Chapter 8
Piper
“I’m going to take care of you.”
Quill’s words ring out in my mind like a beautiful refrain as I find myself once more lying across the seat of his motorcycle.
Only this time, he didn’t lie me down like this to embarrass me. He did it so he wouldn’t injure me.
Everything that’s happened this weekend1 runs through my mind, and I shiver from the rollercoaster of emotions that has overwhelmed me since Friday night, when Quill kissed me then gave me my first orgasm after dunking me in the freezing Astley Lake for minutes on end.
I think back to the way he snuck up to my room this weekend and then deflowered me in a way that was both more painful and more amazing than I could ever have imagined.
When I came to school this morning, it was with the giddy belief that Quill and I were together.
Until I saw his murderous glare in his eye, and suddenly wondered if it was all a lie.
But I guess I’m not that good at reading his glares, after all. He wasn’t angry at me. Only upset to see he hurt me.
Now, he’s driving me home, and life suddenly feels beautiful. He parks in front of my house, helps me off his bike, then pulls me along, my wrist trapped in his hand.
My eyes widen as he opens the front door, apparently aware it’s unlocked, apparently aware, also, that no one will hear.
“My mom is here,” I whisper.
Another shrug, as he climbs up the stairs toward my room, his arm wrapping itself around my waist.
“You’re not being very discreet,” I tell him, even as I hate myself for not being able to just…
shut up. Mom is in bed, she always is. I highly doubt she’d get up even if she did hear the door open, which feels unlikely.
So why do I need to protest? I want this.
I want Quill. Why do I keep running my stupid mouth?
Luckily, Quill doesn’t seem to hear me. He merely topples me over on my bed, pushing me onto my stomach and pulling down my jeans without even giving me a moment to get my breath back.
“Quill!” I giggle as his hands hook into the waistband of my panties, dragging them down too. Then I grow sober as I hear his breath change. Shit. I can tell he wants me. And I want him too, but our first time was so intense I can barely walk, let alone survive another round so soon.
“Quill, I’m sorry… uhm…” I gulp nervously. “I don’t think I can handle any more… right now. Can you… can you give me a day?”
At once, I feel the mattress spring up as he removes his weight from it. A lump forms in my throat. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with me?
My stomach fills with lead as I hear his steps retreating. He’s leaving.
Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut? I can handle anything he gives me. Just as long as he doesn’t leave.
Why am I so messed up? Why am I begging the guy who has made my life hell for the past three years to stay? How could one weekend change everything?
And yet, there’s no doubt it has.
“Quill,” I blubber, feeling an embarrassing tear form in my eye then wind down my cheek, “please, Quill—”
The door opens, and I inhale sharply.
“Quill, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of that. You can do what you want. I—”
I stop talking, feeling sad and pathetic. It’s like I’m watching myself in slow motion, seeing myself make this whole situation worse, and I can’t do a thing to stop it. If I hadn’t screwed things up before, I definitely have now. God, why the hell am I so insecure?
I sit up slowly, trying to wriggle my jeans back up my thighs, when he speaks suddenly from the bathroom across the hall, making me jump.
“Did I tell you to move?”
His deep, dangerous voice makes me shiver. I lie back down at once, facing away from him, licking my lips nervously as I hear him draw near.
“Quill, I’m sorry…” It’s like I’ve forgotten how not to apologize. But the idea of losing the boy I’ve spent what feels like a lifetime obsessing over is just too painful. “Please do what you were going to do… please don’t pay attention to me.”
A low chuckle makes goosebumps pebble on my back and chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, not daring to turn around. But it’s torture to be like this, lying stomach down on the mattress, my panties and jeans around my ankles. It feels so… awkward, and embarrassing, and vulnerable.
He stops at the foot of the bed, and I feel fingers nudge my thighs apart. Then the mattress sags once more as he sits between my legs.
My breaths come in short, pained gasps. I know that if he lowers his eyes, he’ll be able to see my pussy in this position. I’m pretty sure I’m wet, because his mere presence does things to me. But I’m also pretty sure my body will spontaneously combust if we have sex again right now. I’m so sore.
Still, the thought of him leaving is so terrifying that I would do anything. Including spontaneously combust.
I practically jump out of my skin when I feel something cool and wet on my left ass cheek. Then his thumb, rubbing it in.
My heartbeat picks up, because if the space between my legs is sore, it’s nothing compared to my ass. I can’t handle another spanking right now after the one he gave me right before we had sex. I just can’t.
I’m determined not to say that, though, so I bite my lip so hard I taste blood, and wait.
But instead of the blows that I assume are forthcoming, Quill’s hand just keeps massaging lotion into my ass.
First on one cheek, then the other. If I weren’t so tense, I’d probably be aware of just how good it feels to get the sting rubbed out by his fingers.
But my mind is entirely focused on what I’m convinced is coming.
Gentle and Quill are two words that do not go together.
He spent three years bullying me. When he made out with me, his fingers left marks on my back.
Even when he pleasured me, he pinned me down on the ground at the same time.
My first time came at the hands of a guy so insatiable that I woke up practically unable to move.
And now, I’m supposed to believe he’s just… massaging me for the hell of it?
“Piper.”
By the time my mind has tuned into Quill’s voice, I realize he’s repeated my name three times. At least.
“Yeah?”
“Are you angry with me?”
“Uhm…” I’m so surprised by the question that I can’t think of a thing to say at first. Then I admit, “No. I thought you were.”
“Why would you think that?”
Where do I even start? I hide my face between my hands, for once unable to get a word out. The lump in my throat has grown so thick it feels like I can’t even breathe.
I shudder when Quill withdraws his hands from my ass. Damn it. I’ve done it now. This time is the time he leaves.
But instead, the mattress dips again. He sits down against the headboard and pulls me up in his lap. I exhale when I feel his arms wrap around me, the tension in my body leaving suddenly as his warmth surrounds me.
“Cricket,” he murmurs, and I smile at the nickname he tried out for the first time this weekend. “I told you I was going to take care of you. Didn’t I?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“This is me taking care of you. Don’t you like it?”
“Well…” I nestle deeper into his arms. “I guess so. It’s just kind of weird.”
I shriek as I suddenly feel his fingers dig into my side.
“Quill!”
I jerk away, but he traps me and lies down on top of me, pinning me to the mattress.
“Quiet,” he threatens, pressing his lips to mine. “You don’t want your mom to hear, do you?”
At the same time, he continues to tickle my ribs and sides while I thrash frantically under him.
“Say it’s not weird,” he rumbles in my ear.
“Never!”
“Say it, cricket.”
“Ahhh! Okay, fine! It’s not weird! It’s not weird!”
I breathe out in relief as his fingers stop their torture.
“Only a little weird,” I squeak, before trying to crawl to the other side of the bed.
But he grabs me by the ankles and pulls me right back. Then he lies down on top of me again, but this time, he doesn’t torture me anymore. He merely keeps me pinned to him, and I feel his stiffness press against me.
“Just how sore are you, cricket?” he murmurs, kissing my neck and making me shiver.
“Oh, not that sore,” I lie.
His kiss turns into a sharp bite.
“Ow!”
“How sore?”
“A… uhm… a little sore.”
Another nip has me squealing in pain.
“Quill! Ouch!”
“Tell me the truth. How can I trust myself not to hurt you if you don’t tell me the truth?”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about it that way before. “Uhm… well, now that you mention it, pretty sore.”
He edges down, pulling off the jeans and panties that have remained around my ankles, before nudging my thighs apart again. Then he licks my slit, making my core tingle with need.
“Oooh, Quill…”
“Too sore for that?”
I shake my head. The touch of his tongue against me actually soothes me, and it reignites all my arousal, which had been hidden under the soreness.
It’s all I can do to keep myself from forcing his head down against me.
Instead, I press my hands against my burning hot cheeks as he continues to lave at my folds with his tongue.
It still feels so weird and embarrassing to be touched like this, but I can’t say I hate it. In fact, I don’t hate it at all.
His tongue finds all the places that have me going nuts.
My clit, which he sucks and toys with, the spot deep within me that his tongue tortures again and again.
It takes a surprisingly short time for me to reach the crest of the wave that has me bucking and spasming, but just as I do, he edges back.
“Quill!” I gasp, assuming he thinks I’ve already come.
This time, I can’t help but grab his head by his thick, curly locks, and push him down toward me. At once, he grabs my wrists and pins them under my ass with one hand.
“Behave, cricket,” he chortles.