Page 16 of Colossal
I’m trying not to get lost in the taste of her pussy, but oh hell.Oh hell.It tastes so fucking good. She’s got a little candy shop down here between her legs and I’m the first and last customer. I’m going to have to guard this cunt with my life. No one can know how sugary sweet it is or everyone would want a try.
Over my dead body.
Every single part of her is mine.
Body, heart, mind, soul.Mine.
I’m lapping at her clit when she orgasms, but I can’t stop. Especially when I get Marlow’s unique flavor on my tongue. Her climax seems to be so intense that she can’t stay still, but I need more ofthat fucking sugar, so I pin her knees open and go in for more, spearing my tongue into that tight virgin hole, fucking her with deep grunts, my efforts causing the car to rock back and forth. I keep at it until she’s messy and I’ve lost count of how many times she’s seized up and squirted on my lucky face. And goddamn, I want to keep going. I would keep going all night, but she’s limp when I come up for air, her green eyes glazed over and staring unseeingly up at the sky.
Despite my hunger for more of her pussy, I lift her gently off the car and place her in the passenger seat of my car, reclining the backrest so she can lie down, my chest flexing with pride when she curls up onto her side and starts to fall asleep with a dreamy smile on her face.
“Wait. Fairy Tale, I need your address, so I can bring you home.”
“Nineteen Ivy Court,” she yawns, before temporarily jolting awake, a touch of alarm tingeing her expression. “Drop me off at the end of the block, though, okay? Please don’t let them see you.”
“Okay, I won’t,” I reassure her.
I lay a protective hand on her head while we drive, once again wondering if my miracle of a girl is safe and happy in her own home.
If she’s not, we’re going to have a big problem.
Chapter 8
Marlow
I pound harder on the door of the attic, my eyes starting to fill with tears.
“Can someone come let me out?” I shout, praying there is still someone left in the house and they didn’t forget about me again. Not today. Not when it’s Tuesday and I get to see Eric at school. After our incredible night together, seeing him is the only thing I want to do. “Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry,” I chant in a whisper, knowing my eyes will be puffy for the whole day and that will only lead to questions, like “why were you crying”?
My stepmother locks me in the attic.
I can smell breakfast downstairs, but they don’t offer me any.
I’m a prisoner in my own house.
I know deep down that I should tell someone what they’re doing to me. A person in an authority position. But then everyone would know, including Eric, and I couldn’t face that much pity. That muchhumiliation.To be such a rebellious teen that these extreme measures had to be taken to keep me in line.That I have a penchant for illustrating inappropriate acts among my characters. My stepmother would show them. She’d tell the cops that I’m an ungrateful, oversexed miscreant.
Isn’t that what she called me last week?
Desperate to get out of the room, I bang harder on the door.
“Hello?”
I raise my fist to knock again, but my fist is left hanging in the air when the door opens to reveal my stepmother. Immediately, I search her face for a sign that she knows I snuck out last night. There’s no suspicion, though. On the contrary. She looks kind of smug.
“Hurry or you’ll be late for school,” she says with a straight face, cradling her coffee mug. “Your sisters were out on dates last night and they didn’t even have a hard time getting out of bed this morning. They know how tobehavethemselves, that’s why. I can’t even imagine the state you’d come home in if we allowedyouout on a date.”
Once again, I scrutinize her for a sign that she’s baiting me. That she knows I snuck out to be with Eric. But I really don’t think she’s aware of my nocturnal activities or I’d have been grounded the second I crawled back through my window last night. Jessie and Suzie wouldn’t have ratted me out, even though they saw me at the hockey game. They’re nice girls and they don’t want to make trouble for me. They just want to stay on their mother’s good side, so they go with the flow. I used to hate them for not speaking up on my behalf, but I got over it. I don’t want them to be miserable along with me, do I?
“Well, there are no dates on my calendar,” I mutter, slinging my backpack over my shoulders. “You don’t have to worry.”
“You’re in public school.Of coursewe must worry.” She eyeballs me, top to bottom. “With your track record of glorifying smut?” She points her coffee mug at me. “I’ve decided to let my daughters date, since they’ve proven to have good character,unlike you. But if I find out you’ve been acting like a tramp and tempting the boys away from my girls, it’ll be back to homeschooling for you. I don’t care if I need to tutor you myself.”
The nape of my neck heats with a little shame, knowing that the two boys who are currently dating Jessie and Suzie asked me out first.Isthere something trampy about me? Do I have a fatal flaw that boys can sense, as well as my stepmother? I don’t know. But I’ve been locked in this room long enough that I’m starting to wonder.
I think I’m a come slut.My words come back to haunt me, especially now that I know they were valid. I am exactly what I suspected. Even now, I am jonesing for another taste of my boyfriend’s come. I can feel his thick cock jerking and sputtering in my mouth, rhythmic pulsations traveling up my tongue and feeding an addiction I didn’t know I had until him.
Does Eric think I’m a tramp?
