Bad Boy Blues

“Me?”

“Yeah. You’re pissing off my cock, Blue. You’ve been pissing it off for days now. The way you move in that tight little uniform of yours. The way you run around, your blue braid flopping behind your back. You’re inviting trouble, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“No? Your tits bounce when you walk, baby.” I shudder at his casually thrown endearment, like he was waiting to say it all his life. “Did you know that?”

“I don’t.” I arch my hips, trying to get closer to his mouth. “I don’t do it on purpose.”

He chuckles and somehow, it hits me right in the clit. In my slippery, slippery clit.

God, I think I’m creaming my panties in front of him. I think he can see it. He can see how my pussy is salivating for him.

“You don’t, huh?”

“No.”

His head goes in and out of my vision as I blink and try to keep my eyes open against the onslaught of all the lust and hormones.

Zach drags his lips along my lower belly and the ache I always feel for him flares up. It punches me on the inside like it knows him. Knows the source of its existence is near, right there, talking to it, talking to my skin.

“It’s just that they are so big, aren’t they? Your tits. They’re so fucking big that you can’t help being a good little maid for me,” he rasps, painting his crude words on my flesh.

“Y-yeah.”

My tits are heaving now. The nipples feel like bullets. They need him. They need his hands and Zach brings out his thumb from the inside of my panties, reaches up with both hands and cups them.

Giving me his eyes, he kneads the flesh. “Are you being a good little maid for me right now?”

I nod, turned on out of my mind. I think I even orgasmed a little too, with the way my inner muscles are fluttering.

“You gonna soothe my pissed-off cock, baby?”

I nod again, this time with a moan.

“Yeah? You gonna let me French kiss your virgin pussy, even though anyone might walk up to us and see you riding my mouth?”

My breaths are turning into hiccups, into sobs, and my nails are raking down the side of his neck. “Yes.”

He pins me with his gaze, his thick lashes giving it a mysterious look. “It’s okay. I won’t let them see anything. I’ll hide you. I’ll always hide you away from prying eyes. Anything worth seeing, Blue, is gonna be in my mouth.”

I haven’t even gotten over the current those words of his sent through my system when he pinches my nipples hard before letting my leg go. He makes quick work of my panties, dragging them down with needy, stabbing fingers and pocketing my underwear.

And then, there’s nothing left to do but kiss.

It occurs to me then that I should be embarrassed by the fact that I haven’t shaved down there in ages. Back when I was still a normal, albeit irresponsible and rebellious teenager, I used to shave it regularly. But after my parents’ death, it never even occurred to me to do anything about the downstairs business.

Zach doesn’t mind, though. If his groan is anything to go by, he likes it. He takes a quick whiff of my untamed curls before covering me with his mouth.

He was right; I was worrying for nothing. Anything worth seeing is going to be in his wicked, sucking mouth.

Draping my thigh over his shoulder, he gets in there. He parts my lips with one hand and licks the center of me, like he’s licking the juicy part of a fruit.

“Zach,” I moan, digging the toes of my other leg in the dirt.

The pebbles hurt me but his mouth is giving me enough pleasure to suffer walking through shards of glass.

He curses at my pussy and I feel his fuck in my chest, making my heart go haywire. Don’t even talk about the butterflies. They are everywhere. Even in my calf that dangles from his wide shoulder, making it buzz.

I thought him licking up the juices of my core, circling my tight, untouched hole, would finish me off. I thought if he did that for like, five more seconds, I’d explode. My fingers would flex in his hair and I’d shout out my orgasm to the sky.

But then, I didn’t know that his lips would close over my little clit at the top. And if the electricity that shoots through my body is any indication, she was horny for him. For the long sucks of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth and his grunts.

Jesus. His grunts.

They are taking up all the empty spaces of my soul. I’ll hear them until the day I die. I’ll sleep to them. I’ll wake up to them. I’ll imagine them day in and day out.

That and his rippling shoulders and his shuddering back.