by Teagan Kade
She licks her lips before rolling them over the balled head of my member.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Her mouth feels unbelievable, lips spread wide to take my cock but already my girth is straining her jaw.
Her ponytail bounces up and down as she blows me, wrist rolling as she rings the base of my cock with her hand, moving my shaft up into her mouth as my balls knock lightly against her throat.
She stands, my cock glossy from her hot mouth, and walks behind me, hands on the bedroom door, her perfect ass facing out.
That’s it.
Desperation gets the better of me. I run into her slick-wet hole with my three fingers, delving into her warm vagina, reveling at the wetness.
“Yes,” she moans, head forward. “That feels so fucking good.”
The cussing threatens to overwhelm me. A good girl talking dirty is usually game over, but somehow I manage to hang onto my load.
My fingers slide out of her. I place them in her mouth and she takes them, sucking her own cum off my fingers until they’re chicken-bone dry. I reach around and cup her breasts, her nipples rosy diamonds against my palms as my member slides between her ass cheeks.
Willow’s all of five foot. The way the head of my monster cock slides up against her spine is obscene, but still she mews and begs for more.
And then she says something truly unexpected.
“Slap it,” she cries, groaning. “Slap my ass.”
I laugh. “Are you serious?”
Her head turns and the look she gives me leaves no doubt that yes, she is—very serious.
“Are you sure?”
She faces the door. “I said, slap my ass.”
If you say so.
I take the palm of my hand and whip it across her supple ass, mesmerized by the way her cheeks barely moves.
“Again,” she exhales.
I swat her again, across both buttocks now, each globe turning a vibrant, cherry red.
It takes all my willpower not to lower my cock and run it inside her petite body, but still I hold, letting her run this fantasy out.
My hands move down and I cup her mound, fingers working at her tiny clit. She quivers against me, grunting and grinding down as her fire-streaked ponytail whips back and forth.
She’s panting when she speaks. “Give it to me.”
I play along, shifting forward to whisper at her ear. “Give you what?”
“Your cock,” she stammers. “I want your cock.”
“Where?”
“In my pussy,” she huffs.
She’s desperate, sweating and shaking with need.
I squat and press my cock down until it’s flush against her opening.
With one thrust I bury my shaft deep into the hot channel of her pussy.
She grunts, feet practically lifting off the ground, my giant member looking comically supersized wedged in her tiny cleft.
She hasn’t even taken half of my length and already she looks like she’s about to come.
“You’re so fucking big,” she moans.
My cock twitches in response, so, so close to losing it.
I press my chest against the smooth skin of her back and ride a little deeper inside her, tight, wet folds pressing against my dick soft and warm, my balls pulled and strained painfully tight.
My brow folds with sweat as I fuck her in short, sharp strokes, my hands on the top of her ass as I squeeze her cheeks together. Her breasts mash against the Yankees poster on the back of my door, ‘Bronx Bombers’ in bold letters right where her nipples are flattened.
We’re both racing to climax, but I’m determined to make her come first. I spread her cheeks wide and hilt my cock deep inside her hot pussy, her welcoming body taking each battering thrust as we slap wetly together, my balls clapping against her ass with each stroke.
“Harder,” she pleads. “Fuck me harder.”
I comply, my hips leaping forward and my breath quickening as my head falls against her shoulder and I take in the strong scent of sandalwood just below her neckline.
I pummel her tiny frame against the door, cock buried so deep inside her I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get it back out.
She’s slick with excitement, folds open and her arousal wet on the insides of her thighs as I hammer her home.
Her breathing deepens against the door, each inhale dragging like it’s her last. She’s building, close.
I pump into her with rapid thrusts as sweat gathers on my body, dripping down her back and the cleft of her ass, bodies soaked as we rise together.
“Give it all to me,” she begs. “Give me every inch of your hard cock.”
I cleave my fingers right into her crack and splay her open, burying all eight, throbbing inches into her hole. Her buttocks are firm and warm against my hands, bouncing back and forth. For the first time I notice there’s a little love heart burned into the spot just above her ass, a blemish amongst the perfection. It sends me into instant fucking overdrive.
I rail her with everything I have, clutching at her stomach with one hand and holding her back with the other as she takes my entire cock. I all but break her spine.
All she can get out now is a constant ‘ah, ah, ah,’ as I come against her, the very root of my cock buried in her folds.
I’m too close. I pull out and spin her around, lifting her under her thighs and driving back inside. Her pillowy breasts compact against my chest as she moves her face forward, hot tongue snaking between my lips and tasting of everything that’s sweet and good in the world.
I lower my head and lick at a nipple, lapping at the crystal-like droplets of sweat that have accumulated there. I squeeze her breasts with my hands, knead them together as I kiss the soft sweep of her neck, face caught on the pixie strands of hair that fall from her forehead.
I rock powerfully up into her small body.
My back strains and my spine tingles as I burrow deeper and deeper inside her, making us into one writhing creature as her eyes close and her lips pop open in surprise as her orgasm arrives. Her mouth opens into a solid ‘O,’ tongue bouncing provocatively as her sex squeezes and spasms around my cock.
“I’m going to…” I announce, before I bottom out inside her and release. She digs her nails into my back as I pump forward with a final stroke, a long, prolonged moan from my lips as I fill her.
Her eyes snap open as her climax wanes. There is joy there in its purest, primal form.
Slowly, I let her down, legs shaking and frail. I don’t know if she’ll be the same again after that onslaught.
I sure as hell hope so.
She looks down. My cock remains painfully erect. It hasn’t lost an inch of length.
She gets down onto her knees and pulls on my cock. Her mouth opens.
“Willow, you don’t have to.”
I see the desire in her eyes. “I want to.”
I let her take my milky cock in her mouth, my shaft gliding over the velvet surface of her tongue and deep into the back of her throat.
I hold her face against my groin and stare up at the light bulb. I don’t fuck her. I don’t even move back and forth. She simply slides a finger into my ass and hooks it downwards as I somehow, impossibly, I find release again.
She takes it all, looking up to me with those wide, jeweled eyes, a puppy with her fleshy-moist mouth open and waiting.
She lets a thin trail of desire sit on her tongue before swallowing it away, giggling.
She wipes her mouth. “I can’t believe I just did that.”
I collapse onto the bed, hands on my head. “Me neither.” I lift up. “And the spanking? What was that all about?”
She collapses beside me. “Sorry. I got swept up in the moment.”
“Don’t get me wrong. It was hot as hell, I just didn’t expect…”
“A hot, sexy temptress to be hiding under this nerdy exterior?”
“Precisely, though I always knew you had it in you.”
“You did?”
>
“Oh, yes. I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you there was a kinky beast in there waiting to be unleashed.”
She rolls over onto her belly, watching me with inquisitive eyes. “Maybe next time you can put it in my ass.”
I almost choke. “What did you say?”
She rolls back over laughing. “You heard me. Slugger.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
WILLOW
A lot’s riding on this exam tomorrow. I study as much as my eyes will allow, finally deciding to head off to the showers once the letters start to blur together.
Asher and I decide not to see each other the night before this next round of exams. The text I receive from him listing the many things he’s going to do to me tomorrow night doesn’t help. I actually have to Google one of them to make sure it’s not some kind of Peruvian animal.
I’m smiling as I make my way down the hall to the floor’s communal bathroom, towel underarm.
Its midnight, so the bathroom is largely abandoned. I prefer showering late anyhow, having the place to myself.
I select a cubicle and undress. The shower blasts down over my body. I run my hands through my hair before placing them against the wall and watching the water gather around my feet. I’m tempted to run a hand between my legs, do something to temporarily stifle the intense need there, but no, not now, not here.
Get through tomorrow and he’s all yours, I tell myself.
My scholarship’s not out of the danger zone yet, but I’m confident, thanks to Asher’s help. If only he could sit it for me.
I shut off the shower and step out, but when I reach for my towel, it’s gone.
The hell?
I step out of the cubicle completely naked and hear a telltale click.
I cover myself by reflex, one arm over my breasts, the other pressing down between my legs.
It’s Taylor. She’s holding up her cell in one hand, my towel and clothes bundled under her arm.
My worst fears are realized.
She pockets the cell and smiles at me. She’s standing in front of the door, the only way in and out of the bathroom. “Well,” she says. “Now I really don’t know what Asher sees in you. Looking like a Twilight cast member is so ’08.”
I stand up straighter but continue to cover myself. “What do you want, Taylor?”
Someone knocks on the door. “Hello?” they call. “Is anyone there? I need to pee.”
I go to shout, but Taylor taps her pocket in warning.
“Hello?” the mystery girl calls again, an exasperated sigh before she gives up and leaves.
I look past Taylor to the door. She’s locked it. “I want you to stay the fuck away from my boyfriend.”
She’s lost it. What’s she planning to do here? Murder me? I scan for a weapon but come up empty.
Stall her. “Asher’s with me now, simple as that.”
She smiles wide, taking a step forward as I stand there shivering. “You know the thing about Asher, Willow? What he says and what he wants are two different things, and what he wants is me.” She circles my body with a finger. “This? He’s just trying to make me jealous, appreciate him.”
“You’re delusional.”
“Am I? You’re the one who thinks you’ve actually got some kind of relationship with him. News flash, bitch, but he’s using you. He’ll come back to me when he tires of your pale little pussy. He knows what’s good for him. We’ve got a future planned, big dreams.”
I’ve got to get out of here. I extend a hand. “Can I have my clothes, please?”
She holds up the bundle in her hand. “These clothes? Come get them. Let’s see what you’re really made of.”
God, it’s like a scene out of Mean Girls. I’m waiting for Lindsay Lohan to stroll in. “I’m not going to fight you, Taylor. Can’t we be adults about this?”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Adults? You are the one being immature here.”
I almost reply ‘am not’ until I realize I’m falling into her stupid game. I’m not going to give her what she wants, but I am concerned about the picture she took with her cell. If that gets out, I’m screwed. I’ll be lucky if she hasn’t texted it to her entire contact list already.
“Help!” I shout.
She laughs again. “Oh, Willow. Willow, Willow, Willow.”
“You’re crazy,” I say.
She nods. “You bet your skinny ass I am. Say it. Say you’re going to break up with him or I send my pretty snapshot to everyone on campus.”
“I’m not breaking up with Asher, Taylor.”
She lines my clothes up with a puddle on the floor and drops them, crossing her arms. “What a shame.”
“Help!” I call again, loud as I can.
Nothing.
An idea strikes me.
I let my arms fall. “Alright, Taylor. You want to fight? Let’s fight.”
I charge at her. Given the sudden widening of her eyes, this is the last thing she was expecting.
She turns on her heel, making for the door, but I’m already there, driving her up against the wall beside it.
I make myself appear as wild as possible, jamming my arm under her throat, pressing up as close as I can stand to. I channel Amanda, the wild teenager who never backed down from a fight. “Leave me the fuck alone.”
There’s definite fear there before she pushes me back. I go with it, hiding one hand behind my back like I’ve got a weapon, frantically trying to work out what to do next.
“You’re dead,” she says, before the door to the bathroom swings open, the hall director standing there with a key. A girl, who I assume was the one needing to pee, at her back.
The hall director sees Taylor first. “Taylor? What’s going on? This isn’t your floor. It’s not even your dormitory.” She looks to me, sees I’m naked, eyes darting to my clothes on the floor. “Is everything okay here?”
I crouch and collect my soggy clothes, holding them in front of myself. I look to Taylor. She’s seething. “Yeah. The door got jammed, sorry.”
The director widens her eyes at me. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “We’re fine. Honestly.”
I clip Taylor on my way out. She whispers, “You’re fucking dead,” as I pass.
Heads that were snaking out of doors disappear as I walk to my room.
Back in safety, I press myself against the wall breathing hard, gasping for air. I knew Taylor was a little off-kilter, but she’s well past that now. She’s dangerous.
I sit on my bed, placing the soggy pile of clothes beside me. From it, I take out the cell I managed to swipe from Taylor’s pocket when I was pressed up against her.
That’s right, biatch.
She has no idea what I used to be. I shoplifted for fun back in those days, never even got caught.
I hold Taylor’s rose-gold iPhone in my hand. The first thing I do is set it to flight mode.
My finger hovers over the home button. Should I?
What the hell?
There’s no passcode lock on the phone, not that it would have been a problem given Amy’s penchant for phone snooping. I found that out the hard way when I accidentally left my cell on the desk one night.
I go to the gallery first and permanently delete the shot Taylor took of me. Scrolling through the rest of the gallery reveals selfie after selfie, followed by countless photos of her and Asher, but Asher doesn’t look happy in any of them. He seems more peeved than anything.
Worse, many of the recent photos have old shots of Asher pasted in, bad chop jobs of the two of them on yachts or in exotic locations stolen from Instagram. It’s actually pretty sad.
There are videos of the two of them, but I’ve seen enough. Instead, I go into Messages.
It’s insane. Every second one is to Asher, hundreds and hundreds of them in the last week alone, shifting between profuse apologies to all-out anger. There’s not a single reply.
Asher blocked her number when we first started going out. Why hasn’t she got
ten the hint?
That’ll do. I tuck the cell away in my drawer and dress, trying not to dwell on it.
I’ve got far more important things to worry about than Taylor Vaughn.
*
“Wow.” That’s Asher’s reaction when I tell him about what went down last night. I made sure to wait until after our exams. I didn’t want to distract him in any way.
We’re at the Grindhouse, a light breeze forcing the odd napkin to swim and dance through the air. I usually prefer to sit inside, but it’s nice out today.
I look around expecting a knife-wielding Taylor to leap from the shrubbery, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
Asher shakes his head. “I mean, I knew she was insane, but this is next level, like Kanye crazy. What do you want me to do about it? I can talk to her, try to get her kicked off the squad, maybe—”
“No,” I cut in. “It’s not worth it.”
“What about the picture? You said she took a picture of you when you came out of the shower, right?”
I look around again to make sure no-one is watching, taking Taylor’s cell out of my pocket and sliding it across the table.
Asher scans the area before picking up the cell, eyebrow raised. “Holy shit. Is this what I think it is?”
I nod. “I swiped it off her in the bathroom.”
Asher looks surprised. “You swiped it off her? Like what? A pickpocket?”
“Something like that. Call it a skill I perfected at the mall during my more turbulent years.”
He continues to shake his head. “And just when you think you know someone.” He holds the phone up. “You deleted the picture?”
“I did.”
He flicks through the screens. “You know she’s got a ‘Find My iPhone’ app here, right?”
I take the phone back, looking down in horror. “Crap.”
He holds out his hand. “Here.”
I hand it over and he stands, throwing the cell as hard as he can into the man-made pond on the far side of the quad. “Find that, you fucking psycho.”
I’m speechless for a moment. “Okay. That’s that then.”
“You don’t want to get caught with that thing, trust me.”
He’s right.
I pick up my coffee, my hands still a little jittery. “What about you? Are you okay? You know, not being able to train and everything?”
