Reckless

by Teagan Kade

  I open my lips just slightly and slowly lower myself over his prick.

  His body eases fractionally as I take him in, but there is no moaning. He doesn’t grunt or make commotion. Instead, he places one hand on my head and begins to work me up and down, his hand span the size of my tiny skull.

  Screwing my hand around the girthy base of his cock, I take him deeper still, letting my throat muscles do the work now and allowing myself to adjust to his size.

  Before Payton, doing something like this would have been completely out of character, but I feel like I’m a new person around him—wild as I might be.

  I slobber and drool over his member, run my hand over the slickness and draw him in and out of my mouth, ringing and working away at his entire shaft until it’s clear that, finally, I am having some kind of effect.

  His hips tilt from the bed, the rubbery buttress of his cockhead pressing against the back of my throat. I stifle the reflex to gag and let my jaw open wider, let him fuck my mouth at his leisure.

  But this won’t be enough. An alpha like this needs control. He must be the one to finish it.

  I release his slippery cock from my mouth, let it fall flat and wet onto his chest. I lie back on the bed, lifting my legs and drawing my panties away. The crotch comes away sticky from my sex, my arousal heavy and permanent in the air as I splay my legs and expose myself to him.

  I take a deep breath and announce, “Do whatever you want to me.”

  “I intend to,” he replies.

  Driven by my words, he falls into action.

  He stands fast and tugs off his jocks, the two eyes on his chest staring me down.

  I’m lightheaded already, pins and needles at my extremities.

  His cock bobs and dips before him like a baton, balls thick as plums below.

  His hand snakes back between my legs and I melt further, lost in the sensation and newness of it all.

  I freeze, completely motionless, my breath caught somewhere in the middle of my throat.

  Yes. This is really happening. This man-god is right here, right now.

  He splits my sex with his thumb, running the thick digit inside.

  A jolt of pleasure runs up my spine.

  “It’s warm,” I stutter, chilled by the thought of why.

  He adds more, the knuckle skimming the roof of my pussy in a haunting echo of our bus trip back from the Mountain.

  A hot fever comes over me, sweat staining my brow and my labial folds so wet they offer little resistance to the foreign object penetrating my pussy.

  I had no idea it would feel this good, the way he’s caressing and using me.

  He removes his thumb and replaces it with his index finger, letting it run deep into my slickness, the sound of it plunging into the slobbery mouth of my sex arousing in the extreme.

  And I am aroused, my restraint slipping away and my body jerking in new, alien ways.

  I begin to buck and moan, losing myself to this, the control and submission of it all.

  “I’m close,” I tell him, hands clutching at the sheets and my breath catching, awareness building tight in my core.

  Just as I peak, so close to climax, he withdraws, reaching forward to take hard hold of my thighs. He pulls me towards him and presses his cock down towards my open pussy.

  It’s impossibly hard.

  With agonizing slowness, he guides himself inside me.

  I let out a long and guttural moan, my shoulders snapping together behind my back and my skull pressed deep into the pillow. The feeling is indescribable, the heat and warmth and wetness spreading throughout.

  Half-submerged in my heat, he reaches down and tears my shirt apart, the buttons pinging against the wall. My bra receives the same treatment so my breasts are exposed. My nipples are fiercely tender and hard, towers of sensation rising from dimpled areole. Sensation runs between them and my sex, wet and throbbing.

  I moan, my temples thudding and heart racing heart, still unable to believe this moment is real.

  It is. He’s inside you.

  He takes my thighs and presses them forward and down, folding me in half and at the same time stroking to the very back of my pussy.

  I gasp aloud, thirsty for more. A desperate, must-be-fucked-inside-out flood of arousal flows from my core.

  He draws back and drives me hard into the bed, his body a hammer.

  “Uh,” I moan, a guttural ejection of sound as the sensation strengthens and builds into a crushing crescendo.

  I focus on the swirling pleasure he’s bringing, the deep and all-consuming ecstasy he’s bringing my senses.

  Again he comes, pounding me with a brutality and strength I haven’t known before.

  I close my eyes, the hard lines of his body caught in a halo in my mind.

  He fucks me harder, pounding into my upturned rump and driving himself to the hilt with every thrust. He shows no mercy, increasing both rhythm and speed until I’m flapping and convulsing desperate to find release.

  I close my eyes and see the universe there, a floating cosmos.

  He is an expert of manipulation, fucking me to the edge before pulling his cock free. With one hand under my back he flips me over onto my knees, forcing my legs apart and running the butt of his hand up into the hot apex of my sex. He saws it back and forth there, lets my desire coat his hand.

  “Payton,” I whimper, under his complete power.

  Suddenly, he raises his hand and sends it flying into my ass cheek.

  The shock of it startles me.

  I turn in shock. “Did you just spank me?”

  It’s naughty, but I like it—the fresh sensitivity it brings.

  I give a jerk and he raises his hand higher, the next smack coming louder and harder. With his free hand, he holds the next cheek in position, flattens and kneads it into shape so that the flat of his hand receives full coverage.

  “Uh,” I grunt, thrown forward once more.

  My orgasm’s building, tendrils of pleasure working away from my core.

  “I told you I was going to fuck the naughty streak out of you,” he says.

  He brings his hand down and I turn my head sideways, nuzzling it into a pillow that smells of cinnamon.

  I know he’s enjoying the sting in his hand, the warmth of my ass so suddenly red and alarmed.

  I let my cries grow. He shoves half his hand inside my mouth to silence me.

  Two can play at this, I think, my competitive streak showing.

  I bite down and he finally makes a sound, winces, adding blows with new intensity.

  When he finishes, when his fingers are removed sticky from my mouth, he kneels back and admires his handiwork. Free of his hands, my ass returns to two perfectly symmetrical spheres, cheeks aflame.

  I’m a bit shocked myself how much I enjoy the feeling, the tingly afterglow of his hand.

  Below, my sex is split open, soft and yielding.

  I’ve never felt anything this intense.

  Body and soul, I am his.

  My hand is over the side of the bed, gripping onto the mattress tight.

  I turn just in time to see him pick up my panties, stretching them out. He draws my wrists together behind my back and ties them together with my lacey garment, the final twist of the knot making my pussy jerk in response. The ache between my legs is ever-present, my desire wet against the sides of my thighs.

  I’m still panting hard, the lack of oxygen causing a strange euphoria to set in. Much more and I’ll hyperventilate completely.

  On his back, he pulls me over his face, completely absorbed in my pussy. My body grows limp at this new touch, everything swirling and shifting in my head as his tongue moves in languid figure-of-eights. When it glances over my clit I almost lose it, the sensation so unbelievably intense.

  I grunt and moan, pressing down hard onto his face. He holds the back of my thighs, eyes closed and deep in the concentrated scent of my sex.

  I allow myself to relax, everything inside me beginning to unrave
l and draw long. The stress coiled in my core unwinds. From my feet to my head I prickle, the tension slipping away as I enjoy his tongue, the tight way his hands grip my thighs.

  As I grow closer, he works harder. I can tell he’s enjoying the taste of me, that it’s getting him off, too. I push aside the need to have him slide his fat cock of his inside me. There is time enough for that later. For now, it’s his tongue and lips I’m concerned with.

  One hand leaves my thigh and worms its way between my legs, two fingers sliding into my pussy while he lashes my clit. My hands twist in the lacy bonds, the knotted panties pulling tighter against the small of my back.

  His fingers slam into me, tongue pressing and exploring, his teeth lightly brushing my clit. I buck down against him, suffocating him with my pussy. He continues to finger-fuck my hole, working us both towards what we know is inevitable.

  His other hand slides higher up my thigh, works its way between my ass cheeks. Fingers in my pussy, tongue hard against my clit, he places the flat of his thumb against my asshole.

  I can’t hold back.

  My head jerks back, my legs spreading wide as I scream in arrival.

  My sex clamps down on his fingers hard, my jaw aching, my teeth compressed hard together. The climax burns through my body, my bloodstream alive.

  I shake above him as the orgasm eases off.

  I shift off his face. His eyes blink open, mouth drawing in breath.

  He throws me off him onto my back and straddles my chest. He presses his cock down between my breasts and begins to saw his cock through them. He slides back and forth, the pre-cum pearling from his cockhead the only lubricant. I tilt my head and open my mouth, take just the tip of him inside each time his cock comes towards me.

  My nipples harden into chocolate daggers, breasts tender against the velvety sides of his shaft.

  He unravels fast.

  He sucks in air through his teeth, concentrating, two hands pressing the pale globes of my breasts together and his cock plunging between them faster and faster, pillowed in flesh.

  I’m out of control, lost in a sexual frenzy.

  The filth that pours from my mouth is almost unbelievable.

  I tell him I want his cum. I tell him I want him to shoot it into my mouth, cover my face with it—his reward.

  Gently, he takes me around the throat.

  He groans, holding his cock steady. It spasms, dips and fires, hot ribbons of release landing over my chest and neck.

  Spent, he falls to the side and we lay there, panting in the afterglow of our actions.

  It all becomes too real. The light is too bright, the sensation too strong. I fear that if he even brushes my pussy I will be sent into a new string of convulsions that may well finish me for good.

  “So, breakfast?” he suggests.

  I’d reply if I could speak.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  PAYTON

  The week passes by in a sexual blur.

  I wake with my hand down Lacey’s pants. It’s fucking heaven. She stirs, half her face lit by the dappled light coming between the curtains.

  She sees me and smiles. “Am I dreaming?”

  I lift the sheets so she can see how hard my cock is. “Does that look like a dream to you?”

  She pulls me on top of her. “As a matter of fact, it does.”

  I brush her hair back behind her ear. “And here you were thinking it wouldn’t even fit inside you.”

  She lifts her hips upwards, grinding herself on my manhood. “I suppose I’ve grown to accommodate it.”

  I spot the clock. “Damn, fifteen minutes until breakfast finishes.”

  I slide down her body, tugging away her pajama pants as I go. “Don’t worry. You can do a lot in fifteen minutes.”

  *

  Hernandez spots it. “Jesus, Nelson. You’re practically glowing this morning.”

  “Thanks, Hernandez,” she replies, suddenly shy.

  I take a seat beside her and look around at the others. “What’s happening, boys?”

  Jackson leans forward over his tray. “Today’s the Worm.”

  I share a concerned look with Lacey. “What the fuck is the Worm?”

  Whatever it is, Jackson looks way too happy about it. “It’s not a nickname for your dick. I can tell you that much.”

  Hernandez shakes his head. “It’s a fucking tube, thirty feet long, only big enough to wiggle through.”

  Lacey stands, knocking over the salt shaker.

  She rights it. “I’m, ah, going to grab a muffin.”

  I head after her, catching up at the serving line. “Look, don’t stress about it. We’ve been training for this, right?”

  But I see fear when her eyes turn to mine. “Only big enough to wiggle through? I’ll never make it.”

  I place my hands on her shoulder. “You are going to make it. I’ll be right there.”

  She selects a muffin. “What have I got myself into here, honestly?”

  *

  True to description, the Worm is precisely that—a snaking section of black tubing requiring those who enter it to lie down on their stomach and wiggle their way down with their elbows. I go first, but it’s tough. It’s far tighter than I thought it would be, the absolute darkness inside not helping matters.

  I can hear the Captain lecturing the class outside as I breathe deep and push on.

  “If you think something like this isn’t going to show up out there in the field, you are wrong. Air-con systems, sewer pipes… You name it, a firefighter has used it for access.”

  I emerge covered in sweat. It’s hard to regulate my breathing, but I try to put on a brave face for Lacey. “Nothing to it,” I tell her, as she readies herself to enter the tube.

  I place my lips against her ear. “You’ve got this.”

  She takes a breath, her eyes turning steely. She lies down on her stomach and enters the tube, wriggling forward.

  I watch her disappear completely. Holy shit, I think. She’s going to do it.

  If she makes it through this, the Maze is going to be easy.

  “You alright in there, partner?” I shout.

  There’s no response.

  Shit.

  A minute later she comes backing out of the start of the tube at twice the speed she went in, standing and looking down at it like it’s the devil incarnate. “I’m sorry, Captain. I can’t do it.”

  He shakes his head and marks it down on his clipboard. “You get one more shot at it next week, Nelson. Fail that and it’s goodbye Pemberton, I’m afraid.”

  She wipes sweat from her brow. “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  “Hernandez!” the Captain shouts. “Get up my ’chute.”

  I take her to the side.

  “You okay?” I ask, delicately as I can.

  She just keeps staring at the Worm. “I’m not going to make it, am I? Be honest.”

  I stand in front of her so the Captain can’t see. “Fuck that negative noise. You’re telling me you’re going to let a piece of fucking pipe defeat you?”

  She starts to smile. “I suppose it’s back into the closet then?”

  Three more fail to make it through the Worm before the morning is done, which makes Lacey feel a little better, but I still see her hesitation.

  We’re walking to lunch when I hear Fielding’s voice from the back of the class. “I love me some tight, dark places. Ain’t that right, Nelson?”

  I turn to tell him to shut the fuck up, but Lacey tugs on my arm. “Ignore him.”

  Luckily, Hernandez has my back. “Sure, Fielding. I bet you love a tight, choir-boy asshole to sink your pencil dick inside.”

  “Why don’t you fuck off back across the border, ese,” Ryan replies.

  That’s it. Hernandez turns and rushes towards him.

  I drop the gear I’m carrying and race to join him, but the Captain manages to get there before either of us, standing in the middle of the hallway. “That’s enough, all of you. You think this was a fucking MM
A convention? You want to prove who has the biggest dick? You take that drive and aggression and you put it into training, got it?”

  I’m the first to reply. “Got it, Captain.”

  “Got it, Captain,” chimes Hernandez.

  The Captain looks to Ryan. “Fielding?”

  “Got it, Captain,” he says through gritted teeth, his eyes on us the whole time, nothing but pure murder in them.

  We separate in the cafeteria, but I know he’s watching us, calculating and scheming.

  Let him, I think. The prize is already won.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  LACEY

  I take a seat at the bar with Payton, Hernandez and Jackson flanking us.

  “Four shots, please,” Payton tells the bartender.

  “Vodka?” she laughs, winking at Payton.

  “Oh, so that’s how you want to play it?” he replies. “Real funny.”

  “Hon,” she says, leaning over the bar, “girls stick together. Consider it a reminder how to handle the savvier sex.”

  He slaps his hand on the bar. “Tequila it is then.”

  While the bartender goes to fix the shots, I turn to him.

  We kiss, basically dry-humping there by the bar oblivious to the world around us.

  I can taste him on my lips when we break away, my tongue, and I intend to taste a lot more when we get back to my room.

  But always at the back of my mind is training.

  “The Maze was one thing,” I tell him, stroking the fresh stubble on his cheek, “but the Worm... I don’t know if I’m going to get through this thing.”

  He takes my face in his hands like he’s never seen anything so beautiful. Even when he’s wearing his mask I still see those eyes beckoning me, drawing me like Aladdin to the cave.

  “You are going to make it, baby,” he says. “We’ve been training. You’re improving.”

  “Being holed up in a closet is a lot different to being wedged inside that rubber python.”

  “Is it really, though?” He taps the side of my head. “It’s all mental, and it when it comes to smarts, you’re the leader of the pack around here.”

  I sit back. “Is that so, Mr. Know-It-All?”

  He places his hands on my thighs, rubbing my legs, his fingers running further and further down into the warm crux of my crotch. “My learned knowledge only extends to the sexual arts, I’m afraid.”