But somehow, his touch does soothe me, and after a while my sobs quiet down. The tears spilling down my cheeks cease, and he takes my chin with one hand. He tilts my head back so I’m facing him, then dries my tears with a finger before tasting them. And then he freaking kisses me again.
The kiss this time is a lot more tender, at first. He presses his lips to mine while his hand gently strokes the side of my face. But it seems to awaken something darker in him, and it grows deeper, more passionate, until somehow I’m straddling him and we’re both attacking each other, clawing at each others’ skin, kissing each other for dear life.
His hands hunt for any skin they can find, first my face, then my neck, then under the hem of my shirt that’s still plastered to my body from the wetness of the lake. Then up my stomach, my sides, cupping my breasts and kneading them, rolling my nipples between his fingers. They’re stiff already from the cold, but whatever he’s doing to them makes them actually ache. Especially when his touch gets a lot less gentle. He grabs them, twists them to the point of crushing and I squirm on his lap inpain as he keeps hungrily kissing me. But this is a good kind of pain. This is the kind of pain I wish would continue forever.
Then he removes his hands from me and I moan with the loss of him, but he only does it so he can push me back down on the ground, spreading the hoodie on either side of me before ripping my shirt off. Then he gets on his knees, crouching back to look at me.
I blush under the intensity of his gaze on my bare skin. I’m skinny and pretty flat-chested. I know girls my age usually have started to wear bras, but I don’t bother, because I don’t have much to support. But he doesn’t seem to mind, because after a moment of looking, he falls on top of me again, bringing his mouth to my neck and biting down hard before sucking.
“Oh!” I groan, but he ignores my cry of pain, and does the same thing to my chest, then to my nipple. He zeroes in on it, biting and sucking me until I feel like I’m going to lose it from the mix of pain and pleasure. Then he continues to work his way down, decorating my skin with a row of bruising hickeys. He gets to my waist and I gasp as his hands grab at my jeans hungrily, before he unzips them. I’m sure he’d like to rip them off too, but the denim is just a bit too thick for that, and I’m kind of thankful for it, because how the hell will I ever go home if my clothes are in tatters?
But I stop thinking in rational sentences when he buries his face in the space between my legs.
“Oh, my gosh, Quill!” I squeak out. “Quill! What is that? What are you… oh my gosh!”
He tears himself away from that very private place to glare up at me. “Anyone ever told you you talk too fucking much?”
I clap my hand over my mouth, barely daring to breathe anymore, but it’s not because of his words. It’s because what he’s doing to me is…
Holy crap.
It feels so weird, but I also don’t want it to stop.
His face is buried once more in my folds, and I bite down on the world’s loudest shriek when his tongue darts over them. I suddenly realize that’s where the clenching ache came from. From the place he’s now assaulting with his tongue.
The ache grows when his tongue finds a little bud, my clitoris I realize because I pay attention in health class—crap. It’s like the most sensitive nerve ending that his tongue flicks over, back and forth, then he brings it into his mouth and sucks on it and I actually wonder if I’m going to die.
I’m shaking and squirming as his hands find mine and he pins them to the ground, continuing his merciless exploration. His tongue darts in and out of me, and I start crying because it’s too much. I don’t know how I can handle all the sensations that are making my body hum with heat, the freezing wetness of the lake forgotten. I’m thrashing around under him, and he lets go of my hands just for a moment to nudge my legs wide. Then he blocks them under his arms, and his hands go back for mine.
All the while, his mouth continues to torture me, his lips sucking on my clit as his tongue delves deep inside me, touching a part of me that makes me cry out. He keeps going, zeroing in on every part of me that drives me frantic. I don’t know if he has a lot of experience—I can’t even bear to think of that—or if he’s just very attentive, and keeps doing the things he sees make me react. Whatever it is, his tongue repeatedly finds that place inside me, while his mouth sucks in my clit, and I’m going insane.
Until I actuallydogo insane, a thunderous wave crashing through me, making my body spasm under the intensity of it, then go limp, utterly spent.
It’s a far more complete limpness than when I was in the lake, because every single nerve ending in my body feels absolutely fried.
But Quill doesn’t let me remain on the grass. He grabs me and sits me down on his lap, holding me to him, zipping the hoodie up around me. A thousand questions should be crowding my brain, but instead I feel strangely empty, strangely… satisfied just to be in the arms of my bully as he holds me to him, crushing me so hard I can barely breathe. And then, randomly and suddenly—I fall asleep.
18
Piper
Present Day
“This is some real Nancy Drew shit.”
Those words are uttered by Josh as we walk into Devil Tower.
I know he’s trying to draw me out because ever since I met him just outside Astley Hotel, I haven’t said a word. He’s probably wondering what’s gotten into me, since I was pretty talkative when he last saw me. But when he last saw me, I hadn’t just gotten fucked twice in a row by my psycho ex, first by his gun and then by his cock, while I begged for more.
My thoughts are kind of elsewhere right now.
I can tell Josh is making an effort though, because he’s definitely more of a Hardy Boys fan. But right now, as we march up to the large glass desk that separates us from the rest of Devil Tower, he says, “Can I be the Ned Nickerson of your story?”
Fuck no. You’re Bess.
We stop in front of the receptionist’s desk, and I clear my throat as the woman there looks up at us quizzically. She’s got about three pounds of makeup on, her blood-red lipstick slightly smeared on her teeth.
“Can I help you?” she asks.
