It’s a façade though. His eyes give him away.
There’s a hitch in my breath when I shift up, my clit hitting the head of his cock. Oh yes. Right there. A string of dirty words leaves me as I grind on his cotton-covered dick, my entire body tense, the breath stuck in my throat as I strive toward my release. It’s close. I’m close. My clit throbs in time with my heartbeat, and I cry out when it hits me.
I’m falling, the orgasm wrapping itself around me, rendering me stupid. My cries pierce the air, again and again, gasping breaths leaving me as I rub on top of him like a cat in heat, my thigh muscles tight. Shaking. My entire body trembles and my fingers curl into the fabric of his T-shirt as I grip him like an anchor. If I let him go, I’ll fall to the floor.
When it’s over, I open my eyes, exhaling loudly. Our gazes meet.
“Stand up,” he says calmly.
I rise on shaky legs, staring at the giant wet spot that stains the front of his sweats. But that’s not all me. He did that too. His cock is leaking, I know it is.
He glances down at the spot, frowning, his gaze returning to mine. “You made a mess.”
“I’m a messy girl,” I say, my voice scratchy, my breaths uneven.
“Take them off.” He points at himself. “Get on your knees.”
Ah, here it is. I kneel down, reaching for the waistband of his sweats. I tug, and he lifts his hips, allowing me to pull them down, past his thighs. His cock pops up, straight and thick, the tip gleaming and wet. I back away when he kicks off his sweats. Reaches behind his neck to take off his T-shirt, until he’s just as naked as I am.
And what a glorious sight he is. His body is beautiful. A work of art. Elegant muscle and firm sinew. Those six-pack abs. His lean hips and thick thighs and that giant cock.
“My turn,” he whispers. “Lie on the bed.”
Confused, I stand once more and go to the side of the bed. He stands as well, going to the other side. “Dead center, Savage. Hurry up.”
I lie on the bed, sticky between my thighs, my nipples hard and throbbing. I could come again in seconds if he so much as barely touched my clit.
“Spread your legs,” he says and I do it automatically, opening myself to him.
He settles on the end of the bed, his fingers wrapped around the base of his cock as he begins to stroke. “Touch yourself.”
I frown. “What?”
“Do as I say.”
I rest my hand over my pussy, the heat licking at my fingers. “What do you want me to do next?”
“Do I need to command your every move?” he asks.
I say nothing. Just wait for his next order.
“Trace your clit,” he says, his voice low.
I do it, using just my index finger. “Like this?”
“Yes. Not too hard.” I increase my pace immediately, unable to stop myself. “Not too fast either. Stop.”
I pause, the tiny bit of flesh pulsating beneath my fingertip.
“Move your hand away. I can’t see you.”
He can’t make up his mind what he wants me to do. I drop my hand, moving my legs so my feet are flat on the mattress, my knees bent, legs still spread, giving him an eyeful. I watch as he begins to stroke himself in earnest, his hungry gaze glued to the spot between my thighs.
Without warning he rises up, crawling up the mattress. Crawling over me. Until he’s straddling my shoulders, my neck, his cock right in front of my mouth. “Let me come on your face.”
I knew he’d want this. Sick fuck.
But I want it too.
He strokes himself furiously, grunts sounding low in his throat. He’s so close. I can smell him. Feel him. His cock brushes my face and I lick my lips. Purse them together. A guttural groan leaves him as he teases my mouth with the head of his cock and I stick out my tongue, licking it. Tasting it. Tasting him.
“Fuck, Summer.” He chokes the words out on a gasp, and I feel his cum hit my face. Across my cheek. My lips. Streams of it. Again and again. He groans loudly and I open my eyes, watching him as he loses himself in me.
On me.
When it’s over, he reaches out, dipping his fingers in his own cum and smearing it on my lips, tracing their shape. “So fucking perfect,” he whispers, his compliment lighting me up inside.
He climbs off the bed without another word, leaving me there. My entire body throbs with the need to come, and his semen is all over my face. I think about wiping it off with my fingers and I’m about to do just that when he returns, a wet washcloth in his hand.
“I’ll wash you off.” His voice is cold. Almost clinical. As if he’s a doctor and I’m his patient, not the girl he just came all over.
I lie there and take it, closing my eyes as he wipes the cum off my face. His touch is impersonal, and he doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even breathe hard. He’s in complete control of himself.
It’s infuriating.
When he’s finished, he’s off the bed and back in the bathroom. I roll onto my side, propping my head up with my hand, contemplating my surroundings. The room is completely shrouded in darkness, and I wish I knew what time it was.
“You should go.”
I sit up when I hear his deep voice, searching for him in the dim light. I find him standing in the open doorway of the connecting bathroom, stark naked and his arms curled in front of his chest.
“I thought—”
“You thought wrong,” he interrupts, pushing away from the doorframe and approaching the bed. “I’m done with you.” He bends over and grabs my clothing, tossing it at me. “Get dressed and get out.”
I scramble off the bed and do as he says, slipping my clothes back on as fast as I can, my entire body shaking, but for a different reason now. Any pleasant feelings I might’ve had, have left me. Now I’m just angry.
Enraged.
“I want my journal,” I tell him as I slip my shoes on, not bothering with my socks.
He actually laughs, the bastard. “You think one beat-off session gets your journal back? I don’t think so.”
“You treat me like shit,” I spit at him, hating the pain coursing through me. “Like I’m worthless.”
“Familiar, right? Isn’t that how you treat yourself?” He lifts a brow.
I march toward him, my hands clenched into fists. “What the fuck do you know about me?”
“More than you know. I watch you. You walk around this campus as if no one can touch you, but deep down, you have zero self-worth.” He takes a step forward, bending down so his face is in mine. “Find your value, Savage, and prove to me you’re worth more than a meaningless jerk off.” He waves his hand at me, dismissive. “Now get out.”
“I hate you,” I say, my voice quaking with anger.
“You hate yourself even more because you enjoyed every second of this,” he says with an evil smile. “Now go.”
I turn and leave without another word.
Seventeen
Summer
Friday afternoon and I’m in the library alone, sitting at my usual table. My American Government textbook cracked open in front of me as I try to read, but my eyes want to cross, the chapter is so boring. And I’m tired from last night with Whit.