Page 117 of Massacre Monday
“Y-you’re sucking me dry. Let-let up a minute.” My legs jerk, quiver, and shake as I continue to empty my balls into her, some spraying onto the sheets, but she captures most within her full mouth. “Oh, too sensitive.”
She finally releases me with apopand sits up, her cheeks puffed up with my spend. I slump against the headboard, my body like liquid. This is better than any drug they could have given me for the bruises.
Shimmies of her knees bring her closer to me as she leans her face over mine and grips my cheeks. “Open,” she manages to say.
Blissed out, high off our love, I do, and she drizzles my salty cum into my waiting mouth, then hurriedly follows it with a mind-melting kiss. Against my lips, she mutters, “Now swallow like a good boy.”
I do, then grip the back of her head to suction our mouths together, the remnants of her job well done swapping between us. Swathing her face, I gather up any leftovers and hand them to her with the tip of my tongue against hers. My hands grip her ass to settle her on my flaccid cock.
“Let me eat you,” I beg breathily.
She sits up and wipes the hair off my moist forehead. “Nope. That was just for my man. Though I may wake you up later.”
I poke the side of her waist with a finger until she giggles. “I’ll look forward to the lack of sleep.”
thirty-seven
It’sthe last few hours of peace before Wednesday class, and I don’t want to leave Ryan. After making him breakfast and snuggling up to his warm body, I doze off again. I’m not sure I can peel myself from his side after he was gone for two days.
His woodsy scent stirs me awake.
“Do you never sleep?” I ask.
He clumsily taps on his laptop keyboard with his three good fingers and stares at the screen with a narrowed gaze. “Sometimes when you do.”
“You’re supposed to be getting rest. What are you doing? Homework?”
“No. Look at this…”
Lazily, I peek one eye open, then the other. It’s a news article pulled up about a photographer named Devon Hall who committed suicide about twenty-five years ago.
“Okay. I’m looking.”
“I know this has to do with you. I can’t figure out the connection, though.”
My eyebrows scrunch. “I have no idea who that is. What would it have to do with me?”
“That’s what I don’t understand…” He places a brief kiss on the top of my head and readjusts me higher up on his body. “This was Amanda Hall’s father.”
“But I’ve never heard of him.”
“Buried on an old student forum, there was discussion that Devon Hall didn’t commit suicide because of a divorce… He did it after several students came forward with rape allegations. One said there were even videos from inside his office and studio as proof, but those disappeared.” With a click, he flips to the next open tab on his browser. “This person said they found his body inside his home with his dick cut off.”
“What? Really?” I sit up and scroll down farther to read what else is written.
“I mean, that’s a rumor, but if it’s true…”
“What does it mean?”
“Murder for revenge.”
“So someone must have cut off his-his penis, then killed him and made it look like suicide.”
Ryan grows extremely quiet, his normally boisterous persona hidden behind a dark cloud. “Yeah.”
“Do you know who did it?”
“I’m not sure.”
