Aww! That was a sweet thing to say. But focus! “Then what is it? Do I not turn you on like them? Do you want me to be slutty like them? Do you want to take me out somewhere and have sex with me in front of people like Ashley? Do you want me to get on my knees and call you ‘master’ and beg you to let me suck your cock like Emily?”
“No! That’s not it at all!”
She pouted. This really was frustrating—why on earth would a guy not want to fuck her? She was crazy hot—she was like a Barbie doll with better boobs and a bigger butt. That’s what Earl had always told her. “Then what is it! Why won’t you have sex with me? Why can’t I do what those girls get to do? Why am I not the kind of girl you fantasize about?”
“Because you’re perfect the way you are!” he shouted, then immediately flinched like he couldn’t think why he was upset.
An awkward silence filled the room. For all that she’d been putting on an act to seduce him, for all she was willing to degrade herself however she had to if it kept him from preying on other innocent girls… she still found herself bizarrely pleased to hear him say that. Brittney knew he meant it, too. You couldn’t fake that kind of outburst—and he had no reason to anyway. At the core of their relationship was each of their unspoken awareness that they were together because he wanted her and she couldn’t say no.
“Perfect?” she asked softly.
DJ just nodded. He looked afraid. It was clearly a level of intimacy that made him uncomfortable. He looked scared, and vulnerable, and utterly overwhelmed by her.
She kissed him, and she meant it.
It took him a moment to reciprocate—he was still recovering from his moment of earnestness—but it didn’t take long. The former prom queen was kissing him with a vengeance, and it was only moments before she got his shirt off and started kissing his chest too. While she did so, he fumbled around until he finally located the little zipper that was all that held her top on. Good. She didn’t want there to be any barriers between them.
She couldn’t really say what she was doing. Ever since she learned her first lessons, sex had been something Brittney had approached like other girls did drawing or writing or playing basketball—it was a skill, and you got better with practice. There were right and wrong ways, and you chose the technique best suited to achieve the results you desired.
Now, though, she acted on instinct. Her hands wanted to touch him, so she let them—she rubbed his chest, ran her fingers through his hair, grabbed his shoulders and ran her hands all the way down to his wrists, spreading her arms out to her sides to reach them.
Brittney’s mouth had its own mind, too. It knew how to suck cock—this was something it knew almost as well as how to chew food or speak—but today, it wanted to taste DJ. It sucked at his ears. It kissed across his smooth chest and belly. It tasted his lips and his tongue over and over again and kept coming back for more.
Spurring her on was DJ’s own response. She’d fucked him before—she remembered it, remembered the time-tested techniques she’d used to get him off efficiently but without making it feel rushed. It was an art of her taking charge and letting him make the small decisions—to squeeze her ass or fondle her tits, to suck a nipple or lick up and down the valley of her cleavage, and so on.
Today, DJ followed her in spirit and simply let his body do whatever it wanted to do. He stared at her body mesmerized, enraptured, like it was the best present he’d ever been given. He kneaded her soft shoulders while she kissed down his neck, grabbed her waist and caressed up to her tits and back. He grabbed her butt in both hands and rolled her over onto her back and climbed on top of her, still pulling up on her butt to keep her tight against him. It was chaotic and messy and unpredictable and unapologetic.
It was passion.
She couldn’t even say how the rest of their clothes came off or whether she’d first slid her gushing pussy down onto him or if he’d nudged her legs apart and pressed himself effortlessly into her, but soon enough, they were fucking—not in the worn, sordid sense of the word, like she’d always meant it in her heart when she’d said it. Now it was carnal and exciting and wild. It was what sex was always meant to never be.
Between bouts, they joked and laughed and explored unabashedly and kept score of what techniques got him hardest again fastest. (It was a close call between crawling on top of him and dangling her tits in his face and a good old-fashioned blowjob—a talent she was newly delighted to possess.) He in turn paid close attention to what turned her on—she’d only ever had one guy go down on her, but even aside from the sensation, the sheer willingness to put her pleasure ahead of his own drove her wild.
She was as loud as she felt like being—people would put up with it, coming from DJ’s room—and he let out all the quiet praises he could muster. It wasn’t poetry, but today, just being told she had “the kind of rack that first makes a pubescent boy realize how awesome girls are” was more than enough.
Yet little by little, as the day wore on and hour-long cuddle sessions punctuated by half-hour fuckathons added up, reality intruded upon her bliss. Everything she was feeling was true—he thought she was a goddess, the pinnacle of womanhood, he was putty in her hands. DJ was sweet, and kind, and sincerely affectionate toward her.
But maybe also to Ashley, who he’d almost let burn down a library from the sounds of things. To Emily, who he’d hand-cuffed to a radiator and role-played raping with heaven only knew how much reality behind it. To his step-mother, and step-sister, and all her step-sister’s friends and classmates and rival school cheerleaders and…
You have to contain him, she reminded herself. That was why she was here. If he was spent from fucking her, he wouldn’t go after other girls. Every night he spent in her arms was a night the rest of the world was safe from him. She’d been silly and today she’d just let herself forget that he was a monster and pretend that he was her lover.
It was a beautiful fantasy, though. What if…?
No. No, it couldn’t be real.
DJ fell asleep before Brittney did. She tried to come up with something to say if he woke up and felt her crying, but he didn’t.
Chapter Six
“It’s not really my thing, but if it’ll make you happy…” Count Brittney out.
“I’ll do anything you want me to do, sir. Anything.” Yeah, Emily might make things a little weird.
“Eh, sure, I’m up for whatever.”
So it was that Ashley accompanied him on his game session that Saturday. Truth be told, after the non-stop fuckathon of the past week, a chill night with his friends was exactly what he was looking for. He hadn’t even seen Derek and Logan since that last Saturday before break when he’d proved to them he had his gift.
They’d exchanged texts; Logan had had the idea in the interim that DJ could use his gift to snag them a third player so they could get a real D&D session going. They were all aficionados, but having half your party made up of NPCs had never really worked well for them. Logan figured if he could get Rachael to bend her bare ass over her brother’s lap and beg for a spanking, surely he could wrangle up another player. He’d suggested fetching the stripper he’d mentioned, Sydney, but DJ knew he just wanted an eyeful. And maybe to fuck her after, like he had with Derek’s sister.
DJ had tried to get by without it, but Derek pointed out, fairly, that after what he’d done last game night, he owed them. He was a good sport about things, all considered; having a hot sister had numbed him somewhat to the notion of her as a sexual being. DJ was nevertheless a bit self-conscious so he conceded, and not wanting to just go door to door to find someone who played, he started asking the folks he knew best.