I do my best to obey. But oh God, it’s so difficult. His mouth is the finest torture I’ve ever experienced. And his tongue. He spreads my thighs as wide as possible before he attacks my pussy with thorough efficiency, not missing a spot. He’s everywhere, thrusting his tongue inside me. Searching my folds. Drawing my clit between his lips and sucking.
That’s all it takes. A little orgasm quakes through me, making me cry out and I slap my hand over my mouth, riding the wave, hating that it’s already happened.
That was so fast. Too fast. I won’t come again tonight. I know I won’t.
“Fuck, you’re responsive,” he murmurs against my flesh before he dives back in. He slips a finger inside me, his lips still on my clit. Another finger. Thrusting in and out, stretching me wide. His tongue flickers against my clit, faster and faster, his fingers keeping pace, until he curls them, nudging against something deep inside me that starts a tremble low in my body.
Oh. Keep doing that, is what I want to tell him.
But I don’t.
It’s as if he knows. He doesn’t let up. He’s relentless. Maybe he can tell by the way I’m moving, or the gush of liquid that’s flowing from my body. I’m so wet, I can hear his tongue slicking through me, his fingers pushing inside me. The feeling keeps coming and coming, intensifying. I strive toward it, throwing my head back, my hand on top of Whit’s head, holding him to me. My breath catches in my throat, my head spins, and I can’t breathe. I can’t bre—
Another orgasm slams into me out of nowhere, stealing every bit of oxygen and all of my thoughts. I’m mindless. Weightless. He doesn’t let up, his tongue still flicking against my flesh, his fingers still thrusting. I rub against his face shamelessly, the orgasm rippling through me, tears squeezing out of my eyes. It’s too much. Too overwhelming. Until finally I collapse, my breaths ragged, my head still spinning, my heart racing out of control.
I swear I thought I would pass out.
He kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other, his mouth gentle. As if he knows I’m coming down from the high, and my body is still so sensitive. He slides back up until we’re face to face, and I can feel his heavy erection nudging against me.
“You came twice,” he says with unmistakable pride, kissing me. I can taste myself on his lips. On his tongue. It’s as if he wants me to, his kiss is so possessive. Forceful.
I return it eagerly, enjoying my taste on his lips, moaning into his mouth. He swallows my sounds, the kiss turning wild. Reckless.
That’s how he makes me feel. Wild.
Reckless.
I’ve lost all control with Whit, and I don’t even care. It’s as if he’s turned me into this needy, uncontrollable little thing, and the only way I’ll be satisfied is by him.
He breaks the kiss first, smoothing my hair away from my face, studying me closely, as if he’s trying to figure me out.
Don’t bother. I’m hopeless, I almost say, watching him with glazed eyes, overwhelmed. Exhausted.
“Go to sleep,” he whispers and my eyes slide shut as if he commanded them to, my already relaxed body seeming to melt into the mattress.
Until I don’t remember anything else. Just him. And me.
Eleven
Whit
Well.
That was unexpected.
Once I know Summer is fully asleep, I slip out of her bed, not sure where to look first. She confuses me. I don’t understand her whatsoever, yet I do. What just happened between us was unlike any sexual experience I’ve ever had in my life, and I’ve had quite a few. I’m no angel. No one expects me to be. I’m a selfish asshole who takes what he wants, whenever he wants it.
I never fully expected to take Summer Savage and definitely not tonight, though the temptation was always there.
Being with her, saying all that terrible shit, it felt…natural. She liked it too. I saw the flare in her eyes, the way she so readily agreed to everything I told her to do. She wants to be controlled. And I enjoy controlling her.
Somehow, even though we hate each other, it’s as if we’re a perfect match.
Maybe she imprinted on my brain when we were fourteen, that first night I kissed her. When she taught me how to kiss. I know now I had no clue what I was doing, and I only copied what I saw in movies. Porn. What the fuck ever. I kissed other girls like that, and they never tried to correct me. Maybe they didn’t know any better. I didn’t.
Yet she softened me. Taught me that kissing wasn’t about brute force, but gentle persuasion. I owe her that lesson.
She owes me for saving her ass tonight from that stupid fuck Elliot. And she saved me too. I might’ve beat Elliot’s ass, as well as his stupid friend’s, but they got a few licks in, leaving me in pain. That she brought me back to her room to take care of me was surprising.
I hate being indebted to people. It’s the worst thing you could ever do, a sign of weakness. And there’s nothing more I hate than weakness.
So I need something, anything I can find in this tiny little room of hers. Something that belongs to her.
Something I can use against her.
I’m not above blackmail. We both know this. And now that she’s lying asleep, blissful after that epic orgasm I just gave her, it should be easy to search through her belongings and find something personal. I know she has a secret in here somewhere. The girl is full of them.
I want to discover every single one.
I spot her backpack on the floor and go through it, grateful for the moon shining in the room and allowing me to see. It’s full of notebooks and textbooks, nothing interesting, but I go through each one, making sure there’s nothing hidden. I find a folded note that must’ve been passed between her and I think my sister. I recognize Sylvie’s writing, and I frown as I read what they wrote to each other.
Sylvie is trying to become her friend. I won’t have that.
I can’t.
I leave the note where I found it and zip the backpack closed, my gaze going to her desk. It’s cold as fuck in here, but I don’t want to put on my clothes yet. I know they’re still damp. I spot the oversized black hoodie Summer was wearing earlier on the floor, and I grab it, tugging it on. It’s a little short, but it’ll do.
Going to the pile of my clothes next to the bed, I grab my boxer briefs and slip them on as well, grimacing when I feel the damp fabric against my skin. I pissed Summer off earlier and I’m guessing she didn’t dry my clothes all the way. Fucking sucks.
Still worth it though, after what happened between us.
The girl is an expert dick sucker. Does that sound awful? Yes. Do I still consider her a whore? Confirmed.
But now she’s my whore, and I don’t share.
I go to her desk and rummage through it. Not much on top of it. A couple of piled notebooks—girl is obsessed with them or some shit—and then I start going through the drawers, constantly glancing over my shoulder to make sure she doesn’t wake up. I find a stack of old photos and I look through them. Photos of a younger version of Summer and her friends. They’re smiling, their hair windblown, their gazes clear and carefree, with the exception of Summer’s. There’s something dark that lingers in her eyes. Mysterious. Her smile is wide, but there’s pain in her eyes.