Now, he’s looking at me like I’m his. Not just my body, but my mind, my heart. I’m his, not just to own, but to love.
I want to show him how much that means to me, but instead, my stupid mouth blurts out, “But you’re apparently not getting a cent from your dad, so I don’t see how you can buy me a new phone.”
His eyes darken, and I bite my lip, wishing I could take back those words. “Quill,” I stammer, “I wasn’t trying to overhear, it’s just…”
After a short pause, he kisses me again. “I’ve got my first contract coming up, and I’m going to spend it all on you.”
No, no, no. I don’t want him to kill for me, if that’s what he means by contract. I’d make my dad pay for a thousand phones before I’d want him to spill one drop of blood.
I’m shaking my head furiously, but he merely deepens the kiss, ignoring my frantic reaction. Then he draws back suddenly and says, “What’s your favorite movie?”
“Uh…” I’m not much of a movie watcher, plus, I’m kind of taken aback by the sudden turn in conversation. “I guess anything with a good mystery. I like mysteries.”
“Yes, you do.” He gives me another kiss before flipping over, his hand reaching for the remote control that’s on the floor beside the bed. Then he turns on the TV.
Oh, okay. We’re watching a movie now? I’m kind of intrigued by this new, nonsexual way of spending our time together, but at the same time, just being near him makes my hormones go intooverdrive, so this is definitely a disappointment.
“What aboutyourfavorite movie?” I ask, leaning back on his one pillow, wishing he’d replace it with his arm. But he’s sitting up, flipping through the channels until he finds something that looks mystery-ish.
“My favorite movie is your favorite movie,” he says simply, as he turns to me with a wicked look in his eyes. “Anyway, I won’t be watching.”
I frown in confusion as he tosses off the comforter that’s already loose around me, nudges my thighs apart then settles himself between them.
“Take your shirt off,” he orders, and blushing, I do as he says. Then I look down at him, but he adds, “And keep your eyes on the movie.”
It’s hard to follow that instruction when I feel his tongue suddenly lick my folds. “Quill!” I squeak out.
His hands travel up to tweak my nipples hard, and he growls, “Behave, cricket,” before giving me another lick.
I’m already squirming around beneath him, between the pain searing my nipples and his tongue licking my folds, when one of his hands leaves my nipple to travel to my butt and pinches it even harder.
“Eyes on the screen,” he threatens again, and swallowing a protest, I train my gaze back to whatever stupid, boring movie he’s just put on.
But it’s definitely hard to stay focused on it as he continues to lick and suck at my folds, his tongue darting inside me to touch the part of me that makes me buck desperately, his hands keeping a firm hold on my nipple and butt. He’s squeezing them hard enough that it already hurts every time I writhe and arch at his touch. But when I invariably turn away from the screen from my nerves exploding at what he’s doing to me, he punishes me by pinching me even harder.
It doesn’t take long for me to feel the orgasm build up in me, but just when I reach the peak, he draws away sadistically.
“Quill!” I blubber, squirming in frustration and trying to reach down to give myself the single touch that would be enough to get me hurtling over the edge.
But he practically crushes my nipple and butt cheek in response, and it takes every ounce of determination I have to keep my arms at my sides.
“You moved outside when I told you not to, and you eavesdropped,” he breathes into my folds. “You’re a very naughty cricket and I’m going to punish you all night long.”
“Not like this!” I protest. “Give me a spanking or something! Don’t punish me like this!”
But Quill is already back at my folds, turning my core into liquid heat as he resumes his torture. And once more, leaving me hanging just when I feel myself explode.
“Qui-i-ill,” I whine, as he instead directs his attention to my thighs, nipping at me painfully, then takes each of my stiff nipples in his mouth, rolling them around over his tongue, before biting down on them just hard enough that I yelp.
He keeps tormenting me until I’m sweating, my whole body tense at the continued denial. He’s still going when the movie finishes, and I wonder how the hell he’s got the stamina to continue his relentless torture. His jaw must be aching, but clearly, the boy I’ve fallen in love with thrives on driving me frantic.
I’m lying back on the pillow, panting heavily, my body aching with the need to orgasm, when he at last says, “Do you want to come, little cricket?”
I’m closer to swearing than I’ve ever been in my life. “F-f-freaking yes.”
“The punishment’s not over,” he warns, and I just have time to wonder how the hell he can possibly punish me by making mecome, when with just a few swipes of his tongue, he’s sending me crashing over the peak of the wave.
“Yes, Quill, God, yes, keep going!” I’m not even thinking straight, keeping his head pushed down against my folds. His hand has let go of my nipple and he thrusts three fingers into me, prolonging and deepening the orgasm until I wonder if I’m actually going to pass out.
