For once, I can’t think of a thing to say, merely returning his long, drawn-out kiss, biting down on his lip nearly as hard as he bites on mine.
But then, I suddenly hear the sound of a car driving up on the other side of the house. I try to scurry away. But his fingers are still spearing me.
“I’m not finished with you,” he mutters darkly.
“Your dad!” I squeak. “He’ll kill me if he finds me here!”
He draws me to the side of the house, using his fingers inside me to guide me, and I’m blushing furiously at that new and creative way of leading me around. Then I freak out when I hear his dad’s voice from inside.
“Quill? Where are you?”
Quill pushes me down on the cold ground and clambers on top of me, while I turn my head to see my panties and jeans, lying a little further away, in what feels like the very center of the back lawn.
“My clothes!” I hiss at Quill, but he’s a lot more unbothered than me. His lips twitch into a small smile as he swipes at my still soaked pussy, then rubs the moisture between his fingers slowly, hungrily staring at its weird elastic texture.
I shiver, both from cold and from nervousness as his dad repeats, “Quill! Are you in your room?”
His feet pad down a hallway and I try to clamp my thighs shut and get up, but Quill pushes down on me again and forces my thighs wide open. I groan, hiding my face, certain his dadis about to see us like this. Seemelike this, the poorest, most unpopular girl in Astley, her legs spread for his son.
But Quill doesn’t seem worried at all. If anything, the fact that his dad could find him at any time makes him hard again. He licks my wetness off his fingers, then plunges them once more into my pussy, making me moan in spite of myself.
“We should… go,” I hiss out, every word a struggle to speak as he thrusts hard into me. “Your dad!”
His other hand finds my clit and massages it as I twitch under him desperately, trying to keep myself from coming again, trying to stay focused on the threat of his dad looking around the house for him.
“Please, Quill,” I gasp.
With a squelching pop, he removes his fingers from me and puts them instead in my mouth. I scrunch up my nose at the taste, but he pushes them in all the way, practically making me gag.
“Qumpph,” I manage, his fingers hitting my throat before he withdraws them slightly, only to push them in even harder.
“Suck me,” he orders in my ear.
I never thought sucking on Quill’s fingers would make me horny, but before I know it, I’m sucking as if my life depends on it, while he thrusts into me hard. I close my eyes, picturing it’s his cock, picturing myself licking that little bead of precum I saw on the tip of it the other day. In spite of the looming threat of his dad as he marches around the house, looking for Quill, I feel myself forming a big wet spot against the stone patio that surrounds the house.
I actually groan in disappointment when Quill’s fingers leave my mouth, but it’s only so he can duck between my legs. He gives me a lick that has my entire body shuddering.
“Quill!” yells out his dad. “Where are you? I see your bike out front. I need to talk to you.”
Quill clicks his tongue in impatience, which makes my folds vibrate weirdly. Then he pushes back his head. I groan again and arch toward his mouth, even though I was just pleading with him a moment earlier to stop.
“Out back, Dad!” he says, his voice a bit muffled from being only an inch away from my pussy.
I widen my eyes as he casually goes back to licking the wetness from my folds, unbothered by the fact that his dad might actually now… go outside and find us.
“Are you nuts?” I huff out, but then, his mouth finds my clit, and I forget everything but the way he sucks it in, his teeth lightly grazing it, as sparks of electricity course through every one of my nerve endings, making my toes curl again.
Still, my thoughts go straight back to his dad when I hear his footsteps grow louder, and the porch door swings open. I shut my eyes, torn between the mindnumbing sensation of Quill sucking on my clit, his two fingers back to pumping inside me, and my fear of his dad finding us.
A fear that somehow makes everything Quill is doing to me all that much better.
What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong withhim, because he’s clearly getting off from the risk of being found out, same as me?
I can just make out his wicked grin as he continues to suck my clit, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick up the cream from my folds, while his two fingers fill me, thrusting into me wildly.
By some crazy stroke of luck, the porch door swings shut again, and it’s clear by the sound of his dad’s feet padding around in the living room that he’s decided against going outside.
“Come in. I want to talk to you.”
