Page 7 of Such A Filthy Girl

LEO

My fingers trembled on the keyboard as her car came into town. I didn’t know what to do with the jumble of nerves in my chest.

Estella’s home.

The tracker I’d paid to have affixed to her car traced her journey toward me, and I’d been glued to the screen for hours, watching her slow approach.

The polished wooden floor creaked as I paced, watching the car inching across the screen toward the house.

God, what to do with myself?

Shower,I told myself. She hasn’t seen you in six years, you need to be at your peak. Need to look better than her wholesome boyfriend.

My stomach roiled.

I pressed play on the video from earlier in the morning. They’d forgone their usually missionary or bigspoon style sex and Estella has straddled him, grinding her desperate hips against Graham. He’d gingerly gripped her waist while she took what she wanted from him. Occasionally, she’d move his hands to her bouncing tits, but within moments they’d be right back on her hips. God, what a square. Least he could do would be to dig his fingers into her flesh and show her he desired her.

She’d have been better with a blow up man-doll.

Still, her writhing body was a vision.

The neediness oozing from her was evident on screen, how the prick couldn’t see it failed to compute.

I grazed my fingertips down over her grinding image. The computer screen was warm, but too hard. I hardly remembered the way she felt. I’d dreamed about it often enough. About my fingers exploring uncharted territory under her clothes. Her cheek had been warm that time we’d kissed, her lips so soft, but the memory grew fuzzy over the years. More memories needed to be created. I’d use my lips to erase every trace of Graham and make Estella delirious in the process.

Tearing my pants open, I gripped my hard dick in my fist, craving a release to clear my mind.

‘You’re almost home,’ I grunted, touching the car as it approached on the tracking screen. ‘Almost ready to be mine.’

My cock was solid for her, veins rigid beneath my fingertips. I wanted her on top of me grinding her wet cunt over me. I’d show her how hot she is. I’d make her feel my desire.

A guttural groan slipped out, the image of her fucking her stupid boyfriend looping on my screen. Imagining her moaning as I stretched her open brought a heady rush. My balls ached as I stroked myself.

‘My darling, you’re going to be the death of me. If you don’t let me into your sweet cunt, I’m going to have to take it. I’d rather have your moans than your tears, but I’ll take whatever I can get.’

I pressed my lips to the screen, speaking the words over her. Sensation washed over me as I lost control, emptying my balls into my fist in a great, hot slurry.

Catching my breath, I moved my face back from the screen, before slapping my hand over her arching body. My cum dripped over her, covering her in a layer of me, white ribbons cascading over her pixelated form.

‘And if you won’t leave him, I can pay to have him removed,’ I whispered to her spunk covered image.

SIX

ESTELLA

Home hadn’t changed.

The gravel still crunched as we pulled up to the gothic-style home like the handfuls of dry, sugary cereal we used to sneak up on to the rooftop as a midnight snack. Graham shut off the engine, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he heard the beating of my heart in the silence that filled the car.

‘It must be so nice to be home,’ he said, leaning over to the rear seat and picking up his brogues. The fact that he wore specific driving shoes still made me somewhat uneasy. What thirty year old did that? The car shoes were one of those things that made him a carbon copy of his father, and while they both had many good qualities, that wasn’t one of them. ‘I can’t believe I’ve never been here. The house is lovely.’

Inhaling deeply, I glanced at my familial home. Graham was right. It was a pretty home. All archedwindows and gothic drama. Cast iron swirls and painted white stone. It didn’t match any of the other homes nearby, and while I’d hated that as a teen, I could see the appeal more as an adult. My mom had fallen in love with it nearly as much as she’d fallen for Jack. I’d been far more reluctant to fall for any of the Whitney charms, architectural or otherwise.

Leaden weight invaded my stomach as I stepped from the car, the crashing heft of the unknown glueing my feet to the uneven gravel.

‘You alright?’ Graham asked, sliding an arm around my waist as he joined me in staring at the house.

‘Yeah. Of course. Just…taking it in.’ Trying not to upend my stomach contents more like. Washing vomit out of gravel was something from a nightmare. No thanks.

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