Breaking the Bully Read online

  You can’t have her right now. She’s going to think you’re a pervert, going at her again so soon like a jackrabbit. Still, I’m pretty sure the sweat forming on my upper lip isn’t doing anything to disguise how horny I am. Constantly, apparently.

  I clear my throat, take a breath. “Do you know what you want to do, Allie? After college?”

  “Oh yes,” she breathes, a smile spreading across her pretty mouth. “I’m going to be a meteorologist. I’m going to study weather patterns.”

  Pride hits me unexpectedly, right there in the chin. This girl is a wonder. Comes with passion built in. Strength. Fortitude. I should be dragged out into the pasture and shot for ever trying to dim her light or tear her down. “Damn right you are, Allie. You’re going to be amazing at it, too.”

  That causes her breath to catch. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “You’re the first person I’ve told.”

  When I manage to speak, my voice rings with emotion. “I’m honored.”

  “I’m honored, too.” She slides another inch closer to me, trapping my cock between our bellies. “I’m the first person you’ve told about wanting build porches and decks for a living, aren’t I?”

  “Of course you are,” I say, wrapping an arm around her waist and dragging her up against me where we exhale roughly into one another’s mouths, our hips locking together. Sweet Christ, yes. “You’re my first everything.”

  Neither one of us makes the move to light the sexual wick that will burn out of control. We hover there, in the place right before the explosion, our hearts hammering together, fingers sliding on skin, hips tilting and pushing subtly. “Moore?”

  I scrub my palm up her spine, sliding my fingers into her hair and conforming my hand to her scalp. “Yes, baby.”

  We breathe together for long moments, suspended. “Life has been hard for me, but I wanted to say…I know it has been hard for you, too. No parents. No one at home. And…” She kisses my throat, rolling my eyes back in my head, but I struggle to comprehend what she’s telling me. It’s important. My bones are already vibrating with that knowledge. “I’m sure when you’ve been left behind, then someone comes along that you want…you might lash out when they leave, too. I’m just…”

  “Allie,” I whisper.

  “I forgive you.”

  “No,” I growl, even though it’s what I wanted. Needed. It’s too much. It’s more than I deserve, having her body wrapped around mine, her grace infiltrating my soul. “No. Don’t. You can’t. I was awful—”

  She stops my denial with a kiss. “It’s my forgiveness to give.” I’m marveling over her, falling deeper and deeper in love than I already am when she reaches between us and guides my cock between her legs, notching me inside her wet, little hole and wiggling down on it. Throwing her outer leg over mine, so all I have to do is roll over and thrust and I’m home, roaring into her hair. In gratitude. In lust. My hips already pumping like full-speed pistons.

  * * *

  We lose track of time. The outside world is inconsequential.

  There is only us and this bed. The shower. The lake. The kitchen table.

  An hour can’t seem to pass without whatever we’re doing turning into a full contact sport, Allie’s panties on the floor, my hips jerking between her legs. I thought I was fixated on her before, but this is a new height. Knowing how to give her an orgasm gets me a new level of Allie, the physical level, and every time I satisfy her, I grow a little more attached. More obsessed.

  The way she behaves with me all day Sunday, it’s almost like she’s feeling the same way. I catch her eyes on me across the room, her nose wrinkled thoughtfully. Maybe she’s waiting for me to turn back into a monster. It’s because of that worry that I do my damnedest to wait until she initiates sex—and I’m shocked and grateful every time she does. Every time she unzips my pants and offers me her pleading little mouth, scooting her butt onto the closest surface and opens her legs for my cock. This goes beyond addiction. Beyond anything I knew existed. I’ve fucked her four glorious times today—hard, rabid, sweat-soaked sessions that left us depleted—and here we are again.

  A few minutes ago, she woke up from a nap. Sat up and looked down at me shyly, exhaling. Wetting her lips. She trailed a hand down my stomach and slipped it beneath the sheet where I was already stiff, waiting anxiously, her hand closing around me and stroking once, twice, three times. My strangled moan was still hanging in the air when this tight little goddess got down on all fours, facing the end of the bed, letting me see everything.

  Everything. That’s what I’m looking at right now.

  She’s rosy and swollen from being banged so many times today, but so is my cock and it’s still eager. As she clearly is now, waiting for me to take her from behind for the first time. Pouting back at me over her shoulder.

  “Tilt,” I whisper, sliding my hands up the backs of her thighs and over her naked backside. I massage her cheeks, parting the supple flesh, swallowing hard over the pucker of her asshole, made extra visible when she follows my command, tilting her hips, throwing her head back a little. My cock leaks fluid onto the sheets, my abdomen knitting up violently. This position isn’t for a boy and girl. It’s for a man and a woman. And I don’t know if my craving to lick her untried entrance is right or wrong, but it’s necessary. I’m salivating, a bead of sweat rolling down my back.

  I start to lean down. Maybe I’ll just kiss it and see what happens.

  That’s when I notice the full-length mirror across the room. I can see her face. See the way she squeezes her eyes closed, biting her lip in anticipation. It’s too much of a temptation to watch her react to a lick of that little pink hole. So I do it. A growl leaves me involuntarily as my tongue drags slowly over that pretty ring.

  Allie’s eyes fly open on a gasp.

  Our gazes find one another in the mirror—and I grip her cheeks tight and do it again, again, stiffening my tongue and laving her, my right hand relinquishing one of side of her butt so I can knuckle her pussy. And ahhh, Jesus, she’s already soaked, her clit swollen from so much attention today. Never able to resist that little bud for long, I get down on my elbows and crane my neck, tonguing her hungrily from below, her mewling sounds getting me hotter, hornier, my hips rocking on the mattress, her moisture dampening my chin.

  “Moore. N-n-now.” Her thighs start to tremble. “Now.”

  When she says now, it means she wants my cock.

  Immediately.

  No more waiting.

  I’m all too desperate to give Allie what she wants, rising up on my knees and guiding my dick to her slick cunt and bucking inside, my hips smacking off her tight butt. “Ah Jesus, Allie, baby,” I grit out, light bursting in front of my eyes, the need to thrust almost painful. “It’s…I’m deeper like this. Am I hurting you?”

  We meet eyes in the mirror again and she seems dazed, dumbstruck. “A little.” She pushes back, maneuvers forward and swallows up my cock again, ripping a curse out of my throat. “I like the way it makes me feel.” Her knees inch wider. “Tempting. Bad.” She arches her back and I almost swallow hard over the reflection of her tits. “Did you ever think of having me like this…and being my bully at the same time?”

  My balls tighten up, my breath coming faster. “What do you mean?”

  Slowly, she slides her cunt up and down my erection, leaving the trunk of it wet and glistening, her movements, her voice hypnotic. “I mean did you ever think of following me home and really bullying me. Like this. On my hands and knees.”

  It dawns on me in a flash. What she’s asking me. Did I ever think of forcing her? Did I ever think of taking what I needed without permission? And the unequivocal truth is that I would never take anything Allie didn’t offer me. Never. I don’t have that kind of violence inside of me, especially when it comes to this girl. This girl of my dreams. But… “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about…making you like it. Wondering if I could make you like having me…inside you.”

  She continues that tig
ht ride of pussy up, down, up, down, the bottom of my spine already beginning to crowd. “Tell me how you would have done it.”

  The air in the cabin feels hot and thick, impossible to get into my lungs. There’s something sinfully low beating, deep in my belly, the confession making me ache for release and feel shameful about it at the same time. Shame on you. “I’d get you behind the school and…play with your pussy through your panties until you stopped fighting and started moaning.” I press my chest down to her back and start to pump, unable to help it, the dark, recalled fantasy driving my body to fuck. “And then I would just…I’d just push down your panties and shove my dick in. Just for some relief, Allie. Just for some fucking relief.”

  I’m tunneling in and out of her now, faster, faster, watching her tits jiggle in the mirror, her eyes glazed with sex, as are mine. The slapping sound that fills the cabin is adult and raunchy and drugging and we go harder, loving it, made helpless to do anything but give in to the maturing needs of our bodies.

  “I would have moaned,” she murmurs haltingly. “I would have pulled down my own panties for you.”

  Jesus Christ. I’m nearly in the throes, can’t form words. I’m made incoherent by Allie’s confession. By the sensual tilt of her mouth, the knowledge in her eyes that I’m under her spell. All I can do is pump into her from behind like a grateful dog.

  “Bully me,” she whispers, face flushing.

  On some level, I knew it was coming. The roughness of our sex, the way I’m behind and on top, physically stronger, conquering her…it’s woken up something that I like maybe a little too much. And as always, I’m not capable of denying this girl anything she asks for. Especially when—shamefully—I want to give it.

  Still humping her furiously, I lean down and press my mouth to her ear. “Finally came slumming it, didn’t you, rich girl? Too good to talk to me in the hall, but once we’re alone, you gave this pussy right up.” I wrap my hand around her throat, squeezing, and she wails a sound, pushing back rhythmically into my lap. “That’s right. Milk me good, you tight, stuck-up, little brat.”

  Allie sucks in a rattling breath, her sex clenching around me, the orgasm making her blind and mindless. She grinds her pussy down to the base of my shaft and screams, clawing at the sheets, bullied into a climax—and maybe, maybe I shouldn’t be so fucking hot over it, but regrets will have to come later, because my body isn’t giving me any room for rational thinking. I’m not in control as I flatten her to the mattress and ride up and down, plowing my cock deep, watching myself take ownership of her in the mirror, her face bruised, my lips peeled back from my teeth.

  Every inch the bully.

  And I climax, even as my heart lurches, alarmed by the sight.

  Not only the raw, entitled expression on my face, but the picture we make. Allie replete and boneless beneath me while I rut furiously between her open thighs, the flesh of her buttocks jumping with every smack of my hips. I’m so conflicted that when the tide has finished drowning me, I gather her up like a poor man who just found a chest of gold. I gather her up and crush her against me, apologizing thickly, wrapping her in sheets, rocking her side to side.

  “I didn’t mean it,” I say hoarsely into her neck. “Not any of it.”

  “I know,” she whispers back, kissing my shoulder.

  But her reassurance does nothing to relax me. And as nighttime falls and turns the cabin dark, Allie falling asleep in my arms, I worry like hell that I’ve just reminded her of exactly why she needs to leave me in the past.

  Chapter Seven

  Allie

  It’s Monday morning. Not being in school makes me feel wildly rebellious, if a little displaced. I’m showered and wearing fresh clothes—wearing clothes at all for the first time since Saturday, actually. Heat tingles up along my skin and I glance across the cabin at Moore who watches me broodily from the coffee maker, his hands balled into fists on the kitchen counter. He’s dressed in jeans and a loose, long-sleeved T-shirt. Boots. Black hair falling across his brow.

  Too beautiful to be believed.

  It’s so tempting to remain in the dreamscape of this cabin. Spend another day completely lost to pleasure, the capabilities and cravings of our bodies.

  I can’t do that, though.

  Can I?

  My thighs flex beneath my skirt, my fresh pair of underwear growing dewy. In just one day, I’ve conditioned myself to need sex with Moore. To require it. Every inch of my body is tender from his mouth, his manhood, his unshaven jaw, his hands. My nipples are aching buds, my breasts so anxious to be touched, they’re plumped against the front of my tank top—and Moore notices. God, does he notice, that granite jaw clenching nearly to the point of snapping.

  I don’t know what to do.

  I had a plan. Use Moore’s help to get the paperwork I need from his guidance counselor aunt. Figure out a way in through the side door to get myself to college. Make something out of myself. Follow my dreams of being a meteorologist. Leave the pain of the past in the dust.

  And I’m rapidly forgetting that Moore was…is part of that pain.

  If I kept him in my life, what would that say about me? That I could so easily trade one bully for another? Is my body in control? My heart? My mind?

  Stiff with conflict, I pick up my duffel bag and settle it on the kitchen table, unzipping it to take out my sandals. Rooting through the contents, I take out a chemistry textbook I don’t remember packing. Maybe I should ask Moore to return it to the school for me, since I won’t need it anymore. I’m surprised by a wave of nostalgia that for me, high school is essentially over. For old time’s sake, I flip open the pages and a note falls out onto the floor.

  It seems to flutter in slow motion, coming to a rest near my feet.

  Something sharp lodges in my gut when I recognize the handwriting on the note. It’s Moore’s. He’s left hundreds of these notes in my locker, backpack and textbooks over the last two years and seeing one never fails to make me lose my breath, tension gathering in my middle.

  “Allie…” His voice is strangled, coming from the kitchen. “Don’t read it.”

  I stoop down and pick up the piece of paper, unfolding it, my brain telling me it’s the right thing to do. That it’s the momentum I need to leave without ever looking back. A cold, hard reality-check.

  You are pathetic.

  That’s all it says.

  I stare down at it, ice crawling up my arms, until Moore snatches it out of my hand and rips it down the middle. He tosses away the scraps and starts to pace, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, I didn’t mean that, Allie. You know I didn’t. I was just hurting and lashing out. You are the furthest thing from pathetic. I knew that. I was just trying to…make you feel an ounce of the ugliness I was feeling. And I could die now, knowing I ever wrote that shit down and left it for you to find. I’m sorry.” He comes toward me unexpectedly, crowding my against the table and taking my face in his hands, planting kisses everywhere, my numb mouth and cheeks and forehead. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  Somehow I find my voice after being knocked sideways from the blow. Of having the boy I love say such a callous thing to me, even if his voice was echoing from the past. Oh my God. I do. I love him. “I forgave you yesterday, remember?” I manage around the hazardous racing of my heart.

  “You didn’t forget, though.” His thumbs trace my cheeks. “How could you?”

  There have been many times that I’ve wished for my mother—and this is one of them. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if staying with Moore makes me weak. Pathetic. If loving him makes me twisted after everything he’s put me through. My heart tells me Moore is nothing like my father. That there is an explanation for his past behavior, but oh God, doubt creeps in. It creeps in. I remember how he looked behind me last night, the things he said.

  I asked for those things from him.

  But what does that mean about me? Is there something wrong with me?

  “I just need some air,” I manage
, disengaging from Moore. His hands drop lifelessly to his sides, all animation leaving him in a great gust. With a sharp lump in my throat, I leave the cabin. I sit on the back steps and fumble through the process of putting on my sandals, the note seared into my mind. Love waging a war against the sting.

  Yes. I’m in love with Moore.

  I loved him that night in the field, loved him through the two years of hell and now…oh now, that love is like an ocean liner cruising toward an iceberg. What if I keep sailing toward him and he sinks me? I’ve already spent most of my life trapped at the bottom of the ocean.

  I have no idea how long I sit there, riddled with indecision on the back porch. My head comes up when I hear the creak of Moore’s boots behind me. Through gritty eyes, I watch him walk to his bike and come back with something in his hands, kneeling down in front of me and searching my eyes. Whatever he sees there makes him swallow hard, his face paling. “This is a flare gun, baby.” He sets the black metal object down near my feet. “If something is wrong, you fire it off. I will see it. Okay?” I hear him swallow. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve got your paperwork, okay?”

  I force myself to nod. “Be careful,” I whisper. “And thank you.”

  After a long moment of scrutinizing me, he leans in and kisses my forehead. “It’s an honor, Allie.”

  It’s a struggle not to call him back when he climbs onto the bike and brings the engine to life. It’s agonizing to sit there, unmoving, and let him drive away. Why does it feel final when I haven’t even made up my mind? Keep Moore in my life or start over completely fresh? Build a new life, totally on my own or give in to the love flooding me, filling every crack inside of my heart?

  Flare gun in hand, I go back inside. Make myself breakfast, but I can’t eat a single bite, because my stomach is too anxious. I do my hair and makeup. Pace. I go for a walk down to the lake and back, twice, noticing absently how everything looks so different in the daylight. I want to know my mind clearly by the time Moore returns from the school. Do I thank him and say goodbye? Or…what is my other option? Stay at this cabin with him forever?