Page 93 of Butterfly Effect

“I’m so close,” I whine. “So, so cl?—”

The lock gives, flinging the door open. A sweat-covered Wade stands within the warped frame, keeping the door wide. I part my legs further, giving him a better view, the stretched nude lace now limp across the back of my hands. His eyes grow, mouth agape.

“Go away,” I complain with a whine. “You’re ruining my orgasm.”

You big lying liar.

He looks to the ceiling with a shake of his head. “Fucking fuck. That’s not what it looks like.” His tongue swoops forward to his full lower lip as if he can taste me from across the room. “Is this payback for getting us kicked out of class?” he says, breathless. “Because I promise you, it’s more like a reward?—”

I don’t want to think about why Wade Boehner cares or why it matters to him what happened to my mom. Definitely don’t wanna be thinking about her right now. There are feelings to be avoided. Orgasms to be had. Oranorgasm, at least.

So I knock the head of the toy against the front wall of my pussy, hitting two spots at once, and cry out a whimper, flushing all other thoughts from my brain.

One of his hands squeezes his cock through tented shorts. “You’re fucking killing me, Freckles.”

“Yeah?” I pant. “Show me how much.” My gaze drops to his grip. “Pull it out.”

His waistband snaps below his balls, upright dick fully engorged.

“Touch yourself,” I demand.

Wade responds with a firm stroke, then thumbs over the ripe cherry red crown with a hiss.

“Faster.”

“You too.” He whines. “I wanna watch you come all over my bed again.”

“Good boys ask nicely.” A shiver runs through him. “You like that? Being called a good boy?”

“Fuck, yes. Call me whatever you want. Just don’t stop.” His jaw ticks as his grasp tightens, pumps matching my pace. “Please?”

Something about the raw, vulnerable need in his tone and pants-down, cock-out stance stokes the fire of pleasure. It sears through me. “Please, what?”

“Please let me watch you come on my bed.” He can barely get the words out. “Keep playing with that pussy.”

I yelp and hold the vibrator at a delicious angle, continuing to slide it through me.

“Fuck,” Wade groans, his hand moving frantically.

This idiot makes me lose any semblance of sense.

“Tell me how much you hate me again, Freckles.”

A garbled noise escapes my throat as pleasure waves through, ready to drown me.

“And don’t lie. I can hear how wet you are.”

“I’m gonna come,” I say through gasps. “But you don’t get to.”

His hand drops, but his cock doesn’t. It bobs mid-air as Wade scrubs the torture on his face and yanks at his hair.

My walls tighten around the silicone shaft, eyes screwed shut. The pleasure peaks as I arch through the high with a scream. I tremble through the steady vibrations of the toy, then relax into the gray cushioned headboard, sighing in content when I pull it out.

Pretty Boy sobs out a laugh. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do hate you.”

Through the daze, a surprisingly sinister idea forms. “You’re about to hate me even more.”

I abandon the dildo on the mattress and walk the line to Wade, peeling away my sports bra from its sweaty skin. My nipples relish the attention of his gaze.

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