A feeling between us buzzing louder than the bug zapper outside the garage window. Preppy walked backward to the bed, pulling me off the wall and dragging me with him. He fell onto the mattress with me in his arms and I had no choice but to straddle him, my short skirt riding up my thighs exposing my panties. Feeling his giant erection pulse against me sent a jolt of pleasure shot directly through my core and tightened my thighs around his torso, feeling the ridges of his abs against my hands as I dragged my fingers down until they were untucking his shirt. I moaned, loud, uncaring of who might be right outside the door. If this was our last time together, I wasn’t going to hold anything back. My nipples tightened to the point of pain. My panties were drenched, my thighs were shaking with anticipation. I was breathing hard, higher on his unique scent, woodsy soap and pot smoke, than I’d ever been on H.
For a while he just stared at me, his own breathing labored, with a look so intense I bit my lip and had to look away. He pulled me back to face him. “Look at me, Dre. There’s something I have to tell you. Something I’ve been wanting to say since the night we met.” I held my breath, hoping he could fix whatever it was between us before it was too late. Brushing my hair behind my ear, he breathed, “You have epic fucking tits.” I fought the urge to giggle when I realized that he’d changed his mind and decided against telling me whatever it was that was on his mind. His brows were drawn together in the middle of his forehead as he continued to stare into me. He moved his hand from my ear to behind my neck and pulled me down closer, inspecting my face like he was searching me, but I realized that was wrong. He wasn’t searching me. He was memorizing me. My heart sank. I felt naked and exposed, although I was fully clothed. I tried to look away, but he held me firmly in place, his thumb tracing the line of my jaw. Instinctively, I leaned into his touch. “You really are fucking beautiful, Doc.” He tightened his grip on my neck and pulled me down, lifting his head up off the mattress, meeting me halfway and crushing our lips together.
Preppy was funny, outrageous, ridiculous. Before that very kiss, the last way I’d ever have described him was “soft.” Yet, when he molded his lips to mine and his tongue found its way into my mouth and he groaned when it connected and tangled with mine, it’s the first word that came to mine. Soft, yet firm. He knew what he wanted from our kiss and he took it, just like he’d wanted me and he took me. His fingers tangled in my hair as he pulled me fully down on top of him, my breasts pressed firmly against his hard chest.
He was relentless in his pursuit of my mouth, his facial hair brushing against my face in another sensation that had me writhing on his lap, needing more of him than just his hands and mouth. He held my waist with one hand and lifted his hips, pressing his very hard and very large cock against my exposed panties, causing my entire body to shake with need.
I clenched my thighs around his waist to hold him closer, holding him against the spot I wanted him most, my core tightening suddenly and unexpectedly. I yelped into his mouth, but he didn’t stop for a second, didn’t pause, didn’t ease up on me.
I didn’t know if he was trying to fuck me or trying to kill me but, either way, I knew after that night a part of me would be broken.
Preppy was very much like heroin. Being with him sent me into a state of euphoria, free from the trap of my own thoughts, my past, free from anything and everything on the outside of that little room. Outside of us and our tangle of limbs.
He was an addiction. I craved him, and I wanted more.
But just like heroin, the high was all a fucking lie. I believed he was good for me when in fact, he was worse than any drug.
The door opened and Bear stepped in, setting down a half empty bottle of whiskey on the nightstand. He reached for his belt buckle. “Prep, you watching?” he asked, with a big smile that reached his sparkling blue eyes which were half lidded with both liquor and lust. I was still straddling Preppy as his eyes roamed over my body. “Or you want me to show you how it’s done?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
PREPPY
My cock was rock fucking hard. So hard that I was in physical pain. A beautiful kind of torture I never wanted to end.
Bear’s words snapped me out of my Dre induced fog. What the fuck was I doing? I brought her in here to tell her everything and walk away from her so she could live a normal life. This was supposed to be done. Over. So why was there this annoying narration in the back of my mind telling me it was only just the beginning?
Dre was looking from Bear to me, still straddling my lap, her perfect tits heaving up and down, pressing her fingers against her swollen bottom lip, and I knew she was waiting for me to tell him to get the fuck out but that would just prolong the inevitable. This needed to be over and it needed to be over now.
“You first,” I said to Bear. Dre’s head snapped to me but I looked away, not wanting to see the look of surprise and disappointment on her face, or maybe because I didn’t want her to see my heart fucking breaking, which I was sure was written all over my fucking face.
I lifted her off my lap and my poor hard cock practically weeped over the loss of feeling her warm cotton covered pussy through my pants. As I got up and leaned against the wall, I ignored my rapidly beating heart and tight chest, chalking it up to all the dry humping we’d just done.
I chanced a glance over at Dre, who was leaning forward with her hands against the mattress. The look of disappointment and surprise I expected was definitely there, along with something else. Dre was looking at me with her head tilted to the side, squinting like I was very small or very far away.
That look could’ve meant she was thinking about knitting or aerospace engineering, for all I fucking knew. All I knew for sure was that she’d be running out that door in the next few seconds, pissed to all hell and cursing me to the devil, and that would be the end of that.
The end of us.
She’d hate me, but that’s something I would just have to fucking deal with. It’s not like she’d be the first chick I’d pissed the fuck off. I’d rather her hate me for this than the truth.
My stomach flipped.
I leaned against the wall, suddenly ornery as fuck, crossing my arms over my chest. Bear slid his thick leather belt from the loops, dropping it to the floor with a clank. He approached the bed, shoving out of his boots as he pushed his jeans down by the waistband, stepping out of them when they reached the floor, shaking them off his foot, kicking them over to the side.
Why was she still there? Why the fuck wasn’t she already turning tail and running for dear life?
I stared down at the floor and waited for Dre to run by, cursing up a storm inside my mind. But still, she remained. When I heard the mattress dip and the springs squeak, my eyes shot to the bed where Bear had positioned himself on his knees behind my girl, running his fingertips down her shoulders and arms. He moved her hair to the side and pressed his lips to her skin and STILL she didn’t run.
When our gazes met, I knew that there was no misreading what she was saying with her gleaming black eyes. The bitch was calling my bluff. Her lips quirked up on the side, challenging me as she leaned back into Bear’s touch, her eyes never leaving mine.
What in the holy-ever-loving-fuck.
This bitch wants a challenge, fine, she’s got it.