by Hamel, B. B.
“Look at you,” she says, smiling up at me. “I think you’re the one that wants this.”
I grin at her. “I never denied it.”
She opens her mouth and takes my big cock between her lips. It feels so fucking sweet as she sucks me slow, hands sliding along my shaft, tongue and lips sucking and licking at the head of my cock. I love watching that pretty mouth do its work, and it feels so fucking good. She’s right though, I’m hard as fucking hell, barely able to stand it myself. I don’t think I’ve ever been this hard in my life.
She starts to suck me faster. Pleasure blooms through me and I groan. I take a fistful of her hair and press her down my shaft, feeling my cock slide into her throat. She gags but doesn’t stop, sucking me faster, taking me as deep as she can.
I press her down and fuck that pretty mouth, hips sliding back and forth, cock pumping into her lips. I’m a fucking animal, wild with passion and desire. This is wrong, a fucking mistake, only complicating things for both of us, but I can’t care about that right now.
My cock’s down Cora’s throat, and that’s all I need.
I pull her back and roughly drag her to her feet. I pull her against me, squeezing her ass, kissing her hard. I stroke that pussy again with my fingers before pressing her up against the wall, spreading her legs wide.
I grab her hair and pull her head back just as I press my cock inside. She gasps, and I can see the pleasure and the pain mingling in her expression, driving her wild. I fuck her like that, pulling her hair back, cock plunging in and out of her soaking pussy. I push her just along the edge of pleasure and pain, walking that fine line, making her moans get louder and louder.
This is what I’m fucking good at, my greatest skill in life. I can make this girl come right now if I want, but I’m not ready. I want her to beg for it before I give it to her.
I reach around her hips and stroke her clit, slowing my cock. I bury myself deep inside of her, rubbing her clit, pulling her hair back. She groans in confused ecstasy, and that moan almost pushes me over the edge.
Instead, I drag her away from the wall. I put her on the bed, down on all fours, legs spread wide. I slap that ass, nice and hard, making her gasp.
“Show me that dripping pussy,” I say.
She looks over her shoulder, spreading her legs wider. She reaches back between her legs with her right hand and rubs her own pussy, spreading herself for me.
“That’s right,” I groan. “You’re a dirty one, aren’t you, Cora?”
“Yes,” she groans. “With you.”
I press my cock against her spread open pussy and slowly sink myself inside of her. She groans and presses her face against the bed as I grab her hips, nice and firm. I stroke in and out of her, fucking her pussy deep and hard, filling her up, stretching her out.
We fall into a rhythm like that. I fuck that pussy deep, slapping her ass, while her hips buck and work back against me. She’s clearly losing herself in the moment just as much as I am. I pull her hair and luxuriate in her pussy, pleasure flowing through me, my animal side taking over completely.
I pull her back and kiss her as she pumps her ass along my cock, moaning, sweating, desperate. “Wyatt,” she moans. “God, Wyatt, I’m so fucking close.”
I stroke that pussy deep and hard. I lean over her, pinning her down on the bed. “You want to come for me?”
“Oh god, please,” she begs. “I need it.”
“Go ahead. You’re my fucking dirty girl. Come on my big fat cock.”
I fuck her hard and deep and rough, losing my mind, and I can feel her whole body tense as the orgasm sweeps through her.
I can’t help myself. As her orgasm peaks, I let myself go. I explode in that pussy, my own orgasm rolling through me like thunder, and I fill her up with my hot cum. She groans, practically begging for it, waving her ass around with my cock still spurting inside of her.
Our orgasms finish together, and we collapse onto the bed. I laugh softly and she cuddles up against me. I wrap my arms around her beautiful, naked body, and pull her tight.
“It’s late,” I say softly to her after a little silence.
“Yeah,” she says.
“You should stay.”
“Yeah,” she repeats, nuzzling her head closer.
I smile to myself. “Good. Because I wasn’t done with you.”
She smiles up at me and I kiss her. I know I can’t let her go tonight. I’m not finished with that fucking tight, beautiful body of hers.
There’s so much more where that came from. This is just the beginning, just a taste of what I have in store. I’m going to make that pussy come, over and over again, until she’s begging, mouth hanging open, losing her mind for my cock.
19
Cora
In the morning, I’m sore, but it’s a good kind of sore. I get out of the shower, grinning to myself, unable to stop smiling.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt this refreshed in a really long time. I didn’t sleep all that much last night, since Wyatt kept me up. We slept together again, in that intense, passionate way he has, but we also spent a lot of time just talking.
We kept talking about the past, about the way things were when we were kids, but also about how things are now. We’ve become different people, but not that different. I still remember the guy he used to be, and I think that guy is still inside of him.
Wrapped up in all of this is the memory of Atticus, but I keep pushing that out of my mind. I don’t want to think about Atticus, as painful as that may be. I know he should be on my mind at all times right now, since he’s the one we’re supposed to be doing all this for, but I can’t let him ruin this.
I’ve let him ruin enough. He ruined my relationship with my mother, and he ruined my relationship with him. He was such a bad, destructive force for so long, and I have to get out from under that force. He’s gone now, and although I’m not going to just let all this go, I have to let him pass on.
I come out of the bathroom and smile at Wyatt. He grins at me, leaning back on his elbow in bed.
“Hungry?” he asks me.
I shrug a little. “I guess so.”
“Let’s grab some breakfast.”
He gets up and walks over, kissing me deep and slow. I kiss him back, a smile on my face. He goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth and I get dressed, unable to contain my excitement.
We go to the Great American and grab a booth. He sips his coffee and watches me while I fidget with the Splenda packets, my mind slowly drifting elsewhere.
“What’s up?” he asks me finally.
“Nothing,” I say to him. “I’m just thinking about my mom.”
“Yeah.” He sighs. “It’s a problem.”
“What can we do about it?”
“Honestly?” He meets my gaze. “You need to convince her to come stay at my motel. We can get her a room nearby, and that way I can keep an eye on her.”
I nod a little. “That would be good.”
“Think she’d do it?”
“No,” I admit. “I don’t.”
He sighs. “This is pretty common. People don’t want to do what’s best for them if it’s slightly inconvenient. I bet your mom knows she should listen, but she just… won’t.”
“I need to try anyway, right?”
“Probably,” he admits. “But you can’t get frustrated if it doesn’t work.”
We lapse into silence as our food comes. I know he’s right. I can’t let my mom get hurt just because of what I’m doing.
When we finish up, he drops me off at my car. “I’ll be back later,” I say to him.
“Good luck.” He sighs and kisses me. “Don’t take it personally, okay?”
“Take what?”
“If your mom refuses to come. It’s not you, it’s just… people don’t make the best choices.”
“I won’t.” I can’t help but smile. He’s so worried about how I’ll feel, it’s actually pretty sweet. “See you soon.”
I get in my car and head out.
I stop off at my apartment to get changed before driving back out to my mom’s place. I park the car out front and knock on the door.
She answers, grumbling at me. I recognize the way she’s frowning and smoking furiously. I’m guessing she’s hungover, probably got too drunk last night. I hate to imagine her sucking down bottles of wine, afraid that someone’s going to come and hurt her, all because of me.
“How’s it going?” I ask her.
“Fine,” she says, sitting down. “Just not feeling that great.”
I make a mental note that she’s not drinking yet, which is a good sign. Usually, she’d have broken out the vodka already, trying to cure her hangover.
“Listen, I want to talk to you,” I say.
She grumbles. “I figured that’s why you’re here.”
“I talked with Wyatt. Look, Mom, we’re not stopping.”
I sit down across from her and for a second, I think she’s going to be angry. I notice a flash of something come across her face, and I think it’s anger.
Instead, I realize that it’s something else completely. It disappears as quickly as it appeared, and I’m left a little off balance.
“Okay,” she says. “I understand.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. You’re trying to help your brother.”
“Just, last night you seemed to think…”
She holds up her hand, cigarette between her lips. “Don’t,” she says.
“What?” I look at her, surprised.
“I wasn’t myself last night.”
I blink and slowly realize that she was drunker than I realized when she came over. “Mom,” I say softly.
“I know,” she answers. “Okay? I understand. I need to quit. But I can’t. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“No,” I say, but at the same time, it is. She’s never admitted to having a problem before, never so much as admitted to having a hangover. Of course, I can tell, but she always played it off and pretended to be okay.
This is a step in the right direction, at the very least.
“Come back with me,” I say to her softly.
“Where? Your place?” She shrugs. “Can’t be better than here.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Back to the motel where Wyatt’s staying.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Why?”
“He can watch over you,” I saw.
“I don’t need minding by some kid.”
“He’s not a kid. He’s a police detective. And you do need protection.”
She grumbles again, finishing her cigarette. She stubs it out, grabs her pack, and lights another.
“Say I went,” she says finally. “How would that work? You know I can’t afford it.”
“I’ll help out,” I say. “I can pay for it.”
“Can you afford it?”
I nod. “I can make it work.”
She watches me silently for a long minute. “Why are you doing all this?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your brother… he wasn’t good. You know that?”
I sit back, surprised. “What?”
“He was rotten.” She says the words like they burn her tongue. “I’ve known it for a while. Rotten down to the core.”
“He was my brother,” I say softly.
“He did awful things. Stole from us, said terrible things.”
“Still,” I say. “He was family.”
“He was my son.” She stares at me hard. “I loved that boy with everything, but he was rotten. Why do you want to risk so much for him when he’s gone?”
I watch her quietly for a second. I can’t pretend like I haven’t wondered that myself. I don’t know why I’ve tried so hard to figure this out, when I don’t think he would have done the same for me. I think he would have gotten high and forgotten all about me if he could.
But I’m not Atticus. And I’m not my mother. I can be better than they are. I can do something more.
I can’t say that to her, though on some level I think she already understands it.
“He’s my brother,” I say to her. “It’s what you do.”
She’s silent and nods. I think she understands that I couldn’t say the truth.
“I’ll go,” she says finally.
I let out a breath. “Thanks, Mom.”
“I’ll get my things. Meet you out front.”
I watch as she shuffles from the kitchen. I feel relieved, but also something else.
I’m afraid for her. She seems so worn down, so broken, and saying that about Atticus… I think that wears heavy on her, that she thinks it. She’s not wrong, but it must hurt a lot to think that about her own child.
She meets me out by the car, a bag dragging behind her. I load it into the trunk and we’re off, driving back to Wyatt and the motel. We get there not long later and she goes down to ask for a room as close to Wyatt’s as possible.
Meanwhile, I head upstairs. I go to his room and knock, but there’s no answer.
I knock again and wait. But nothing at all. I try calling, but don’t get an answer.
I start to panic. I call again, and this time I can hear his phone ringing from inside the room, faintly but audible. I start to bang on his door.
“Wyatt!” I yell. “Wyatt!”
Pure panic takes over. I don’t think or know what I’m doing as I pound on that door. I keep imagining him broken, stabbed, shot, killed, hurt, lying in there alone and bleeding. I don’t know what I’d do if he were hurt or worse. I think I’d crumble, destroyed and broken, and I had no clue I felt that way.
I’m overwhelmed by my feelings for him. I bang on the door harder, screaming his name. I must look insane. I’ve lost all control, and all I need is to see him again, feel him again.
“Cora!” I hear the voice, but it doesn’t register. “Cora!”
I turn slowly, and he’s there, holding a pizza box.
I drop to my knees and start crying like an idiot. Relief floods me so strongly that I can’t stand. He runs over and puts the box down before pulling me against him.
“What’s wrong?” he asks me. “Are you okay?”
“I thought… you weren’t answering…”
“Shit,” he says, understand. “I’m so sorry. I just thought we could have some pizza, if your mom came.”
“It’s not your fault.” He hugs me tight, and I feel so stupid. It takes a little bit, but eventually I get myself together.
We don’t talk about it. He doesn’t mention the way I reacted, and I don’t bring it up again. But when we go to get my mom settled in, I notice the way he’s looking at me.
It’s partially fear. And I don’t blame him. I’m afraid of myself, of the way I responded like it was the end of the world. I’m emotional, pushed to the brink, and I’m afraid of how I feel about him.
20
Wyatt
With Cora’s mom safely in the motel only a few doors down from my room, I can tell she’s feeling a little better.
Although that reaction when she came to my room and found me missing… that was tough to see. I haven’t said anything about it, because I think she’s embarrassed, but I understand. This is a high-stress situation. She’s afraid the Niners are going to come after us and try to physically harm me.
I can’t blame her. She’s probably right. Frankly, I’m surprised that I haven’t seen more reprisals from them so far. I’m honestly starting to think that they’re not as scary as everyone seems to think they are. Maybe they’ve gotten soft ever since they took over this town. Nobody’s around to push back at them. It’s not really surprising, since they’re operating out here in the middle of nowhere in a small town. In the city, they’d have to stay violent, but maybe out here they can get away with being a little soft.
Still, it’s good to have Cora’s mom here. Cora herself takes the empty room next to mine, and now it feels like we’re one big happy family, except her mother refuses to spend any time with me, and basically just
sits in her room smoking cigarettes and drinking.
“How’s she holding up?” I ask Cora the next day. She shrugs a little bit.
“Okay, I think.” We’re sitting in the Great American and I have my laptop on the table top. Fortunately they have free WiFi here, which is a real lifesaver. The WiFi at the motel is horrifyingly slow, so it’s basically not useable, and I’m sick of using all my data.
“At least she’s safe, right?” I ask her.
She shrugs. “I guess.” She bites her lip. “She said something weird yesterday.”
“Weird?” I raise an eyebrow at her.
“Not weird. Just… she admitted to having a drinking problem.”
“Huh. That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, it’s just, she’s never done that before. But she’s still drinking.”
“Did you think she would change overnight?” I ask softly.
She sighs. “I know you’re right. Still, I want to help her.”
“You can. Just give it time, she’ll come around. When all this is over, she’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” She looks back down at her coffee, and I can tell she wants to say something else, but she swallows it and goes back to eating.
I decide not to press her. Addiction and her family are two difficult and painful topics for her. Atticus was killed because of his addiction, and now she’s worried her mom is going to go down a similar path, although much more slowly. I can see it in her expression, but she’s burying it, keeping it all inside.
Just like her mother, Cora needs time. I won’t push. She’ll come to me for help if she needs it.
I glance back to my computer and notice that I have a new friend request. Curious, I click it, and the face of a guy I remember from school looks back at me.
I grin a little bit. Reggie was a friend back in the day, although we lost touch when I went to school. He was a dorky guy, hung around Mitch a lot too back then. I have no clue what happened to him, so I accept his request.
Just a few minutes later, a message from him pops up. “Hey, man!”
“Hey, Reggie,” I type back. “What’s up? Long time no see.”
