by Sara Ney
My dick twitches, jerking to life when she edges near—so near, her bare, naked skin presses against mine. Hand presses my shoulder blade forcefully, easing me onto the mattress until I’m flat on my back.
She lifts one leg, straddling me.
“Say something dirty.” Her mouth finds mine. “Real dirty.”
Oh Jesus Christ.
I grasp her lean hips, running my large hands along her thighs, the raging hard-on between my legs fucking with my head. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s it? That’s the best you’ve got?”
“No, but…” I inhale a sharp breath when her ass crack rubs my cock. “I don’t want to be a pig.”
Violet leans down, leaning in, her long hair dusting my chest. Tickling. Teasing. Her tongue flicks my earlobe.
“But I like it.”
Her pussy is so close to my cock. So close. All I have to do is lift her, move her two inches to bury myself inside her.
I groan.
“T-Tell me what you want to do to me,” she whispers in the shell of my ear. “I love your body, Zeke. I love how it feels naked, how big and strong. Your…”
“Giant cock?” I supply.
“Yes.” She reaches behind her to latch on, giving it a few tugs. “It’s so soft.”
“I want you to fucking ride it. Climb on and fuck me, Violet.”
She braces her arms on the headboard, placing her palms on the wall behind the bed. Lifts her rear and hovers above my thick boner.
My leg practically spasms from the anticipation as I brace her hips in my hands to steady her. Hold my fucking breath like an amateur when she sinks herself down, tilting her hips so it glides in almost effortlessly.
“Motherfucker that feels good…oh god, fuck.” I utter out a string of curses when she slowly gyrates her hips, using the headboard as an anchor.
“Oh my god your dick feels good.” Violet moans, rocking her hips on top of me.
“Jesus that was sexy.” I give her ass a little slap. Reach with my mouth to suck one of her nipples into my mouth.
“I’m going to come if you do that,” she warns me, arching her back and sitting up. Releasing the wall and leaning back, rocking and rocking and rocking her hips until my dick fucking throbs, hard.
On the other side of the room, someone bangs on the wall, three warning thumps.
Violet pauses, biting her lip.
Still grasping her hips, I push and pull her along my cock, the give and take working her pussy and, “Mmm, oh…uh…I’m trying to be quiet but I can’ttttt…” she whines.
Violet is a talker.
A dirty little talker.
“Fuck me, oh god Zeke…”
I jerk my hips.
“Oh! Ooohhhhhhh…yeah…I’m dying, I swear…”
“That’s right Violet, fuck me, fuck it. You wanna get spanked?”
Her head lolls back and she gasps when I give her ass another tap. “Yeah spank me.”
A loud thump interrupts.
“NO! SHUT THE FUCK UP! Some of us are trying to sleep!” More banging and Oz shouting from the other side of the wall. “No one is spanking anyone! GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!”
A laugh brews, welling inside, beginning in my abs, working its way up and out of my mouth. Laughing while I impale her. I can’t stop it.
Violet halts riding my dick to stare down at me.
“Why are you stopping?” I pull at her hips, tugging insatiably. I thrust up, greedy. “Keep going.”
“Oh my god, Zeke, you’re laughing.” She leans down to press a kiss to my lips. “That was so sexy. You’re so sexy.”
My mouth latches on and I brush the hair out of her face to get a look at her beautiful eyes. Mouth. Lips. Nose. Chin. “You’re fuckin sexy.” Kiss. “Beautiful.”
“I love this body, so much…” Her hands smooth along the planes of my pecs. Pinch my nipples. “I could stay here all night.”
“Let’s have a fuck fest all weekend.”
The telltale sign of her pussy tightening has my eyes rolling to the back of my head. Clenching my cock. Fuck it feels good, fuck it feels good, fuck it feels good…
“Oh god Zeke, I’m gonna come, I-I’m gonna… I’m…”
Why does this feel so good? Why does this feel so good, why…
Violet’s head tips back, mouth falling open when we come together—and I come hard.
Groan.
Groan so loud Oz starts thumping on the wall, banging loudly.
But the sound only makes me come harder.
Violet
“Those are some slick sneaks, Kyle.”
It’s Thursday and we’re walking into the city’s children’s museum—Zeke, Summer, Kyle, and I—since the weather is too frigid for the park. The kids are skipping along when I notice Kyle’s brand new shoes. I mean, the kid couldn’t make it any more obvious, kicking his heels up every ten feet, stomping around noisily, bending to tie them near every bench.
He stops to tie them now for the third time since we’ve been here. “Zeke got ’em for me. I won a bet.”
“You won a bet?” Whirling to him, I ask, “Dear lord, what kind of bets are you making with an eleven-year-old that require you to buy him new tennis shoes?”
He shrugs. “The normal kind.”
“I beat him at hoops,” Kyle brags, sprinting ahead to show off, jumping in the air and dunking an invisible basketball. His brand new navy and gray sneakers are high end and the latest style.
“The normal kind?” I turn toward Zeke, skeptically. “Is that so?”
I stop to tap the toe of my brown half boot on the marble floor impatiently.
“What’s the big deal?” Zeke asks when both kids are out of earshot, studying a demonstration of weather patterns. I can see Summer pressing down on a lever, the display box in front of them flickering, lightning illuminating the exhibit.
“He needed new shoes.”
“The big deal, Zeke, is those shoes are expensive. What if he had lost the bet?”
“You’re so fucking cute.” Zeke laughs, snorting through his nose. He grabs my hand and pulls me along. “He wasn’t going to lose.”
My brow furrows. “What do you mean, he wasn’t going to lose?”
“Exactly what I’m saying. He wasn’t going to lose the bet. The kid needed new shoes, his mom can’t afford, he won the bet, end of story.”
When he gives my hands a little squeeze, I yank his hand back, stopping us both in our tracks.
“Zeke Daniels. You big softie.”
He laughs, beautiful mouth smiling, gently tugging me along. “Whatever, Pixie Dust, keep walking.”
But I’m not giving up so easily. “Don’t try to change the subject. I want you to admit you’re not such a hard ass.”
“Hard ass? You cursing today, Vi?”
“Knock it off! Don’t change the subject!”
He heaves a hefty sigh, sounding put out. “All right. Maybe on occasion, I help people out.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why? You just asked and I told you.”
“I heard you, but if you like helping people, why do you always seem so, I don’t know…pissed?”
“Long, drawn-out story you don’t want to know.”
“Of course I want to know—I want to get to know you, Zeke, especially if we’re going to, you know…”
“Have fuck fest sex?”
I feel my cheeks burning. “Yes.”
“There are a lot of things I want, too, Violet, but I don’t bring them up just to make conversation.” He looks off into the distance, at Kyle and Summer, squinting.
“Well I want a relationship,” I announce loudly. “But I wouldn’t want things to be awkward between us if you don’t.”
He stops in his tracks, my whole body lurching with the sudden inertia, regarding me warily.
“Violet…”
“No. I want to talk about this.” I refuse to let him sidestep the conversation and tug his hand. �
�What are you like when you’re in a relationship?”
His nose scrunches up and glances down like I’ve lost my mind, steely eyes skeptical. “I’ve never been in one. What about you?”
My chest swells, excited that he’s cooperating and that we’re talking.
“One or two. Nothing serious, obviously. Zeke, I…I-I can’t sleep with you and spend time with you and not catch feelings.”
“What do you mean, catch feelings?”
“The more we’re together, the more I like you. Have you heard the phrase ‘peeling back the layers’? You know, like an onion. I feel like I’m finally starting to see what’s under that cool demeanor of yours, one layer at a time—and I’m starting to like the layers.”
He grunts, still holding my hand. “Are you making it sound like a bad thing?”
“Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“Please.” Zeke’s nostrils flare.
“I’m just worried about myself. I’ve…been alone a long time if you don’t count Mel and Winnie, and I’ve never depended on anyone to…gosh, th-this is going to sound really stupid.”
“Violet, spit it out.”
I take a deep breath and continue, releasing his hand to splay mine wide in front of me. “I-I basically raised myself. It’s true that I lived in some really nice places—and some bad ones—but that’s not the same as having security, or having my parents back.”
I glance up, Summer and Kyle busy conducting electricity from a large round orb to their hair, which is now standing on end.
Cuties.
“Zeke, when we met, I didn’t think you and I were going to get along. I was afraid of you—that’s why I ditched our first appointment—but now I’m just afraid to like you. You’re not the worst.”
His large hand grapples for mine. Squeezes. “You’re not the worst, either, Pix.”
I give him a coy smile. “I know you like me, Zeke.”
He rolls his eyes. “Obviously.”
I yank his hand again so he looks as me. “No. I know you like me.”
We regard one another in the dim lights of the museum, wordlessly sizing each other up. His cool gaze rakes me up and down, still holding my hand, a sliver of white from his perfectly straight teeth peeking through his lips.
He’s smiling. “Prove it.”
I narrow my eyes, biting back my silly grin. “You prove it.”
“I thought I already did. I’m here, aren’t I? Do you think I’d be caught dead in a fucking kid’s museum if I didn’t like you?” He says it low, dragging me against his body, angling my chin up with the tips of his fingers. Brushing his mouth against my lips.
Kisses me once before releasing me.
It’s not exactly a declaration of love, not by a long shot.
But right now?
It’s enough.
Zeke: When you’re done dropping Summer off at her mom’s, you wanna study tonight at my place?
Violet: Will you be feeding me? I’m starving.
Zeke: Pizza?
Violet: Sounds delicious. No onion?
Zeke: Got it, no onion. My place at 8?
Violet: Your place at 8
Zeke: You need me to come grab you?
Violet: I can drive over, no biggie :)
Zeke: You sure? I can come get you.
Violet: It sounds like you WANT to come get me…
Zeke: Shit. Here I thought I was being sneaky. And Violet?
Violet: Yeah?
Zeke: Bring a toothbrush.
Zeke
“What do you suppose Elliot and Oz think of me being here?” Violet is lying across my bed, textbooks and laptop spread out in front of her.
“Who knows.”
She considers this, pretty brow contorted. “It’s just, Oz kept gawking at me in the kitchen when we were eating. Like I was an oddity.”
“He’s odd all right.”
Violet rolls her eyes. “That’s not what I meant. You would think your roommates haven’t seen a girl in the kitchen. The whole thing was all kinds of weird. N-No offense.”
“Oh trust me, none taken. Oz is a freak. Don’t think I didn’t catch him smiling at you like a big, dumb idiot.”
I don’t explain to Violet that the reason my roommates were acting like they’ve never seen a girl in the kitchen with me before is because they haven’t. They’ve seen girls stumbling drunk down the hallway to my bedroom. They’ve heard girls mid-coitus through our thin walls. But they’ve never seen me hanging out with one.
Technically, this is Violet’s third time here.
And technically, they did hear us mid-coitus through our thin walls.
But now I’ve started feeding her. My roommates watched me get plates and napkins and fucking cut her a slice of damn pizza—making meowing and whip-cracking sounds from the living room the whole time.
Ha fucking ha.
And when Oz and Elliot walked in to steal a few slices? They were elbowing each other in the ribcage like two juveniles and giggling. Oz took it a step further when he coughed, “pussy whipped” into his hand not once, but four times.
Total and complete fucking morons. Kyle has more maturity than the two of them combined.
Vi chews the end of her pen. “They’re goofy. What’s Elliot’s story?”
“Elliot’s story?” I shrug, taking my iPod out of its sleeve and tossing it on the bed next to her. “Actually, he’s a decent guy. Keeps to himself a lot, studies in his room. Doesn’t go out much, kind of a loner, but not in a bad way. He has goals and is pretty tunnel-visioned.”
“He sounds like my usual type.” She laughs, eyes twinkling mischievously.
“Your type?” I narrow my eyes, moving toward the bed. “What is your type?”
“You know, serious. Quiet. Studious.”
“Your type is boring.”
She flops down on her back, long, wavy blonde hair fanning out over my bedspread. “Yes, probably.”
“Well I can be quiet.”
“Sometimes.”
“And I can be serious.” What am I doing? I have nothing to prove.
“Sometimes you’re too serious, don’t you think?”
“I’m studious.”
“I know you try to be.”
“That wasn’t a nice thing to say,” I chide flirtatiously, palms hitting the mattress and brushing the books and laptop and iPad out of my way. “If I had feelings, you might have bruised one of them.”
I crawl up the bed, over the mattress, up her body, nudging her hair aside with my nose, lips brushing her ear. “You shouldn’t tease me, it isn’t nice.”
“It got you over here, didn’t it?”
I rear back, surprised. “Pixie, are you flirting with me?”
“Not on purpose.” She licks her lips, and I lower my head to place a light kiss on her mouth, arms braced on either side of her head. “Yes.”
My pecs graze her chest.
I drop my pelvis, the thickening erection between my legs brushing the apex between her thighs.
Kiss her jawline, from the tender spot below her ear to her chin…down the porcelain skin on her neck. Use my index finger to pull back the cotton of her t-shirt, leaving warm kisses in my wake. Pepper kisses on her collarbone. Glide my tongue down the vale of her breasts.
She sighs into my thick hair, fingernails stroking my scalp.
I let my hands wander.
Down the thin shirt better fit for my bedroom floor. Over her denim-clad hips. Across the belt loops of her jeans. Up and down her metal zipper.
She sighs again, her hot little palms running the length of my wide shoulder blades, fingertips pressing into each muscle. Branding them with her hot touch, learning every cord.
Our open mouths meet again in an unhurried dance—so fucking deliberate and intentional and smooth…
I’m dragging my tongue across her lips. It’s sloppy, but the little shocks zipping up my spine have me shivering, dick stiffening in my pants.
My brows furrow f
rom the friction, pained. From her tongue. Her smell, sounds, and gentle caresses.
I glide my hand under her t-shirt along her ribcage, cupping her right breast without preamble. She’s wearing one of those little lacey bras again, the kind without wires or padding or pretense.
Just tits and lace.
I keep pushing the shirt up until together, we get it off and over her head.
The bra is lavender.
Violet.
Soft purple.
Delicate see-through lace just covering her nipples.
I can feel my pupils dilating at the sight of her small tits in the sexy miniscule bra that leaves nothing to the imagination. Her boobs might not be enough to fill the palm of my large hand, but they’re perfect.
They’re her.
I drag a strap across her shoulder, pushing the cup aside. Kiss my way down the side of her neck, dragging my nose against her skin. Lick and flick her peachy nipple, hand stroking the underside gently, teasing while I blow the wet tip. It’s hard and just begging to be sucked.
My lips comply and latch on. Gently I draw it into my hot mouth, sucking.
“Oh god,” she moans, fingernails digging into my shoulders. My scalp. “Ohhhh…”
I release the nipple, kiss the underside where my hand was, then lavish attention to the other one. Kiss up her bare shoulder, up the curve of her neck.
I nip and suck the entire way.
“Take your shirt off,” she instructs. “I want to feel your skin.”
I lean back, kneeling above her, yanking my shirt over my head then throwing it on the ground. Drag my naked torso up her body, firm pecs against her soft tits, the sensation indescribable.
Fucking amazing.
Fucking hot.
Fucking heaven.
She looks like a goddamn angel.
My fingers fiddle with the snap on her jeans, working the button free. Drag down the zipper, its metal teeth making the only sound in the room besides our heavy breathing.
Run my flattened palm over her stomach, dipping into the waistband of her underwear.
Her granny panties.
I chuckle; she’s so fucking cute.
The differences between us are astounding; I almost pause to list them all, but abort when Violet shifts her hips to redirect my hand, squirming.