Hey, Mister Marshall (St. Mary's Rebels 4)

“I kept thinking about that and thinking about that, Poe. I kept thinking that you were crying out for me. That you needed me. You needed me to save you. You needed me to protect you from this imaginary fucking asshole who stole your first kiss that you’d been dreaming about for years. Until I found myself in my car, driving to that shitty bar to bring you back. Do you understand now? That’s why I kissed you. That’s why I gave you your first kiss. Because I didn’t want anyone else to give it to you. I didn’t want anyone else to take your virgin mouth.”

I’m shuddering under him.

I’m squirming and twisting under him.

I’m both a bundle of nerves and a wave of relief as I whisper, “Thank you.”

He pushes his chest into mine then. “What?”

“You protected me. You kept me safe.”

He looks at me for a second or two, his eyes first flaring before he narrows them, like he can’t believe what I just said. “Are you crazy, Poe? Are you fucking insane?”

“W-what?”

“Thank you,” he repeats my words on a bite. “You’re fucking thanking me for what I did.”

“Yes. Not only b-because you protected me. But because I loved it,” I tell him, my hands going up to his hair and grabbing the strands. “It was epic. I want more. I want —”

“Shut up.”

“No, I won’t.” I tug at his hair. “I want more, Alaric. I want —”

His hands snatch away from my thighs and come up to my face then. One grabs hold of my jaw, squeezing my mouth, effectively robbing me of speech, and the other makes a fist in my hair as he growls, “Stop talking, Poe. Stop fucking talking. Because you don’t want more. Because you’re not going to want more when I want more.” He gives my mouth a shake. “You know what I mean, don’t you? You know what I’m talking about, yeah? You remember.”

At his words, I undulate my hips, rubbing my pussy over his pelvis. But he presses into me even more, stopping my actions, his eyes now brimming with warning and turned into slits.

“I see that you do,” he rasps.

“I do, y-yes.” I nod. “I know what you want. I know you’ll want my pussy.”

“Yeah.” His jaw clenches. “I will. And then you won’t want more kisses from me, Poe. You won’t want me to give you more when I come for that cunt. You won’t thank me when you’re lying here, in your teenage bed with bloody sheets and a wrecked, dripping pussy.”

I shudder. My pussy shudders too.

A drop of wetness oozes out and I whisper, “But it’s already dripping. My c-cu —”

He presses his mouth on mine to stop me and I latch on to him. I kiss him back even though I know he’s done this on purpose. He doesn’t want me to say it. He doesn’t want me to say that word and I’m proven right when he breaks the kiss, ordering, “Don’t fucking say that word.”

“You said it though.”

“I can say whatever the fuck I want.” I open my mouth, trying to argue, but he speaks. “Am I going to have to watch everything I say or do in front of you? So you don’t throw it back at me?”

I bite my lip, feeling both bratty and guilty. “I just want you. Why is that so bad?” Then, with pleading eyes, “Please, Alaric. Just once.”

Something moves over his features then.

Something intense and heavy. Something that makes his chest, his abs, the length of his body flex and strain before going lax. I can’t say that his body has gone soft; he’s got heavy and hard muscles for days but some sort of tension leaves his body. And his chiseled expression loses its edge.

Even his fingers now cradle my jaw rather than holding it captive. His eyes take in my features. I must look all pink and flushed to him. That’s how I feel at least.

“How about I tell you a secret, huh?” he whispers then, in a gentle sort of voice.

“What secret?”

“You wanted to know all my secrets, didn’t you?” he rasps. “Back then. When you wanted your freedom.” I nod and he continues, “You wanted to know something that you could use against me.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to give you something that you can.” He nods, caressing my bangs. “Okay? I’m going to give you something that you can throw in my fucking face whenever you want to.”

I know what he’s doing.

I know he’s bargaining with me. He’s giving me something that I wanted badly back then so I won’t beg him for what I actually want now.

I should be mad.

I should tell him that I’m not a child. I won’t be bargained with. I have feelings and I have thoughts. I have the wishes and desires of a grown woman.