He holds me down so I can’t move as he impales me repeatedly. His cock slams into me, over and over again, and I feel it all the way into my ovaries and stomach.
“Fucking take it, Cookie.”
I scream out as my orgasm hits me, an explosion of pure ecstasy causing my whole body to shake.
“Oh fuck, you’ve got a greedy little cunt. Take it.”
“I am fucking taking it, you arsehole,” I say between intense moans. My reward is a harsh slap on my arse, the pain making the ripple of my orgasm last longer, my cry louder.
“FUCK!” Owen bellows.
His thrusts becoming harder, faster, all rhythm and control gone.
He explodes inside me, his own release rippling through him in a wave of pleasure, his body twitching as he comes.
He falls onto me.
My chest is pushed into the cold counter, which is now covered in light sweat from my body. Our breathing is rapid as we both gulp down air, coming down from the intense high.
“What the fuck was that?” Owen asks, taking another huge gulp. His heart is jack hammering into my back. “I’ve seen diversion tactics before, Lucy, but Jesus Christ, that was another fucking level.”
“I. Can’t. Speak.” And I can’t. My whole body is shaking, and if it wasn’t for Owen holding me on the counter, I think I’d be a puddle on the floor.
He slowly stands up, pulling off of me. The come from us both begins to run down my leg. My pussy is still throbbing, and my walls are used and abused in the best possible way.
Owen's right….
What the fuck was that?
18
Owen - Age 14
“He’stroubled.”
“He’s not fucking troubled.” James’ angry voice echoes up the stairs like there’s a surround sound speaker in the hallway. “He beat a kid to a bloody pulp.”
Pot kettle, much?
“He needs help, James,” Maria says softly. “We need to make sure he has the support he needs.”
“You’re always too soft on him, on both of them. I mean, Jesus, she’s twelve and walks around like an eighteen-year-old. She looks like a whore.”
“James!” Maria says, shocked. “What the hell has happened to you?”
“You fucking happened,” he sneers. “You and those kids upstairs. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want them.”
He’s drunk.
As soon as we got home after the school meeting and the police station—let’s not forget that gem—he popped open a beer. He’s about six deep now, and has swapped to the spirits.
It’s not going to be a fun night.
Lucy’s bedroom door opens, and our eyes meet across the landing. She’s wearing shorts and a t-shirt, the makeup that she hides behind washed off, showing her true age. James is right. Lucy looks older than her age and acts like it, too. But when you live the lives we do, you grow up quickly.
She opens her door wider and nods her head, beckoning me in. I shake my head and continue to listen to the growing shouts.
“I can’t do this anymore, James.” I drop my head as sadness washes over me. “I can’t.” Maria’s voice carries up the stairs, broken, desolate. It’s like a stab to my chest.
