Page 22 of Deliverance

How can I say no when she begs so beautifully for me?

Curling my fingers upward, I begin stroking her faster and faster until she’s coming. Wait, not coming, she’s squirting. Her pussy is absolutely soaking me, herself, my bed, everything. The gratification I receive from it is unlike any other.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! What’s happening to me? Did I just pee on you?” She gasps as she comes down from her high, embarrassment mixing with the post orgasm flush on her cheeks.

I chuckle and smile. “No, baby. You squirted. Have you never done that before?”

She shakes her head breathlessly as she looks down at me.

“Not surprised. Most men don’t want to take the time to figure out how to make a woman feel the highest level of pleasure.”

“Most men don’t make me come, period,” she rasps with a smile.

I nod and smile. So I’ve heard. A lot.

Slowly, I pull my fingers out of her before lifting them to my mouth. Bridgette watches in fascination as I suck on my fingers, moaning around them as I do. Fuck, of course she is delicious, because on top of being extremely forbidden, she has to taste like the forbidden fruit, doesn’t she?

When I release my fingers, Bridgette blinks like she was in a haze and is now coming to. Slowly, she stands up, pulling her dress down before she stumbles out the door. I’m not surprised and I don’t try to stop her. Instead, I stand up, change my clothes and sheets before settling back into bed. When I close my eyes, I try to push the encounter out of my head, but her taste is still on my tongue, and fuck me, I know one taste will never be enough.

Chapter Eight

Bridgette

The next morning, my head is fucking pounding. Jesus. I seriously need to give up tequila entirely. Beer? No problem. Vodka? Not too bad. When tequila gets brought out, it’s a guaranteed miserable fucking day after for me.

Everything was fine. Angela and Mercy were keeping their space, which was just fine for me because I’m getting more and more sick of their toxic bullshit by the day. Then I watched as Mercy shoved her tongue down Asher’s throat and he let her. I lost it. I started throwing back shot after shot until I polished a whole bottle. That’s when I realized I really didn’t want to be there. The guy I want didn’t want me, my friends were fake, and I really had no business at that party. So, I came home to my stoner brother and my new stepsister that I shouldn’t think about as much as I have been.

I mean, I haven’t been thinking about her specifically. It’s just hard to forget when another woman kisses you. It was disgusting, completely out of left field. I’m just glad she agreed to act like it never happened. She agreed easier than I expected, honestly. Maybe she already did. She gets around almost as much as Asher. Kissing someone probably doesn’t rank high on her memorable moments.

So why the fuck was I unable to get it out of my head all day?

Rolling onto my back, I stare up at the crown molding lining my ceiling as I remember what happened next. Easily the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. What was I thinking? I mean, clearly I wasn’t. I was drunk and sad and lonely and she was…there. That’s all it was.

Definitely not going to think about how my body practically vibrated when I kissed her, let alone when she touched me…

Nope. Not thinking about it. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me, but I don’t want any part of it. I’ve decided, these weird out of the blue feelings or thoughts or whatever they are, I’m burying them deep, deep down.

Somehow, I’m able to muster up enough courage to take a shower before slipping on a bathing suit and a coverup. The sun is streaming in through the window, and it looks like a perfect day to work on my tan. When I come downstairs, I’m grateful to find the kitchen empty for once. I swear to god she is always down here. She’s always everywhere. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a single friend in the entire world. She’s the definition of a loner, and for some weird reason, she seems to be totally fine with that.

Popping into the fridge, I grab out a protein shake and begin sipping that as I head outside. When I open the back door, I stop in my tracks. Seriously? You’ve got to be kidding me.

Of course, there she is. Maggie is swimming laps in the pool, completely oblivious to the fact that she has somehow overtaken every inch of this place in a matter of weeks. Her arms stretch out, the shimmering water encasing her flawless skin. Maggie’s red hair makes her look like a goddamn mermaid in the water; it’s practically mesmerizing to watch the curls fight to keep their shape under the demand of the pool.

“Hey, Bridgey!” Brad calls out from the other side of the pool. Shit. I didn’t even see him.

“Hey,” I say as he pushes himself out of the pool and walks over to me.

“What are you up to?” he asks.

“Was going to work on my tan,” I say as I lay down on one of the sun loungers, flipping on my sunglasses over my eyes.

He nods as he towel dries his hair.

“Right on. I’m gonna go meet Trip at the reservoir. Want to come?”

Go hangout with my brother’s loser best friend? An outsider, no less? Pass.

I shake my head and pull out my phone as he shrugs.

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