Preppy, Part Three, The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater (King, #7)

by T. M. Frazier

  “Fuck,” Preppy groaned, pulling his lips from mine to look down to where we were connected. He pulled out slightly only to surge back in. Harder. Deeper. “Goddamn it, Dre. So fucking good. Every fucking time.” He pulled back again and pushed his hips forward, mumbling swears while he repeated this motion until he fully seated himself inside me. The sweet stretching sensation caused my inner walls to tighten around his shaft. We both gasped at the sensation.

  The cut on his chest hadn’t stopped bleeding, only now the blood started dripping off his nipple onto my stomach. The friction of our bodies rubbing against one another loosened the bandage on my thigh, smearing fresh pink against Preppy’s hands and forearms as he used my body as leverage. His own blood dripped steadily from his nipple with each hard thrust, splattering against my breasts, painting my pale skin in a tattoo of red swirls and smears.

  We didn’t stop.

  We couldn’t stop.

  Shit, a train could’ve derailed and careened through the fucking window, and we still would have kept going. Maybe because in a way, Preppy and I were our own train. And if we were going to derail, we were going to do it together, connected, with each other’s names on our lips.

  His thrusts became even more powerful. More demanding.

  So did his words.

  “You’re never leaving me. Say it. You’re never fucking leaving me,” Preppy ground out.

  I wanted to say the words back, but I was literally being fucked senseless. I began to see stars. Brief flashes of white light as he fucked the words into my heart the same way he was fucking my pussy.

  Passionate. Relentless. Rough. Frenzied.

  We were all of that and more.

  So much more.

  Preppy pushed my arms up over my head and held my wrists together as he brutally pounded me with his monster cock. Over and over again he punished me and pleasured me. Keeping me on the brink of ecstasy.

  I barely registered the pain shooting from my lower back when I lifted my hips to meet his strokes. Our fucking had become wild and reckless. Any sort of rhythm fell by the wayside as we raced down a path where only primal, raw FUCKING would do.

  Faster and faster he fucked me. Each push in and pull out resulted in an excruciating amount of pure pleasure coursing through me. I screamed out his name when it became too much and not enough all at the same time. “Preppy. Preppy!” With each use of his name, my cries became louder and louder until I was sure I was screaming in his ear.

  “Don’t ever fucking leave me!” Preppy repeated. “Look at me, Doc, watch me come for you.”

  As if I could tear my eyes away from him. There was a beauty in the way the cords of his neck tightened. The way his teeth gnashed together. There was a beauty in him.

  Preppy’s cock throbbed inside me, and I moaned long and loud as he stroked the sensitive spot on the front side of my inner walls over and over again. His lips parted. The muscles in his shoulders and biceps strained. Sweat beaded on his forehead, running from his temple down the colorful tattoos adorning his neck.

  He kept his gaze locked on mine and didn’t so much as blink as he came, groaning my name through his release, spurting hot streams of his release within me. Making me his all over again.

  I opened my mouth to try and tell him the words he’d wanted to hear, that I was never going to leave, but I couldn’t because his final thrust triggered my own orgasm, interrupting any coherent thoughts I might have had, sending me into a twisting tailspin of pure pleasure.

  I arched my back off the bed, dug my fingers into Preppy’s perfect ass, and shamelessly ground myself against him, riding out the jolts of blinding bliss that left me shaking from the magnitude and force of which I came.

  When I could focus again, I opened my eyes and noticed Preppy’s head resting against my chest. His arms around my waist. I ran my hand through his hair and down the side of his face and was surprised when I felt wetness on my fingertips.

  Preppy glanced up at me, a tear stain on his one cheek, the blood from my chest smeared across the other.

  I coughed when my heart skipped a beat, shocked by an electrical jolt of awareness and emotion. I grabbed his face in my hands and finally responded to his earlier demand. “Samuel Clearwater, I promise I’ll never leave you,” I whispered, my voice as shaky as my limbs. “I love you.”

  Preppy closed his eyes. A lazy, satisfied smile appeared on his face. He dropped his head back onto my chest. “Love doesn’t even begin to cover it, Doc,” Preppy said, followed by a yawn.

  My heart swelled in my chest. I smiled dreamily and continued to run my hands through Preppy’s hair until we both drifted off.

  We slept late into the morning and would have slept even later if we hadn’t been woken up by the sound of a gun blast.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Preppy

  “Shit!” Dre shouted, leaping from the bed.

  I was thrown from her body, which I was using as the most comfortable pillow I’d ever had the pleasure of sleeping on, falling ungracefully to the floor in a flailing pile of my own naked limbs. “You want it rough, baby you got it,” I mumbled, still half asleep.

  “What?” Dre asked.

  I opened my eyes and found myself staring into my woman’s beautiful dark gaze, which looked very confused. “What exactly is going on? You trying to beat me up in my sleep? ‘Cause that hardly seems fair,” I said groggily, rubbing my eyes and appreciating the fact that Dre was crouched on the floor naked, her pert little ass in the air, still covered in streaks of blood which were now dry. A beautiful reminder of how we’d spent our time before passing out from exhaustion.

  “I think someone’s firing out there,” Dre whispered, crouching down behind the bed next to me. A familiar boom came from outside the window. “See! That sound. There it is again.”

  “Nobody’s firing at us,” I said, pulling my woman across my lap. I stood up, dragged her up with me. I positioned her so she could see out of the window down to the driveway below where the very old brown beater I expected to see came rolling up the driveway. The booming sounded again, this time a small poof of fire and smoke from the exhaust pipe accompanied it.

  Dre’s shoulders instantly relaxed. “Who is that?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes to get a better look.

  I stood behind her admiring her ass and shapely legs. Realizing I hadn’t answered her she went to turn around to face me, but I pinned her in place, wrapping my arms around her waist and settling my chin on her shoulder. I pointed to the driver’s side door, which had just opened. “That,” I said. “Is called a piece of shit car.” Kevin got out and lit a cigarette. “And that, as you already know, is my little brother.”

  “Why is he here?”

  “I called him. He’s been hinting about wanting to work for me,” I told her. “So I told him to meet me here.”

  Dre turned in my arms and raised her eyebrow at me.

  “There’s no better time than the present to figure out if your family is out to kill your wife,” I explained. “Might as well get it over with now.”

  Before we get too close.

  “So, what exactly do you plan on doing?” Dre asked like she knew there had to be more to the story. And she was very right. There was. She wrapped her arms around my neck and nuzzled her nose into my chest. My cock, all too aware of her naked thighs lightly brushing against him, began to jump to attention.

  Dre looked down between us to my fully hard cock. She licked her lips and shot me a questioning look. “Don’t blame me. When you walk by the family dog and pat him behind the ears he’s going to lift his head for attention.”

  Dre laughed followed by a squeal when I bent over and picked her up by the waist, tossing her back onto the bed. Her tits bounced as she settled into the pillows. I crawled up onto the bed and in one quick motion flipped her onto her stomach. I ran my hand down her back to the crack of her ass and back up again.

  “So,” she said, her cheeks reddening when I dipped my fingers even lower into
the crease. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “What question?” I asked, focused on her glistening pussy, already wet for me.

  “Kevin. You want to learn more about him. You invited him here. I asked you what exactly you planned on doing with him,” she finished. I smacked her ass cheek and she dropped her head, groaning into the pillow.

  “Kevin wants in on the family business,” I said, tracing the red mark I’d just made on her perfect ass. She glanced over her shoulder and I flashed her a sly smile. “So I’m gonna show him the family business.”

  I pushed her thighs apart with my knee and fisted my cock, pushing into her tight wet heat. “But Kevin can wait,” I groaned, my eyes practically crossing at how good her pussy felt wrapped around me. “There’s something else I have to do first.”

  “Oh yeah?” she asked, pushing back against me. I could practically feel her smile in her voice. “What would that be?”

  I thrust hard, pushing my hips forward until I was buried inside of her magical pussy as deep as her body would allow. “You.”

  ****

  A half an hour later I emerged from the house and gave running high-fives to The LAWLESS MC bikers standing guard on each side of the doorway. I hopped down the porch steps three at a time to meet Kevin.

  “You’ve got blood on your neck,” Kevin pointed out.

  I shrugged and made no point to wipe it off. My inner schoolboy was dying to divulge every single detail of the fuck-fest Dre and I had ourselves that morning to Kevin. However, my inner adult, which I didn’t know I had until recently, quickly reminded me that Dre was my wife. A feeling of possession like I’d never known took over. MINE. MINE. MINE. Ran across my brain like a stock market ticker. Shouty-caps and all.

  I scowled at Kevin as if he had been standing there watching us fuck or could somehow see her naked inside of my brain.

  “Uh, you sure you want to do this today?” Kevin asked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his board shorts. “I mean, after all that went down last night.”

  I twirled my keys in my hand. “Listen man, life is short. Nobody knows that better than me. We gotta seize the day. Carpe the diem while we still have diem’s to carpe and all that shit.” I waved my hand around in the air. “Besides, got the bikers keeping an eye on the family, so all is good for now. We won’t be too long.” I looked up to the window on the third story and caught a curtain of shining black hair wrapped in a sheet turning away from the window.

  “She’s fucking hot, dude,” Kevin said, staring up at the same empty window.

  “She is,” I agreed, slapping him on the back and digging my fingers roughly into his shoulder as I led him over to Bear’s van. “Touch her and I’ll slice both your fucking hands off. Mmm...kay?”

  ****

  “Leave the pieces when you goooooo,” I sang, tapping my foot to The Wreckers song in my head as Kevin and I stood outside the van in an empty field just outside of town.

  “What exactly are we doing out here?” Kevin asked. “I thought you were going to take me to the granny houses. Show me the ropes. You know, how to grow and collect. That kind of thing.”

  I clucked my tongue. “Oh no, dear brother. Before you become the chef you gotta wash a lot of fucking dishes.” Just then a truck hauling a trailer rounded the corner and came barreling through the center of the field, bouncing from side to side as it drove over rock and uneven earth. “You sure you still want in?”

  “Yeah,” Kevin answered. “What is that?”

  “The fucking dishes.”

  At first glance it looked like any other truck hauling a trailer, complete with the same annoying beeping noise as it backed up into place, finally stopping when the engine was killed.

  Jake Dunn, the fucking blond devil himself, hopped down from the driver’s side and rounded the back of the trailer. Ignoring our presence as he unlatched the door. I pulled Kevin aside to avoid being hit by the falling door as it slammed down so hard onto the grass a puff of dirt ascended into the air.

  “Whoa, what is all this?” Kevin asked, staring into the trailer.

  Inside was an all-metal, very sterile-looking interior. Rows of sharp tools hung from hooks lining the wall. Knives, what looked like machetes, along with icepick looking things and a few hoses. A matching table sat directly in the middle, a drain on one end. A small sink was attached to the wall directly behind the driver’s seat.

  I extended my arm like a Price is Right model. “This is what they call a mobile slaughterhouse, kemosabe,” I informed Kevin, lighting a cigarette. “And that fine blond gentleman is Jake. Since we are here to learn, lesson number one is don’t tell Jake he looks like he used to be in a boy band, or fell out of a Teen Beat magazine, or anything else that would make him seem less like the bad-ass motherfucker he is.”

  Jake scowled, but his blue eyes gleamed.

  The guy was a walking contradiction.

  I put my arm around Kevin. “Let’s change that. Lesson number one is don’t talk to Jake. Like EVER,” I said. I tipped my chin to Jake. “Morning, Sunshine!” I shouted, ignoring my own rule.

  Jake grunted. “Who the fuck is this?”

  “Didn’t you know? It’s bring your little brother-you-didn’t-know-about-until-recently to work day.”

  Jake looked Kevin over like he hated his very existence. He probably did. Because he was Jake. No explanation needed.

  “Lesson number two,” I said, passing my lighter to Kevin who lit his own smoke. I looked down to his shorts. “Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.”

  “What exactly does that mean?” Kevin asked, looking at his stained and wrinkled CORAL PINES tie-dyed T-shirt and flip-flops like there was nothing wrong with what he was wearing.

  “It means no more swim trunks unless you’re going to pick up chicks at the beach. You dress like a college kid on laundry day. Have some pride, kid.”

  Kevin huffed. “How am I supposed to dress for the job I want when I don’t know what the job is I have, or even what we’re doing?” Kevin asked, sounding frustrated.

  “I told you,” I said as Bear and King pulled up in King’s old truck. “You’re washing dishes.”

  King and Bear rounded the back of the truck and lowered the tailgate. Together they each took one end of something about six feet in length, wrapped in garbage bags and rope. They carried him...I mean IT, over to the trailer, setting it on the table with a hard thud. “You want us to stay and help?” King asked, tipping his chin to Jake who was leaning against the table with his legs crossed at the ankles and his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Thanks, but we got this, Boss-Man,” I answered.

  King and Bear both looked at the two of us skeptically, the same look they’d given me when I told them what my plans were for young Kevin that day. “Good, gotta go help this asshole we know move anyway,” Bear said.

  “Yeah, and the guy is skipping out on his own moving day. Can you believe that shit?” King asked. Bear shook his head and I sent them a middle finger salute as they drove away.

  “Ummm...what the hell is that?” Kevin asked, looking at the table in the trailer.

  “Manure,” I answered.

  “Really?”

  “No. Not really,” I sighed. “It’s a body-shaped plastic bag, Kevin. What the fuck do you think it is?” I snapped my fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “Now listen up, Daniel-son.”

  “Who is it?” Kevin asked, entirely too focused on what was going on in the trailer. His gaze followed Jake’s every move as he sharpened one of the knives from the wall with a steel sharpener.

  “The dead have no names,” I said.

  “That’s a line from Game of Thrones,” Kevin pointed out.

  “That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  Jake motioned to the door and Kevin and I lifted it together, holding it up until we heard the click from the inside locking it in place.

  “Now what happens?” Kevin asked.

  I lit a
cigarette and passed it to him then lit another for myself. “Now we wait.” We leaned back against the trailer.

  “What’s this thing used for anyway?” Kevin asked, looking over his shoulder at the closed door of the trailer.

  “Well, when Jake here isn’t using it for more nefarious purposes, it’s usually used as a way for farmers to ‘dispatch’ their livestock without having to pay hauling fees to have the animals shipped to a facility and then shipped back in sellable pieces.”

  “Dispatched?” Kevin scratched his clean-shaven chin.

  “Yeah, I heard it on the traveling network,” I said. “When the host of this show doesn’t want to say things like ‘brutally slit their throats until all the blood drains out’ he says things like ‘dispatched’. It makes murdering our food sound a lot more pleasant don’t you think?”

  “What’s he doing in there?” Kevin asked. I didn’t know all that much about him, we’d only spoken a few brief times. But I knew the kid wasn’t stupid. He might have asked what Jake was about to do but something told me he already knew the answer.

  The sound of a buzz saw vibrated within the trailer, followed by a splattering of something against the door. I leaned against it sideways, turning to face Kevin. “Genius isn’t it?” I winked.

  Kevin watched the trailer as if the goings on inside were being projected onto the door and he could see it all going down. I realized then that although his eyes were wide, it wasn’t in horror.

  It was in fascination.

  Score one for baby bro.

  “Looks like you passed the first test. For a second there I was worried how you might react,” I said. Just then Jake pounded on the door, three quick raps from within.

  We stepped out of the way and let the door fall back down to the ground. Kevin on one side and me on the other.

  When Jake appeared again he wasn’t wearing a shirt. A black rubber apron was tied around his neck and waist. It was so long it covered the tops of his boots. You wouldn’t know the shiny liquid splattered on it was blood unless you looked past Jake and into the scene he’d left behind in the trailer. Different shades of red were dripping from every surface and was splattered across every wall and tool.