I lick her pussy over and over, bring her back to the edge again, until her back arches and her breasts thrust up in the air and she’s grinding against my tongue with all her might.
Then I sit up, my cock jutting out from my body like the prow of a ship.
I look down at her and she looks up at me, panting and desperate.
“Beg me to fuck you,” I growl.
Her little pink tongue slips out to touch her upper lip. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes bright.
“Please,” she whispers. “I need you.”
She opens her legs all the way, inviting me to thrust my cock into the softest, most sensitive part of her.
I need you.
No one has ever said that to me before.
I put the head of my cock at her opening and I push inside.
She’s wet, slicker than an oil spill. Still, it’s so tight that I have to brace myself with my arms on either side of her face so I can drive into her.
My cock plunges into her tight embrace. Her wet, hot grip is beyond anything I imagined.
“Oh, god!” she cries.
I silence her with my mouth.
I kiss Cat long and deep, while my cock fills every millimeter of space inside of her.
I’m falling into pure liquid pleasure.
Fucking hell, I might actually be dying. Can a man live through this?
I want to blow inside her instantly.
The only thing holding me back is the far greater drive to make Cat cum first.
Nothing arouses me more than controlling her orgasms. Denying them when she wants to cum, and forcing her to climax when she tries to resist.
I made her cum with my fingers and almost with my tongue. Now I want to see if she can cum all over this cock.
I take both her hands, her fingers entwined with mine, and I pin them over her head. I suck and nibble on her breasts while I drive into her over and over.
Cat is in an ecstasy of pleasure and pain. My cock tears into her. She was a virgin until this moment, I’m quite sure of it. She’s killed a man but never fucked one.
And yet she’s urging me on with frantic movements of her hips, panting and gasping. Trying to grind that sensitive little clit against my body.
I bear down on her, giving her the friction she needs. Fucking her deep and steady.
Cat turns her face toward me, sucking the side of my neck. She licks and sucks all the way up to my ear, then bites the lobe hard between those sharp teeth. Her tongue dances over the edge of my ear, sending waves of pleasure down my spine.
She rubs her nose in my hair and inhales deeply.
“Me encanta tu fragrancia,” she moans, as she starts to cum.
I’ve never heard Cat lapse into her native language. Her English is perfect and unaccented.
That’s how I know she’s lost all control.
And so have I.
Her voice echoes in my head.
Me encanta tu fragrancia.
I need you.
I need you.
I need you.
The dam breaks. I explode inside of her, a torrent of cum pouring out of me. Cat’s teeth are chattering again and I’m yelling out, a cry that sounds like a sob.
10
Cat
I lost my virginity to Dean.
I guess I knew it was coming.
I agreed to be his pet for a month and then sucked his cock on the very first day. So I was unlikely to make it all the way to Christmas intact.
Still, I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Zoe gave her virginity to Miles, the love of her life.
I gave mine to an enemy. I wonder if I’ll regret it?
The truth is, I don’t regret it at this moment. I can’t regret it, because I’m already craving doing it again. And I don’t honestly view Dean as any enemy anymore.
Maybe I never did.
He’s frightened me from the day I first laid eyes on him outside Miles’ Halloween party, just over a year ago. And he’s frustrated me a hundred times since then.
But did I ever actually hate him?
No. I don’t think so.
My terror has always been accompanied by a strange fascination with Dean. He intrigues me, like a dark pathway into the woods. I want to see what’s inside.
No, I definitely can’t regret fucking him. It felt too good. The most pleasurable moments of my life have come in our last several encounters.
But I am confused about one thing. The thing that makes me feel a squirming sense of guilt and shame when I think what I allowed Dean to do to me. And how much I liked it . . .
There’s only one person I can ask.
I call my sister.
Miles told me where to find his cache of hidden cellphones so I could call Zoe any time I like, not just on Sundays.
I go to the very furthest point of campus, in the northwest corner of the fortress walls, tucked behind the prison tower and the edge of the ruined cathedral. Here, in a thicket of Hemlocks, no one will see me using a forbidden piece of technology.
Zoe answers at once, pleased and breathless.
“Cat! How are you?”
I don’t have to ask how she’s doing. I can hear the pure joy in Zoe’s voice. That’s how she always sounds since she moved to Los Angeles with Miles.
“I’m good,” I say. “Or at least, I think I’m good.”
Zoe laughs. “What does that mean?”
“Well . . . I, uh, had sex for the first time.”
“What!?” she shrieks. “With who?”
“With . . . Dean, actually.”
There’s a long silence on the other end of the line.
“What are you doing, conejita,” Zoe murmurs. There’s no judgment in her voice—only concern.
“I . . . might like him. A little bit,” I admit.
Another silence. Then Zoe says, “He’s bitter, Cat. Bitter and twisted inside. Do you know what he tried to do to Leo—”
“Yes,” I interrupt. “I know.”
“Then how can you like him?”
I can’t answer her question, because I know I’m in the wrong. You’re not supposed to like someone who tried to kill your friend.
But after all, he didn’t kill Leo, and I don’t think he’d try again. In fact, in all the time I’ve spent with Dean, he’s never said one thing about Leo Gallo. Or about Anna, either. Maybe he’s keeping his hatred locked inside. I’ve never seen any hint of it.
“I think . . . he might have changed since then,” I say to Zoe. “Changed a little, at least.”
Zoe lets out a disbelieving sigh.
I know I sound ridiculous.
It doesn’t matter. I didn’t call Zoe so she could waste her time trying to talk me out of a situation in which I’m far too deeply embedded.
I have a different question to ask.
“Zo,” I say. “You like sleeping with Miles, don’t you?”
She laughs and I can almost picture her shaking her head at my change of subject.
“Of course,” she says.
“Do you ever have sort of, uh, aggressive sex? Violent, even?”
Zoe hesitates, her irrepressible honesty forcing her to answer.
“Sometimes,” she says.
“Why do people like that?” I ask.
Even though I’m alone and out of sight of anyone, including Zoe, I’m still blushing with all my might.
People means me, and Zoe knows it.