Page 3 of Hot For Her Bully

"For the last time, I'm not Quinn. I don't need you giving that creep my cock's reputation."

"What kind of reputation does your cock have, Not Quinn?" I ask him, still lingering over his mouth, licking his lips and kissing him.

"For fuck's sake, Whitney. Stop." He pulls me away from him and bucks me off his waist.

I scramble to my feet, even though the room is spinning. "I need to lie down."

"I told you that," the masculine voice says. "Sit on the couch."

I follow his command and sit down. He picks up his phone and pulls the coffee table back for him to sit in front of me.

"Look, it's a girl gone wild," I tell him and take my shirt off. My bra digs into the flesh under my arms, and the only thing left to do is take it off. I jiggle my free-moving tits in front of him, all on video for him to whack off to later. "You're welcome for that deposit into the spank bank."

He shakes his head, using two fingers to push the side of my head and knock me over like a feather. Sleep comes as the image of Not Quinn fades.

* * *

The dryness of my mouth feels like I've been eating sand, forcing me to wake up with the gnarliest hangover I've ever had. Bits and pieces of last night come through, and all I remember is Quinn or someone else putting me on the couch. I look down to see my tits out but my shorts still intact.

My body doesn't feel like it's been used and abused, so I dip my hand into my panties. The wetness is still there, and after smelling my finger, it's my natural scent. There aren't any intrusive odors, smells that don't belong to me. Nor is there any soreness from sex I may or may not have agreed to. I breathe a sigh of relief, suddenly thankful to my savior.

My mind reels with desperate attempts to remember what happened. Quinn has to be the guy who took me out of that party. He's all I can remember clearly. I look around the living room, and it's cleaner than most dorm apartments. It's small, and the closed doors tempt me to snoop around.

One door opens to a bathroom, the other is a closet, and the third is a bedroom with a muscular guy sleeping soundly. No roommates. Perfect.

Is it crazy that I want to thank Quinn for not taking advantage of me by waking him up with a blow job, hoping he takes advantage of me?

After stripping out of my clothes, I take timid steps toward the bed. The moon is still high, and the phone charging on the nightstand reads 2:22 AM. Lucky number for a lucky guy.

My heart pounds against my chest as I lift the bottom edge of the blanket, crawling between thick legs. They're hairy, and he inhales sharply while I creep up the bottom half of his naked body. The cock in my hands last night is asleep too, but I remember what it feels like awake.

Licking my lips, I kiss the tip. A bead of precum dangles on my lip. I swipe it away with my tongue before taking the head of his flaccid dick into my mouth.

"Oh fuck," he growls with sleep in his voice. A moan of pleasure comes soon after as my mouth gets to work, thanking him for being a gentleman.

The smoothness of his head hardens against my tongue as I suck, slurp, and kiss him into a full erection. I moan, groan, and hum to let my mouth vibrate with every stroke of my mouth over his cock.

"Shit, Whit. Stop," he says, but the way his hips writhe against my face fights the words ringing through the air. Still, I stop and move my body up, peppering a trail of kisses from his belly button to his chest.

When I feel the blunt tip of his cock between my thighs, I reach down to rub him at my entrance. Once I slide him inside of me, I look into his eyes, going in for a kiss when reality punches me in the face.

"Weston?" My pulse quickens as a diabolical smile spreads across his lips.

I don't have any time to react because he growls, flipping me onto my back and pinning my arms to the bed beside me.

"Wait, don't. I thought—" My words are muffled by one hand while his other wraps around both my wrists. My pulse races as he begins to move in and out of me. Every stroke gets me wetter than the last, but I can't let this happen.

"Fuck, I never thought you'd feel this good, Shit-ney. This pussy needs to be mine," he snarls in between strokes. "Look at how fucking wet you are for me. Look!"

He slides his cock out of me and moves forward to press it against my lips. I keep my mouth pressed shut, but he reaches behind him to squeeze my clit.

Pain and pleasure ricochet across my body, and I let out a yelp. He takes the chance to shove his cock back into my mouth. He's too heavy, and even as I bite down, he grips me by the chin. My cheeks puff out with every inch of him pushing to go down my throat.

"If you bite me or throw up on me, Whitney, I'll break your fucking jaw. You started this. I'm going to finish it." He pulls his cock back and rams it forward. I open my mouth wider to avoid grazing him with my teeth, hoping that he finishes soon.

He doesn't fuck my mouth for long before pulling out and sliding easily into my pussy.

"Please, Weston. I thought you were someone else."

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