26. Vani
26
VANI
L unch with my new friends went well.
Though I’m always awkward with people at first, they made the conversation easy. They seemed to be really interested in the club where I grew up and asked lots of questions about what it had been like.
I did my best not to pry into their lives, aware they must come from families with crime backgrounds, just like mine. Most people don’t like talking about that stuff, which is completely understandable.
The only person who was quieter was Faith. I think maybe she’s a bit shy, like me. Plus, Angelica and Jarena are both super loud, and confident, which sometimes makes it hard to get a word in. They’re good company, though, and, as pathetic as it seems, I’m grateful to them for adopting me.
After we’ve eaten, everyone has to go their own way—mainly to different classes. Because my schedule is different than most of the other girls’, thanks to my dad, I tell them I’ll clear up and let them go. I want to find the room where my sister is staying. I don’t know what I’ll say to her, if she’s even in. Hell, maybe that’s why I want to go there now, because deep down I know there’s a good chance she’ll be in class. I just want a moment to study the door, try to get a feel of the person behind it. Perhaps she’ll have stickers on the front of it, something that’ll let me know what kind of things she’s into. Maybe I’ll even catch her coming or going, and I can just get an idea of what she looks like rather than approach her straight off the bat. It’s a coward’s way of doing things, but truthfully, I don’t know how she’ll react to my news. My insides squirm at the thought of telling her I’m her new ‘bonus’ family. She might not believe me, or she might reject me. Either option is heartbreaking.
The food had been delivered in a couple of large paper bags, so I fill them with the wrappers and empty soda cups. This setting is so beautiful, the last thing I want to do is litter it.
As I’m bent over, scooping up a straw wrapper, I become aware of a presence behind me. I glance over my shoulder to find Zane standing there. His expression is fierce, his shoulders bunched, and blood drips from his knuckles.
I let out a squeak and drop to my knees then scrabble away, trying to put space between us. Was he bleeding that badly after the fight in the cafeteria? Why hasn’t he cleaned himself up yet? I was sure he’d been standing with one of the college’s professors when I’d run out of the cafeteria. Surely, they’d have made him bandage his fists if he’d been bleeding that badly.
Does he blame me for the fight? For getting him in trouble? Is that why he’s come to find me?
The surge of adrenaline makes me dizzy, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I hold out my hand in defense. “Please, don’t hurt me.”
He takes a step forward and his brow furrows in confusion, and he stops. He shakes his head. No.
No, he’s not going to hurt me.
Well, he might imply that, but perhaps that’s just because he doesn’t want me to run. Not that I’m much of a runner.
I force myself to be brave. “Wh-what happened to your hands?”
There’s pain in his eyes, and he glances away, as though he doesn’t want me to see it. I pick up a couple of napkins and a bottle of water. “Come here,” I say.
I must be crazy. He’s like a wild animal, and I’m trying to tame him.
But he drops to the ground beside me, his head hung. Cords stand out on his thick neck, running down to his muscular shoulders. I resist the urge to place my hand against his nape, to rub the knots and try to loosen them. Instead, I hold out my hand.
He glances at my offered palm, and then turns to look into my face. It’s so hard to read him. I can’t tell if he’s thinking of hurting me or fucking me. Or maybe both.
“Give me your hand,” I say.
Carefully, he places his large palm in mine. I pick up the open bottle and tip it so the water runs over his knuckles, washing away some of the blood. He sucks air in over his teeth and goes to pull away, but I close my fingers around his, holding him in place. When the worst of the blood has been washed away, I use a clean napkin to press to the cuts and grazes.
“There, better. Now give me the other one.”
He shifts his position slightly and does as I ask. I repeat the process, working carefully. The watered down blood runs onto the grass and vanishes into the dirt. He stares at me the entire time, his study intense.
I cover his knuckles with another napkin. “How’s that?”
He doesn’t respond, just sits there, staring at me. My breath catches, my pulse racing. I’m unsure what I’m supposed to do.
But then he yanks his hand away, and the next moment it’s in my hair. He drags me to him, not giving me the chance to protest, and covers my mouth with his. He uses his size and strength to push me onto my back, and then he eclipses the blue sky with the bulk of his body.
His tongue is in my mouth, hungrily seeking mine. I respond, kissing him back. We’re both breathing heavily, exchanging a war of frantic kisses and bites. My hands have a mind of their own, raking down his muscular back and threading through his soft hair. I’d been worried about him being angry with me, but this is the complete opposite of him being angry.
He presses himself between my thighs, and I feel the hardness of his cock, grinding against my most sensitive spot. I’m still aching from the previous evening, and my body lights up. Fuck, I want him.
But we’re out in the open, and it’s the middle of the day, and anyone could see us.
This doesn’t seem to bother Zane in the slightest.
His lips move across my jaw and down my throat. He releases my hair to palm my breast, first over the top of my shirt, but then he reaches beneath it, shoving my bra up to give him access. He pulls up my top and ducks his head, sucking first one nipple into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth, and lightly biting, before moving on to my other tit and replacing his mouth with his hand. I arch my back, pressing into him and moaning. What the fuck am I doing? I should push him off, but Christ, he feels good.
He moves back up my body to kiss me again, and so he can push his jean-clad cock against the juncture of my thighs. We rub and grind, and all I can think about is how big he is, and what he’ll feel like inside me. Will I even be able to take him? I know we’re supposed to be able to stretch down there, but I’ve never had more than some fingers and tampons inside me. I haven’t even been brave enough to insert a toy, and the thought of my first time being with someone of his size is borderline terrifying. It’s going to hurt like a bitch, and it’s not like he can even talk me through it.
I’d need Lex here for that.
The thought of the other two brings me around for a moment. It’s enough clarity to make me break the kiss. I place my hand to the bulk of his shoulder and give him a shove.
“Zane, stop. Not here. Not like this.”
He lifts his head and glares down at me. Then he arches his hips, pushing his hardness against me again, and sends a shot of arousal straight to my core. I let out a half sob of needy desire. A smile curls one corner of his lips, like he already knows he’s won.
“No,” I say again.
He tilts his body, as though he’s about to climb off me, but instead of rolling to one side, he props himself on his elbow and slides his other hand across my stomach and into the waistband of my pants.
No? he mouths at me, his eyebrows raised.
I groan, and his hand slips lower. He ducks his head again, and this time kisses my neck. His hand slides beneath the lace of my panties, and, despite what I’ve said, I adjust my body to make space for him.
Am I really going to let him make me come out here where anyone could see? Yeah, I’m too far gone now. I need this.
He pushes his fingers inside me, curling them to hit that sensitive spot.
Wet, he mouths, and my gaze lingers on his lips as the soft whisper, almost so quiet I can’t hear it, brushes over my skin.
I whimper, and my hips move to meet his caresses. His fingers are big, and they feel so good playing with my pussy. He circles my clit with his thumb, pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing. I chase my orgasm, a part of me wanting to get it over with before we get caught. Does he want that? Does he want people to see us?
It occurs to me that this might be his way of getting revenge. Though what happened in the cafeteria was hardly my fault, I ran out of there and left him to face the consequences.
Is he trying to ruin my reputation by making me look like a slut? I haven’t even been here a full week yet, and I’ve already seen more action than I’ve had my entire adult life.
I reach down and grab his wrist. “Zane, please, no. I can’t.”
But his arm is as solid as a tree trunk, and he keeps moving his fingers inside me. Suddenly, one slips from my pussy, slides backward, and pushes against my asshole. I let out a shriek, and he sits up to use his other hand to cover my mouth. I struggle beneath him, but he penetrates my asshole with one of his smaller fingers, keeping the other two embedded in my pussy.
His fingers pump in and out of me. I’ve never been touched like this before. His hand clamps over my lips, preventing me from screaming again—though this time with pleasure.
He’s silent, and now so am I.
He holds my gaze the entire time as he finger fucks me. I’m sure my eyes are wild, my face and chest flushed. He’s wringing an orgasm from me whether I want it or not. No amount of pleading or begging has made any difference.
Zane knew what he wanted, and he took it.
My body is as taut as a bow. Having his finger in my ass has only heightened everything I’m feeling. He’s claiming me, and maybe I need to be grateful he’s only using his fingers and not his cock. My pleasure grows and builds, until it’s all I can focus on, all I can think about. I no longer care about getting caught. All I want is that high.
Zane jams his fingers deep inside me, and I hit my peak. My climax breaks and shatters right through me. I come hard, squeezing my eyes shut and seeing stars. My pussy and ass clamp and pulse around his digits, and I shake and gasp, trying to breathe against the wedge of his palm over my face.
When I finally slump back onto the ground, relishing the solidity of the earth beneath me, he slides his fingers from my body and yanks my bra and top back into place. A smile of satisfaction plays on his lips, and he gets to his feet. He still has a huge erection beneath his jeans, but it’s clearly fine to expose me in the middle of the field, just not himself.
He walks away, leaving me lying there, still breathing hard and wondering what the hell just happened.