Black Promises (Blackwoods College)

“I owe you something and I always pay my debt.”

“I wonder about that.” His fingers slid down over my panties. I gasped in a breath as pleasure rolled along my hips. He seemed to know just where to touch me, where to press and rub, before pulling back and slipping down deeper beneath my panties.

He circled my folds, teasing, teasing, before finding my clit and kneading slow.

I leaned my head back and let out a soft, gasping moan.

“Look at you,” he crooned, “dripping wet and writhing. We murdered a man and you talked to the police, and yet all you can think about is me fucking you senseless.”

“Fuck you.” I squeezed my eyes shut and jammed my nails into his shoulder. If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. “God, you’re the one doing this. You think I wanted to barter my body?”

“I think you were willing to do anything, and now you’re afraid you took on more than you could handle.”

“I can handle more than you, asshole.”

“I doubt that very much.” He bit my lower lip hard as he slipped fingers deep inside of my pussy. I gasped in pleasure and pain, and as I tasted iron and salt on my tongue, a burst of blood from the two little punctures, he rolled his fingers along my clit again, sending a fresh wave of ecstasy pulsing along my spine.

“What are you doing?” I moaned. “Aren’t you supposed to fuck me? Don’t you want to fuck me?” The words tumbled out, mad and wild and stupid, and I regretted them immediately. I didn’t want to seem desperate, but god, I was so desperate, so needy and stupid and willing to give him what I was supposed to give him, if only he’d stop driving me wild with lust and start showing me how I was supposed to move and feel.

But his fingers only paused as he released a strangled growl. “You think I don’t want to?”

“I think you’re delaying. I can’t tell if it’s because you enjoy messing with me, or if it’s because you don’t want to go through with it.”

He kissed my lips hard. No biting, no pain, only his soft tongue and his taste and his breath. His fingers moved faster on my clit, sending sprays and jolts of pleasure, so much pleasure, and I moaned into his mouth, losing myself, glowing and glowing, getting brighter with each stroke.

“I want you so badly I can’t stop thinking about it,” he whispered as my back arched. “Your lips and tits and this tight, soaking pussy, it drives me fucking wild. I’ve wanted you for a long time, Cora, my little freak, my baby girl. I haven’t taken you yet, only because I want this to last as long as it can. I don’t want to fuck you and be done with you. I want to savor your skin. I want to revel in your moans. I want to bask in the glory of your orgasm and drink you down until you’re left moaning, shivering, shaking, begging for another taste. That’s what I want, my freak. I want you broken and all mine.”

I came in a torrent of mangled groans, my hands grasping his arms hard, my head thrown back. I was blinded by his words, but the pressure on my clit, and I couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, I was nothing but explosive pleasure as I came on his thick fingers. He kissed my neck, my ears, my throat, my lips, murmuring the whole time, my freak, my baby girl, over and over, until my orgasm died down, and I slowly sank to the ground.

It was cold without his hand between my legs.

He sat next to me and wrapped his arms around my body. I let him hold me, grateful for the warmth. My ears were ringing and my vision was somewhat fuzzy.

“You can’t take forever you know,” I whispered, my face pressed against his chest. His heart was racing.

“I won’t, but I don’t think you’re ready.”

I looked up at him. “When will I be?”

“You’ll know, and when you are, you’ll make sure I know it, too.”

I nodded and huddled close against him.

I wasn’t sure if I believed there’d ever be a good time. There’d always be some level of fear and uncertainty nagging at the back of my mind. If he was waiting for perfection, I didn’t think we’d ever get there.

Except if that orgasm was any indication—

I didn’t need perfection. I only needed him.

God, we were a messed-up pair of murderers.

16

Jarrod

After football practice the next day, I hit the weights hard.

“God damn, Jarrod, you are truly a monster.” Des gave me an approving look as I finished squatting my personal best. “Seriously, I’m pretty sure you could deadlift a freaking cow.”

“Cows aren’t the right shape for a deadlift,” Addler said. “Maybe something like a really big snake?”