I draw back and stare at her in confusion.
“Please,” she sobs, “please, keep going. Keep going.”
She’s shivering hard, tears winding their way down her cheeks. Another, smaller pang of remorse echoes in my chest as I realize she must be freezing. I hook an arm under her legs, lift her out of the water, and lay her down on the grass beside it.
“Are you cold?” I ask, pretty stupidly since I can tell she is.
But she only shakes her head, crying even harder than before.
Fuck. What do I do now? Now that I’ve discovered how amazing kissing her is, how the hell can I stop?
I can’t stop. I just fucking can’t.
I take off my hoodie, then draw her shaking form onto my lap. I wrap my hoodie around her and hold her to me. I start to trace circles on her skin, on her back and in her hair. At first it’s not to comfort her but to comfort me, because I always need to draw shapes when I’m overwhelmed. But I realize it soothes her too, so I keep it up until her sobs have quieted down. Then I lift up her chin, tilting her head back, and dry her tears with my finger, reveling again at how soft her skin is. And this time, I allowmyself to follow through on my urge of tasting them.
It makes me want to taste the rest of her.
I’m terrified she doesn’t want it, but I just can’t help but press my lips to hers again, though I try to be a lot more tender, a lot less scary about it.
And then, she starts to kiss me back, and suddenly, my entire body feels like it’s falling apart. The tension, the cold anxiety of thinking she didn’t want me, melts so abruptly that the relief makes me feel wobbly. She’s the one taking the lead now, turning around to straddle me, her hands dragging up and down my back. But soon, I’m kissing her back just as frantically, my hands hunting for all the skin I can find, before getting so impatient I pull her down to the ground and rip off her shirt.
Goddammit, she’s perfect. I run my hands up and down her stomach, cupping her breasts and tweaking her nipples. They’re already stiff, and I can’t help but twist them until she whimpers in pain. But she doesn’t seem to mind this kind of pain.
Nor does she appear to mind the bites I rain down against her neck, over her breasts and down her chest, licking and sucking hungrily against her soft skin until I’ve reached her jeans. I pull the soaking fabric off of her, and before she even has time to react, I’ve buried my face between her thighs.
I want to taste her. I want to tasteallof her.
“Oh my gosh, Quill!” she squeaks as I lick a stripe up her slit. “Quill, what is that? What are you… oh my gosh!”
“Anyone ever told you you talk too fucking much?” I growl.
She claps a hand over her mouth as I go back to her pussy. I lap hungrily at her, dragging my tongue up and down her slit until I find a little bud that has her wriggling around desperately. I pin her hands to the ground and continue to assault that place, enjoying the way she squirms in response.
If only I’d known how delicious this kind of squirming was… why the hell did I waste my time making her wriggle aroundin fear when I could’ve had her wriggling around in pleasure instead?
Then I find the opening concealed in her folds, and I drive my tongue in and out of her, watching as she spasms when I touch one particular spot. I go back to it, again and again, then alternate between that and her clit. She’s started to cry again, but this time, there’s no doubt in my mind: she wants this. She wants this just as much as me.
I have the power in me to make her body go absolutely haywire, and that thought makes me much harder than even the worst bullying session ever did. I nudge her legs apart, pinning them down along with her hands, so she’s absolutely helpless as I continue to torment her pussy, laving at her folds, pumping my tongue inside her and sucking on her clit.
Then her body goes crazy and her wetness drenches me as she bucks against me, crying out. I suck harder on her clit until at last she’s sagging on the ground, her body fully limp.
I sit up, grab her and pull her onto my lap. I hold her to me, zipping the hoodie around her still shivering body, squeezing her to me and breathing in her lemon-scented shampoo as her eyes flutter closed. Then the cutest little snore slips from her throat, and I know she’s asleep.
Monday
Chapter 8
Piper
“I’m going to take care of you.”
Quill’s words ring out in my mind like a beautiful refrain as I find myself once more lying across the seat of his motorcycle.
Only this time, he didn’t lie me down like this to embarrass me. He did it so he wouldn’t injure me.
Everything that’s happened this weekend1 runs through my mind, and I shiver from the rollercoaster of emotions that has overwhelmed me since Friday night, when Quill kissed me then gave me my first orgasm after dunking me in the freezing Astley Lake for minutes on end.
I think back to the way he snuck up to my room this weekend and then deflowered me in a way that was both more painful and more amazing than I could ever have imagined. When I came to school this morning, it was with the giddy belief that Quill and I were together. Until I saw his murderous glare in his eye, and suddenly wondered if it was all a lie.
