Bad Boy Blues(84)

Suddenly, his hand on my breast goes away and I jerk my eyes open. I hear his panted breaths and his growls in my ear, misting up the side of my cheek as I feel that hand go lower, cupping my pussy, pinching the lips, the lips he’s beating into with his big, big dick.

God, so big. So fucking thick.

And when he pinches my clit, I come.

A loud scream builds up in the base of my throat and I would’ve let it out. I would’ve ruined everything that I’ve worked for, for so many months, if not for his hand.

As I predicted, he covers my mouth with his big, strong hand and absorbs my scream with his palm.

Zach grabs my hip with his other hand, the one that was pinching my clit, so I stay steady on my feet as I spasm against him.

When he comes, he buries his face in my neck, spurting inside me.

Each throb of his cock and lash of his cum makes me jerk and writhe. He fills me with so much of his cream that some of it slides down my thigh.

As I come down from my high, I start to crash.

I start to feel disappointed. Sad, even.

I wanted him to prove me wrong. I wanted him to just let me scream. Scream and scream until the whole world finds out what we are to each other.

And I wonder why.





We’re at a carnival.

Yeah, a carnival.

By we, I mean me, Zach and Art. The three unlikeliest of people to ever go on an outing.

Actually, no.

Not the unlikeliest. In fact, all three of us have a lot of things in common. All three of us have been bullied in our lives. All three of us have no parents. I know Zach’s are alive but are they really good for anything?

Moreover, Zach is Art’s favorite person right now.

Especially ever since he read Art the story. That evening was amazing.

Zach was brilliant, albeit a little halting. He paused at a few words but nothing major. Art couldn’t keep the shine out of his eyes and grin off his lips throughout the whole thing. I had to excuse myself to go cry a little in the bathroom.

I was just so proud. So in awe of Zach.

Later that night, when he came to me, I showed him how much.

That’s somehow become one of our things: him coming to me at night. But not every night. Only when Tina’s on the night shift and the cottage is empty except for me and him.

After I asked about his life in New York and he fucked me in the closet in broad daylight, so close to where we could’ve been caught, Zach has been careful.

So careful that me and him, we’re the best kept secret at The Pleiades.

I don’t see him at all during the day, except for when he works out by the pool and eats his breakfast in the kitchen.

The guy who I thought would have me fired when he first arrived a little over a month ago is the one who’s guarding my job like it’s his goddamn job to protect me from everything.

As the days pass, I become more and more restless. I feel like he could disappear any day, any second. And I won’t even know it until he’s gone like one of those falling stars that I so like to wish upon.

Maybe Zach feels the same way. I can’t say for sure.

But every time he knocks at the back door of my cottage and I see the black night and silent woods at his back, he seems so hungry. So passionate, a mix of heaving breaths and hulking form.

Growling like a bear, he falls on my lips, pushes me into my bedroom and climbs on the bed with me. He tears at my clothes without any words. His fingers leave marks everywhere. His teeth leave bruises on my tits, my thighs, so close to my pussy that it feels like he’s really eating me up.

I’m the same way.

My desperation, my violent need matches his. I break his skin with my nails. I scratch his back, his ass, his thighs.

He rides me with such need that I’m always desperate to come but still reluctant because I think, orgasm will put an end to this.

And I don’t ever want it to end.

I want to get fucked by him forever and ever.

But it does get over, and by the end of it, we both are a sweaty, slippery mess.

And then comes our second thing. I read to him.

It’s not a secret that I’ve never been into reading. But I’m starting to realize that I like it. Maybe I ignored it before because I hated going to school. I hated the students, the teachers, and not reading was my way of rebelling.

But I read now because Zach asks me to.

I think he likes books, as well. But for some reason, he doesn’t want to read them himself. And it’s not because dyslexia makes it exhausting for him to read.

It’s something else.

Something that makes him withdraw when I compliment him or ask him about it. The only time he’ll ever read is when Art asks him to. And even then, I can see reluctance in every line of his body.

Right now, we’re exhausted. All three of us.

Since it’s Saturday, I took a day off. We rode the bus to get here and spent the entire afternoon at the carnival.

I used to go to these when I was a kid but I haven’t been in a long time. We tried everything. The rides, the games. The cotton candy.

I asked for a blue one. But Zach and Art both refused.

“It feels like eating your hair, Blue,” Art explained.

“Yeah, Blue,” Zach echoed.

“It’s gross,” Art continued.

“Totally gross,” Zach said.

“Whatever, dudes. I don’t care. I’m eating it.”