fourteen
1.5 YEARS AGO
Gloria Walton
Laughing, I raced across the room on tiptoes and leapt onto the bed. Colt scooped me under him in one motion, kissing me with no hesitation, no pretext. We were both here for the orgasms and we both knew it. Five minutes later, I was riding his face like my life depended on it.
When I finished, he flipped me over on the bed and put me on my knees. “That’s it,” he coaxed, easing his pierced cock into my dripping entrance. “You’re fucking perfect. I wish you could watch how good you look taking my cock from the back.”
He pumped into me from behind, slowly at first, and then faster once I’d warmed up. I adjusted my position, pressing my knees together, and he groaned and thrusted harder. “Can you feel how deep I am?” he asked, his breathing labored.
“So deep,” I whispered.
“I want you cum with me,” he said. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
When I did, he rammed deep into me, leaning in until the piercing at the top of his cock was pressed to my rear entrance. He slid a hand under my lower belly and pressed gently. I let go, pressing my face into the pillow dotted with rose petals and crying out as the orgasm took me. Colt grabbed my hair, yanking my head back.
“Don’t hide your face,” he growled. “I want to hear those noises. Make them for me, butterfly.”
I obeyed and let out the helpless, embarrassing noises in the quiet room. I felt his cock throb thicker, and his cum spurted into me. He groaned, grinding deeper, our bodies clenched together until it faded. At last, we collapsed on the bed, Colt still on my back, his cock still buried inside me.
“Fuck,” he said. “Why is your pussy so good? I swear I could fuck you all night, but the way I cum with you takes it out of me.”
“I offered snacks last time,” I managed. “You shot me down.”
“Well, we’ve got champagne for sustenance,” he muttered against my shoulder. “But that would require getting up, and I’d rather lie here until I die of starvation than pull out.”
“I’ll bring snacks tomorrow,” I said, smiling into the pillow.
“There’s a tomorrow?”
“There’s always a tomorrow.”
The next night was Thursday, and I knew I should get sleep since we had a game on Friday, but everything else in my life seemed to have faded in importance. Yes, I was a pathetic bitch, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him from the time I woke up, achy and sore between my thighs, to the time school let out. He was on my mind as I dressed in the morning—would he think I looked hot today?—and at lunch when I saw him slip out a side door near the café. I’d never noticed before because I never really noticed him before except when he crossed my path and my position dictated I make a disparaging comment or give him a dirty look, but he didn’t eat in the café with everyone else. Not even at Dixie’s table.
When I passed him in the class we shared, I gave him a haughty look, and he countered with a knowing smirk that made me want to scream at him to stop being so obvious. But maybe he wasn’t being obvious. Maybe he always looked at me that way when I gave him dirty looks. I just wasn’t hiding anything then, so it didn’t seem so blatantly sexual. I slid into my seat a few rows back and to the left, adjusted my skirt, and tried not to feel the tenderness between my thighs from the several rounds we went last night. Colt turned his head and winked at me, and I wanted to fucking strangle him I was so furious.
He grinned and turned back around, and my heart flipped like a fucking fangirl who just got singled out at a Zane Wilder concert. What was wrong with me? I needed to get my head in the game, tell Colt he had to be more discrete than that if he wanted to keep meeting in secret. But all I could think about was that smile, those lips… What they’d done to me last night.
The memory that rose made me press my knees together and duck my head to hide the flush rising in my cheeks. A second later, my phone lit up with a text.
Squirming in your seat for me, Butterfly?
Rushing to delete the message, I fumbled my phone off my desk, then had to dive for it like a wide receiver trying to recover his fumble before someone picked it up and saw the screen. I scrambled back into my seat, my heart racing, feeling like a fucking mess as I flipped my phone face down and tried to collect myself. Colt’s shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. I pressed the button to power off my phone, fuming with rage that he thought this was funny. He should’ve been the one shaking with fear at the possibility of someone finding out.
Dixie walked in with Eleanor, and my heart died a little. Dixie sat with Colt, and Eleanor slid in next to me. I was glad it was her, because Everleigh was more shrewd and might notice something was wrong, might notice that I was looking over at Colt’s table where he was sprawled in his seat, his legs spilling into the aisle, his muscular thighs straining against his navy slacks. I knew how powerful those thighs were, how hard they could drive his cock into me.
I shivered and tore my gaze away just as Dixie leaned into him to point out something on his laptop screen, her cleavage on full display and pushed right up against his arm. My “perfect”—as he called them—little C-cup boobs couldn’t begin to compete with hers. She must’ve had an F-cup. She giggled at something he said and gave a flirty little toss of her head, and suddenly, I didn’t feel sorry for her because he dumped her. I wished she was on the cheer squad so I could accidentally-on-purpose kick out her teeth while I was dismounting.
Fuck her. I didn’t feel bad for her. For two years, she’d gotten Colt, with his piercings and his rose petals and his dirty mouth and dominance instead of violence. Though he’d been a loser since we moved here, he used to play football. He still had the body of an athlete, and a tongue that frankly should be illegal. He may have been a nine-fingered weirdo outcast with neck tattoos, nicotine-stained nails, and an unpredictable temper, but he was better than all the kings of the school combined.
I wanted to fucking cry when he didn’t pull back when Dixie pushed her thigh against his under the desk.
“Are you even listening to me?” Eleanor asked with a huff.
“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I was just thinking about Royal.”
I said it quietly, but I hoped Colt heard and felt as conflicted as I felt seeing him with Dixie. And even though I knew jealous bitch was a bad look on anyone, I couldn’t help the ugly feelings. I kept telling myself it was stupid. We were fuck buddies, and I’d learned the hard way not to fall for those. I wasn’t even sure we could call ourselves that much. We’d only hooked up twice.
But god, I wanted to rip him out of her clutches and put a giant “Do Not Touch” sign on him.
I pictured what it would be like to be her. What would it be like to have been with him for two years? To have known him when he was the star, to see him dragged down from the highest to the lowest, and love him through it all? I didn’t just hate that she had him. I hated that he’d had her love all that time while I was too caught up in my own world to notice he was more than what people said about him.
I’d even told Dixie that I didn’t understand why she was hung up on him, that she could do better. Now I understood exactly what she saw in the loser who smoked under the bleachers, the outcast with a missing finger and burn scars on his hand. And as much as I hated it, I could understand what he saw in her. She was loyal. She loved him unconditionally. She hadn’t treated him like shit for an entire year.
I was prettier than her, but I didn’t care about being pretty. Not when it meant I drew the attention of the Dolce boys while she got Colt. I knew I was an ungrateful bitch. Mom always said appearances were the most important thing. I was lucky that I fit the beauty standard that checked the most boxes where boys were concerned. My boobs weren’t the biggest, but I wasn’t flat. My ass was tiny, but it had the right shape instead of being a pancake. I had toned abs, pretty hair, and a face that, with the right makeup, was probably an eight.
But none of it mattered if the guy I wanted would rather be with someone who didn’t check any of those boxes.
By that evening, I was determined to stop feeling sorry for myself. I built my resolve and snuck into the kitchen to fill a tote bag with snacks. Tonight, we’d have more than champagne to keep our energy up. Smiling to myself, I crept across the lawn and into the pool house. After I set out the snacks, I connected my phone to the speakers and turned on some music, keeping it low and not putting on anything too romantic. I didn’t want to give him the wrong idea, make him think I was falling in love or anything.
I slipped into my cheer uniform top, skirt and shoes, leaving off the bloomers. When I saw his shadow beside the pool, I spread my legs and started touching myself. He stepped inside and pulled the door closed, his eyes already blazing with lust. “Fuck, I could see you from out there,” he said, striding to the bed.
“See something you like?” I asked, circling my clit slowly with a fingertip and biting my lip as I watched his hooded eyes follow the motion.
He climbed onto the bed, spreading my knees as wide as they’d go and licking his lips, his gaze fixed between my thighs. “Don’t stop. Spread that pussy like a butterfly and finger yourself until you’re fluttering like one.”
“Keep talking,” I said through panting breaths. “Tell me what you want me to do.”
His lips curled into a smile, and he unzipped, pulling out his cock and stroking his thumb over the tip, hitting every piercing. “Show me how the bitch queen cums when she’s at home thinking about me,” he said, stroking himself. “I’m going to cum all over you, and then you can suck the cum off your fingers while I wreck that sweet cunt with something a lot bigger than a finger.”
The anticipation made me hot all over, and it didn’t take long. He knelt up over me, spurting hot liquid over my hand and between my thighs. Then he told me to lick it off, and while I obeyed, he pushed more into me with his fingers, then rubbed the rest into my skin like lotion, coating my inner thighs and lower belly.
“Don’t shower until after the game tomorrow,” he commanded. “I want to know my cum is on your thighs while you’re cheering for Royal at the game.”
Even though usually the thought of something like that would disgust me, I loved it. It was dirty and hot, just like him. I wanted to bathe in his cum, wear it inside my clothes when no one else knew. He did something to me, made me someone else. Or maybe he just let me be who I was, with no expectations. At school, even at home, I had to be on all the time, had to be the untouchable bitch, the flawless daughter, the malevolent queen who conquered Willow Heights.
The only person I was real with was Royal. That was probably why I loved him. And now, with Colt, it was the same but better somehow, even though we barely knew each other. I let him see me, and unlike Royal, he really looked. He looked and he didn’t judge. I didn’t have to be anyone with him, to be special or elite or perfect. For once in my fucking life, I didn’t have to try to impress someone. He was so much lower than me on the social ladder that I didn’t care what he thought. I could be myself, and he wouldn’t hate me. He’d already seen me at my cruelest, and he was here anyway.
He was here in the bed with me, eating Funyuns and not telling me what they’d do to my breath or my skin or my waistline. He laughed when I sang “Lover” and swayed across the room to the music, turning around and coyly flipping up my skirt so he could see my bare ass. When I was done teasing, I took off my shirt so he could touch more of me, but I kept on my skirt and shoes when I climbed onto the bed and rode him until we both came again.
“What happened?” I asked, running my fingers over the backs of his arms, where he had a bandage over each. “Did Royal do something to you?”
He smirked and peeled up the edge of one of them, turning his arm and flexing his triceps. “Just a little new ink,” he said, showing me the four, black, crescent moon shaped tattoos.
“What is that?” I asked, staring at him.
“Just a little reminder from Sunday morning.”
“Colt…”
“Don’t get all sappy,” he said, leaning in and scooping me up, his arm around my lower back. He laid us down on the bed so we were lying facing each other. “But if you’re feeling like doing something for me, anal’s always a good way to show your appreciation.”
“I can’t believe you got my fingernail marks tattooed on your arms,” I whispered, feeling unaccountably emotional about his gesture. “That’s… Permanent.”
“Relax, it’s not like I got your name tattooed on me. Any bitch I fucked could scratch me up while I’m fucking the stuffing out of her. I just wanted the reminder of what a stud I am.” He leaned forward and gave my nose a quick kiss. “Don’t worry, Butterfly. I know this isn’t long-term.”
“What if it was?” I asked, running my nails down the ink on his chest. He wasn’t bulging with muscles like Royal, but he was sculpted and hard, every inch an athlete.
“Then you’d deserve the title Ice Queen, because you made hell freeze over,” he said. “Now why don’t you use that mouth for something more useful than comments like that? If I can’t get anal, I at least deserve a BJ for wearing your mark on my skin for the rest of my life.”
After I obliged him, we ate Oreos and drank the diet soda I brought, though he pretended it was killing him and insisted it made men’s dicks shrink. When he said he’d bring real soda next time, my heart turned into a gooey mess of pure honey. Why had I never noticed that the words “next time” were the sweetest promise in the English language?
Just as we finished snack break, a light went on upstairs in the Montgomery house. My heart stopped, and I dove from the bed, my feet tangling in the blankets. I fell to the hardwood on my hands and knees, but I barely felt it. I lunged across the room and hit the lights, my heart racing a million miles an hour.
Colt didn’t say anything. He was still sitting on the bed.
“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Get the stereo!”
I didn’t wait for him to move, though. He might not know where I set my phone. I crept across the room in the dark, the only light from the pool outside. I grabbed my phone and disconnected the Bluetooth, wincing at the pop the speakers made when the music stopped. Then I stood there, my heart pounding, the last words of the song still echoing in the silence.
“You may say I’m a dreamer…”
It was a dream. A beautiful, sexy dream, and now it was over. I felt my breath hitching at the cruelty of our fate.
“Come here,” Colt said quietly, patting the bed.
“We should go,” I said. “Get out of here before they come out. Where’d you park? Could they see your car? They’ll know someone was here. Even if we can get everything in the dark, there’s crumbs all over the bed—”
“And cum all over the bed,” he said. “They’re not coming out. Someone probably woke up to go to the bathroom. Look, the light’s off again, and no other lights went on. That means they didn’t come downstairs. They went back to bed. Okay?”
My heartbeat slowed, and I sank onto the bed, shaking all over. Colt sat up and started rubbing my shoulders, and I leaned back into his warm chest and closed my eyes. He was right. I tried to steady my breathing, to get my racing heart under control, but my lashes were wet with tears.
“We can’t keep doing this,” I whispered. “We’ll get caught. We have to stop.”
“I can’t stop.” Colt slid his hand around my throat, and my pulse exploded instinctually. I survived Baron Dolce for a year, and this was how I’d die?
But Colt’s hand was warm and gentle, moving up to my chin and pulling my head around toward his. He angled his mouth down, his kiss calming me the way it always did.
“Is that what you want?” he whispered against my mouth. “Because if it is, I’ll try not to fucking stalk you like a psychopath. But you got me hooked here, Butterfly.”
“Don’t you mean pinned? ” I teased, so relieved at his words I wanted to bask in them forever.
“Yeah, that too,” he said, stroking a strand of hair behind my ear and kissing the back of my head. “Maybe I’m the fucking butterfly here. Are you watching me struggle for your own amusement?”
“Colt,” I said, turning in his arms and linking my hands behind his neck. “I’m struggling too. I don’t want to stop, but we can’t get caught.”
“So, we don’t fuck in your neighbor’s pool house anymore,” he said, his arms sliding around my middle as he held me on his lap. “We do it at my grandpa’s treehouse, which is fucking epic, I have to say. Or we do it in the car like regular teenagers.”
“That’s where regular teenagers do it?”
“Not very glamourous for the queen, but I wouldn’t mind bending you over the seat and fucking you like a regular slut.”
“Hey,” I protested. “Don’t call me that.”
“Okay,” he said, nuzzling my cheek. “Though you shouldn’t be offended by it. If anyone here is a slut, it’s me.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “I’ve only been with four guys. What’s your number?”
“More than four,” he said, laying us down on the bed and reaching under my skirt. “And you should be glad for that, because believe me, I didn’t get this good by practicing solo.”
“Who says you’re good?” I teased as he stroked my swollen lips. The spasm that went through my thighs when he touched my clit betrayed my words, though.
“Your full-body orgasms,” he said, and I could hear the gloating smile on his face. He slid a long finger inside me and started stroking me the way he did, hitting the spot that made me see stars. “The way you’re dripping wet for me every time. The fact that you have the three kings of Willow Heights lined up to drill this greedy little cunt, but you’re here begging for my cock instead.”
“Oh god,” I moaned, spreading my knees and lifting my hips, needing more than a finger inside me. I hated his smug attitude, but he was right, and I was too hot to argue. “I’m close. You’re so good with your fingers.”
“We talked about this,” he said, pulling his hand away. “Only my name on your lips when we’re together.”
“Okay,” I said quickly. “Colt. Please. I’m almost there.”
“That’s better,” he said. “Now turn over and show me that tight little ass. I want my queen crawling on all fours like a beggar while I fuck her tonight.”
“No anal,” I said quickly.
He chuckled. “Definitely not a slut. Now kneel and show me how good you can beg for me.”
I turned over, but I was still nervous. Colt pulled my hips toward him, pushing my knees as wide as they’d go. “I’m going to turn on the light again,” he said. “This is too good not to see.”
“No,” I protested quickly. “They might see it from the house.”
“They went back to bed,” he said, getting up to turn on the low lighting. “Mmm, look at you, my perfect little queen on her hands and knees, dying to get railed by a ruffian like me. Now do as I say and beg for it if you want it.”
“Please,” I said, my thighs shaking with trepidation even as my core trembled with need for him. He’d gotten me all warmed up, pushed me right to the edge, and my need to finish was like an addiction clawing up inside me. If he said no one would see us, I believed him. I wanted to keep doing this, didn’t want it to end, so I chose to trust him, hard as it was to trust anyone.
It wasn’t just the orgasms making me stupid. It was him, being so close, so full of him, the way he was rough but never made me scared. I was desperate and I didn’t care if he knew it. I reached behind me and spread myself shamelessly for him. “Please, Colt. Fuck me the way only you do. I need to feel you inside me again.”
He climbed onto the bed, kneeling up behind me and grabbing his shaft. He tossed my skirt up and pressed a hand to my lower back, pinning me to the bed with just my ass in the air, my knees spread wide. I could feel the heat of his body against my needy flesh, and a throb of anticipation went straight to my core. I was so ready I wanted to scream.
“Good choice on the uniform, Butterfly,” he said, teasing me by dipping just the tip in and then pulling out. “It’s been a while since I railed a hot cheerleader. You make me feel like a fucking king again. Now be a good girl and stay just like that while I pound you so hard you wear my bruises on your ass for a week.”
He rubbed the head of his cock up and down through my slit, from my clit to my ass, coating his skin with my arousal before nudging gently at my rear entrance.
My whole body tensed up, and tears instantly pricked my eyes.
“Please,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes closed and clenching my fingers in the sheets. “Please don’t put it in the back. I hate that.”
“Relax,” Colt said, dragging his tip up and down against my slippery entrance. “I wouldn’t do anal without asking.”
I nodded, swallowing past the ache in my throat. “Please don’t surprise me. It hurts so much, and I’ll get blood everywhere.”
“You should send the Dolces your therapy bill,” he grumbled, sitting back. “They’ve really fucked you up.”
“Just put it in,” I said. “Please, Colt.”
“I can’t just ‘put it in’ when you’re in the middle of trauma dumping,” he said. “You’ll be all locked up.”
“I don’t care.”
He sighed and grabbed my hips, pulling me up onto his lap. I could feel the thickness of his hot length pressed to my ass even through my skirt. He snaked an arm around my hips, pulling me tight against him, and tugged my hair aside with the other hand. His warm breath against my skin sent tremors through me as he dropped soft kisses along my spine, adding a little nibble here and there. He moved his arm up to just below my breasts and stroked my bare nipple with his thumb while he kissed the nape of my neck, his lips tugging at the fine hairs.
I sighed and leaned back, reaching up to slide an arm around his neck as he licked at my skin and pinched my nipple. I arched my back, grinding against him. I was still turned on, but I didn’t expect him to understand all the contradictory things that happened to my body during sex.
“When you’re ready, I want you to put it in,” he murmured against my ear, his breathing labored. He buried his hand in my hair and tightened his fingers in the strands, holding my head immobile on his shoulder. “I’ve already fucked you tonight, so your cunt should be a loose, sloppy mess. If I feel any tightness at all, I’m going to pull out and leave you thinking about it until tomorrow. And you’re not going to go home and take care of it yourself. Do you understand me, Butterfly?”
“Yes,” I breathed, squirming against him, hot all over from his words.
“That’s my good girl,” he said, his smooth voice roughened by an edge of command. “Now, I’m going to let you reach down and finger your cunt to make sure it’s ready for me. When it’s nice and loose, I’ll fuck it full of cum again.”
I was panting and begging by the time he let me rise up on my knees, position his pierced cock at my entrance, and slide down onto it. Tears of relief blurred my vision when I felt him stretching me open and filling me. I rode him until my thighs burned, and then he stopped me, pulling my back against his chest. Without pulling out, he settled me on my hands and knees again, taking control and driving into me from behind.
When he was close, he grabbed a fistful of my hair, dragging my head back with one hand and pressing the other down on my lower back. “You look so fucking gorgeous taking me from behind,” he said. “Now finger your clit for me, Butterfly. I want to know you’re feeling as good as I am when I cum so deep inside you it’s still leaking out of you tomorrow night at the game.”
I obeyed, losing myself in the bliss of his pierced cock sliding to the hilt inside me with each pass, his powerful thighs driving him deep into all the places my fingers couldn’t reach while I took care of the places they could. His fingers dug into my hips as he held on, slamming into me with brutal force that made the bed rock and squeak in protest under us. With a guttural groan, he locked his hips against mine, and his cock throbbed thicker, and then I felt his hot cum filling me. The sensation pushed me over too, and I pulsed around him, as if I could pull him deeper still.
“Fuck,” he muttered, and at first I thought it was the way he usually swore when he was done, and I thought how funny that I already knew that. And then I let my eyes flutter open, and through the tangle of hair over my face, I saw a figure standing outside the windows.