Chapter 25
Piper
Eighteen years old
“That one’s a marshmallow with a beard.”
Quill guffaws beside me, a weird sound coming from such a quiet boy. And I know I would have found this version of him too weird to be true had I caught a glimpse of it before this year. Now, though, I’ve gotten used to it, to the way his eyes are when he looks at me.
Gone is the murderous rage that swirled in those piercing blue irises. In its place is love, obsession, hunger, danger.
Always danger.
But I’d probably find things pretty boring if the danger in his eyes was gone. As it is, it makes me shiver, a thrill coursing through my spine, every time my gaze meets his.
“A marshmallow with a beard,” he murmurs, rolling toward me on the back lawn of his house. It’s where we’ve been lying all evening, watching the clouds in the sky, tinged with purple and pink in the sunset. “Come here, you.”
He pulls me toward him, and then we’re kissing. His lips are melting into mine, his hands clawing at my waist, at my back, as we roll together, first me on top of him, then him on top of me, nearly crushing me to the ground.
“What about your dad?” I whisper, as he forces off my jeans.
“Not home yet.”
My jeans are around my ankles by now, my panties plastered to me by the wetness that’s already puddling into them. But I argue, “He’ll be home soon. It’s got to be nearly dinner time. We should at least go to your room and–”
He flips me over to my stomach and gives me a volley of spanks that sound embarrassingly loud in the silence of the night. “Quiet, cricket.”
My face flames red as he pulls off my panties. Then I’m lying half-naked on the ground, my core aching for him, but embarrassed, and also, scared of his dad catching us like this.
I’ve seen enough of his dad to be terrified of him.
But it would take a lot worse than Bob Nelson to scare Quill, and I know nothing bad can happen to me when I’m with him. I’ve never been more sure of anything before.
So the fear dissolves as quickly as it’s formed, leaving only heat and embarrassment in its place.
The kind that mingles together, the one heightening the other.
My toes curl as Quill entirely removes my panties and jeans, then pushes my thighs wide apart before straddling me.
I can feel the cleft between my butt cheeks and the space between my legs bared to the windy evening air, and I lift up my hands to cover my face.
At once, he grabs them and pins them to my back.
“Behave, cricket,” he says in that deep, dark voice of his, and I’m aching for him.
“I want you,” I whisper.
“What do you want?” he growls.
“You… you inside me.” I blush, still embarrassed after all these months together, when he makes me spell it out. “Your cock inside… inside my pussy.”
For such a talkative girl, I’ve never gotten used to saying those words out loud. Though by now it feels like I’m thinking them constantly.
Somehow, I can actually feel Quill smirk behind me, as he alternates stroking my bottom and landing hard, echoing smacks on it that make me gasp in pain.
But I still arch toward him, each of his spanks making me wetter than ever. “Are you going to?” I ask finally.
“Am I going to what?”
Again, I can hear the evil little smirk as he makes me repeat the words that have me blushing.
“Are you going to put… your cock… inside my pussy?”
There’s a pause as he roughly squeezes my ass. “No.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Really? Come on, Quill!”
He rewards my pleading with four more stinging smacks.
“If you behave, cricket, I’ll let you have my cock somewhere else.”
My eyes widen as I feel his finger trail up and down my crack, before pressing down on my butthole. Nothing has ever gone up there. Not even his finger. He’s mentioned it, but never followed through with what he’s always voiced as a threat.
If you don’t behave… I’ll fuck your ass.
Take your spanking, or I’ll take your ass.
Stop wriggling your bottom at me like that, if you don’t want to wriggle it around my cock.
But now, he’s murmuring the words in my ear, as if it’s a reward. His voice is thick with lust, and I can tell how much he wants it.
Which makes me want it too, even though I’m very nervous.
Will it hurt?
“Relax for me, cricket,” he breathes, his index finger pressing harder against my bottom hole.
I take one breath after another, trying to stay open, though I can’t help but clench against the intrusion. But he’s got a sadistic side to him, and we fit together perfectly, because apparently I’m quite the masochist. The more I clench, the harder he pushes in, as I hiss in discomfort.
At last, his finger plunges in me entirely, my ring of muscle clenching painfully around it.
He does wait a beat when he’s inside, not moving, letting me get accustomed to the incredibly strange sensation of being stretched back there, of the foreign body that my bottom is still trying to expel, in spite of myself.
“You’re not relaxing, cricket,” he admonishes, and his hand once more rains down blows on my bottom, which is still sore from last night’s spanking.
The familiar pain somehow helps me accept the unfamiliar one, and I breathe deeply, only to tense again as his finger starts to thrust into me hard, moving back and forth.
Despite his repeated request for me to relax, he seems determined to keep me on my toes as he adds another finger and I cry out in pain, only to be rewarded by more stinging blows.
Every part of my bottom feels raw when he finally decides I’ve had enough of his fingers. I breathe out in relief when they leave me, only to inhale sharply when I hear the zipper of his fly.
It’s coming.
I don’t even blush in embarrassment when he parts my cheeks roughly, admiring the puckered hole between them, because my heart is racing at the thought that he’s soon going to take me there.
Then I feel the head of his cock pressing against me. Holy crap, it’s so big. So much bigger than his fingers. I scrunch my eyes shut as it begins to penetrate me, hissing through gritted teeth as it forces its way past my ring of muscle.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck, cricket, you’re so tight. It feels so fucking good. Take me, cricket. Take all of me.”
His words are making my folds pool with arousal, and I’m doing my best to relax so he can enter me.
Still, I’m aware I’m tensing, and I’m also aware that he enjoys it. Enjoys how that means he has to force his way in, past all my resistance, probably relishing the fact that it’s hurting me more than it needs to.
Meanwhile, my eyes are bubbling up with tears, but some deep, sick part of me likes it too. Likes how he’s not giving me a choice. Likes how he’s pushing his way in, no matter how hard my body tries to keep him out.
At last, I’ve taken all of him, and he’s lying flush on top of me. His cock is like a rod of iron invading my insides, my inner walls painfully spread around it. I feel so full, but he barely lets me get used to the sensation before beginning to drive in and out of me.
“I’m going to go slow, cricket,” he grunts out, but it feels like he’s doing anything but as he speeds up, and soon, he’s thrusting into me hard, with nearly as much force as when he’s claiming my pussy.
No, with just as much force.
I’m not even able to tense anymore under his relentless assault, instead lying prostrate on the ground, my ass raised up, as he fucks me viciously, one of his hands wrapped around my hair so hard it hurts, the other raising to spank my ass in rhythm with his thrusts.
The pain is so intense at first that tears stream down my face, but somehow, after a while, it begins to blend into something deeper, a pressure that makes the wetness dribble down my thighs.
Seeing that, he pauses in the spanking and his hand travels to my pussy. I cry out as two fingers thrust deeply inside me while a third finds my clit and presses against it.
From unbearable, the pain turns into that hard, dark edge that makes me reach a higher state of arousal than only pleasure could.
Forgetting all about the threat of his father returning, I let out an ungodly sound, a mix between a moan and a shriek, and he lets go of my hair to clamp a hand around my mouth.
A few more hard thrusts, and he’s filling me with his seed, while the fingers in my pussy keep going at a punishing speed. Moments later, I’m clamping around them, my bottom spasming against his dick, as a mindcrushing orgasm slams through me.
Then he falls on top of me, his hand still on my mouth, his cock still snugly inside of me, as it little by little loses its hardness. Only then does he withdraw it, and I whimper at the sudden loss as he flips me over to my back, his two fingers still in my pussy.
“You do things to me, cricket,” he groans in my ear, and those words alone would be enough to make this all worth it, even if I hadn’t found pleasure in being taken back there.
For once, I can’t think of a thing to say, merely returning his long, drawn-out kiss, biting down on his lip nearly as hard as he bites on mine.
But then, I suddenly hear the sound of a car driving up on the other side of the house. I try to scurry away. But his fingers are still spearing me.
“I’m not finished with you,” he mutters darkly.
“Your dad!” I squeak. “He’ll kill me if he finds me here!”
He draws me to the side of the house, using his fingers inside me to guide me, and I’m blushing furiously at that new and creative way of leading me around. Then I freak out when I hear his dad’s voice from inside.
“Quill? Where are you?”
Quill pushes me down on the cold ground and clambers on top of me, while I turn my head to see my panties and jeans, lying a little further away, in what feels like the very center of the back lawn.
“My clothes!” I hiss at Quill, but he’s a lot more unbothered than me. His lips twitch into a small smile as he swipes at my still soaked pussy, then rubs the moisture between his fingers slowly, hungrily staring at its weird elastic texture.