Chapter 28
Quill
Eighteen years old
“
O
h my gosh!” squeals a high-pitched voice, and I look away from my girl’s ass to the screen in front of her.
We’ve spent the day like we usually do. Her lying on her stomach, typing away at the computer, me staring at her ass, her thighs, and the space between them.
Listening to her chirp away about whatever asinine thing she’s working on, and trying to keep my thoughts on what she’s saying instead of her addictive body as it wriggles just slightly with every press of her keyboard.
I’ve taken her at least four times today, but that won’t stop from sinking my cock into her a few more. In fact, I was just wondering how I could position her so I could get access to her cunt without preventing her from working.
Because she’s been complaining lately about what a distraction I am.
A distraction from what? Is my silent reaction every time she says that. What could possibly be more important than me?
Stupid fucking college.
“I got in,” she breathes. “I got in, and I have a scholarship!”
I don’t give a fuck about college, but I give a fuck about her, and when I see how happy she is, I draw her to me, my hard dick forgotten—momentarily. “Good job, cricket.”
I give her a deep kiss and she nestles contentedly in my arms, chirping away like she always does when she’s happy. Or sad. Or angry. Or anything, really.
“I can’t believe it. They literally waited till the last possible second to let me know! I’ve been doing applications all year, and I got no’s everywhere!”
“Most of your applications were accepted,” I say, confused.
“Stupid! I mean, my scholarships were denied. I can’t go to college without one.”
Anyone other than her would have a fist to their face if they called me stupid. But it sounds like a cute term of endearment coming from her. I give her another kiss.
“I already told you—”
“I don’t want to take money from you.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but admire her independent spirit.
Plus, I know there’s another reason she refuses my money. She views it as blood money. Contract money. Which I guess it is.
She hasn’t asked any other questions since she eavesdropped on to my conversation with Dad—or overheard, according to her.
I haven’t volunteered information, either.
I know her well enough, though, to realize that her brain is busy filling in my silence with explanations that fit into her neat, Nancy Drew world.
I’m not actually killing people. That’s what she’s telling herself. She’s probably imagining that I’ve never killed a person in my life. I bet she thinks I get paid to… smack my victims around a little bit. And even that’s too violent for her.
The truth is, I’ve already killed four guys. While I don’t have enough money yet to pay for four full years of college for her, I would happily spend everything I’ve made so far on the first year, because the only point to the money I earn is her.
And then, given how well my contracts are going, and how pleased Tragen is with me, I have no doubt I could pay for the rest easily, one year at a time.
I’d never let her go into debt. I’d never let her miss out on her dream, either.
She’s pink with happiness as she returns my kisses, and my hand flips the hem of her dress over her bubble butt, then slides under her panties.
She shivers in my arms, her pussy as wet as ever as I reach below her ass toward it.
“Congratulations, little cricket,” I say again. “So, which college is it?”
“UCLA,” she declares, her voice muffled in my chest.
My hand stops toying with her clit, and she wiggles a bit, wanting me to continue.
But my blood is suddenly thundering in my ears. “Isn’t that in California?”
“Yes, it is.” Her voice comes out in the tiniest of squeaks, because she must already realize exactly what that means, and knows I now do too. And she’s looking more than a little nervous about my voice suddenly dropping several decibels.
I withdraw my hand from her panties and come to rest it threateningly on the swell of her ass. I hear her gulp in my ear.
“You applied to a college in California?”
“I told you so,” she says defensively. “I told you I was. Quill, that’s where I come from! This is like my dream come true. To go into a really good college close to my hometown. Maybe I can even…” she swallows, “... get back in touch with my childhood friends.”
“No.” My voice is hard and final.
“But, Quill!” she protests. “I told you I was applying there! You never said a word!”
Fuck. I probably should have spent a little more time listening not just to the sound of her cute chirpy voice, but to the things she was actually saying.
“Well, now, I’m saying no.”
“You can’t just prevent me from going!” she huffs out. “It’s my dream!”
“And I’m not? You’d choose college over me?”
“Of course not.” Her chin is trembling. “I never want to leave you. I was thinking… I was thinking you’d come visit me every holiday. Maybe even on the weekends, if you… if you really have all the money you say you do. I’d work a part time job so I could come back to Astley a lot, too.”
“Holidays are not enough. Weekends are not enough. I need to see you every day, Piper.”
“Well, then,” she pleads, “you could come and live with me. Why can’t you?”
Because I’m a fucking Devil soldier. And the only way to get out is to die.
But instead of telling her the truth, I lash out, “I’m not going to uproot my life for you.”
She edges back from me, and the hand that was lying on her ass closes around air instead. “But I’m supposed to? I’m supposed to sacrifice my dreams for you?”
She looks furious, but I’m capable of a lot more fury than she is.
“You’re supposed to do what I tell you to,” I growl. “I said no. End of story.”
It’s clearly not the end of the story. She’s sitting back on the bed, her ass on her heels, her arms crossed, and for the first time, I have the uncomfortable sensation that she’s putting up a wall.
“You don’t actually own me, you know,” she says. “And you’re not going to stop me from doing this.”
I lunge at her, pushing her down on the mattress, straddling her thighs and trapping her below me. “I’m a lot fucking stronger than you, Piper,” I threaten.
She tries to wriggle out of my grasp, even though I can feel the wetness of her panties against my crotch leaving a damp spot. Her dress is riding up around her middle, and I want to fuck her right now, and not be gentle about it. Just to remind her I really do fucking own her.
But her set jaw tells me this situation is going to be more complicated to deal with than with just a good hard fuck.
“You can’t forcefully keep me here,” she scoffs. “Not everything is about strength.”
“Oh, really?” I flip her over to her stomach, raise my hand and let it fall on her ass, hard.
She huffs out in frustration, and I can tell it’s because she wants to stay angry at me, but there’s no disguising her arousal.
“I can gag and bind you and put you in my closet, and physically keep you from college.”
She actually laughs at that, even though I’m 100% serious. But hopefully she won’t have to find that out, because saying the words makes me realize just how fucked up it is.
Instead of continuing in that verbally threatening vein, I rip off her panties, and she gasps out a shuddering breath, no longer trying to hide her arousal.
I smack her ass hard, turning her already very pink cheeks a dark purple, restraining her wrists so she can’t try to shield them.
She’s writhing below me in pain, but the wetness between her thighs tells me how much she enjoys it.
I’m about to fucking remind her who owns her, because she’s clearly forgotten it.
“Are you going to behave, cricket?” I growl.
“No!”
I zero in on her thighs now, painting them a beautiful shade of crimson, as her body is coated in a glistening sheen of sweat.
“And now?”
“Never!”
By now, I know it’s not about college anymore. She’s egging me on because she thrives on the pain. Just like me.
But I can tell she’s reaching a hard limit, so I stop spanking her and instead thrust two fingers into her ass. She squeals, trying to squirm away from me, but that only makes it hurt all the more, because I keep her firmly trapped under me.
“Take it like a good girl, cricket.”
I start to pump in and out of her hard, because this is a punishment fuck.
Every particle of frustration courses through my fingers, and I add a third one, wanting to drink in the sight of her in pain and utterly unable to do a thing about it.
She’s my little cricket. Mine to do with as I please.
She can accept it, or try to go against it, but the outcome won’t change.
My cock is straining painfully in my boxers by the time she’s lying still against the mattress, submitting to my assault. I want to plunge it in her ass, but I also want to claim another part of her, and I’m torn, wondering where to get my relief.
I decide on her mouth, because I want to see her pretty lips opening for my cock. I want to cut off the flow of words that I can tell are still threatening to leave it, because even in her current state of submission, I know she’s thinking I can take her body, but I can’t take her ambition.
Yes, I fucking can.
I whip her around, removing my fingers from her ass, and she groans, part relief, part regret, as I make her face me.
Mascara is running down her cheeks, which is the only place I want her makeup to go. I squeeze those cheeks roughly, forcing her mouth open, even though I know she’d do it on her own. But I don’t want her to do anything on her own. I want to force her. Feel my power over her. Remind her of it.
I slam my cock into her mouth, and she gurgles at the suddenness of it, then gags when it hits the back of her throat.
“Quillmmphh,” she utters despite her gagged state.
This girl will just never shut up.