She’s perfect.
I can feel my dick growing harder again, and this time it has nothing to do with Lindy’s mouth and everything to do with the gorgeous blonde who is currently watching me get a blowjob. Our gazes lock. Her face is full of shock. I grin at her, as I tighten my hold on Lindy’s hair and move her up and down my shaft, wanting little Miss Innocent Eyes to watch me come.
Will she want to be the next to beg to ride the Big Mike train?
I like the idea of her begging me. I like it so much, I grunt out as an image of her in front of me, on her knees, begging to suck me, flashes through my mind. That’s what I want.
Her begging.
Lindy’s hands come up on my hips and I can tell from the noises she’s making that she’s not truly enjoying this anymore. It makes me an even bigger bastard than the one I already admit to being, but I don’t give a fuck. I don’t even spare her a glance, because I don’t want to break eye contact with the girl watching.
“Like what you see?” I ask, feeling the heat in my balls begin to spread. I’m going to come. I can feel it.
The girl looks at me, and suddenly her eyes narrow and it’s disgust I see now. That pisses me off. She’s the one watching. If she didn’t like it, she should have just kept walking. I could tell she was interested, too.
She liked watching.
I’m so sick of damn bitches acting like they don’t think about sex, but when you get them alone – hell, sometimes that doesn’t even matter – they’re all over you acting like they’ll die if they don’t get fucked.
“You can come join in, blondie. Big Mike has more than enough for you to share, and Lindy likes parties.”
Lindy tries to pull off my cock, but I don’t let her. My attention is on the girl looking at me like I’m dirt under her fingernails.
She holds up her hand and flips up her middle finger, before stomping off.
That’s different.
It makes me grin and when I come down Lindy’s throat, I do it watching the curvy blonde’s ass bounce as she stalks away.
I’m going to have her begging for my cock soon, and when she does, I’m definitely going to enjoy bringing her down a peg or two.2VioletI refuse to run. I flip the asshole off and then walk away slowly. My instinct is to run. I feel dirty. Just watching the exchange was enough to make me feel that way, but it’s not exactly everything that’s bothering me. I’m not liking the fact that I was kind of turned on. Hell, maybe even jealous of the dark headed girl who was clearly doing her best to deep throat that guy’s massive cock. I didn’t envy her that. It looked more painful than pleasurable. Still, he was beautiful as he took what she gave him, and for a minute I wanted to be the woman giving him that pleasure, having a part in that beauty. And then…
He opened his mouth. He gave me that cocky look and the beauty disappeared. In its place was that look of superiority I’ve become all too familiar with since moving to Black Mountain.
I hate it here.
I didn’t want to move. I didn’t have many options. Okay, well, that’s not exactly true. I knew I had to get out of the projects and the sad-ass school I was in if I was ever going to have a chance at going to a decent college. I’m inventive and I manage to make enough money to keep a roof over my head and pay the bills, while still managing to put some money back. There’s no way, however, that I can afford tuition at a major Ivy League College without a scholarship, and that’s if I got accepted. Which, with my background, I probably wouldn’t. To get the scholarship I want, I need to come from a prestigious school, have excellent marks, and fit the face of the university. Everyone talks about colleges wanting to help the indigent, and how universities are reaching out to the poor. It sounds good on the news, but this is the real world. Ivy Leagues do not open doors to poor white trash and that’s exactly what these rich snobs would see me as – if they only knew.
I’m going to bust my ass to keep it from happening. What they don’t know won’t hurt me – so to speak.
This is only my second day at the school. I’m a little more relaxed, but then again, the first day I was terrified the school would discover my faked back story and kick me out. It’s not like everything I put on my admission papers was a lie. I’ve learned over the years that if you have to lie, every lie should have some truth involved.