It hurt. But with the pain came a pleasure I never expected, a jarring bolt of lightning that had my pussy squeezing his cock tighter and tighter as he fucked me harder and harder. Furiously, he pounded into me, slamming my head against the wall, squeezing my throat tighter. My pleasure escalated as he slammed into me one final time and I came and came and came as Preppy pulled out. And as he released, he screamed and cried, “Fuck him. Fuck all of them Fuuuuuuucccckkkk!” He spread my ass cheeks apart, shooting hot spurts all over my freshly fucked pussy while he continued to squeeze my windpipe tighter, until everything started to fade.
“Doc?” Preppy’s voice sounded a million miles away. “Doc!” he shouted, and suddenly the blackness faded away and the blue wall again came into focus. He spun me around and grabbed me by the shoulders. He stared down at me as if he were just realizing I was there. His pupils were still dilated, a shit ton of coke will do that to a person, but now they were focused. Intense even. “Doc?” he asked again, lifting me into his arms. He carried me over to his bed and laid me down, climbing onto the mattress beside me and pulling me against his chest.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, still catching my breath.
He lowered himself down onto the mattress, resting his cheek against my stomach, smearing the blood on his eyebrow onto my skin. “Are you?”
She shook his head against me. “I don’t think I’ve ever been okay,” he admitted. His shoulders rose and fell. His inhales were erratic, and that’s when I realized he was quietly sobbing against me. He wrapped his hands tightly around my thighs as if he were holding on for dear life. “He made me this monster. I’m sick and I’m twisted, and it’s because he couldn’t keep his fucking hands to himself!”
“He’s gone now, he’s dead,” I reassured him, smoothing back his hair from his face.
“He’s dead, but he’s not gone,” he pointed to his head. “In here, that fucker is very much alive.”
I pressed my hand over his heart which was beating a thousand miles a minute. “He’s not here, though, and that’s a start.”
Preppy slowly looked up with red rimmed eyes, white powder caked in his nostrils. “No room for him in there,” he said, resting his chin on my stomach. “Because you’re in there, and for a tiny thing you take up a fuck of a lot of space.”
My heart warmed at his admission, but it could have been his pain talking. Either way, it gave me a flash of hope that he could climb out from the depths and overcome his demons.
“I need to take care of that,” I pointed to his forehead, where the blood had stopped oozing from the wound but still needed to be cleaned and covered. I made a move to get up to go get a washcloth and a bandaid, but he stopped me.
“No, don’t go,” he pleaded, grabbing my hand and pressing my palm to his cheek. He then pressed his own palm to the center of my chest between my breasts. “Am I here?” he asked.
There was no denying that Preppy was there. Not anymore. Not after this. “You are.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, and coming from the man who didn’t apologize, it meant everything.
“There isn’t anything to apologize for,” I said, because there wasn’t. “I wanted you, too,” I admitted.
Preppy looked up at me with glistening eyes, his pupils the size of the moon. “I know what will make me feel even better,” he said, releasing me. He climbed over my body, his face hovering just over mine.
This time is was him taking my head in his hands as he looked down at me, his thumbs tracing lightly over my lips and my cheeks, his fingers threading in my hair.
“What?” I asked.
He lowered himself on top of me, the bridge of his nose brushing mine. “This,” he said, pressing his lips against my lips in the softest, most demanding kiss that ever existed. He opened his mouth and I followed, moaning into him when our tongues finally touched. The softness quickly turned to furious passion when he molded his lips to mine, and I know he was giving me everything he had in that kiss because I felt it all. His frustration, his sadness, his hurt, his desire, his anger, his confusion, but there was something else there.
Something stronger. More powerful. More everything.
Above all else, I felt his love.
He’d said he couldn’t keep me.
That didn’t mean I wouldn’t always be his.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
PREPPY
Even when Dre was at her worst, a strung out junkie on the verge of suicide, she was still a better person than I’d ever be. I knew that now, more than ever before. She didn’t need to come to my rescue, but she did. She rescued me from myself and sacrificed her own safety and happiness for mine.
I also knew now, more than ever, that I wanted to keep her. Unfortunately, I also knew now, more than ever, that I couldn’t.
I don’t know exactly how long we stayed there in my bed, locked away up in my room. For days we got up only to eat or shower. We fucked, watched movies, and we fucked some more. I couldn’t get enough of Dre or her tight as fuck pussy. I spent my time coming in and on every part of her body.
We left the house once for me to take her over to Mirna’s so she could grab some of Dre’s things and then visit Mirna, who was still in stable condition. After, we’d come right back to my place where she taught me how to make pancakes properly, using one of Mirna’s recipes while wearing this lacy red apron… and nothing else. I’m not a religious man, but I saw Jesus when I tasted those pancakes and almost cried when the fluffy deliciousness touched my lips. I vowed to her right then and there that I’d never make pancakes from a box ever again.
And then I bent her over the counter and fucked my gratitude into her.
There was no way I could ever repay her for what she did for me, no way to tell her “thank you” in a way that would accurately convey how much I appreciated her dragging me back from the depths my mother’s visit had sent me down into. So instead of using my words, I dragged her back to my bed and used my cock. My fingers. My mouth. My tongue. I made her come with everything I had, until my dick was a deep shade of purple and about to burst with need, before I would even think about tickling her woman cave with my man meat.
We did something else I liked.
We talked.
We talked about almost everything. Her family. Her school. Books. Movies. I found out she played the violin in the sixth grade and she had to talk me out of going to the 24 hour pawn in the middle of the night to buy her one, because the image of her playing for me naked wasn’t an easy one to shake.
Seeing her face light up as she was quoting Anchorman was an entirely new level of weird turn on for me.
I knew I needed to come clean with her. Things had changed. Shifted. The feelings I had for her were more than friends and more than just friends who fucked. They were just…more.
She deserved to know the truth about her dad and I planned on telling her.
Later.
She also needed rehab. Proper rehab.
But instead of bringing up what would inevitably break us, I did what I’d always done. I was selfish. I’m savoring every moment with Dre, although I knew we were fucking on borrowed time.
There was no better reminder of how short that time was when reality pulled up, in the form of roaring bike engines rattling the walls like deep thunder.
I knew we didn’t have long.
What I didn’t know was that time was already up.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
DRE