Page 30 of Beneath the Dirt

One finger graduates to two, as his thumb finds a rhythm at my clit while his fingers pump in and out of me. I grab hold of his wrist, locking his hand in place. Adding to the pressure his thumb has on my sensitive center, I unintentionally drive his fingers deeper inside of me.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“For who?” I pant, wanting him to say that I’m wet for him. Craving, in this moment, to hear that my body belongs to him. “Who am I wet for?” I repeat, desperation entangling my words. “Say it.” I grow needy. Distracted, consumed by the noises synonymous with carnal pleasure and euphoria infecting the night air. “Who am I wet for?” I’m practically begging him at this point.

A third finger enters me, stretching me. The added pressure shifts my balance to my tiptoes. He wiggles his fingers deeper. His fingertips prod and poke me, pinching my walls, making me pulse around his hand, suffocating it.

“Oh, I think you already know who this sloppy pussy is wet for.” He pumps his fingers inside of me once more. This time even deeper. More aggressive. “Me.”

The second the word ‘me’ leaves his lips, he retracts his hand, and my walls clench at the absence of his touch, only adding to the violent pulse at my clit.

Pushing away from me, an unexpected chuckle sneaks past his mask. It’s as mean sounding as his edging feels.

I adjust my skirt and shift the fabric back in place, trying to ignore the number the crisp air is doing on my throbbing center. Wanting to pretend that he isn’t getting to me, or that our dynamic, within an instant, has changed.

A rush of heat flushes my cheeks, the mask becoming a burden. I lift it up and onto my head.

As I turn around, ready to hurl some church boy insults his way, Harlan charges at me. My senses are aware of his touch, but my eyes process his movements as if he’s moving in slow motion. His fingers skim my lips, pulling at my bottom lip to gain access to my mouth. Loving the stares we’re getting from those moving past us, I open my mouth so he can sink his fingers in, to feed me the remnants of my own arousal. His eyes roll in pleasure the deeper I suck him in. Sucking his fingers with the same vigor I would his dick, but just like he did to me, just when I can tell it’s getting him going, I break the seal of my mouth enough that my cheeks don’t hollow around the girth of his fingers. Though, I still keep just the right amount of pressure on them so my tongue can still tease him while I speak.

“So this is what you’re like when sky Daddy isn’t watching?” I ask, closing the gap of my mouth about to give him another teasing suck, but he moves too fast, slipping his digits past my tonsils, putting my gag reflex to the test.

“Oh, he’s watching… I just don’t care anymore.”

The combination of his words mixed with his fingers grazing the back of my throat both shock and excite me all in the same breath.

I like what he’s saying. Fuck. I’ve been wanting to hear this forever. To hear the pastor’s son, my stepbrother, lay down his morals, which have always been questionable, just waiting for aninvitation to be toyed with, and admit he doesn’t care. But what fun would it be if I don’t use this as an opportunity to not only test his limits, but to completelyshatterthem?

I tease his fingers with the edge of my teeth. Applying just the right amount of pressure that he feels like I’m on the verge of breaking skin, but leaving him wondering if I will actually do it.

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

I shake my head no.

A challenge.

An invitation for him to do his worst. To prove to me he doesn’t care about anything but sinning— even if he burns—with me.

Nine

Harlan pullshis hand from my mouth abruptly, bringing it to my head. His callouses scratch and tangle my hair as he pushes me to my knees.

“Well, don’t just stare at it,” he groans. “Show me that burn you keep promising me. You can start by wrapping those pretty lips around this.” He jolts his hips forward, his concealed cock knocks into my face.

Skimming my greedy hands to his pants, I begin to lower his zipper, though it’s not fast enough for him. Harlan takes a step back, brushing my hands away, so he can unzip his pants himself.

A loud moan from the side of us distracts me. Just as Harlan lowers his pants, I turn my head wanting to see the actions that match the carnal screams filling the air.

“Eyes over here,” he roars, slapping my cheek before bringing his hands to my cheeks, hollowing them.

Another growl sounds from Harlan. His hand is now pinching my chin as he tries to force my attention to him.

His grip intensifies, and my eyes bulge in response.

“Don’t look so afraid. Isn’t this what you wanted? A big brother to look up to?”

Yes.

“Isn’t it?”

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