Page 31 of Wreckage of Me
I had Puck drop me off in the parking lot, right in front of Becca’s car. I planned on just casually leaning against it and surprising her when she walked out. On a whim, I pulled on the door handle in the back, and the fuckin’ thing opened. Is shetryingto get killed?
“Why are you really here?” she now repeats her question.
“Whatever I do,” my mouth seems to be spitting out words without any permission from my brain, “I can only think of you.”
Becca watches me carefully, her eyes pools of doubt. She doesn’t say anything for the longest time, and I am just about to grab her by the back of her neck and kiss her senseless.
“So, am I your Number Three then?” Her voice is a bit shaky but firm. She’s pissed. And I’m confused.
“What do you mean?” I shake my head at her, my eyes solely focused on her lips.
“Last time I saw you,” her voice is dripping with sarcasm now, “you said you didn’t need me. That you had Number One and Number Two on speed dial. That’d make me Number Three,” she explains in an even tone.
The grin stretching my face escapes before I have a chance to think about holding it back.
“Jealous?”
“Nothing to be jealous of,” she shrugs. “I got a Number One myself,” she continues, and my right eye twitches a little. “I guess you could be my Number Two if you want.” An evil smirk forms on her lips, and I swear I see the devil in her eyes.
She leans more over the middle console, her torso practically in my lap, looking up at me like she could devour me alive.
“What do you say, Dylan?” The way she says my name goes straight to my dick. “Do you want to be my Number Two?”
My arm snakes out, hand diving into the back of her hair, and I pull her on top of me in one smooth move, her body easily sliding in between the two front seats.
“If you think that I’ll be second to any fucker out there,” I growl into her face, lips close enough to kiss, “you better think again.”
With that, I finally slam my lips over hers, forcing her mouth open and tasting her sweet scent on my tongue.
“Dylan,” she moans into my mouth when I give her a second’s reprieve to catch her breath.
“You’re gonna make me your Number Two, huh?” I growl again, biting on her bottom lip until I taste a drop of blood. I groan in complete pleasure when I feel her breathing come out faster. She likes this.
My hands drop to her hips, pulling on her bottoms. She’s got scrubs on, and they’re loose enough where we have some room to maneuver.
When I realize that her bottoms are not going to be easy to take off, I grab the material on each cheek of her ass and pull hard, ripping them at the seams in the middle.
“Dylan, fuck,” Becca gasps in disbelief as she tries to push against my chest and away from me.
“Yeah, we’ll fuck for sure,” I make sure she knows.
The words are like a signal to her brain. All of a sudden, she starts pulling at my t-shirt, not giving up until it’s off. My ball cap flies off my head, landing God knows where.
“Up,” I grumble when I pull on the bottom of her top and see that her arms are not moving.
“Or what?” her eyebrow lifts in challenge.
She really thinks that’s my only option, I chuckle to myself. She takes my silence as me giving up on my task. That’s why I love it even more when I just yank her top and the t-shirt she has underneath all the way to above her breasts, putting her bra supported chest on display.
“Or else,” I smirk back right before yanking her bra down and securing it under her spectacular tits.
Becca gasps out lout when my mouth latches onto one nipple while my fingers squeeze the other.
“Nothing to say to that?” I tease her when I let go of her nipple with a pop. The sound echoes in the car, our heavy breathing louder somehow in the enclosed space.
She opens her mouth to say something at the same time that I grind my denim covered dick against her. I watch in fascination as her eyes roll to the back of her head. She drops it back, her mouth open, hands resting on my shoulders.
“Am I still your Number Two?” I continue teasing her with no mercy.
