I can imagine wiping her face clean afterwards. Washing every inch of her toned body to make sure none of my filth remains on her like a stain.
The surge of lust is welcome. It’s been weeks since I felt anything. Joy, sadness, anger. Chasing the feeling, wanting it to stay, I grasp a handful of her thick hair.
Her mouth falls open when she gasps, the lower lip so full it would be a pity to obscure it with the pulsing thickness of my cock. I need to lie her down, head back, watch that lower lip stretch to take me inside. See the bulge of her throat as it extends to swallow me deeper.
She unfurls her hands and tries to bat me away, but I take two steps forward and now her back is flat against the wall of the store, pressing against the cracked concrete and sun-peeled paint.
When she jerks her head to the side, I let my fist travel with it, not wanting to tug too hard on her hair. I don’t want to hurt her. I just want her to feel it, know that she’s only moving her head because I’m allowing her to.
“Get off me.”
I fold over the hundred and tuck it between those pert tits, then watch as her nipples stiffen at the treat, briefly mesmerised. The signals from her body are far more welcoming that the ones coming out of her mouth. “You like that, huh?”
She opens her mouth and screams for help at the top of her lungs. Fully screams. Piercing the calm of the day and wrenching it apart into chaos.
The move catches me so off-guard that I stumble backwards, tugging her with me until I work my hand free of her hair.
“Jesus. Calm down.”
I hold my hands up so anyone watching from the street can see at a glance I’m not touching her.
She pulls out the bill and throws it at me. The folded plastic note flutters in the wind and falls to the ground between us.
“Go on,” I say, unable to resist baiting her even as I expect at any moment for some passing do-gooder to intervene. That or call the cops. “You can take the money. I don’t need anything for it.” I jerk my chin at where the note lies on the ground. “Just get down on your knees like a good girl and take it.”
But she turns and stalks off, her arms folding into a tight shield again, her eyes lowered to glare at the ground.
In those heels, her feet must be killing her, but she doesn’t show any signs of discomfort.
Nothing like my wince at the throbbing need in my balls.
I leave the cash lying there and retreat to my car. I had been going to the electronics store inside the mall until I saw Em lurking inside the pawn shop. Now I’m hardly in a fit state to continue on there; enough young boys frequent the shop to make appearing there with a gigantic hard-on something that’s frowned upon.
While I wait for my dick to realise I’ve hit a roadblock and there’s no relief in sight, my eyes search the pedestrians strewn along the pavements surrounding the mall. Em stands out a mile despite her small stature. Her arms are folded so tightly she looks like she’s practising origami on herself.
Annoying girl. I shouldn’t want to put my prick anywhere near that.
I pull out my phone, seeking distraction, and instead bring up her feed. Photo after photo of her facial perfection. Not a hair or a false eyelash out of place.
Some backgrounds are from Zach’s house, the older ones showing a place I presume is her home. The pool, grounds, and elegant architecture show a disgusting degree of wealth. Better than I would have expected given the school she goes to, but that could equally apply to me.
God knows why someone with that backyard is pawning cheap jewellery on this side of town, but maybe her parents cut her off. Maybe they’re going through a downturn, and they’re cash poor.
Maybe she just wants rid of any reminders of Zach. I understand that reason best.
The only cheapness in the photos is her clothes, and that’s not a reflection of their expense. She doesn’t own a dress that hits lower than her upper thigh. Then there are the cut-outs. The dipping to waist necklines. Midriff showing more than half the time.
Good taste is a distant acquaintance.
None of it does anything to dissuade my growing interest.
I pull out of my parking spot and join the stream of traffic. There’s no fear of getting in front of her, around the mall the traffic doesn’t really flow so much as sit still, occasionally jumping forward like someone thumped the base of a gigantic sauce bottle, trying to get the clogged cars to spill free.
A few minutes later, I pull to the curb, close enough that she might spot me if she bothers to jerk her eyes to the road. There doesn’t seem to be much danger of that as her gaze stays resolutely fixed to the ground in front of her.
She turns into a service station up ahead and I wait for a few minutes to see if she comes out again, purchase completed. When she doesn’t, I restart the car and pull into the corner of the station lot, next to the trailers for hire.
I immediately spot her vehicle around the back and quickly fit the rest of the pieces together.
