Breaking the Bully Read online

  So deep she can’t pry you out. As deep as she is inside you.

  With those directives blaring in the back of my head, I wade toward the shore and drop down to my knees, gently laying Allie on her back, kissing her incredible mouth while my fingers fumble with the button and zipper of her jeans. I’m touching Allie’s pussy through denim and again, my balls harden so swiftly, I’m worried they’re going to ruin everything, but I grit my teeth and start to tug the jeans down her legs. As soon as the soft, wet flesh of her thighs is revealed, I tilt my face up to the sky and squeeze my eyes closed. God oh God.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispers, lifting her hips so I can remove the pants.

  “I’m trying not to come just looking at you,” I rasp, tossing her jeans aside, taking several deep breaths to get myself under control, before giving in to the overwhelming temptation to see Allie in panties drenched from the rain—and no amount of imagination could have done her justice. The shy inward turn of her right knee, the light pink panties that rapidly become see-through, thanks to the rain. The slit of her sex a faint shadow that becomes more and more visible, along with the sparse patch of hair.

  My senses are overloaded, my inhales and exhales rattling in my ears. Precipitation molds her light T-shirt to her pretty, pointed tits, her mouth is swollen from being kissed. I’m an eighteen-year-old man who’s only ever climaxed from jerking off, and because of that, my instinct now is to take my cock out and jack off to the sexual feast in front of me. I’ll come so hard. So hard. All over her.

  But this is sex.

  I’m being allowed sex. With the girl of my dreams.

  My dick is in disbelief, painfully distended and dripping with pre-come in my briefs, begging to blow inside of her, instead of out. And Allie…her eyes are locked on it in wonder, lips in an O shape. The poster child for virginity. I’m going to be looking at that beautiful face when she takes my cock inside of her, feeling me move, stealing her innocence. Jesus. How am I going to last one pump?

  “Allie,” I groan through my teeth, trying to explain with that single word how fucking horny I am and the problem it’s presenting.

  She’s still staring at the bulge in my jeans. “Am I…should I…” I’ve never heard her with that husky tone of voice before. “Does it go in my mouth first?”

  A shudder wracks me so hard, my teeth momentarily chatter. “Christ, don’t say that, baby. Fuck.” I’m a disgusting animal now, ripping down my zipper and shoving my hand inside, beating off the raw length of my cock, my eyes traveling from her face, to her tits, to her cunt. Then circling back and starting at the beginning, hoarse nothings falling from my lips. And Allie seems to sense my desperation, because she peels down her panties and kicks them away, baring herself to the rain.

  Ironically, when I should ultimately explode, because the vision she creates is such perfection, I’m imbued with purpose, instead. With responsibility.

  As soon as her pussy is out, all I can think about is licking it, giving her an orgasm and my own sexual pain takes an immediate back seat, my jerking hand slowing in the lap of my jeans. I’m hypnotized by the sight of Allie’s little sex. Her hair-dusted lips, the valley that runs all the way to her asshole—and goddamn, she even lifts her knees up and lets me see. Lets me look all the way to her back entrance, the rain slicking every tight, supple inch.

  “Can I touch you anywhere I want?”

  She nods eagerly, holds her breath.

  I hold mine, too, my palms skating up her inner thighs and pushing them apart, spreading the pink slit between her legs, revealing the secrets I want to learn. Need to know or I’ll die unsatisfied. “Tell me when I do something that feels good.” Slowly, I trace a thumb down the split of her pussy and her back arches, her gasp mingling with the rain. “There,” I say in a rush, finally exhaling, tracing the edges of the nub that made her eyes roll back in her head. “Can I lick you here, baby?”

  Her hands fly to the ground, fingers digging into the soil. “Yes.”

  Oh my God. I get to give her head.

  I’m down on my stomach in a heartbeat, rubbing my nose through her slick folds, inhaling Allie, the rain, something peachy, gently dragging my tongue side to side over that hooded button. And I watch in drugged wonder as a little pearl peeks out, the sight of it making my cock pound, my tongue licking toward it automatically, on reflex…and Allie loses her fucking mind. A sound—half-whimper, half-scream—fills my ears, her fingers spearing into my hair, pulling me closer.

  It’s like winning a gold medal at the Olympics. Knowing I found the spot that could get that reaction out of my girl has me humping the ground restlessly, my tongue worshipping, worshipping that pretty bud, my eyes tearing from her yanking my hair so hard, that salty moisture mixing with the rain and her arousal, making everything slippery, delicious, juicy until I’m devouring her, vacillating between French kissing her drenched little pussy and teasing that swelling nub, her cries making the sweetest music in my ears.

  “Moore. Moore. Don’t stop. Don’t. Pleasepleaseplease.”

  When she comes, I swear to God, the taste of her is so sweet, so incredible, I go a little insane. I need every drop. Need it so bad, I screw my tongue up inside of her, growling for more, my hands scooping beneath her to clutch her ass cheeks, squeezing, begging, demanding. “More,” I pant, licking mindlessly. “More, more, more. Baby, please.”

  I’m prepared to stay there until the next century, wringing more and more pleasure from her pussy, but she’s tugging me upward, welcoming my hips into the cradle of her thighs now—and that’s when the fact that I’m sick and horny and aching comes roaring back.

  “You’re ready for cock, Allie.”

  “Yes. Yes.”

  “I don’t have a condom. I don’t—”

  “I’m on the pill. I went to the doctor myself. You can…”

  “I can?”

  With a choked sound, I take hold of my shaft and press it to her tightness, my life flashing in front of my eyes when I slide in a single inch and the wet flesh cinches up around me. Clenching like a fist.

  “Oh. Fuck.” I drop my face into her neck, raking my teeth against it, my hips burning with the need to thrust. Claim. Pound her into the ground. “I lied to you, Allie. I lied. I’ve never been with anyone like this. I’ve never wanted to touch anyone but you. Never been hard for anything but this…” I force in another inch, wincing, starting to sweat. “This sweet little Allie pussy. I wanted inside of it so bad and now I can’t get halfway in without unloading. I’ve just got so much come for you. Christ, it hurts. My balls are so fucking heavy, baby.”

  I search Allie’s flushed face and find her looking at me in wonder, surprise. “You’re a virgin, too?” she whispers, rain dappling her lips. “You…waited for me.”

  My nod is jerky, teeth clenched. “You really haven’t figured it out yet? You can’t tell I’m obsessed with you?” I drop hard kisses all over her face, her hair, her neck. “You can’t tell I would murder, lie and steal to have you look at me?”

  Her breath comes in tight pants, blue eyes glazed.

  “I want you to come,” she rasps, hips shifting. “You’ve been hiding from me for two years, acting like someone else. But this…this is honest. I-I want to feel it.”

  “Soon. Soon.” My spine is tingling, twisting ominously at the base. “Just let me get myself under control.”

  “Now.” Her expression is rapt, imploring. “Fall apart.”

  “Allie, please.”

  Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she reaches down and sinks her fingernails into my bare ass, yanking me close and impaling herself on my rigid cock—

  And I come violently while she screams, my body in a state of shock and bliss, hips slapping against her mindlessly, mouth open on a silent shout, the pressure I’ve been carrying between my thighs for what feels like years ebbing in degrees. I hump and hump and hump, groaning into the storm. Despite my brain ordering me to treat her gently, I fuck her in the dirt with
every ounce of strength in my body, holding her struggling thighs open and raking her petite frame up and back on the soft earth, grinding out my pleasure into her too-tight cunt.

  “You’ve been driving me crazy,” I growl, biting her neck. “The smell of you in class. The shape of your neck and hips and fingers in front of me. Perfect, so perfect, so mine. And you wouldn’t even give me your eyes. It broke me. You broke me. But you’ve always been mine, no matter what, huh? Nothing can change that.” I lick her neck, her throat, her mouth. I buck into her endlessly, roughly, my climax wringing me dry. “Mine be mine be mine.”

  An invisible string is cut when I’m finally down the other side of my peak, my heaving body collapsing on top of Allie’s. In an instant, I’m painfully aware of how aggressively I just took her and my blood freezes. When I lift my head to look at her, however, she’s staring up at the sky with a dazed curve to her lips. “Allie?” I kiss her forehead, her cheeks. “I’m… God. Are you okay?”

  Her nod gets my blood running again.

  “It finally happened,” she whispers, her voice almost camouflaged by the rain.

  “What did, baby?”

  The smile she gives me is almost shy. “I got to be part of the storm.”

  Chapter Five

  Allie

  Over the years, my mother’s voice has started to fade from my head, but I can remember her saying, “Oh, Betty,” when something interested her. Or made her sit up and take notice. And watching the claw-marked muscle of Moore’s back shift in the darkness, I mouth those words to myself. Oh, Betty.

  After we…

  After what happened at the lake…

  I don’t know what to call what we did. I’m scared to call it “making love.” “Sex” sounds too surface level for something so intense. “Fucking” sounds too coarse, too impersonal, when what passed between us on the shore of the lake couldn’t have been more personal.

  We stormed. That’s what we did.

  All this time, I envisioned Moore meeting girls on the weekends, forgetting all about me in a quest for momentary male bliss. But that wasn’t the case at all. He’s been…he waited. He waited for me. The bald honesty in his eyes when making that confession left absolutely no doubt that he…feels something for me. Quite a lot, if I can believe what a man says in the heat of the moment. None of what Moore said felt like bluster, though. Or a man telling a woman what she wants to hear.

  It was as if he’d been holding it in and pleasure broke the dam of secrets, sending them rushing toward me. Leaving me to stay afloat in all of this new knowledge.

  I sit on the back porch of the cabin, arms wrapped around my knees, watching Moore connect the generator so we can have light. When we got back to the house, the electricity wasn’t working. Now, shirtless, my nails marks creating patterns all over his back, he works on his knees in front of the machine, a line of focus between his dark brows. Every minute or so, he stops working to glance over at me, his throat bobbing, watchful and hungry, the outline of his erection back to pressing against the front of his wet jeans.

  The newfound feminine knowledge inside of me purrs, stretches out on a fur rug in front of a fireplace and demands attention. My jeans were sodden, so I didn’t bother putting them back on. Now I’m clad in panties and a T-shirt, which is also drenched. My lack of clothing feels forbidden, in a way, as does being alone at a cabin with a boy. For the whole night. And I don’t know what to do about the desire he’s stoked inside of me. I don’t know what to do with the excitement of knowing we’re both new at exploring the bodies of the opposite sex…and all the ways we could do it now. Inside the cabin. Alone. No one to hear us, judge us, see us. No getting in trouble. Nothing holding us back.

  Except for the abuse he heaped on me for two bitterly long years.

  Except for the fact that I need to get far away from here, from my father, and it won’t do me a lick of good to get attached to this magnetic boy.

  My bully. My infatuation.

  There can only be one night. I need to make a fresh start. I need to cut myself clean off from everything that has made me feel shitty in the past—and whether my heart likes it or not, Moore Dunnegan is one of those things.

  He’s looking at me right now like he knows exactly what I’m thinking. And it’s that kind of intuition he seems to have about me that is going to get me into trouble. Going to make me second-guess my determination to leave him in my rearview, along with everyone and everything else I’ve grown up with.

  Moore sets down the tool in his hand and flips a switch, lighting up a string of Christmas lights on the porch overhang above me. “Looks like it’s working.”

  “Yeah.” He sends me a tight smile. “They don’t call me a handyman for nothing.”

  It occurs to me in that moment that I don’t know a lot about Moore’s private life. I know he lives in a trailer on the other side of town. I’ve driven past it hundreds of times, seen it in the shade of a magnolia tree. Secluded. Lonely. I’ve even seen him come and go from it once or twice, toolbox in hand, ball cap pulled down low over his eyes, rag sticking out of his back pocket. I want to escape this place? Does he? “Are you…planning on hanging around Perryville after graduation?”

  His movements pause ever so slightly, but I catch it. “Hadn’t thought too much about it.”

  “Really?”

  “No,” he sighs. “That’s a lie.” Crouched down in front of the toolbox, a line flexes in his cheek, his gaze eventually meandering its way back to me. “And I don’t want to lie to you anymore, Allie.”

  “Then don’t,” I say quickly, holding my breath.

  “There was nowhere you could go…that I wouldn’t follow.” He looks down at his hands. “I couldn’t figure out which college you’ve decided to attend…no one had the answer. But once I knew, yeah, I was going to follow you.”

  “Oh.” I’m suddenly finding it very hard to swallow. “You were going to follow me to college and bully me.”

  Even in the muted moonlight, I can see the reddening of his cheekbones. “I know how fucked up that sounds. It is fucked up. Believe me, for the rest of my life I’m going to hate myself for how I’ve been treating you. I thought…”

  “What?”

  He shakes his head, but answers anyway. “That night in the field, I thought when you found out I was a handyman, that I was there to repair your roof…you remembered I was beneath you. That you were better than me, looked down on me. I thought you were ignoring me all this time because you regretted everything that happened, everything you said. You had a momentary lapse of reason and climbed back onto your pedestal, out of reach of my grubby hands. It hurt to think I disgusted you. It hurt and I took it out on you.”

  At the end of his explanation, my mouth is hanging open. No wonder he was so mad, lashing out all the time. He thought I was ignoring him because I thought myself better. Above him. For a prideful male like Moore, being ignored because of his status, that would have stung worse than anything else. “Why are you only telling me this now?”

  “Because it sounds like an excuse—and I’m not making one. Ever.”

  “I didn’t think I was better than you. I missed you.” That strong chest of his starts to rise and fall quickly, his gaze penetrating me through the darkness. “I know that sounds silly. It was just one night.”

  “No. I missed you, too.” He takes a step in my direction. “Still do.” His eyes close and he releases a bumpy breath. “Brutally, baby.”

  Nerve endings tingle everywhere on my body, the need to touch and be touched by Moore increasing the temperature of my skin rapidly, making my breasts feel plump, my legs weak. I’ve never tried drugs, but I understand now what addiction must be like. Fighting a pull, battling an urge that is self destructive, but also promises an incredible high before the downward spiral.

  If I give him the slightest encouragement, he’s going to bring me inside and…storm with me again. Is that what I want? Yes. Will giving in to my physical urges make it much ha
rder when I have to leave town for good? Yes. Yes. There isn’t anything casual about me and Moore. And how can I begin to rebuild my pride, my life, if my first act of independence is giving my body to the person who made me cry so many times since sophomore year, I’ve lost count?

  I search for a way to change the subject. To take the focus off the gravity dragging us back together. “Well.” I dampen my lips. “There’s a good reason you couldn’t figure out which colleges I got into. My father hid all of my acceptance letters. Lost my tuition money. Lost all the money. He was never really going to let me go.” I weave my fingers together and tighten them until they leach of color. “Tonight was the first time I ever spoke back to him. I was just so angry.”

  Several beats pass. “Of course you were.” He drops down onto the back porch, a couple of feet to my right, staring out into the trees. “Jesus, Allie. I’m sorry he did that.”

  I nod. “I did a lot of thinking on the back of your bike. It’s good for that. Thinking. Isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. When you don’t want to think…it’s good for that, too.”

  “Hmm.”

  He looks over at me, hands clasped loosely between his bent knees. “What did you think about?”

  “College. How to salvage the original plan.” I feel kind of jumpy, sharing my ideas with Moore, with anyone, I’ve kept things to myself for so long, not confiding in my peers, not getting close to others, lest my father find a way to blacken the connection. To make people sorry for interacting with me. “I was thinking…maybe I could go and see the school guidance counselor. She should be able to find out which colleges accepted me. Once I know that, I could commit to one. Maybe the counselor could help me work on a loan application. There has to be a way to make it work.”

  Moore nods, brow puckered, like he’s giving my plan some serious thought. “It’s not safe for you to go back to the school, Allie. I’ll go. I’ll go do whatever you need. Pick up your transcripts, get duplicates of the acceptance letters. We can find a library around here to fill out the loan applications online…”