Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One (King, #5)

“Oh, no, Doc. You made your bed, now you’re going to live in it.”


Before I could ask him what the fuck that meant, he leaned down and pressed his lips to a spot behind my ear that made me close my eyes and almost forget that just happened. Almost. I pushed at him again, just enough to separate his mouth from my neck, which instantly felt cold at the loss. “I wasn’t even trying to kill myself!” I huffed, still out of breath.

“You could have fucking fooled me, Doc,” Preppy spat, his eyebrows knitted tightly together and he looked down at my arms.

My chest heaved up and down. “I don’t want to die,” I tried to explain again, but the anger etched in the lines of his face only grew deeper. I needed to talk faster. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I was just…I was trying something because I don’t know how to make the pain go away,” I admitted in a rush, suddenly feeling very ashamed of the self harm I was trying on for size.

“Doc,” Preppy groaned, stepping forward he weaved his his fingers through my hair, his hand firmly gripped the back of my neck. He pulled me closer, and I stumbled forward until our chests were pressed together. His eyes were dark—pupils huge. His eyelids hung heavy and red. He sucked in his thick lower lip. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, more out of breath at that moment than I was with a train heading straight for me.

“Because, baby girl. If hurt is what you want, hurt is what I can do.”

“What…what are you doing?” I asked, as he reached for his belt and buckle, freeing it of his pants and tossing it aside.

“I’m going to hurt you,” he said, undoing the top button of my shorts and pushing his hand into my panties, cupping my sex in his warm and powerful hand. He squeezed, just a little, a show of power. “I’m going to hurt you with my lips. With my fingers. With my cock. It’s going to be the best fucking pain you’ve ever felt.”

“No!” I said, a knee jerk reaction to his words. I tried to sit up but he squeezed again, and I fell back into the grass as a sensation washed over me that had me pushing my thighs together, trapping his hand between my legs.

Preppy held my hands tighter over my head to keep me still. With a crooked smile on his face, he leaned down so his lips brushed my ear. “No doesn’t mean shit to me, baby girl.” He followed his words with a sharp bite to my earlobe that sent a jolt of pleasure pulsing through my body, tightening my nipples which rubbed painfully against my shirt. A tightening sensation ripped through my lower stomach and I felt a flushing from my core. Preppy abruptly pulled his hand from inside my shorts, obviously aware and probably repulsed at whatever had just happened down there. My face reddened when he held up his glistening fingers and stared at it in wonderment, shocking me even further when he licked his palm slowly, from wrist to fingertip, closing his eyes and groaning.

“That was the best NO I’ve ever fucking tasted,” he said, and without another word he was yanking down my shorts and underwear in one move, before climbing back up my body so we were again eye to eye, his hand back between my legs. I yelped when he pinched my clit, and although my mind was protesting, my body wasn’t, my legs falling open at his rough touch. “I’m going to own this tonight.”

At the word “own” my entire body stiffened.

Preppy leaned down and pushed my shirt up to my neck, his mouth finding my nipple and sucking it between his lips, biting harshly down on the tip and blowing on it as he made his way over to the other. Still I remained stiff. “Just tonight,” he muttered to himself. “Just tonight, this is mine.” He breathed over my nipple before sucking it into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the tip before releasing it. “I CAN’T keep you.”

“You’ve said that,” I breathed, as he pressed two fingers inside of me. “I can’t be owned,” I cried out and bucked my hips, reveling in the sensation that was even more powerful than in the cemetery just an hour before.

Preppy continued to assault me with his fingers. “No, but you will be fucked.” He worked his own pants with his other hand. Withdrawing from between my legs again, I shifted at the loss of his touch. He lifted off his shirt and there we were, in a field, completely naked with critters chirping and branches snapping. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me forward, his huge throbbing erection was pressed up against my core, hot and impossibly hard.

I tried to roll over and scramble away because I finally realized what Preppy meant by hurting me. “No!” I said, crawling only a foot or two before he was on me, his chest to my back, his mouth on my neck. He pushed my legs apart, and I groaned when he slid his length against my opening. I lunged forward but only managed to land on my stomach in the grass. Preppy fell against me, his hold firm. “But I said no,” I huffed out.

“It’s adorable that you think that can stop me.” He ran his length against me again, and I couldn’t help but buck back against him, needing more.

“But you’re going to hurt me,” I panted, referring to the massive size of his cock, which stretched well above his belly button, the tip thick and purple.

He chuckled low in his throat. “That’s the plan, Doc.” He pulled back, but only to grab me by the waist, lifting me up so I was on my hands and knees. I felt his throbbing heat and another flush of wetness left my body. Preppy hissed and again covered my body with his own. He reached around and without warning, painfully twisted one of my nipples as he roared out, thrusting hard and deep inside of me, fighting my tight entrance. It did hurt like fucking hell, but I never wanted to feel anything else ever again. It was an exquisite pain. A torturous pleasure. It was nothing I’d ever felt before.