Page 48 of He Hate Me

I stare up at him, looking like a giant from this angle, his pale face glowing bright in contrast to the black of his hair and clothing. The damp concrete is cold under my knees and rough.

“Take me out,” he whispers, releasing my hair, and I comply, unbuckling his belt with stiff fingers and easing his zipper down. I reach into the opening and fish him out, the engorged shaft resisting the motion. Seeing him up close for the first time I’m flummoxed. His size is unimaginable, so huge that I want to laugh hysterically at the thought of it fitting inside me, and it’s still growing, getting stiffer. I take it in both hands, caressing the velvety soft skin with my curious fingers.

“Kiss it,” he commands. His voice is breathless, his touch gentle on my face.

I hesitate. There’s a mix of asking and telling in his tone, and I don’t like being bossed around. But my curiosity wins out. I lean in tentatively, my tongue flicking out and lapping at him, tasting him. He’s sweet, and clean, with undertones of sea salt body wash from a recent shower. It’s not gross like I thought it might be. I think I like it. Brandon groans above me and pushes my head downwards, forcing me to take more of him into my mouth. I suck on the head, eyes watering, then back off for air before repeating.

He smells strong here—soap and musk and the all-consuming scent of arousal that fills my lungs, making me dizzy. I use both hands to stroke his shaft, working them in time with my lips, trying to please him. His cock is too big for my mouth, but I do my best, focusing on the tip. Brandon’s grip in my hair tightens as he pushes himself further into my mouth, his hips rocking in a primal rhythm as he fucks my mouth. His breathing escalates, and he grunts and groans above me, the noises he makes only heightening my confusing arousal.

Suddenly, he grips the back of my head and pushes himself so deep he hits the back of my throat. My gag reflex kicks in, and I start to cough, spitting out his cock and gasping for air.

“My bad,” he says, stroking the back of my head. "Is it too much?"

I shake my head, struggling to catch my breath, a brief coughing fit seizing my lungs. As soon as it’s over, he tips my head back, examining my face.

“Open your mouth,” he says. It’s not phrased as a question, but somehow I know that if I wanted to stop, he’d be fine with that. I don’t want to stop, though. “Stick out your tongue. As far as you can. Don’t look away.”

Eyes locked on mine, he lays the tip of his cock on my tongue. “Suck.”

I close my lips around his glans and suck, using my tongue to tease the underside of his cock. He pulls me forward gently, just far enough to fill my mouth, but not enough to make me gag. My jaw aches from the strain. He fists his cock and pumps the shaft, like he’s jacking off into my mouth.

“Eyes on me,” he says, when they start drifting closed. It’s intense feeling him in my mouth while we stare into each other’s eyes. I can see his pupils dilate, the flaring of his nostrils as his breathing gets rougher. His fist speeds up, just missing my lips on each downstroke. I feel him swell in my mouth, taste his essence as he gets closer to orgasm. His jaw tenses and his erection jumps, blasting jets of seed into my mouth. I’m not prepared to swallow, but there's so much it fills my mouth until it spills down my chin and wets the front of my pajamas.

He lets me go and I spit, finding the taste unlike anything I’ve had before. It’s salty, with notes of bleach, and I don’t think it will ever be my favorite thing.

He helps me to my feet and kisses me on the cheek.

“Thank you. That was great.”

“I didn’t know what I was doing. I choked.”

“You did good. It’s so hot how into it you were. I want to make you feel good now.”

“You don’t have⁠—“

“Can I touch you?” His gentle tone surprises me. Every nerve in my body is buzzing.

I nod, realizing I can’t find my voice. His fingers find the waistband of my pajamas and slip inside. He swears softly when he feels how wet and swollen I am. In less than a minute I’m gasping for air, and riding Brandon’s hand. He is not inexperienced, or if he is, he has an amazing natural talent for fingering. I bite down on his pec so I won’t scream and when my legs give out, he holds me up and drives me to the edge of sanity.

The kettle is screaming when I stumble inside, and I can only count my lucky stars that neither of the parents came down to check. My pajama top is stained with his come and my bottoms and underwear are soaked with mine. My pussy is still so sensitive I can barely walk, but if I’d stayed outside any longer, I would have died by orgasm. Brandon’s all put back together, smoking a cigarette with hands that smell like me. I turn off the stove and head upstairs. I’m pretty sure I’ll have no trouble falling asleep now.

Eighteen

Brandon

Devin and Tanisha are sitting on the other side of the breakfast bar picking at something boring like bran flakes. Other than saying good morning, they've pretty much ignored me, which is fine by me. If I'm going to be honest they probably stopped trying because I answer them in monosyllables.

I wolfed down my egg white, spinach, and turkey sausage omelet ten minutes ago. The half a whole wheat English muffin sits in my plate like a friendless orphan. Deja hasn't come down yet. She's not late yet, but she's not going to have a lot of time to eat. She's probably tired from last night. I find myself smiling and tamp it down. No point giving the Thompsons a reason to engage.

I have nothing to do while I wait but think. Holy shit, last night was incredible. It's not like I've never had a blow job before, but the way she looked up at me with her cock in her mouth, the sensation of her hot, tight mouth, was better than anything I've ever felt. I guess it's true what they say about it being different when you really like someone. I can't even tell you why I like her so much. She is gorgeous and sexy of course. And smart and athletic. But there are a ton of girls at Briarwood like that. I mean of all the people to feel this way about it's a girl who used to bully me? I don't really care though. The past is the past. In the present I spend way too much time thinking about her and counting down till I see her again.

I don't know what I'm thinking. I should be so happy, but there’s doubt gnawing at the back of my mind. Do I mean anything to her, or is it just sex?

Sex is great, right? I mean why does it matter how she feels as long as we're fooling around. She let me shoot in her mouth. What more do I want? I want to fuck her, obviously, but that's not what's bothering me. The truth is that I like Deja a lot, but does she like me back? Or am I just convenient?

Trying to distract myself, I unlock my phone and start scrolling. On Mello's social media there are a bunch of pictures from homecoming. There's a group shot of him, me, and Von with our dates that I like. My date, Lisa, is standing in front of me. She's petite, barely coming up to my chest, with light, reddish skin, and hazel eyes that look huge in her baby face. I flip to another picture with just the two of us cheesing it up in front of one of the photo backdrops. Her curly, light brown hair is a little messy and her dimples are flashing. She looks so excited to be there, it makes me grin.

"She's cute," Devin says, over my shoulder, making me almost jump out of my skin. I hadn't noticed Tanisha leave or him get up but he must have been passing behind me on his way to the sink. "Was that your date?"