I can’t tell if I’m hoping so or if the thought makes me furious.
She didn’t know it was me. She allowed a stranger to touch her. To fuck her. To make hercome.
She should’ve chosen the bullet. Instead, she spread her legs like the whore she is.
And yet, now... she’s calling my name.
I can’t tell if I want to kiss her again, or strangle her.
No. Easy. Don’t wake her. Stay calm.
Huffing out ragged breaths against her chest, I watch her bring her fingers to her mound, tense with the thought that those should bemyfingers. But instead of touching her, I watch.
She moans again, louder than ever, her index finger searching for her clit.
She’s so fucking wet. Bet she still tastes good down there, too.
She’s so frustrated she’s practically crying, writhing around, unable to make herself come, her mind a prison to whatever filthy dream she’s lost in.
“Quill...” she groans again.
Without thinking, I snake an arm around her upper body, heavy against the hair spread out around her like a halo, in a position that feels far too much like a hug. My mouth is inches away from her stiff nipple, and it’s all I can do not to run my tongue over it.
Her fingers are clamped against her pussy, unable to bring her release. I know if she were awake, she’d be telling me to hurry the hell up and fuck her. That is, if we were back in high school and the past three years hadn’t happened.
My bossy little cricket.
I grit my teeth at the sappy nickname I gave her the first time she came all over my face, chirping exactly like a cricket. Then I go back to watching, the shadow of a smirk on my face, as she gives up at last, whimpering loudly, her entire core clamping from her frustrated need.
Good. She’s suffering. Iwanther to suffer.
But the sight of her coming all over my gun was too intense. It reawakened everything. It made me wish it was my cock she was drenching with her cum, instead of my gun.
But I’m good at repressing my urges. After all, she’s still alive and kicking, isn’t she?
Exasperation causes me to grab her fingers roughly and bring them to my mouth. Damnit. If she were any less of a heavy sleeper, that would definitely have awakened her.
Luckily, she’s still asleep, even snoring lightly, as I suck her fingers in, tasting her juices. Just as delicious as ever.
It’s hard to leave them. It’s hard to get up and stuff her breasts back into the hideous onesie.
I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have gotten so close. I should have stayed in the closet. But I guess there was no harm done. She’s sleeping as deeply as ever. She’ll never know.
I turn around quietly, cross the room, and put my hand overthe doorknob, preparing to turn it, when I hear a rustling of bedsheets.
Then the sound of her sleepy voice.
“Quill?”
Fuck.
11
Piper
Fifteen years old
Here comes Pissed-off Piper! Pissed-off Piper! Who’d you piss on today, Piper?
