Page 385 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

My fingertips stroke the folds of her wet cunt.

I have a death grip on my cock as I bring myself closer and closer to the edge, one long, lingering stroke at a time.

Harper’s mouth falls open, her body jerking as I finger her. She says my name, licks her lips, and her breasts quiver as she tries to get away from my touch.

Because it’s wrong.

We can’t do this.

But here I am, lining my cock up with her dripping pussy as shebegsme not to fuck her.

Fuck. I’m close.

I bite down on my lip, thrusting into my own grip as I imagine sinking the first inch of my dick into Harper’s dripping cunt.

She lets out a desperate mewl. Tries to twist away again. Begs me to stop.

Jesus. My body stiffens.

A gasp as I ram myself balls deep inside Harper.

Fuck, she’s so tight. So wet. Hot.

There’s a sound behind me. Somehow, despite the euphoria drowning me, I realize it’s not in my imagination. I look over my shoulder, my bottom lip still caught in a ruthless bite. Harper stands a few feet away, face pale and eyes as wide as in my fantasy. Her eyes drop to my cock, and the horror in her blue eyes shifts into some kind of lewd fascination.

Cum hits my bared stomach, trickles down my fingers. I shudder, almost drawing blood from my lip as my climax engulfs me. But somehow I keep my eyes on her, somehow I manage to stroke my cock and urge another load of cum from it.

Harper bolts rabbit-quick from my room, leaving the door wide open behind her.

It takes everything?—

Every

Fucking

Thing

—I have not to go after her.

Instead, I stroke myself one last time.

Copper in my mouth. Cum all over my hands. Porn playing out on my thirty-inch screen. I should be ashamed. Instead, a final shudder tears through me as my eyes drift closed.

Our hips slam into each other and Harper lets out a desperate, breathless, “Jude!”

Chapter 10

Harper

I’m in a daze as I race down the stairs, through the living room, and out the patio doors. Rain hits my face, but I’m barely aware of it. I’m forcing myself to only think about one thing—wine.

The bottle is cool in my hand, the wine glass smooth. I’m in such a hurry to fill my glass that I spill wine all over the mahogany bar. I grab a dishcloth and soak it up while I take some big gulps from the glass and will it to blank out my mind.

It’s what alcohol is best at. Erasing things you wish you hadn’t heard or seen. It’s probably the reason I never stopped drinking, even when I knew it would make me feel shitty the next day or knowing my mom might find out. I was willing to go through all of that...just for that blissful ignorance.

But I guess if itreallyworked, then I wouldn’t even remember needing alcohol in the first place.

I’m in no need to psychoanalyze this moment. I need to forget that I just saw Jude jerking off in his bedroom.

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