Page 92 of Satan's Spawn
Then again, this is Crayton Shaw; his family practically runs our damn school. Along with almost everything else in our neighborhood. I doubt he bats an eye at voyeurism.
“Get. The hell. Off me, Crayton.”
My words crack in desperation, but I know what it’s really for, and it has nothing to do with wanting him to stop.
And everything to do with what I felt in the closet, wanting him to make me feel it again.
“Last time.” He grits out, pinching my sensitive area over the bathing suit, and I yelp in response. “Do you want me to make you come with my fingers?”
“Good luck with that!” I spit out, outraged with him being a psycho, and me for fucking liking it. “Because I can’t!”
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.
I might as well have poked the bear with a ribeye.
I leave out the explanation about how I’ve never been able to experience an orgasm, how I’ve tried every toy known to man, or have watched porn more than your average fourteen year old boy.
None of these facts are passed between us, not only because I know it would only add fuel to the fire, but because this asshole doesn’t even bother asking why.
“Is that a challenge?” Crayton says instead, his warm breath on my neck making my insides hotter than the concrete under my feet.
“It’s a fact.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The next thing I know my bathing suit is shoved to the side, and I can feel his smile on my skin when realizing how wet I am for him.
Traitorous body.
“Oh, Little Ghost, this is gonna be fun.”
“Please stop.” I beg, but the words are hollow.
There’s the slightest bit of hesitation as his fingers hover over my slit.
Crayton stays quiet, maybe even thoughtful if he had a decent bone in his body.
But he doesn’t; I’m proven right when he plunges two fingers inside me and stills.
Seeming pensive again.
“You’re gonna scream for me,” he says calmly, despite the threatening undertone.
“I’ll never give you the satisfaction,” I lie. Since I know I’ve done worse for him in my dreams.
“You love this, don’t you?” His fingers move again, uncharacteristically steady for the force he’s shown not a minute ago.
Yes.
“No,” my jaw clenches, eyes rolling back as he scissors both fingers inside me.
Oh fuck. Fuckity fuck.
It’s secluded where we are, so nobody can see, and a sick part of me can’t figure out if I’m relieved or disappointed with the idea.
“The guys will be heading right for us any minute.” Crayton picks up his pace, using his thumb to circle my clit. “So you may want to scream for me, Little Ghost.” I feel the tip of his tongue trail a line up my pulse point, right by his mark like he’s claiming me. “Unless you’re in the mood to prove me right.”
I let out a strangled sigh, the thought of each of his friends watching him take me this way has me biting my lip with unexpected excitement.
