I wrap my legs around his waist, as he folds my arms around his neck, then my back meets the stone once more. “I want you to come for me, sugar.” Using his body to pin me, one knee jams between my legs like he is putting me on a pedestal. I feel him shift the material of my pants, moving them further down my thigh until they are bunched at my knees, and my bare ass is exposed.
He shifts my body slightly off center, the cold air invading my vagina as the warmth of his leg moves. My breathing hitches when he drops his hand through the hole he created, and my body bucks when I feel him start to rub the head of his dick on my clit, before he pushes it inside me. I try to look down and watch, but as to purposefully be my enemy, my pants are in the way as my knees meet my chest with every thrust.
“Fuck Evelyn,” he moans before he shifts me to where I have one leg over his thigh, the other cradled by his forearm—slipping closer toward his shoulder as his free hand moves to collar my throat. It’s slow, at first, while he gets his footing, “Come on, baby. You ready to ‘pour somesugaron me’?”
Because I wasn’t prepared for him to crack a joke, I break out in a fit of ugly laughter. “Yes, Christy, I am.” He chuckles along with me. I speak once more, “Anything for you.” He takes my final words as an invitation for him to go harder. Faster. Deeper.
Just what I wanted.
His hand leaves my throat, traveling down my chest and stops at my pussy. He rotates two fingertips around my clit, then slides them back and forth, until finally he inserts them, cupping me in his hand—adding more girth as he moves them in coordination with his cock. His palm pressing into me, rotatingmethodically over the bundle of sensitive nerves. That was the final step. He is doing it so well. I can no longer fight the feeling, and I come almost instantaneously.
My breathing is jagged as I feel his cock pulsating in me. Breathy, I try to ask, “Christy, did you-” He nods, removing his fingers from me and bringing them to his lips. Inserting them in his mouth, he releases a low vibrato followed by the sound of him sucking them clean. “We didn’t have-” I try to continue.
He talks over me, cutting my statement short. “You.” He puts a hand behind my right knee, still aloft on his thigh. “Taste.” Entranced by his words, not expecting what comes next, “Fucking. Invigorating.” As he finishes his statement, he forces my back higher on the wall, wrapping my sweatpants around the back of his neck making his face—my seat.
Suddenly, he begins licking, and lapping, pushing anything that attempted to escape back in. He pulls away briefly, sticking his tongue out into the frosty air, I look down and watch it glisten with my essence. Then, after a moment, he returns and the sensation from the cold on his tongue was like a wintery takeover as he works his magic down there.
With my fingers gripping his hair tight, I meet my second release. He enhances it with a growl at the realization he finished me a second time—the vibration in his tone better than any toy I haveeverowned. “Sugar. Spice. And everything nice.” He says eachword between licks before lowering me forcing our eyes to meet, “Tell me you’ll be my girl… let me be the chemical X that completes you?”
“You-” I use the arm of my sweater to wipe his face as I giggle. “You want me to be your Powerpuff girl?”
“I mean, weed is the only enhancer I would be ok with still doing, so you can say that.” He flashes a charming smile, but it doesn’t bless his face too long. We are interrupted by a noise echoing from further in the cutout than I would dare go. “Stay here, sugar.” And with that, he is gone.
After, he emerges from the darkness of the alley, and I notice he has a new addition. Draped over his shoulder is a woman, and as they slink past me, he gives me a look, one of anger and sorrow.
We stay for a moment more, dropping her off at a tent the others said was hers. “Adelaide,” She doesn’t budge as he snaps in her face. “Adelaide, hun… wake up.” Her eyes open to reveal crisp, honey-colored eyes. As she looks at Christian, finally she speaks, “Do I know you?” Her voice is raspier than one who smoked their whole life.
He gives her one good look-over, then replies, “Not anymore.” As he turns to walk away, he kicks something hidden beneath the sleeping bag in the tent, causing him to almost face plantto the stone floor. “My father’s Louisville?” Leaning down, he picks up the baseball bat.
“Why does she have your father’s baseball bat?” I inquire.
Without even looking at me, he answers, “That is a question for another day.” He examines the object a little longer before he brushes past me to leave. “Come on.”
“Where are we headed, anyway?” I try to break the silence that fell between us. “You didn’t disclose that earlier.”
“Don’t worry about that, sugar.” He says with a sharp tone, “I’ve got a plan.”
A bit of frustration slips as I try to push for more information. “Don’t be sus now, Christy. Where-” I am cut off by some crack head looking for a fix, but I’m not scared, Christian won't let anything happen to me.Right?
Christian
“Fuck you, man!” I throw my arm up in front of Evelyn, “We ain’t got your fucking shit!” Evelyn is watching me with her dazzling baby blue eyes, boring holes into the side of my head—she is scared,and I know it. It may have been cold, which doesn't help, but a shiver from the frost and trembling with fear are distinctively different. If the Marines and an abusive father taught me anything, it was that.
The vibration of her horror soaked deep, rattling my bones and awaking an anger that had long since been caged. The bat in my hand was getting heavier as my urge to swing grew. It’s been a long time since this bat and I felt as one, and it wouldn’t be the first time it helped to make a problem disappear.
In a flash, the tweaker lunges at her like a rabid animal, and I couldn't stop myself. I shoulder Evelyn. Propelling her out of the way, taking her spot in front of the doped-out addict, as he grabs the length of the bat. We push and shove in a life-or-death tug of war, before I sweep my leg forward, and my foot meets his calf. With a quick jerk, his feet leave the pavement, making room for his ass.
His backside collides with the cement as I raise the ligneous object above my head like I'm calling down the power of Grey Skull. Then, yanking my arms back down, the weapon meets his head. Simultaneously, he drops his hand hard, and laughter erupts like the barking of multiple seals. My heart moves to my throat, but I swallow it back, relieving it from its failed attempt to flee.
The horror that plagues my eyes, as I turn my gaze, broke me. I follow his dark, empty stare. A barbed grin smears over his face, and I see he has plunged a needle so deep into her ankle that it dimples in her skin.
His eyes dart back to mine as I stay focused on the syringe clutched in his cracked-out hand. I watch as he slowly pushes down on the plunger, the liquid leaving the vial and invading her body—poisoning her. “No!” I roar, turning to facethe monster—the bastard that just signed his death certificate. He doesn't even care that he is about to get his brains smashed in. He erupts in laughter again and I kick him square in the jaw.
Choking on his blood as it pools in the back of his throat, he leans forward, spitting on my shoe. He would have already been a dead man, but her groaning catches my attention, “Sugar!” I shout, diving after her, catching her as she collapses.
“Christy,” her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Christy, is that you?”
I check her pulse, it’s quick, but something I must allot more time to, for the purpose of allowing the drug to rear its ugly face. I prop her up against the brick wall, then turn to oppose the victim about to be consumed by my wrath. “What did you give her?” I stalk toward my prey—a predator on the prowl.
