Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One
Page 37

“Say it!” Preppy demanded, turning the gun so it was now pointed at me, but his finger wasn’t on the trigger. “Tell me you still want it. Tell me that you want to die.”
“It’s not that simple,” I tried to explain.
“Tell me!” Preppy demanded.
“Why?” I asked, trembling. I scattered backwards until my back hit the cold marble of the mausoleum, but Preppy crawled over the step and hovered over me before I could get any further.
“Because I’ve been holding back.” He leaned forward and grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking me up to him roughly, his lips hovering above mine, his cool breath on my face. “So I need to know if you give a shit about your life.” He pulled me up to a standing position by my hair, my scalp screamed in agony. He slammed me back against the wall. “Because the way I see it, is if you don’t give a fuck about your life,” he leaned in and ran his nose along my jaw and chuckled deep and dark, the sound vibrating to the depths of my soul, “then I don’t have to give a fuck about it, either.”
I looked over his shoulder, scanning the cemetery to see if there was anyone nearby. Anyone I could call to for help. No such luck.
Preppy must have been reading my mind. “Nobody’s here to save you. Nobody can save you, except you. So fucking tell me, Doc. Do you want to fucking die?”
“I told you! It’s not that simple. It’s just that I feel…” I started, but the words wouldn’t come.
“Tell me damnit!” Preppy roared, pushing his knee between my legs to better pin me to the wall.
“I feel like I’m fucking bleeding out!” I screamed. Preppy’s face remained hard and impassive as his eyes frantically roamed my body for wounds. But he wouldn’t find any, not on the outside, at least. “No!” I said, grabbing his wrist and bringing his hand still holding the gun to my chest, pressing it between my breasts. “Here. I’m bleeding out here, and I don’t know how to make it stop. You told me before that you could make the call. You said you could get me what I need. I need it. I need it so bad. Can you? Can you give me what I need?” I hated the desperation in my voice. I hated the weakness. One brief encounter with my ex-lover, even though I’d only watched her across the room as she seduced others, had me falling under her spell once again.
“Oh, I can give you what you need,” Preppy growled, pinning me to the wall with his hips. His erection hard against my lower stomach, taking me off guard. My pulse spiked with fear, then fell with disappointment. “But no fucking H.” He ground his hips against me, his hardness taking me off guard. I pushed against his shoulder, but I might as well have been attempting to lift a car because he only held me tighter.
“Why? Why won’t you help me? You can help me! You said we were friends. Friends help each other, right? And this is how you can help me.” His stare grew more intense, which infuriated me because he didn’t say a thing. Instead, he let me cry and wail and pound my fists against him. “Why won’t you help me!” I screamed. My throat was tight and sore. “Pleeeaaassssse!” My yell turning into a sob. “I don’t want it,” I cried, my head falling back against the wall. “I don’t.” I shook my head. “But I don’t know how to stop the bleeding and make the pain go away. I don’t know how to dull the edge that makes me want to scratch off my skin without running back to that house and sticking a needle in my arm.” I met his furious dark eyes. Preppy’s body as unyielding as his drilling stare. “So, pleeeeeaaassse,” I cried, bouncing slightly on my knees as I begged. I covered his gun with my other hand. “Please help me.”
I don’t know if it was me touching his gun, or the begging that did it, but the spark was back, glistening wickedly in his eyes. His pupils grew large. He licked his bottom lip and ground his hips against me. I gasped, my blood turned red hot. I instantly regretted everything I’d said. He rocked his knee against my core and a flush of wetness soaked through my panties. I didn’t want this, there was too much going on in my head. Too much to sift through and process, but my body didn’t seem to care about what I wanted, because my nipples tightened under my tank top. “Do you trust me?”
My brain wanted heroin.
My body wanted Preppy.
“No,” I answered honestly, my chest heaving from fear and anxiety and anticipation. “I don’t trust you.”
He pulled his gun back and turned it over in his hands, examining it as the moonlight glinted off the metal. He smirked. “That’s good, Doc.” He leaned in close, his beard bristling against my cheek, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot behind my ear as he spoke. “You shouldn’t,” he said as he held the barrel of his gun to my head.
Finger on the trigger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
PREPPY

“You wouldn’t.” “You want to die that can be arranged, but don’t be a pussy about it and use the heroin excuse to end it when you can man up and I can just pull the trigger and it will all be over.”
“That’s not what I want!” she said, and instead of fear her anger boiled over. Her face turned red. Regardless of my gun to her head or not, she drilled me with her stare.
Good girl.
I pulled her off the wall by her shoulder and shoved her further into the cemetery. She stumbled on one of the overgrown roots the place is full of, bracing her fall on a lopsided tombstone. “What are you doing?” she asked over her shoulder, her words shaky, fear in her eyes. She was bent over at the waist, arms stretched over her head, her hands gripping the stone as she gulped to catch her breath. The bottoms of her ass cheeks teased me from right under the hemline of her shorts.
“Giving you what you want.” I paused. “No, what you need.”
“What is it that you think I need?” she asked, the fear turning to unbridled lust when she realized I was staring at her denim covered pussy.
I chuckled, yanking her back by her jet-black hair tangling in my fingers. I licked the side of her face and pushed my hard cock into the seam of her ass. “You want to be high? You can be high on me. You want to take the edge off? I’m gonna do just that, baby.”
I flipped her over and brought her to the edge of the stone, keeping her in place by pulling tight on her hair when she tried to wrestle away from me. All her struggles stopped when I ran my hand up the inside of her thigh, into her shorts, grazing her soaking wet pussy. I groaned and tamed down the voice inside my head that wanted to take her right then and there. This wasn’t about me. This was about Dre. This was about teaching her a lesson. I worried about taking it too far again. About scaring her off. But those thoughts disappeared the second I pushed a finger inside her tight heat and her head fell back and her mouth partially opened. Her eyes closed. “No, you look at me while I fuck you with my fingers,” I commanded, forcing her head forward so she had no choice but to look at me right in my eyes as I added another finger. With my gun still against her head, her hips bucked against me as I brought her closer and closer to the edge. I heard footsteps and laughter but couldn’t care less if we were caught. All that mattered was Dre and that look in her eyes, like she wanted me and hated me all at the same time. My cock was rock fucking hard and as I pumped my fingers into her over and over again she moaned and cried out. Again, she tried to look away, but again I tightened my grip on her hair and forced her to look at me with those big, beautiful, dark eyes of hers that always seemed like they were looking right inside of my head.