Page 13 of Cruel Legacy

He drags his dick out, almost to the tip, then surges back in. “Be a good little girl and show me how good my cock feels.”

“Who said it does?” I pant, biting down on my lip to muffle the groan building its way up my throat.

He skims his hand along the inside of my thigh, pulling it away and shoving his fingers in his mouth. “The evidence is running down your legs. Yet you’re still so tight. Warm. Sucking me in.Fuck,I could get lost in this sweet pussy and be happy never to resurface.”

I’m clamped down around him, lost to the sensation of him spearing me with his thick cock and his filthy words in my ear. I’msoclose. The sensation of being on the precipice of a second orgasm while being stuffed with his dick is new, and a little scary, but damn, I want it. I silently plead for him to keep going until I come again.

“That’s it, sweetness. Guide us to the place we both so desperately crave.”

He hooks my leg over his forearm, spreading me wider. His thrusts are sharper, harder, rougher. I’m cracking apart from the inside out. A delicious warmth starts in my stomach and spreads through my body. Strands of my hair cling to my forehead. I don’t care about my hair or the fact that anyone coming by will hear and see us, because I’m too caught up in what feels like the biggest lead up to the most epic orgasm I’ve ever had.

“I wanna feel you flooding around my cock. Right.Now!”

There goes that command again, and before I can even think about refusing-not that I plan to- he tugs on my clit.Holy shit.

I lose control of my limbs and my vocal chords. Every sound I’ve been holding back comes out at the same time. His hand clamps across my mouth, muting my cries as I detonate. It feels like something opens in my vagina. Like a pressure release deep inside.What the fuck is even happening?

Whatever it is, I can’t stop it. With preternatural speed, he yanks his dick out of me and hoists me higher, clamping his mouth around my pussy, catching every single drop of the projectile liquid that comes gushing out. I’m on the bottom wave of my orgasm, still trying to wrap my mind around whateverthatwas, when he lowers me to the ground and turns me to face the wall, before sliding back inside me, resuming his brutal pace.

“Fuck, sweetness.” He grunts against my ear. “You were so perfect, squirting for me.” He pulls out to the tip and says, “Now I’m gonna cum for you.”

He slams in twice more and growls like an animal who’s been denied food for too long. It’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard, and I mentally pop my collar, damn proud of myself that I made him do it.

When he finally pulls away, I take an extra second to catch my breath and get myself together. I won’t tell him, but that shit was epic. I’m still a little shaky, but I move fast. I shove my foot through the pants leg, tug my boot back on and button my jeans.

While he’s still fiddling with the condom, I step forward, pop a quick peck on his cheek and take off towards the end of the alley. I’ll be in my car and long gone before he even finishes tucking his stellar dick away.

Chapter6

Thea

I’m well rested, still coasting the high from Sunday night. My body is achy, but in the best way possible. I’ve never had someone be so physical during sex before. It was just the right amount of athleticism and act of rebellion I needed to remind me I’m alive.

It’s like the time Sasha and I snuck into the high school and painted Reed Turner’s locker pink with glitter epoxy. We were determined to do it even though we knew we might get caught by the guard patrolling the school.

Scratch that. It was more like the time when we were fifteen and stole Reed’s dog. Actually, we stole his daddy’scar. The asshole had left the poor dog in it, in the middle of the summer, while he was fingering Betty Richards on her back porch. We took the dog and the car to Marco’s chop shop, earned some cash and saved a pup. Good times. So yeah, sex with the mystery man was an adrenaline rush and feel good moment all rolled into one.

I hold up my hand to block out the sun glaring in my eyes. I’ve walked this campus twice, so I know where all the important buildings are located, but I still take one final look at my schedule to make sure I’m where I’m supposed to be. Statistics, the Hawthorne Building.Yup.This is the right place.

Students sporting fancy watches and diamond earrings the size of my fingernails walk by, happily chatting with friends, reminding me my lack of jewelry makes me stick out around here.

I grip my schedule tighter. My Archaeology class is in the building across from this one. This is why I’ve agreed to come here. Attending Canyon Falls University puts me closer to my career goals.

People get weirded out when I say I want to be an anthropologist and spend my life traveling the world, working on archaeological digs. They think it’s all about digging in dirt to find bones, but it’s so much more than that. It’s about reminding the world of the many civilizations that have died out, and about shining a light on those being erased. They deserve to have their stories told. To not be forgotten.

As someone who’s spent the majority of my life being treated like I’m invisible, like I’m an inconvenience, someone who doesn’t matter; I can sympathize with these cultures, the lost societies, the forgotten people. I want to give them their voices back.

With that reminder, I grab the metal door handle and step into the Hawthorne Building. It doesn’t take long to find my class and I’m happy to see there’s an empty spot in the middle of the class next to a window. I need to have an opening to a door or a window near me, otherwise I feel like I’m trapped. And when I feel trapped, I react.Badly.I should’ve had at least five assault charges filed against me last year alone, and those are just the ones where people needed more than a bandaid and ice pack to fix them up.

I exhale, sending a lock of hair swirling out of my face.No fighting.It’s the promise I made to myself when I decided to come here. I won’t mess this up. I’m doing it for me, Sasha, and anyone else who wouldn’t have the chance to come to a school like this without selling a pair of major organs or blackmailing a politician.

I take a second to look around the room. The class holds twenty-five people, but there are a lot of empty seats. I guess statistics at eight in the morning isn’t for everyone.

“Fifteen minute rule is in effect, right?”

I glance over to my right to see who's talking. The guy’s wearing blue chinos, boat shoes, and a shirt unbuttoned by one button too many. I shrug, not agreeing or disagreeing with him. I don’t even know what the fifteen minute rule is.

I catch on quickly, when the other students start shoving their stuff back in their bags. A few are even on their feet heading towards the door.

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