15. Sydney
fifteen
sydney
The buzzing from the front door’s intercom drags me out of a dream. I wake up gasping, clutching at my breast, before I register that I’m awake.
Sunlight streams in through the windows, and I flop back down.
The buzzer goes off again, and I groan into my pillow. But only for a moment.
The intercom is by the door, and I press the button to talk. “Who is it?”
There’s another button to listen.
“Penn,” comes the gravely reply.
I pause, my finger still on the button to listen.
“Come on, Sydney. I could figure out another way up, but this is easier. Don’t you think?”
His tone begs me to argue with him just for the challenge of it. But it would result in something worse for me, and I’m too damn tired.
I buzz him up.
He arrives at my apartment door a few minutes later, running his fingers through his blond hair. He appraises me, and I belatedly cover my chest.
“Did I wake you?”
I hum, stepping aside to let him in. He strolls in like he owns the place, his gaze skating over my things. While he does that, I rush to put on something to cover myself.
“You took something from me.”
He follows me into my bedroom, all the way across to my dresser. He pushes my hand down, stopping me from putting on the sweater. His gaze seems glued to my nipples, which are tight little pebbles in the cool air and are visible through my shirt.
“Did I?”
He tips his head to the side. “Either that, or everyone is lying about you showing up to the game wearing my sweatshirt.”
I pretend to suddenly remember, my mouth parting. “ Oh , that! Thanks for letting me borrow it.”
I point. It’s slung over the corner of my bed, haphazardly tossed there when I peeled it off and climbed straight into bed last night.
He spots it but makes no move to grab it.
“It looks good on you,” he says.
My mouth dries.
He steps in closer, fisting the front of my shirt and dragging me into him.
“No clothes is a good look, too.”
“That was a one-time thing,” I breathe.
“Oh, so the wad of cash was a one-off?” He sneers. “You got me off once, you get paid once?” He reaches in his pocket and produces more cash. “Or…”
“I don’t want that.” It comes out automatically.
He shrugs and drops it on the bed. It lands on top of the sweatshirt.
“I don’t think you get a say.” He uses the hand in my shirt to direct me backward, until my spine touches the wall. “You’re in my head, and I’d really rather you not be.”
“And fucking me is supposed to make that go away?” I let my head fall back and look at him with half-closed eyes.
There’s a very real possibility that I’m still dreaming.
“Exactly. I don’t fuck anyone twice.”
“And head doesn’t count.”
He nods, totally serious. “Now you’re getting it.”
Well, if it gets me off his radar… I shove my sleep shorts and panties down, kicking them away. My hands go to his jeans, but I only get them far enough down to free his erection. I stroke him, trying to get a better look at the ink. But he doesn’t give me a chance, instead knocking my hand aside and hiking me up into his arms.
I latch on to his shoulders. But it puts us at a perfect height.
“Guide me in,” he says.
I hope I have more bruises on my legs. There are quarter-sized bruises on my hips from Oliver—I can only assume—and I want more.
This is my greedy moment. The one where I say fuck everything else, sex is what I want.
It’s kind of liberating and scary at the same time.
I do what he says, and as soon as he’s lined up, he sinks into me.
We both groan. He keeps eye contact with me, not moving in to kiss me or anything so intimate as that. But staring… it’s like he’s looking right through me. I lock my legs around his hips, trying to get him closer.
More.
Deeper.
But his expression—or lack thereof—is throwing me off.
I let go of his shoulder and grab his chin. “If you’re going to fuck me, look me in the eye while you do it.”
He starts, blinking rapidly.
“Don’t fucking disassociate while you’re inside me,” I hiss.
“Who knew you could be so bossy?”
“If I was bossy, I’d be on top,” I counter.
He pulls out and drops my legs. In an instant, he’s on the bed with the cash in his hand. “Come and get it, then. Do the work and make us come.”
I growl. I straddle him, taking the money and throwing it onto the floor. I take him back inside me, biting the inside of my cheek until he’s buried deep.
“Maybe you’re the one who likes choking and tears.” I lean down. I pin his wrists to the bed, adjacent with his head. “Maybe you want to be choked until you nearly pass out, and that’s the only way you can come inside a girl.”
He’s not wearing protection .
For fuck’s sake.
“Condom?” I question.
He shakes his head slowly, his expression positively wicked. “I’d love to see you choke me, princess.” He lifts his chin and exposes his throat. “Just let go when I pass out so you don’t kill me.”
I could do it. I could?—
He doesn’t stop me from putting my hand on his throat. His eyes light when I put a little pressure on it, my fingers tightening and blocking the blood flow from reaching his brain. And at the same time, my hips begin to move.
I chase my pleasure and watch him slowly start to lose consciousness. When his eyes roll back, I release him and press my palms to his chest. I fuck him harder, and he comes awake with a roar.
There’s a new demon in his eyes.
I lick my lips. He lifts me off him, tossing me aside like I weigh nothing. I hit the far side of the mattress and roll onto my stomach. He’s on top of me in an instant.
I’m facedown, but he doesn’t care. He just slides back in like he was made to fit between my legs. He wraps his hand around my throat, but he doesn’t squeeze. He just keeps it there, lightly, and fucks me fast. He doesn’t hold anything back, grunting and groaning swears like he wants his audio to live in my fantasies.
His pace turns into a near frenzy, and I shut my eyes at what could be about to happen. At least you can afford some sort of birth control.
Wait—I’m thinking like I already accepted the money he threw at me. And I haven’t. I’m going to shove it right back at him as soon as he leaves?—
“Fuck,” he groans, and then there’s the loss of him.
Warm liquid hits my ass. More on my lower back. He shoves my shirt up, crisscrossing my skin with his cum.
I want desperately to catch my breath, but I think he’s broken something in me.
It isn’t until he shifts lower, his exhale coasting across my center, that I flinch.
He holds me by my ass, and his tongue touches my enflamed, sensitive pussy.
“You taste so fucking sweet,” he says. “You could bottle it and sell it as a love potion.”
I wrinkle my nose, but my retort is lost on a gasp.
Carter is talented, but Penn?—
Fuck , he knows some tricks, too. He flips me over, seeming to not care about my cum-covered back. I rise on my elbows and look down at him. We share brief eye contact, and then he sucks my clit into his mouth.
His tongue flicks at it, and then his teeth make contact. I shudder and fall back. My fingers slide across the sheets, trying for some sort of relief.
He plays with me, though, until I’m squirming to get away from him. I want to do it myself?—
“I’m waiting to hear you ask for it,” he says, his gaze between my legs. “Your cunt is clenching…” He inserts one finger. “You’re ready, you just need to ask.”
“Dick,” I groan. “Make me come.”
“That’s not quite right.” He takes another taste. “Asking usually ends in a question mark. You’re the one who’s in the English classes.”
“I want to?—”
“No,” he interrupts. A nip to my thigh.
Something in me shudders to even consider it a question. A demand, a statement—those are in my control. But since he came in here, he’s held all of it and I’ve had none.
“Can I come?” I ask in a broken whisper.
He smiles. “Yes, princess.”
Then he fulfills my wish.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until I’m crying, and he’s kissing the tears away from my cheeks, stroking my hair, and securing something around my neck. I’m delirious, I can’t move.
“Wear the sweatshirt tomorrow,” he says in my ear. “I want to see the look on Ollie’s face when he realizes.”
I think he leaves after that. A door closes in the distance, coming from a long way away. My muscles are jelly, my bones have disintegrated. I couldn’t move if I wanted to. So I close my eyes and allow myself to drop into a deep sleep. Because that beats trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.