Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Three
Page 6

We rocked against one another. Writhing. Moaning. Desperate to feel something that wasn’t dread or relief.
Alive.
And no one walking the earth had ever made me feel alive the way Preppy did.
I reached between us and unbuttoned his khakis. He pulled his hips back briefly so I could shove his pants and boxers down over the perfect globes of his ass to the floor. He kicked them off his feet and was right back on me where we’d left off. His lips against mine. His cock up against my opening with only the fabric of my panties separating us.
Preppy released my mouth to suck one of my stiffened peaks of my nipple into his mouth, lapping it with his tongue while he dug his fingers into the cheeks of my ass. I writhed against him until I swore if he kept going I could’ve come just from the friction of his cock against my panties.
“Fuck this, I need you, Doc. I need you now,” Preppy demanded. His voice deep and hoarse. He didn’t bother taking off my panties. There was no time for that. We were frantic with need. He hooked two fingers around the soaking wet fabric and pulled it to the side as he lined up the massive head of his cock with my pussy. The feeling of the hot silky skin of his hardness right at the place I needed him most sent a wave of pleasure coursing through my body.
I shivered.
“Yes. Now. I need you NOW,” I said, my insides contracting around emptiness, desperate to be filled.
Preppy fisted his cock. He moved so quick that by the time he was surging forward, his lips were already back on mine. His tongue seeking mine as his cock sought a different kind of entrance, stretching and filling me each glorious inch by inch until I was incoherently moaning his name into his mouth, rolling my hips to accommodate more of his massive size. Each movement of my body eliciting another spark of need.
Pleasure so great it fucking hurt. A beautiful kind of pain I never wanted to stop feeling.
“Fuck,” Preppy groaned, pulling his lips from mine to look down to where we were connected. He pulled out slightly only to surge back in. Harder. Deeper. “Goddamn it, Dre. So fucking good. Every fucking time.” He pulled back again and pushed his hips forward, mumbling swears while he repeated this motion until he fully seated himself inside me. The sweet stretching sensation caused my inner walls to tighten around his shaft. We both gasped at the sensation.
The cut on his chest hadn’t stopped bleeding, only now the blood started dripping off his nipple onto my stomach. The friction of our bodies rubbing against one another loosened the bandage on my thigh, smearing fresh pink against Preppy’s hands and forearms as he used my body as leverage. His own blood dripped steadily from his nipple with each hard thrust, splattering against my breasts, painting my pale skin in a tattoo of red swirls and smears.
We didn’t stop.
We couldn’t stop.
Shit, a train could’ve derailed and careened through the fucking window, and we still would have kept going. Maybe because in a way, Preppy and I were our own train. And if we were going to derail, we were going to do it together, connected, with each other’s names on our lips.
His thrusts became even more powerful. More demanding.
So did his words.
“You’re never leaving me. Say it. You’re never fucking leaving me,” Preppy ground out.
I wanted to say the words back, but I was literally being fucked senseless. I began to see stars. Brief flashes of white light as he fucked the words into my heart the same way he was fucking my pussy.
Passionate. Relentless. Rough. Frenzied.
We were all of that and more.
So much more.
Preppy pushed my arms up over my head and held my wrists together as he brutally pounded me with his monster cock. Over and over again he punished me and pleasured me. Keeping me on the brink of ecstasy.
I barely registered the pain shooting from my lower back when I lifted my hips to meet his strokes. Our fucking had become wild and reckless. Any sort of rhythm fell by the wayside as we raced down a path where only primal, raw FUCKING would do.
Faster and faster he fucked me. Each push in and pull out resulted in an excruciating amount of pure pleasure coursing through me. I screamed out his name when it became too much and not enough all at the same time. “Preppy. Preppy!” With each use of his name, my cries became louder and louder until I was sure I was screaming in his ear.
“Don’t ever fucking leave me!” Preppy repeated. “Look at me, Doc, watch me come for you.”
As if I could tear my eyes away from him. There was a beauty in the way the cords of his neck tightened. The way his teeth gnashed together. There was a beauty in him.
Preppy’s cock throbbed inside me, and I moaned long and loud as he stroked the sensitive spot on the front side of my inner walls over and over again. His lips parted. The muscles in his shoulders and biceps strained. Sweat beaded on his forehead, running from his temple down the colorful tattoos adorning his neck.
He kept his gaze locked on mine and didn’t so much as blink as he came, groaning my name through his release, spurting hot streams of his release within me. Making me his all over again.
I opened my mouth to try and tell him the words he’d wanted to hear, that I was never going to leave, but I couldn’t because his final thrust triggered my own orgasm, interrupting any coherent thoughts I might have had, sending me into a twisting tailspin of pure pleasure.
I arched my back off the bed, dug my fingers into Preppy’s perfect ass, and shamelessly ground myself against him, riding out the jolts of blinding bliss that left me shaking from the magnitude and force of which I came.
When I could focus again, I opened my eyes and noticed Preppy’s head resting against my chest. His arms around my waist. I ran my hand through his hair and down the side of his face and was surprised when I felt wetness on my fingertips.
Preppy glanced up at me, a tear stain on his one cheek, the blood from my chest smeared across the other.
I coughed when my heart skipped a beat, shocked by an electrical jolt of awareness and emotion. I grabbed his face in my hands and finally responded to his earlier demand. “Samuel Clearwater, I promise I’ll never leave you,” I whispered, my voice as shaky as my limbs. “I love you.”
Preppy closed his eyes. A lazy, satisfied smile appeared on his face. He dropped his head back onto my chest. “Love doesn’t even begin to cover it, Doc,” Preppy said, followed by a yawn.
My heart swelled in my chest. I smiled dreamily and continued to run my hands through Preppy’s hair until we both drifted off.