by B. B. Hamel
25
Cora
Jarrod drove to the outskirts of town along winding back roads until he approached a quiet trailer park and pulled down a well-maintained road.
Trailers lined either side. Most had decent cars out front, their small lawns properly maintained. Some were rundown and ugly, but most looked cared for, loved and cleaned and cherished.
I’d never been in a trailer park before. Everything I knew about them came from popular culture. I imagined they were dirty and dangerous, filled with hard-worn people and their difficult lives. But the place was shockingly nice, maybe a little rough around the edges, certainly not high-class and fancy, but the structures were obviously permanent, painted bright colors, and the shrubs and trees were trimmed and kept orderly. Kids wandered on their bikes, normal packs of boys and girls having fun. Adults sat on porches, in folding chairs, some with drinks, most without. Jarrod rolled past it all.
“Where are we right now?”
“Maple Field,” he said, squinting at the road. “Used to be called Swimming Lakes but they changed it a couple years back. New management and all that.”
“But what are we doing here?”
His truck slowed to a stop outside of a teal blue house with a red roof and an awning over a small concrete slab porch. He parked and killed the engine.
“I grew up here.”
I frowned at him then looked out the window. “Here? In this park?”
“No, here, in this unit.” He pointed at the teal building.
I gaped at it then back at him. “Are you joking?”
He smiled slightly and shook his head.
“After my parents died, they left me some stuff. They managed to buy this place in cash back before they went off the rails. I guess they thought it was an investment, you know? We were supposed to live in it for a little while, the move out and rent it or sell depending on the market or whatever. Except that never happened, and then they died.”
I tried to picture little Jarrod running around this place with his own pack of friends. I could see it—he must’ve been the king of these streets, a brawny, tough boy with an easy smile and tousled brown hair.
“You kept it all this time.”
“Wasn’t easy. My aunt and uncle fought me hard at first, said a little kid didn’t need to keep a trailer, except then my uncle decided he’d rent it out and keep the cash. When I got older, I realized what he was doing, and threatened to sue him for all the money he stole from me over the years. He let go of the tenant and I took over paying taxes on it ever since.”
“What do you do with it?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “I come here when I need to get away. I’ve never brought anyone before though. You’re the first.” He opened his door and got out.
I followed him inside. It was small and cramped, but surprisingly comfortable and clean. There was a small couch, little tiny kitchen, a bathroom, and bedroom with a small twin bed, and another bedroom with a larger queen. The furniture was old, but it looked maintained and cared-for, and the decor suggested that Jarrod hadn’t updated it since the last tenants.
I didn’t know what I expected from this place. He turned on an electric heater and the place began to warm up. “Sorry for the cold. I don’t get out here as much as I want.”
“It’s fine. This is really…” I hesitated, not sure what to say.
He grinned and sat on the couch. “Small?”
“You make it look tiny.” Which was true. Jarrod was a massive man, and the trailer was tight as it was—it seemed even smaller with him inside it.
“Can’t help that. Ever been in one of these before?”
“No, never.” I lingered, not sure where to sit. He took up half the living room.
He gestured at the couch. I felt my stomach twist into knots. Going near him right now… but this was what I wanted.
What I practically begged him for.
I sat down and curled my legs up underneath me. Inches separated us.
“It’s basically a small house. They call them trailers, but that’s not really accurate anymore. They’re not mobile or anything. This place couldn’t move any more than your house could.”
“I didn’t know that. I thought they were all, you know. Literal trailers.”
“I won’t act like this place is heaven. It’s cramped and difficult to manage when you’ve got a family, but it was home for a long time. We made it work.”
“Do you think about them much?”
“Sometimes, although the memories are fuzzy. It’s funny though, they influenced me so much, but now I find it hard to picture them.”
I felt a sudden stab of grief. “I’m sorry. Do you have any pictures?”
“Some but I keep them hidden and safe. I’m afraid my uncle will rip them to shreds if he ever finds them.”
“Would he really?”
He gave me a sidelong look. “My uncle’s a vindictive and angry man. Yes, he’d rob me of my only memories of my parents if he could, purely out of spite.”
“What a bastard,” I said softly, shaking my head. My parents were bad, but at least they never hit me, and didn’t treat me like an interloping monster.
I couldn’t picture how Jarrod managed to survive his childhood.
“We don’t need to dwell on him.” He moved closer to me, erasing what little space there was between us. His hands moved up my thighs, his eyes staring hungrily down at my body. I felt a sudden thrill as my heart rate doubled, and I struggled to keep it under control. “I wanted you to see this place.”
“Why? I thought you just wanted privacy.”
“If that was all I needed, I could’ve brought you to some fleabag motel and fucked you senseless on a half-rotten bed. I brought you here because this place is a part of me, and I wanted you to know it.”
I chewed on that for a moment and looked around. It was dim and small but I could see how this little house might’ve seemed so much bigger to a little boy. Not a lot of room to play—but there were streets and little lawns and probably a playground nearby. He would’ve spent a lot of time wandering.
“Thank you for bringing me here then,” I said softly, reaching out to touch his cheek. “I know our arrangement makes things a little complicated.”
“More than a little.” But he smiled as he came closer. I parted my lips, yearning for the touch I knew was coming, but hadn’t arrived yet. The anticipation was part of the game, and I liked that he knew how to string me along. “You’ve been worth it. You’ve been so worth it.”
“Are you going to keep teasing me now that we’re alone?” I was being bold, a little reckless, but I couldn’t help myself.
It wasn’t about fulfilling the contract. That stupid piece of paper was the last thing on my mind. I couldn’t care less about Dr. Silver or our deal or his murder—I only wanted Jarrod, his lips, his hands, his tongue, his cock between my legs. I wanted him to make me sweat. I wanted him to take my virginity, right here, in the place where he grew up.
There’d be more. So much more, if we could survive this ordeal, but this was a beginning. Not fancy, nothing lavish or rich, but it was him, it was really him—this was his childhood, pure and untouched, and now he was sharing it with me.
I wanted him to give him something in return.
So I kissed him.
He gripped my hair in response and growled into my mouth. I moaned as my head began to spin with mixed pleasure and pain. He pulled me into his lap and I straddled him, pressing down. I felt his cock stiffen beneath me as his tongue invaded my mouth and his taste slid down my throat like heaven. He pulled me close and kissed my neck, my ear, my throat, and pulled my shirt up and off, throwing it aside.
His eyes burned like hell. I bit his lower lip as he palmed my breasts. My nipples were hard from excitement, buzzing with need, and I rolled my hips along his shaft.
I didn’t know what I was doing and I didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore but getting what I needed. I wanted him inside
of me, wanted his breath on my neck and in my ear, wanted him to fill me over and over until I came in gasping, moaning screams, wanted to finally feel what it was like for a man to have me, to fuck me into submission, to make me his and all his.
He took off my bra and licked my nipples, teasing them with his teeth and tongue, and he stared at me like I was a model, like I was a work of art. He groaned and bit my lip as I moved back and forth slowly.
“You couldn’t wait, could you?” he whispered, teasing my breasts. I loved the way he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me. “You look incredible. Perfect tits, and the way you’re staring at me makes my cock rock hard.”
“How am I staring at you?” I asked, chewing on my lip as he nibbled at my ear.
“Like you can’t wait to spread your legs and take my thick cock deep inside your tight, virgin pussy.”
I let out a soft moan. I loved when he talked like that. I’d never heard a man speak like that to me before, but he said what he wanted, and he didn’t mix words.
Jarrod needed me. I felt it in the way he stood and pinned me back against the small kitchen counter. I felt it when he unbuttoned my jeans and lovingly kissed my shoulder, my breasts, my nipples, my stomach, my belly button, my hips, and slowly pulled my pants off, leaving me in only my panties. I felt his need, his want, his pure lust, as he gazed at my body, then took off his shirt. I touched his muscular torso, running my fingers down his cut abs, along the waistband of his jeans, then began to take them off.
He was so hard when I finally felt his cock over his boxer briefs. Long and thick and so goddamn hard. I didn’t know how I could fit him inside of me, and I didn’t care. Nothing mattered but him, and I knew he’d give me what I wanted.
I felt beautiful. It was strange. I’d never felt attractive without my clothes before—but he made me feel incredible. His fingers slipped down the front of my panties and he teased my lips, my folds, before rolling along my clit, and I moaned into his kiss, taking his cock in both my hands. I tugged down his boxer briefs and stroked him, stupid and desperate and wanting to feel him, wanting to give him the same pleasure that he’d given me.
He growled into my mouth. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
“Tell me then.”
“You feel how hard I am? Every beat of my heart makes me harder for you. I can’t help myself when you’re around.” He slid fingers inside of my pussy, making me gasp, and pulled my hair back. He was so big, so intense, and I felt swallowed and controlled. “Ever since I first met you, I’ve dreamed about taking you.”
“I don’t believe that.”
His fingers fucked me harder. I gasped and moaned in response.
“Believe it, little freak. I’ve dreamed about getting you down on all fours and fucking you deep and savage. I want to pin your hands behind your back and take you until you come, over and over. I want to show you bliss, my baby girl. I want you to suck my cock like the freak I know you are. I want it all, and I want it with you.”
I threw myself at him. God, I needed this. He turned me, pushed me backwards, grabbed my wrist and pinned it behind my back. I gasped, struggled, but he fought me into the bedroom. I moaned as he shoved me down onto the bed and ripped off my panties. I was naked, dripping wet, moaning and writhing for him, vulnerable and open and his, all his, if he wanted me.
He stood at the end of the bed, stroking his thick cock. I looked at him, breathing hard.
“Come here.”
I sat up and crawled over. He grabbed my hair and pressed himself into my mouth. I moaned, choked, took him deeper. He fucked my lips nice and slow, then released my hair and reached forward, teasing my pussy from behind as I kept sucking him. I felt lightheaded from his massive shaft in my mouth and his fingers teasing my slick pussy, and I moaned as he did it.
But before I could get my fill, he pulled me back. I gasped and he kissed me, tongue against mine, and I pressed myself closer. I wanted his skin on my skin, his hard, muscular chest against my soft breasts. He pulled back and gazed at me, pinning one arm behind my back, and pulling my hair.
“You’re at my mercy now, freak,” he whispered. “And I have all night to take what I want. Do you think you can last that long?”
“No,” I said honestly.
That only made him smile. “Good. I don’t plan on going easy or stopping anytime soon.”
“Will it hurt?”
He eased the pressure on my wrist. “Only at first, but I promise, there will be so much more pleasure.”
I nodded and moved up to kiss him. He kissed me back tenderly, before pulling my hair and pushing me onto the bed.
He spread my legs wide and pressed his cock against my pussy.
I was soaking wet and his shaft dripped with my saliva. I was afraid, but I wanted this more than I ever thought I would. I felt him press against me, and let out an irrational, impossible moan as he slowly, agonizingly slowly, pressed himself inside.
I gasped and arched my back. He was right—there was pain. Sharp and dull all at once, his thick cock spread me wide open and filled me deep. It felt like nothing I’d ever experienced before, and he moved back, then inside again, and with each thrust, the pain lessened ever so slightly, replaced by a strange feeling, a wild pleasure I never thought possible.
“Jarrod,” I whispered as he began to fuck me faster. “Oh my god, Jarrod.”
“You feel like heaven. I knew you would, little freak. You’re tight and wet and you love it already, don’t you? My baby girl, you want to get fucked by me, over and over again.” He pinned my hands up above my head. “You’re not a virgin anymore. You’re mine.”
I writhed my hips. Pleasure, pain, desire, it all mixed and drove me insane as he took me, moving faster, fucking me deeper. I was happy I waited, happy it never worked out with anyone else before—because Jarrod now owned me, body and soul, mind and heart together. I was his, all his, only his, for tonight at least.
I wrapped my legs around his hips, driving him deeper. I didn’t know I could take something so massive inside my body, and had no clue it could feel so incredible. He pinned my hands and bit my shoulder, licked my nipples and bit them too, teased me and made me gasp, and I rolled my hips, bucking my clit against him, letting ecstasy splash into my mind. I moaned and whispered his name, chanted and sang it, as he fucked me and looked at me like I was his angel, his goddess, everything he’d ever desired and more.
I didn’t think I could come—but I felt it building between my legs like a hurricane. I gasped, panted, and he fucked me faster, faster, filling me up. “Keep going,” I commanded, not sure where that even came from. I was quiet, shy, I kept to myself, I didn’t tell a monster like Jarrod what to do—“Keep fucking me.”
He let out a soft grunt of satisfaction and moved in time to my hips. I pushed and pushed and took him, deeper, harder, and oh, god, I don’t know what spilled from my mouth, but Jarrod spoke back, told me how glorious I looked, how I glowed, how I made his cock so stiff he thought he might tear through me. I gasped, arched my back, and it was there, right there, the orgasm I’d always wanted, and it exploded down his shaft as I came in bright lights. My vision turned into fragments and I was crying like an idiot as I came, all control completely gone, I surrendered to him and gave him what he wanted. I was bliss, heavenly bliss, otherworldly and incredible, as he didn’t stop, didn’t slow, he fucked me like the dirty girl I was, fucked me harder, fucked me faster, until his orgasm burst inside of me like a bomb, and I gasped as I felt him fill me.
We collapsed together on the bed. I was sweating—how the hell did I start sweating?—and he wrapped his arms around my body, hugging me close. He breathed in my scent, and my pussy ached, my legs ached, but my head swam with a lingering orgasm.
“I didn’t expect that,” I said, giddy and stupid.
He grinned and kissed my neck. “I did.”
“What do we do now?”
He reached down between my legs. His fingers came back slick with red. “We
’ll clean up. Then I’ll teach you some things.”
I burned crimson. “Oh my god.”
“Don’t start apologizing.”
“I’m so sorry!”
“Stop.” He kissed me gently. “This isn’t some fucking fairy tale. People fuck and curse and bleed. You’re perfect.”
I groaned as he held me. After a while, I washed up in the small bathroom while he changed the sheets. When I came out, I felt shy, exposed—
Until he pinned me down on the couch and licked my pussy until I came in his mouth again.
I laughed, stupid and dizzy. He grinned at me, stroking his hard cock.
“I wasn’t lying, freak,” he said, admiring my body. I loved the way he looked at me. “You’re mine tonight, and don’t expect me to get my fill.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Now, come here.” He stood and gestured. I got down on my knees before him and took his cock into my mouth. “That’s a good girl.”
Hands behind my back, pussy dripping, head churning, feeling giddy and alive, I sucked his cock fast and deep and made him moan.
I never imagined feeling comfortable in my own body like this, let alone comfortable with a man looking at me, touching me, gazing at my nipples and legs and ass. But with Jarrod, it was natural, like I should’ve always been naked with him—and always would, if it meant he’d do the filthy, depraved things I truly, truly wanted.
Which was why, as the night wore on and he teased me, fucked me, got me off, made me ride him, made me swallow his cum and thank him for it, I never once argued, never once made demands, and spent the night in complete and ceaseless bliss.
26
Cora
I felt like a new person. Exhausted, a pleasant ache between my legs, no longer a virgin—and freshly scrubbed and cleaned and shining bright.
I half expected Jarrod to hustle me out in the morning. We stayed up late, fucking and teasing and doing all the things I’d only ever imagined before.