ChapterEight
Tomas
I have never been the kind of guy to attract good girls. But where’s the fun in that? Good girls aren’t taboo. Good girls don’t like pain. Good girls don’t experiment.
But girls like Alex? She’s definitely hiding a freak beneath the surface. I sense it on her when she walks by, the way her hips sway loosely whenever she’s wearing a pleated skirt with sneakers. She looks good in pastels, but the darker colors look best on her.
That’s what draws me in her direction in the auditorium. Dim light caresses the contours of her face, dark eyes looking so much darker than usual—and worried. The tight black jeans she wears mean no easy access, but that doesn’t matter right now. I’m hungry for her to touch me. After all, I did to touch her, it’s the least she can do.
And she can’t say no.
“Hello, little doll,” I sigh casually as I plop into the seat next to her. I feel her eyes on me, tense energy crackling between us while I reach ever so slowly for her right hand. My cock fights against my zipper, already so hard that it hurts. When I take her wrist, she snatches her hand away. My eyes flare with a warning. “Don’t fight.”
“Don’t touch me.”
I smirk deviously. “I don’t need to touch you today, little doll.” I grip her hand and drag it to my zipper. “I just need you to touch me.”
She stiffens, her voice pitching low as she complains, “Someone might see.”
“That’s part of the fun.”
“You’re such a sick freak.”
A half-starved moan rattles low in my throat as I buck into her palm. “Oh baby, do you mean it?”
“Oh my God, you like that?”
My eyelids weigh heavy as I slump into the auditorium seat. It’s unlikely we’ll really get caught, given the stadium-style setup, unless someone walks down the aisle to my right. But just the idea of getting seen, of having someone notice the way this slutty prude pleases me, makes me want to bust right now.
I draw my lip ring in between my teeth while undoing my zipper. Alex freezes when her fingers brush the warm shaft of my cock. Her eyes frantically skitter around the auditorium, faded voices carrying from behind the stage, yet no one stands close enough to realize what we’re doing. They probably just think we’re talking.
“That’s it, baby,” I whisper gruffly when she grips the head of my cock. “Stroke me like you wanted to on the terrace.”
She snorts. “I would never want to stroke you.”
“I think you’re lying.”
“I can’t stand you. You’re an asshole. You’re selfish.”
She’s fucking killing me. Each insult is punctuated by a pump from her hand. The way her delicate fingers slide unskilled along my shaft makes me grip the armrests. Broken huffs echo from my lips, the only verbal indication of my pleasure.
When her thumb grazes the head of my cock, she whispers, “You’re a fucking loser and a coward.” My eyes roll back. “You’re a dumb dick who can’t even think for himself.” The plastic armrests whimper under my grasp as I resist the urge to bow forward. “Useless freak.”
I blow my wad into my stomach, each spurt challenging me to keep my lip ring between my teeth. The sharp tug of the skin provides a modicum of pain that tips me farther over the edge. She retracts her hand, causing me to catch the back of her neck as I lift the hem of my shirt. “Clean it up.”
“No, I won’t—”
“I said, clean it up.” My fingers grip a chunk of her hair, drawing her scalp taut as I force her into the mess she made. “And don’t swallow it.” Her tongue shakily laps every drop. As soon as she sits up, I force her mouth to mine, plunging my tongue between her salt-coated lips. Her hum of defiance just makes me dig even deeper into her mouth, slurping spit and cum off her bottom lip, my lust for her doubling as a result.
My cock twitches, wanting to stand at attention again, but I shove the feeling down in favor of breaking the kiss, staring into her dark eyes. Her pupils are so wide that they’re practically taking over her irises.
I lick my lip ring and say, “I want to taste you next time.”
“Fat fucking chance.”
An evil smile dances over my lips. “Don’t worry. It’ll feel so good that you’ll want it all the time, doll.”
Students wander into the auditorium, a group of them filing down the aisle to my right. Alex shuffles next to me, gathering her things to run off. I don’t bother stopping her. Little rabbits need to get a head start.