers open my fly, I know her intentions. I keep quiet and let her suck my dick into her mouth, groaning as she glides her tongue along my cock, pulling back to lick the head. My dick’s big, thick, long. It’s stretching her mouth, but she doesn’t seem to care.
She sucks me harder, looks up at me, her eyes dark. Her fingers fondle my balls and she bobs her head up and down, hollowing her cheeks, sucking me good.
She licks the tip. “Come in my mouth,” she orders, blowing me again.
I want to stop this shit, but I can’t. Her mouth is too fucking warm and soft. She’s a fucking expert. The name Crowell rises in my head. Something else he’s taught her.
I thrust as far as my dick will go, in a futile attempt to convince myself that she’s a drug addict and a whore. I have no time for her, except to use her like she wants me to. Cum jets from me and down her throat. I hold her head in place and fuck her mouth, letting her milk my dick.
Finally, I’m done. I cover my dick and move away from her. She’s raising her skirt and showing me her black thong. Pushing the material aside, she massages her clit and rocks her hips up and down.
“Lick me, Sloane,” she says, moaning.
I step between her legs and kneel. Her scent is driving me crazy. I lean over her and kiss her, moving her hand from her pussy and replacing it with my own hand. She’s sopping wet, ready to take my cock. I thumb her clit and put my fingers into her cunt hole, shocked at how tight she is. In the back of my mind, I thought her pussy had been fucked already. I now know with certainty that it hasn’t.
I roll my jean-clad dick over her tender flesh. I’m losing this fucking battle. We’re kissing, devouring each other. Her mouth tastes like cum and cinnamon. She begins to writhe against my fingers. Her body is flushed and her nipples are outlined through the material of her top.
“Sloane,” she whispers, shuddering and groaning, her pussy juice covering my fingers. I pull them away and step back. Her legs are spread wide and her pussy is red and swollen, begging for dick.
She blinks, licks her lips. “Did I make you feel good?”
“Better than I’ve felt in a long time,” I admit to her. Except the last time she wrapped her lips around my dick…and the time before that…
“Will you keep me now?”
My heart drops at the vulnerable question. She shifts, starting to cry. “You can take me. I-I promise I won’t scream. Abby said you’d keep me. She promised me.” Her lips tremble.
Women have always been my downfall. Who the fuck thought my aunt would fucking contribute?
“Crowell made me suck his dick earlier for my blow and he said I don’t know how to do it right,” Georgie continues. “That’s why he doesn’t want me anymore. He taught me, though.”
I’m going to fucking kill Crowell. I decide it, then and there. Three raps on my door, signaling I have to get my ass onstage. I go to her and pull her up. Her skirt falls into place. She still smells like me, though. Sex and cum. I don’t have time to talk to her. My music is calling, but I’m going to get Kiln to watch her. My brother’s an asshole, but he’ll do it because I’m his fucking meal ticket.
I open my door, relieved that the girls have been ushered out for now. I’m dragging Georgie along, my head filled with every fucking thought except music.
Adam is already talking. They are out there and I’m not. The lead fucking singer, not a fucking babysitter. I halt her on the edge of the stage. “Stay right fucking here, Georgiana,” I order, then yell over my shoulder, “Kiln!”
He doesn’t make me wait.
“Watch her,” I bark, thrusting her to him and jogging onto stage.
The crowd goes wild and the blood rushes through me, going right to my head. Women scream my name and throw panties at me. Maitland pounds out a rhythm and the drum beat vibrates through my body. I take my place and cradle the mike. We start out with a fast, pumping song, working the crowd up to a frenzy. I feed off that shit. Their excitement is my Manna. A girl rushes the u-shaped stage and throws her arms around me.