Page 20 of Perfect Boy

“I don’t care,” I whisper. “I. Can’t.” I shake my head. “I won’t.”

My brain is so messed up. All from this man before me. Well, and the others who have fucked me up along the way. And when he starts to release me, I stop him, digging my fingernails into his forearms.

Here we are, in a complete standoff, waiting to see who is going to make the next move. The tension between us is so thick that I can hardly breathe. And the next thing I know…his lips are on mine. They are on mine, and I don’t even pull back. My entire body is incapacitated, and I can’t move.

We kiss—so hard that my lips actually feel bruised instantly. Pushing me backward, he slams my back up against the mirror. His erection drives into my stomach as his tongue caresses mine.

Reaching under my ass, he lifts me up, wrapping my legs around his waist as his lips continue to assault mine. His dick is so hard against my body that I literally moan into his mouth, unable to help myself.

My brain is fuzzy. I’ve lost all control of myself. Pulling back suddenly, he looks around before spotting the closet. We have this place blocked off in the schedule for an hour and a half, but still, someone could walk in at any time. Yet for some reason, that kind of turns me on even more.

Walking us into the closet, he kicks the door shut before taking a few steps and driving my back against the wall again.

“Fuck, I want to be inside of you,” he growls against my mouth. “I want to fuck these mouthy lips too.”

Losing all control, I reach for the hem of his shirt, desperately trying to tear it off as quickly as I can. I lift it upward with a little help from him, and I toss it on the ground before reaching between us and tugging at his sweatpants.

“So, you think I’m too nice, Ryann?” he coos, tearing his lips from mine, slapping his hands next to my head. “You don’t want nice?”

“No, I don’t. I don’t care how good of a boy you think you are. I just want to be fucked, Watson. I want an orgasm,” I breathe out. “Think you can do that? Or will your feelings get in the way?”

Sensing I’m mocking him, he slowly lets my legs fall to the ground and dips his head closer. “Let’s get one thing straight, Ry baby. You know I’d love to take you on a date and all that. But you’ve made it damn clear that isn’t what you want. So, I’ll give you my cock, if you’re a good girl and take it the way I want you to. Deal?” Before I can answer, his eyes darken. “And while I fuck you, I’m not going to be nice. Got it? Because it seems you don’t want a nice guy.”

Eagerly, I nod quickly before reaching for the band of his sweatpants again, but he grabs my wrist and slams it against the wall.

“Say please, Tiny Dancer. Beg for my cock like a good little slut, and maybe I’ll give it to you.”

I’m well aware that I look like a pathetic, horny, desperate girl. But the ache between my legs and the need inside my body are too much to fight. So, I give up on playing it off like I’m too cool.

“Pl-please,” I moan. “Please, Watson.”

Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he brings my mouth to his. “Are you going to be a nice little cock slut, Ryann?” He runs his tongue along my jaw and down my neck before returning his mouth to mine, hovering his lips above my own. “You want me to feed it to you, don’t you? Every fucking inch while you drip down my thighs.”

Being called a slut in everyday life? Not fun. Being called a slut just before Watson Gentry rails the shit out of me against the supply closet wall? Hot.

Turns out, Sutton was right. He is a dirty, dirty boy.

“Yes,” I whimper.

“I’d love to have you on your knees, watching you suck my cock between those plump lips and gag on me just before I give you a drink of my cum, but we’re short on time, and I really need to feel your pussy clench around me.”

Pulling his own pants and briefs down, he lets them fall to the ground before kissing me again. His lips stay on mine as he peels my leotard off, taking my panties with it, and tosses them onto the floor, leaving me completely exposed.

The cool air rushes to my nipples, though I’m not sure if it’s the air or Watson making them painfully hard. Either way, he takes notice and runs his tongue down my neck and over my collarbone before working his way to each nipple while his fingers slip between my legs.

“Fucking drenched,” he mutters before bringing his fingers to his mouth and running them over his tongue. “Mmm. And despite how mean you are to me, so fucking sweet.”

My knees are weak. My head is spinning. Whatever picture I painted in my mind of Watson was totally wrong. And I’ll admit, I’m not mad about it. But no part of me is able to form a coherent thought. I’m gone.

Reaching down, he grips his length in his hand and strokes himself. The sight has me clenching my legs together and my mouth watering, desperate for him.

“Like what you see, Tiny Dancer?” he coos, his lips turning up in a knowing smirk. “I promise, you’ll love having me inside of you even more.”

Reaching for his length, I push his hand out of the way and begin moving my hand back and forth.

“Fuck,” he grunts through gritted teeth before moving his hand between my legs and slipping his fingers inside of me. “Christ, you’re so tight. Goddamn, I want to feel this tight pussy bare,” he growls, a strangled groan escaping his throat. “You on the pill, Ry baby?”

“IUD,” I croak out, his fingers alone bringing me closer to a climax. “Watson, I…”

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