Breaking the Bully

Her breath comes in tight pants, blue eyes glazed.

“I want you to come,” she rasps, hips shifting. “You’ve been hiding from me for two years, acting like someone else. But this…this is honest. I-I want to feel it.”

“Soon. Soon.” My spine is tingling, twisting ominously at the base. “Just let me get myself under control.”

“Now.” Her expression is rapt, imploring. “Fall apart.”

“Allie, please.”

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she reaches down and sinks her fingernails into my bare ass, yanking me close and impaling herself on my rigid cock—

And I come violently while she screams, my body in a state of shock and bliss, hips slapping against her mindlessly, mouth open on a silent shout, the pressure I’ve been carrying between my thighs for what feels like years ebbing in degrees. I hump and hump and hump, groaning into the storm. Despite my brain ordering me to treat her gently, I fuck her in the dirt with every ounce of strength in my body, holding her struggling thighs open and raking her petite frame up and back on the soft earth, grinding out my pleasure into her too-tight cunt.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” I growl, biting her neck. “The smell of you in class. The shape of your neck and hips and fingers in front of me. Perfect, so perfect, so mine. And you wouldn’t even give me your eyes. It broke me. You broke me. But you’ve always been mine, no matter what, huh? Nothing can change that.” I lick her neck, her throat, her mouth. I buck into her endlessly, roughly, my climax wringing me dry. “Mine be mine be mine.”

An invisible string is cut when I’m finally down the other side of my peak, my heaving body collapsing on top of Allie’s. In an instant, I’m painfully aware of how aggressively I just took her and my blood freezes. When I lift my head to look at her, however, she’s staring up at the sky with a dazed curve to her lips. “Allie?” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks. “I’m… God. Are you okay?”

Her nod gets my blood running again.

“It finally happened,” she whispers, her voice almost camouflaged by the rain.

“What did, baby?”

The smile she gives me is almost shy. “I got to be part of the storm.”

Chapter Five

Allie

Over the years, my mother’s voice has started to fade from my head, but I can remember her saying, “Oh, Betty,” when something interested her. Or made her sit up and take notice. And watching the claw-marked muscle of Moore’s back shift in the darkness, I mouth those words to myself. Oh, Betty.

After we…

After what happened at the lake…

I don’t know what to call what we did. I’m scared to call it “making love.” “Sex” sounds too surface level for something so intense. “Fucking” sounds too coarse, too impersonal, when what passed between us on the shore of the lake couldn’t have been more personal.

We stormed. That’s what we did.

All this time, I envisioned Moore meeting girls on the weekends, forgetting all about me in a quest for momentary male bliss. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’s been…he waited. He waited for me. The bald honesty in his eyes when making that confession left absolutely no doubt that he…feels something for me. Quite a lot, if I can believe what a man says in the heat of the moment. None of what Moore said felt like bluster, though. Or a man telling a woman what she wants to hear.

It was as if he’d been holding it in and pleasure broke the dam of secrets, sending them rushing toward me. Leaving me to stay afloat in all of this new knowledge.

I sit on the back porch of the cabin, arms wrapped around my knees, watching Moore connect the generator so we can have light. When we got back to the house, the electricity wasn’t working. Now, shirtless, my nails marks creating patterns all over his back, he works on his knees in front of the machine, a line of focus between his dark brows. Every minute or so, he stops working to glance over at me, his throat bobbing, watchful and hungry, the outline of his erection back to pressing against the front of his wet jeans.

The newfound feminine knowledge inside of me purrs, stretches out on a fur rug in front of a fireplace and demands attention. My jeans were sodden, so I didn’t bother putting them back on. Now I’m clad in panties and a T-shirt, which is also drenched. My lack of clothing feels forbidden, in a way, as does being alone at a cabin with a boy. For the whole night. And I don’t know what to do about the desire he’s stoked inside of me. I don’t know what to do with the excitement of knowing we’re both new at exploring the bodies of the opposite sex…and all the ways we could do it now. Inside the cabin. Alone. No one to hear us, judge us, see us. No getting in trouble. Nothing holding us back.