Chapter 25 #2
I shiver, both from cold and from nervousness as his dad repeats, “Quill! Are you in your room?”
His feet pad down a hallway and I try to clamp my thighs shut and get up, but Quill pushes down on me again and forces my thighs wide open.
I groan, hiding my face, certain his dad is about to see us like this.
See me like this, the poorest, most unpopular girl in Astley, her legs spread for his son.
But Quill doesn’t seem worried at all. If anything, the fact that his dad could find him at any time makes him hard again. He licks my wetness off his fingers, then plunges them once more into my pussy, making me moan in spite of myself.
“We should… go,” I hiss out, every word a struggle to speak as he thrusts hard into me. “Your dad!”
His other hand finds my clit and massages it as I twitch under him desperately, trying to keep myself from coming again, trying to stay focused on the threat of his dad looking around the house for him.
“Please, Quill,” I gasp.
With a squelching pop, he removes his fingers from me and puts them instead in my mouth. I scrunch up my nose at the taste, but he pushes them in all the way, practically making me gag.
“Qumpph,” I manage, his fingers hitting my throat before he withdraws them slightly, only to push them in even harder.
“Suck me,” he orders in my ear.
I never thought sucking on Quill’s fingers would make me horny, but before I know it, I’m sucking as if my life depends on it, while he thrusts into me hard.
I close my eyes, picturing it’s his cock, picturing myself licking that little bead of precum I saw on the tip of it the other day.
In spite of the looming threat of his dad as he marches around the house, looking for Quill, I feel myself forming a big wet spot against the stone patio that surrounds the house.
I actually groan in disappointment when Quill’s fingers leave my mouth, but it’s only so he can duck between my legs. He gives me a lick that has my entire body shuddering.
“Quill!” yells out his dad. “Where are you? I see your bike out front. I need to talk to you.”
Quill clicks his tongue in impatience, which makes my folds vibrate weirdly. Then he pushes back his head. I groan again and arch toward his mouth, even though I was just pleading with him a moment earlier to stop.
“Out back, Dad!” he says, his voice a bit muffled from being only an inch away from my pussy.
I widen my eyes as he casually goes back to licking the wetness from my folds, unbothered by the fact that his dad might actually now… go outside and find us.
“Are you nuts?” I huff out, but then, his mouth finds my clit, and I forget everything but the way he sucks it in, his teeth lightly grazing it, as sparks of electricity course through every one of my nerve endings, making my toes curl again.
Still, my thoughts go straight back to his dad when I hear his footsteps grow louder, and the porch door swings open. I shut my eyes, torn between the mindnumbing sensation of Quill sucking on my clit, his two fingers back to pumping inside me, and my fear of his dad finding us.
A fear that somehow makes everything Quill is doing to me all that much better.
What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with him, because he’s clearly getting off from the risk of being found out, same as me?
I can just make out his wicked grin as he continues to suck my clit, his tongue occasionally darting out to lick up the cream from my folds, while his two fingers fill me, thrusting into me wildly.
By some crazy stroke of luck, the porch door swings shut again, and it’s clear by the sound of his dad’s feet padding around in the living room that he’s decided against going outside.
“Come in. I want to talk to you.”
Hissing in frustration, Quill once again emerges from my thighs, his fingers stilling inside me, and I arch toward him frantically.
“In a minute, Dad!”
That little pause somehow causes the pressure inside me to build even more, and I’m teetering over the edge when Quill returns his attention to me. A few more thrusts of his fingers while his teeth bite down on my clit are enough to send me soaring, my vision growing white at the intensity.
He pinches both of my already sore ass cheeks hard, and even though it hurts like hell, I’m actually thankful he’s chosen to pinch me instead of spank me, because the ringing smacks he likes to give me would definitely be heard by his dad.
Then he whispers in my ear, “Don’t you dare move.”
By now, the early spring air is making me shake, and when he sees that, he envelops me in his jacket.
It’s the best feeling in the world to be fully surrounded by the scent of him, the heavy leather embracing me, as he pulls himself regretfully away from me.
He first walks over to where my panties and jeans are lying, and I’m hoping he’ll toss them over to me, but instead, he puts the panties in his back pocket before tossing the jeans into one of the bushes that borders the house.
Then he walks toward the back porch. The door bangs shut behind him, and I blow out a shaky breath, my mind reeling from all the intense sensations he’s just given me.
But all of that is momentarily forgotten when I hear the sounds of his dad’s voice.
“You missed the soldier training session,” he barks out.
The what?
“I was busy,” mutters Quill.
“Busy?” his dad spits out the word. “Nothing is more important than those sessions. I don’t think you realize how much I’ve sacrificed for you to take part in them.
They’ll set you up for life. I did everything to secure a place for you.
Each one of those contracts will bring you in tens of thousands of dollars. More, depending on who it is.”
“I’m not here to do Devil’s dirty work,” growls Quill.
I frown, trying to understand what they’re saying. I have a feeling that Quill wouldn’t want me to overhear all this. But he did tell me not to budge, and their words are reaching me easily. Muffled slightly by the walls, but still, perfectly clear.
“It’s not dirty work,” hisses out his dad. “You should be proud to be a Devil soldier. You’ll be doing important work.”
“Yeah, right,” scoffs Quill. “They subcontract their most important work to outside gangs. The soldiers exist to wash their fucking toilets.”
“Shut up!” hisses his dad. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. The most successful soldiers have made hundreds of thousands of dollars. You’ll be rolling in money, because you’re naturally gifted. And you’re about to get your first contract.”
“I don’t need money,” snaps Quill. “We’re rich enough as it is.”
“I’m rich, but if you think you’re going to see a cent of my money…
” Bob Nelson trails off, muttering a few unintelligible words.
“I made up a bullshit excuse to Devil to cover for you missing training. I smoothed things out. But you better get your ass to training tomorrow, or I’m going to make things pretty heated for you. ”
“Fuck you,” hisses out Quill, and my eyes nearly pop out of their sockets at hearing him swear at his dad. “What the fuck is wrong with you for forcing your own son into a life of crime?”
There’s a sudden loud noise, and I bite down on a terrified squeak as I realize his dad has just punched him.
The force of it has Quill crashing back against something hard.
Then his dad punches him again, and there’s a heavy thud as he must fall to the ground.
I clamp a hand around my mouth, sick to my stomach as I hear him grunt, as though his dad is kicking him.
Oh, my God. Quill’s father is abusive.
My mind suddenly travels back to bruises I’ve sometimes seen on him. They’ve become a rare occurrence, but they were a lot more frequent when he was a freshman and a sophomore. I always assumed he had just gotten into a fistfight, like he does so often. I never imagined his father was abusing him.
I crouch against the side of the house, listening helplessly to the sounds of Quill getting beaten by his dad. I feel so weak, unable to do a thing but listen to him suffer.
His dad lets up, finally, and tears are burning my eyes as I wait for some sign that Quill is okay.
I hear more noise, as though Quill is slowly standing up again, and I let out a shivering breath of relief. “One of these days, I’m going to fucking kill you,” he says in a low, neutral voice that makes me shiver even harder.
There’s a pause, as though his dad has grown nervous at the threat.
Then Bob Nelson fumes, “First, focus on training to kill those contracts. Don’t think I’m not aware of the… the kind of person you are. At least, this work will channel your urges. And tomorrow, you’d better show up for training. That’s all I’ll say.”
“Fuck you,” mutters Quill again, but his dad is already stomping away, before banging shut some other door.
My shivering has gotten uncontrollable, my back pressed against the outer wall of the house as though the hard surface, that feels cold even through the protective layer of the leather, can bring me comfort.
My mind is reeling from everything that’s just happened.
Everything I’ve learned. Quill gets beaten by his dad.
Quill is getting trained to do Devil’s dirty work.
To… kill the contracts, or so his dad said.
To get rich from doing it. Are the contracts…
people? Is he going to become the kind of person who ends people’s lives?
What was it his dad said? Channel your urges?
Does that mean Quill is really…? I gulp down on my nerves as I remember everything about Quill that feels… off.
He used to like to bully me.
Now, he likes to hurt me.
But the weird thing is, I like it when he hurts me.
Does that make me just as off as him?
Suddenly, I realize I’ve been out here alone for a long time. Quill’s dad is gone. Why hasn’t he come to get me? Has he forgotten me?
I hear the distant sound of water turning on, as though he’s taking a shower. Anger surges up in me, but just as quickly disappears.