Page 51 of Runaways

"Jesus, Noah," he groans. "Your pussy is wetter than your fucking mouth."

I wriggle against him, desperate for him to move.

"That's it," he says. "Arch that back, baby." He finally moves, pulling out nice and slow before slamming into me again. "Give me that good angle."

I moan—a loud, desperate sound—and he picks up his pace, rocking his hips into me. Tension quickly builds at my core, each thrust taking me closer to the edge.

"Oh, god…" I whimper.

"I am god today," he says, slamming into me harder now. Each thrust of his rock-hard cock into my pussy sends my head into the car door. "You remember that, Noah. I'm your god, and you should ask for my fucking forgiveness."

"Fuck…"

"Say you're sorry, Noah. Tell me you're sorry for keeping your pussy from me."

"I'm sorry!" I cry out. It's another one of those autopilot, reflex-like reactions, and if I weren't on the brink of orgasm, I'd never say it, and he knows that. But when his dick is inside me, my body knows to do what he says.

I allow my eyes to flutter closed, surrendering to the pleasure he's giving me—to how good each deep thrust of his cock feels buried inside me. It's wrong, and I know that; I know he'sgoing to kill me. It doesn't stop my legs from shaking. It doesn't stop me from whimpering his name while he slams his long, hard dick into me.

I don't even realize the car is parked until I feel cool air against my skin instead of the top of my head slamming against the car door. When I look up, Silas brushes his thumb across my lips, parting them before pushing his thick cock into my mouth. He places both of his palms on my cheeks and then threads his fingers into my hair, holding my head in place.

"I couldn't resist," Silas says. "You just looked so fucking sweet like this, Noah. You really are a good girl."

I brace myself as he thrusts in and out of my mouth, eyes watering when he hits the back of my throat, moaning around the mouthful as Tate pushes me over the edge and the orgasm rips through me. Waves of pleasure consume me as my pussy pulses around his cock and my entire core spasms.

"Fuck," Tate groans. "You're coming, aren't you? I can feel it."

Unable to speak, I nod, but I don't know if he can see it. Overstimulated and low on oxygen, it's all I can do to keep from collapsing onto my stomach.

"I can feel it, too," Silas says. "You've got her whimpering and choking around my dick, and it feels so fucking good."

Tate's hand slides over my hip and inside the hoodie until he reaches my chest, pushing my bikini top aside so he can grip my tit in his hand while he fucks me through the orgasm. "You should have come home," he says, digging his nails into my skin. "I can't give you my forgiveness, Noah. But I'm going to give you my cum, and you're going to thank me for it."

Tate moans, his thrusts becoming shorter until he stills, burying himself inside me when he fills me with cum. "Jesus Christ, your pussy feels good…fuck…"

He grabs me by my hips, gripping them tightly, groaning while rocking his hips from side to side—like he's trying to get even deeper—until he's empty.

In front of me, a sound comes from deep in Silas's throat, his breath coming short as if watching Tate come is about to push him over the edge.

I taste precum on my tongue and know it is.

Tate pulls out and moves beside me, cupping Silas's balls in his hand while he fucks my mouth. "What happened towe're on a schedule, we don't have time for this,andI'm always in control,huh?" Tate taunts. "You pulled over real fast to make time to choke our little slut with your cock, didn't you?"

Silas sucks air through his teeth. "Fuck!" he cries out before cum fills my mouth. "Fuck you, Tate…"

I swallow around him to keep from choking as he holds me in place, still rocking his hips and pushing his dick into the back of my throat. I pump him with my hand until he finishes, and I let him fall from my mouth, swallowing again.

I wipe my face and mouth with the sleeve of the hoodie before sitting back in the seat and bringing my knees to my chest. "And weareon a fucking schedule," Silas says, adjusting his sweatpants before sitting beside me on the bench seat. I pull the hood over my head, and he throws his arm around my shoulders.

"Are you okay?" Silas asks.

I nod, and he kisses my forehead.

"You really should have come home."

I bury my head in his shoulder and wrap my arm around his waist.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. You know how I feel about you, don't you?" he asks.

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