Breaking the Bully
She continues that tight ride of pussy up, down, up, down, the bottom of my spine already beginning to crowd. “Tell me how you would have done it.”
The air in the cabin feels hot and thick, impossible to get into my lungs. There’s something sinfully low beating, deep in my belly, the confession making me ache for release and feel shameful about it at the same time. Shame on you. “I’d get you behind the school and…play with your pussy through your panties until you stopped fighting and started moaning.” I press my chest down to her back and start to pump, unable to help it, the dark, recalled fantasy driving my body to fuck. “And then I would just…I’d just push down your panties and shove my dick in. Just for some relief, Allie. Just for some fucking relief.”
I’m tunneling in and out of her now, faster, faster, watching her tits jiggle in the mirror, her eyes glazed with sex, as are mine. The slapping sound that fills the cabin is adult and raunchy and drugging and we go harder, loving it, made helpless to do anything but give in to the maturing needs of our bodies.
“I would have moaned,” she murmurs haltingly. “I would have pulled down my own panties for you.”
Jesus Christ. I’m nearly in the throes, can’t form words. I’m made incoherent by Allie’s confession. By the sensual tilt of her mouth, the knowledge in her eyes that I’m under her spell. All I can do is pump into her from behind like a grateful dog.
“Bully me,” she whispers, face flushing.
On some level, I knew it was coming. The roughness of our sex, the way I’m behind and on top, physically stronger, conquering her…it’s woken up something that I like maybe a little too much. And as always, I’m not capable of denying this girl anything she asks for. Especially when—shamefully—I want to give it.
Still humping her furiously, I lean down and press my mouth to her ear. “Finally came slumming it, didn’t you, rich girl? Too good to talk to me in the hall, but once we’re alone, you gave this pussy right up.” I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing, and she wails a sound, pushing back rhythmically into my lap. “That’s right. Milk me good, you tight, stuck-up, little brat.”
Allie sucks in a rattling breath, her sex clenching around me, the orgasm making her blind and mindless. She grinds her pussy down to the base of my shaft and screams, clawing at the sheets, bullied into a climax—and maybe, maybe I shouldn’t be so fucking hot over it, but regrets will have to come later, because my body isn’t giving me any room for rational thinking. I’m not in control as I flatten her to the mattress and ride up and down, plowing my cock deep, watching myself take ownership of her in the mirror, her face bruised, my lips peeled back from my teeth.
Every inch the bully.
And I climax, even as my heart lurches, alarmed by the sight.
Not only the raw, entitled expression on my face, but the picture we make. Allie replete and boneless beneath me while I rut furiously between her open thighs, the flesh of her buttocks jumping with every smack of my hips. I’m so conflicted that when the tide has finished drowning me, I gather her up like a poor man who just found a chest of gold. I gather her up and crush her against me, apologizing thickly, wrapping her in sheets, rocking her side to side.
“I didn’t mean it,” I say hoarsely into her neck. “Not any of it.”
“I know,” she whispers back, kissing my shoulder.
But her reassurance does nothing to relax me. And as nighttime falls and turns the cabin dark, Allie falling asleep in my arms, I worry like hell that I’ve just reminded her of exactly why she needs to leave me in the past.
Chapter Seven
Allie
It’s Monday morning. Not being in school makes me feel wildly rebellious, if a little displaced. I’m showered and wearing fresh clothes—wearing clothes at all for the first time since Saturday, actually. Heat tingles up along my skin and I glance across the cabin at Moore who watches me broodily from the coffee maker, his hands balled into fists on the kitchen counter. He’s dressed in jeans and a loose, long-sleeved T-shirt. Boots. Black hair falling across his brow.
Too beautiful to be believed.
It’s so tempting to remain in the dreamscape of this cabin. Spend another day completely lost to pleasure, the capabilities and cravings of our bodies.
I can’t do that, though.
Can I?
My thighs flex beneath my skirt, my fresh pair of underwear growing dewy. In just one day, I’ve conditioned myself to need sex with Moore. To require it. Every inch of my body is tender from his mouth, his manhood, his unshaven jaw, his hands. My nipples are aching buds, my breasts so anxious to be touched, they’re plumped against the front of my tank top—and Moore notices. God, does he notice, that granite jaw clenching nearly to the point of snapping.