Page 15 of Bittersweet Revenge
“Smart call. Most people do. Now do me.”
“Do it yourself,” he spits out.
I could argue with him. Part of me wants to, but I’m also ready to empty his balls, to drive him out of his mind with pleasure and for him to always know that the arrogant fuck he apparently hates made him come his brains out.
With a sigh, I let go of him and pull down my pants and boxer briefs.
“I wonder if anyone is watching us right now,” I say before dropping a long line of spit onto his dick. “If anyone comes this way, they’ll see us. They’ll know I’m making you come.”
“Do it, then.”
“Say please.” I don’t quite touch his dick, just let my hand linger over him, teasing, tempting. When he doesn’t speak right away, I go even lower, just barely brushing my palm against his balls. “Just one word…that’s all you have to say.”
I press forward so our dicks rub together.
“Fuck.” Dean closes his eyes, squeezing them tight. “Please, you motherfucker.”
I grin. The strange thing is, I feel it too. Usually, it’s just a thing I do, but right now it’s like I accomplished something—something for me, something that has nothing to do with my father.
“Fuck yes.” I slam our mouths together as I wrap my hand around his shaft. When I rub my palm over the head, it helps spread his precum along his shaft. This would be better with lube, but I’m determined to make it work without it, determined to hear this angry, stubborn new kid say my name as he comes.
My tongue works its way between his lips, one hand on his shaft, the other on the back of his head. I rut against him, devouring his mouth and jerking his cock as I rub mine all over him. I want Dean to leave this party smelling like sex and me, want him to lie in his bed, in those tiny-ass dorm rooms, and feel like he can’t escape me.
I’m surprised when I feel his hands on my ass, squeezing my cheeks, pulling me closer so we’re fucking against each other. It makes it harder for me to stroke his cock, but I make it work, will make anything work to get the ending I crave.
I can’t lie, part of me still wishes I could get on my knees for him, that I could take his pretty cock to the back of my throat, but there’s no way I can after what he said earlier. It would feel like letting him win, and no one ever beats me.
“Get your hand on my dick,” he says when I pull away. Our gazes hold as I lick my hand, then get back to work on him. I bite his neck again, suck his skin, mark him up in this way I’ve never done with anyone else. Why I want to see the evidence of this moment on him later is a mystery.
“You’re all wet. Look how much your pretty cock is leaking for me.”
“Get me off. I’m tired of waiting,” he complains.
My dick twitches in response. Having someone be so demanding shouldn’t turn me on, but everything he does gets to me.
This time I take both our cocks together, thrusting against him so we’re both fucking into my fist. We’re precoming like crazy, cocks slick and pulsing with heat. Dean drops his head back against the tree, arching toward me, showing me his neck with my marks on it.
He’s going to hate that tomorrow. It says a lot about me that thinking that makes me suck harder, enjoy this more.
“You gonna come for me? Do it. Let me see you empty those full fucking balls forme.”
He bites his lip.
With my other hand, I shove his shirt up, take that opportunity to press my teeth into his pec, nipping at him, then working to suck the skin into my mouth so I can bruise him here too.
Dean cries out, back bowed, before his cock erupts in my hand. I keep stroking, keep getting him off, his dick against mine as spurt after spurt shoots from him. When he’s done, I hold him against the tree with one hand, then use my other to jerk myself off, long, fast strokes until my balls are drawing up, body jittery, and I’m unloading all over his stomach and groin.
Dean doesn’t say anything as I rub our cum into his skin, then pull back and tug my underwear and jeans up. I don’t bother buttoning or zipping them, not giving a fuck if anyone inside knows what I was doing.
“You came for me like a good boy.” I reach out to cup his cheek with my cummy hand, but Dean knocks it away.
“Fuck you.”
“Your favorite words.”
Then I turn around and head back to the house, leaving him alone, a smile on my face at having the last word, and wondering why I enjoyed that so much.
CHAPTER SIX
