Chapter 1-7
THIS IS A SAMPLE!!!
Blurb:
The Quarterback
I had it all planned out until that night with her. She’s my secret obsession, an escape I desperately need. I want to use her, discard her, forget her entirely. But I’m insatiable, ready to devour her every chance I get. Now, I feel her drifting away, each pull more devastating.
The Underdog
I loathe my reflection, yearning to be beautiful like the others. Then one night, alone at work, my bully emerged, cruel and unmatched. Despite his harshness, my longing for him consumes me. Just when I thought I couldn’t fall further, my world shatters with an impossible choice. But how can I deny the man I love most, even if we’re not meant to be?
---
Chapter 1
Libby
Two boys fight on a Michigan roadside.
They’re young, around ten years old. The smaller kid stumbles and falls, his body hitting the sidewalk. The much larger boy straddles him, launching a barrage of punches that collide with his round cheeks.
Should I help? It’s just kids scuffling, right? Just bullying... although I wish someone protected me from bullies at that age.
As my truck draws closer, it’s as though I can feel the younger boy’s suffering. No kid should endure such helplessness and public humiliation.
I slam on the brakes, causing my tires to squeal. Without regard for traffic zooming by, I fling open my door and rush to them.
Firmly grasping the larger boy’s shoulders, I yank him off the other, breaking-up their fight. Upon releasing my hold, the young attacker spins around to face me with fire in his eyes. The smaller boy hurries to a stand to fend off a second round of punches. However, both freeze as they look at me.
With their eyes fixed on my face, their little cheeks scrunch.
Then, a fleeting glance passes between them, and the rivals sprint away together. They look over their shoulders, half-expecting the freak of a woman to chase after them, even though I simply want to help.
With a heavy sigh, I trudge back to my worn-down white truck, my steps burdened by the weight of my existence. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I grimace at my reflection.
I focus on my eyes, which are two different colors. One is brown, the other hazel. Some people might think it’s cool, but it’s just one more thing different on my face. After all, my mouth is enough of a distraction.
I sniffle back a tear as my gaze drifts down to my cleft palate — the damn thing that taints every part or my life.
As I’ve done a thousand times before, the tip of my tongue flows along the roof of my mouth, tracing the gap that runs down the middle. Then my fingertip touches my front tooth, which sits crooked because my upper gums are split, too. Lastly, the pad of my finger traces along my split lip, following the divide up to my left nostril, where the deformity finally ends.
Despite Dad calling me his pretty girl, I know I’m not. Why was I born with a broken mouth? And why did I bother looking in the mirror?
Mirrors are my enemy, always evoking shame and longing to see a ‘normal’ version of myself. Yet, I fall into the trap every time, only to be met with disappointment: the ugly girl staring back at me.
Nevertheless, I don’t sob for hours anymore whenever children flee at the mere sight of me, as if I’m the hunchback of Notre-Dame. It’s my norm... my everyday reality.
And so, I swallow the bitter pill that is my life and continue my drive to work.
Once at Finch’s Truck Stop, our family business, I diligently clean the showers for the weary truck drivers.
“Pumpkin,” says Dad, “Can you work the register? Paige needs a break.”
I swallow, but nod obediently at my frail dad. Rarely do I have to work the register. In these unfortunate times, I hide behind a mask that covers my mouth to spare our customers from seeing my deformity. I hate making people uncomfortable.
I retrieve my mask from my pocket, then loop it behind my ears. After I take Paige’s place behind the register, she scampers to the backroom to eat.
Sometimes I wonder if God hates me because, just as I dreaded, he appears. I hold my breath as the front door swings open, its chime signaling the arrival of Rylan and Kerryanne.
They peruse the store, their casual demeanor contrasting with the anxiety stirring within me. I’ve harbored a crush on Rylan since I started liking boys in fifth grade. It’s a silent infatuation that has endured over the years.
“Lip,” he says as he sets down a case of beer by the register, then points to the shelves behind me.
With a sense of anxiousness, I reach for the brand of snuff he prefers. It slips from my fingers, clinking on the linoleum floor. I bend over and pick it up, but it fumbles from my hands once more. When I look over my shoulder to give him a ‘sorry I’m such an idiot’ smile, but I’m surprised to find him staring at me... or is he staring at my butt?
Either way, having his attention is incredibly uncomfortable, and I hop to my feet. I slide the tin to him, my gaze lingering as his hand floats toward it, large and powerful, with veins tracing paths over his muscled forearm. My eyes drift, moving up the sculpted curve of his tan biceps — the ones I’ve imagined wrapping around me more times than I’d like to admit.
I’m too afraid to look at his face because I embarrass myself every time by getting lost in his eyes. I can’t help but be captivated by their vibrant, emerald green color. They’re complemented by his dark and neatly groomed eyebrows, framing his eyes perfectly. His nose is straight and has the slightest Roman curve that gives him a masculine quality, softened only by the hint of baby fat left on his sculpted jaw.
His hair, thick and dark, is always styled in a classic, slightly tousled way. Its deep brown color lightens slightly in the sun, adding to his overall clean-cut and all-American look. Add in his boyish smile — a smile that lights up the room and sets my heart racing — never fails to leave me utterly mesmerized.
Just looking at Rylan is enough to make me drool.
In fact, the intensity of my attraction to him always causes me to blush. Thus, I keep my gaze down as I ring up his items.
“Total is $20.24,” I say.
He ignores me and calls over his shoulder to Kerryanne, who is across the store. “Hey babe! Want anything?”
“Yes, one sec,” she replies, grabbing a drink and hustling to the register.
As she makes her way towards us, she looks absolutely gorgeous — long brown hair perfectly styled into soft waves, manicured nails, fake eyelashes, beautiful make-up, and clear skin. She’s literally stunning.
Compared to her, my hair is just dull and flat. I’m not even sure if it’s a real color. Dishwasher blond or brown. I wear it down so I can hide behind its strands whenever I forget my mask. Everything else about me is intentionally average and plain. I like it that way. People don’t notice average and plain. They notice Kerryanne: gorgeous and stunning.
But I’m even more green with envy as her arm hooks around Rylan’s waist and she leans on him. I wish I could touch him whenever I want.
He gives her a quick peck on the cheek.
“Don’t,” she whines, lightly patting the spot he kissed. “You’ll mess up my bronzer.”
He smirks, but rolls his eyes.
My mind can’t comprehend how any woman would refuse a kiss from Rylan. I mean, come on, just look at those lips! They’re perfect: big and luscious. Who wouldn’t want to kiss and suck on his bottom lip? I’ve spent many nights lost in such fantasies.
But I shouldn’t fantasize about such things. Or about him at all. He would be so disgusted to touch his mouth to mine.
Snapping me from my self-loathing, Kerryanne places a Pepsi on the counter. I quickly add it to the total.
He swipes his credit card, and I find myself ogling the curves of his arms once more.
As he twists open the tin and slips a pouch on the inside of his lip, his cheek slightly pushes out. The other college athletes in this town chew or use pouches, too, claiming the nicotine helps them relax. Honestly, it just makes them look even hotter.
However, Kerryanne scoffs. “Gross! You need to quit that,” she scolds, flipping her long, shiny hair over her shoulder.
“Chill out, Kerry,” he mumbles dismissively, refusing to look at her while slipping the tin into his back pocket.
“Hi, Kerryanne,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, hoping she’ll notice my new mask. It’s navy blue and yellow, the same colors as Rylan’s football team.
Maybe if she knows I’m a fan, she’ll invite me to the games with her. She always looks like her and her girlfriends have so much fun. I’d love a friend like her. I want to be part of their crowd.
She glances my way and subtly lifts her chin. “Hey Lip. Like the mask. You should wear it all the time,” she replies, her words carrying a coldness that forces me to avert my gaze.
Though she can’t see it, I frown, wishing she’d give me just one chance.
Rylan chuckles at her veiled insult, then playfully floats his large palm over her butt, giving it a small squeeze.
Without delay, she swats his hand away.
“Stop it!” she hisses through clenched teeth. “Not in public.”
He rolls his eyes again.
“What? You think a snaggletooth like Lip cares if I touch your ass? Watching other people is the most action she’ll ever get, anyway.” He lowers his voice and leans over the counter a little, “Except maybe the truckers around here who want a shower and a fuck.”
Kerryanne pushes his shoulder. “Why do you have to talk like that?”
“Come on, babe!” He chuckles. “It’s a joke. Relax.”
My frown deepens, watching their banter. I know it’s just a beautiful couple fighting, but I’m still jealous.
Yeah, Rylan and Kerryanne have argued since they first dated in high school. Regardless, I’d rather have a boyfriend than be single, even if it comes with arguing.
My envy lingers as they leave the store without a second look in my direction. I let out a long exhale, and the anxiety in my chest steadily dissipates.
***
CHAPTER 2
Rylan
When I get Kerry back to my dorm room, I’m pumped. Bradley is out tonight, so I have the room to myself. She likes absolute privacy. She’s a stickler for appearances and being seen as a puritan.
It’s irritating as fuck.
I mean, if I just pull the comforter over us while we mess around, who cares if Bradley is in the room? It’s not like he’ll see her naked. He’ll have headphones on or bring back his own girl to screw, anyway.
Women are so uptight.
At least tonight, everything is perfect. Door locked, chill music, and the lighting is the way she likes it.
With her on my bed, I kiss her, grind my hips against hers, rub her pussy. The usual. And as hoped, a soft moan escapes her lips. That’s my signal that I can take out my dick without her saying, ‘God, Rylan, all you think about is sex.’
To her credit, that’s somewhat true, but she turns me on all the fuckin’ time!
Anyway, I definitely heard it. A moan. Fuck yeah. I can’t get my zipper down fast enough while she pulls up her skirt.
Doing her normal routine, she spreads her legs, moves her underwear to the side, and waits for me.
Keeping her panties on annoys the fuck out of me. Slipping them to the side so I can put my dick in doesn’t make them disappear. It just rubs my shaft raw.
Trying to avoid a chaffing burn, I sneak my fingers under the top of her panties to take them off, but she swats my hand away.
“Don’t! They are Versace. I want to look nice while we make love.”
I suppress the urge to scoff so she doesn’t turn into ‘crazy Kerry.’
Instead, I say, “Yeah, they’re sexy.”
“Thanks baby,” she replies, twisting a long brown tress flirtatiously.
I move over her and just as I’m about to sink my cock into her, she whines, “Go down on me first, Ry-Ry.”
Damn it.
It’s not like I hate eating pussy, but I’d love the favor returned with a blowjob once in my life.
So, like a dumbass, I foolishly turn off my Kerryanne-filter. “Babe, what about a BJ instead?”
She glances down at my dick like it’ll make her mouth pregnant, but I still pray she’ll pleasure me for a change.
In my mind, I’m begging, Come on, Kerry. Blow me just once. I’ve been waiting forever.
But she pouts her lips. “I don’t know Ry-Ry. I’m just not ready yet and—”
“Please, babe. One time.”
In this moment, however, she still looks repulsed by my suggestion.
Giving me head should not be a fuckin’ big deal for her. I’m her boyfriend. Maybe I’m too patient with her.
But damn, she’s hot. All my guy friends want to fuck her. That makes me a badass, but the thought pisses me off too. She’s my girl, and if I have to wait for her to get kinky, I guess I’ll do it. She made me wait a year to take her virginity, but she eventually did. Besides, she looks good under my arm.
Huh. I guess appearances matter to me, too.
As she stares at the sheets, still contemplating my request, I wait with bated breath. After a long moment, I can’t stand the tension and say, “Kerry?”
“Uh. Let’s just wait till we are married.” She gives me a sweet smile, but I am frustrated beyond belief. My dick twitches in my hand, throwing a tantrum and pleading to break up with this eternal cock tease. I wish she would loosen the fuck up.
Then abruptly, she stands, pulls down her skirt, and slips on her high heels.
“What are you doing?” I say, my tone surely panicked.
Fuck! Why did I ask for a BJ?
“I have a midterm tomorrow. I should study,” she answers cooly as though we weren’t about to fuck seconds ago.
“Are you serious, Kerry?” I balk, pissed she’s pulling this shit and leaving me with blue balls — again.
“Besides, you need to focus on Saturday’s game against Clemson. They’re tough, so you need to be at your best. You are playing great because we aren’t having sex.”
“That’s not true! Sex helps my gameplay—”
Just like she always does, she holds up her hand to silence me, then patiently waits for me to pick up my keys to drive her home.
I sigh, but do as she wants.
When we pull up to her place, she gives me a wet, sloppy kiss that only makes me hornier.
“Love you! See you tomorrow, baby,” she says sweetly.
“Love you, too,” I grumble, forcing a smile.
As she walks into her sorority house while swinging her hips seductively, a deep sense of longing overcomes me. Not for sex, though. It’s something else I can’t quite put my finger on.
After she’s safely inside her place, I look down at my hard-on, which is currently scolding me for not shutting the fuck up.
I need to cum, and for once I wish it wasn’t by my own hand. Oh well. Guess I’ll go back to the dorm and rub one out again.
“Fuck!” I belt, then thump the steering wheel with the side of my fist.
College should be the best time of my life. However, it’s been nothing but football, classes, and my girlfriend driving me into a state of cum-filled madness.
Needing to calm myself down, I open my glove compartment and pull out my tin of snuff.
One left. Time to go to Finch’s.
Maybe those truckers are onto something. You get to have sex with no strings attached. Nobody would ever know. A simple transaction. I would pay whatever Kerry wanted to get her to suck my dick. But she’d never agree.
A ring on her finger is all she wants. That’s a good thing. She loves me. Wants to spend the rest of her life with me.
Although, what if her wanting to get married is all about me going pro? She always says I’m destined to play in the NFL and that she can’t wait to be a professional athlete’s wife.
I know she’s materialistic at times, but the thing is, I love her. I had other girlfriends before we started dating. She is by far the hottest, though. Plus, she was nice at one time. She kind of got snotty after we went to college. I suspect the sorority girls poisoned her mind to deprive me of sex as much as possible.
I should cheat on her.
Whoa.
Where the fuck did that thought come from?
It’s not her fault she’s acting this way. I’m too focused on sex. Even Kerry’s pastor agreed when she dragged me to her church’s couples counseling. She also told her mother I’m a sex-addict. That was embarrassing. Since then, every time I see her mother, I feel like a creep.
None of this matters, though. After I get drafted, Kerry will be her old self. She is wife material. Loyal, goal-oriented, and always thinking long-term for us. And once we’re married, she won’t use sex all the time to get what she wants because she’ll have everything.
Reflexively, I wince as my inner voice yells, ‘stop lying to yourself.’ I smother the thought, but it breaks to the surface again and again as I drive to Finch’s. The anxiety Kerry brings is unmistakable.
I need another tin now or this feeling will suffocate me.
***
CHAPTER 3
Libby
My workday is finally coming to an end, and exhaustion weighs heavily on my shoulders, my back, and especially my swelling feet. These 12-hour shifts are absolutely brutal.
As I heave an enormous trash bag into the dumpster behind the building, my muscles ache in protest.
“Lip,” says a man’s voice.
I glance over my shoulder to find Rylan leaning against his black truck, his tall, imposing frame backlit by the glow of a light.
“Oh, hey... Rylan,” I reply, locking the dumpster lid with a clink. I try to appear calm, but my heart slams hard against my chest, betraying me.
I slide the padlock key into my pocket, turning to face him, feeling like an awkward mess under his intense gaze. His arms are crossed, muscles straining against his shirt, and for a moment, he looks away, his eyes shifting down to the pavement with a hint of something... uncertain. Apprehensively, he draws in a breath before saying, “How much do you charge the truckers around here?”
Confusion fills my mind as I try to comprehend his question. There’s a tension in the air, something simmering beneath his words, and the way he’s looking at me from under his brow — almost vulnerable despite his strength — makes it impossible to ignore the electric pulse sparking between us.
“Truckers? What do you mean?” I respond.
“You know. For a fuck.” His eyes narrow, any hint of vulnerability vanishing in an instant. His jaw clenches, and he adds in a low, frustrated tone, “I’d prefer a BJ, but I ain’t sticking my dick in that fucked-up mouth of yours.”
"Oh."
“Anyway, I have 50 bucks. Is that enough?” he says.
A wave of disbelief washes over me.
Holy smokes! He thinks I’m a lot lizard? A freaking prostitute! Truckers stay overnight to sleep in the parking lot, fuel up, eat, and shower. I’ve never slept with one. Although, we have lot lizards that hang around. Those girls have syphilis, though! Dad has to chase them away from the store so they don’t loiter by the front door.
Wait... Did Rylan just ask to make love to me?
Before I can fully process that thought, I blurt, “Okay!”
But just as quickly, I cover my mouth, stunned I agreed so fast. Do I really want to do this?
Heck yeah, I do!
I’ve never had a boyfriend, held someone’s hand, or kissed a guy. Nobody even wanted to sit next to me in school. And with Rylan... This is literally a dream come true!
I cross my arms and slowly walk through the darkness, glancing around to see if this is an ambush. Having known him most of my life, I wouldn’t be surprised if this is a trap. His friends will probably jump out of the truck and tease me for agreeing to have sex for money.
Although, I would totally pay him for this chance.
As I inch closer, heart racing, I look again, but there’s only shadows and silence. My palms start to sweat, and I rub them against my pants, trying to steady my nerves.
I’m beyond self-conscious as I near him, this god of a man I’ve secretly worshipped since I first scribbled hearts around his name in my journal. I freeze as he unzips his pants, drawing out his length, and for a second, my breath catches in my throat. It’s long and otherwise normal-looking. At least I think so. I’ve never seen one in person. They probably all look big and intimidating.
“Hurry the fuck up before I change my mind,” he orders impatiently, scrunching his strong brow as he leers at me.
I nod, quickening my steps, closing the distance between us. The quiet around us is thick, the only sound the rustling of tall pines as the wind weaves through them.
Finally, I’m there, standing in front of Rylan, so close I can feel his presence, overwhelming and magnetic. I hold my breath, realizing I’ve never been this close to him — not since that school assembly when he switched seats after I sat beside him. Just like all the others.
I notice my heartbeat is now thundering against my eardrums. I hope he can’t hear it too.
Nervously, I glance up to check, my eyes surely reflecting my anxiousness.
He groans, the sound deep and low, his frustration unmistakable. My cheeks flush as I freeze, not knowing what to do. His exasperation only heightens the tension hanging between us, making me feel small. It’s as if he’s both pushing me away and pulling me in, leaving me suspended on the edge of whatever comes next.
He grimaces and says, “I can’t look at that messed up face while I fuck you.”
Shoot. I took off my mask earlier as I wasn’t working behind the register. In haste, I place my clammy palm over my mouth.
Suddenly, he drops the tailgate with a thud, then grabs my arm, the rough pull sending a jolt of sharp pain through my shoulder. I stumble, barely catching my breath as he spins me around, the world blurring as he maneuvers me with unrelenting force. His hand presses firmly against my upper back, pushing me forward until my chest meets the cold, unyielding steel of the tailgate. I clutch the metal edge, my hands trembling with nerves, my pulse racing under his hold.
Bent over, I search my surroundings, my eyes darting towards the semi trucks bunched in rows in the distance. Nobody. Then I scan the sidewalks on the edge of the property. Empty. Though we are hidden in the shadow of the building, the fear of being caught gnaws at me.
“Nice granny panties,” he says sarcastically, his words dripping with venom. He tugs them down, exposing my bare skin to the freezing night air. I take a sharp breath, feeling weak and even more insecure.
I peek over my shoulder just in time to see him spit into his hand, his eyes dark and focused as he strokes himself. His tip presses near my opening and he pushes his hips forward, but it doesn’t go in. His fingertip searches my hips, seeking the entrance. His touch feels invasive, causing me to tense every muscle in my body.
“God, Lip. Do you not shave your twat? It’s a forest down here.”
“Oh! Um... I ran out of razors!” I stammer, desperately trying to sound like I’ve done this before.
“Well fuckin’ buy some.”
“Sorry,” I say sincerely. Now afraid he’ll be too disgusted and change his mind, I glance over my shoulder and add, “You don’t have to pay me for this.”
He squints, a flicker of confusion crossing his face, as if he’s weighing something in his mind, but then he shakes his head, his expression hardening. “Let’s get this over with.”
Abruptly, his finger slides into me, soon replaced with his blunt tip pressed to my opening. His large hands then clutch the soft flesh of my hips.
With a sudden, brutal force, he powers forward. A painful pinch followed by an incredible pressure tears through my hips. He immediately goes into a fast rhythm, intensifying the pain and causing me to snap my eyes shut. Each thrust is agonizing, stealing my breath away.
My fingers clutch the metal tighter, trying to bear his power as my chest rubs against the steel tailgate, forward and back.
Having sex hurts as much as I imagined it would, but I can’t ask him to stop because it’s Rylan. Is he really making love to me?
The sound of his hips meeting my backside fills the silence of the night, the smacking amplifying the intensity of his thrusts.
“Holy fuck, Lip. You are tight as hell,” he says, his voice filled with surprise and pleasure.
I’m glad I’m not facing him because I’m so giddy to hear he likes it.
Wow! I can’t find the words to describe how incredible it feels to have a guy touching me, not just with his hands, but having him inside me. It’s a sensation that’s overwhelming, and slowly, it causes a wide grin to spread across my face.
But then, in an instant, he slams into me as deep as he can, holding the flesh of my hips tightly.
I think he just ejaculated, which must mean I made him do that!
Oh my God. Oh my God! This is the best moment of my life!
A sense of ecstasy washes over me, drowning out the pain and anxiety.
When he pulls out, he gawks at his dick and asks, “Are you on your fuckin’ period?”
“Uh yeah,” I whisper, too afraid to confess the truth: I’m a virgin. Well, I was a virgin.
“Tell the guy next time you’re on the rag, you idiot. I don’t want my clothes ruined.”
He removes the crimson coated condom, which I hadn’t noticed he put on. He then tosses it carelessly onto the pavement.
I cringe, knowing I better pick that up before Dad sees it.
I nod to Rylan in agreement, but try to appear like I knew that and just forgot.
Rylan casually buttons up his jeans, looking utterly relaxed, as if nothing just happened. Meanwhile, I’m still in shock, my mind racing as I slowly pull my underwear and pants back over my bottom. A dull throb pulses around my opening, a lingering reminder of everything I’m struggling to process.
Rylan shuts his tailgate and hands me 50 dollars. “Here. Don’t tell anyone about this, alright?”
“Okay. Thanks.” I stare at the green bills and say, “Geez, this is the fastest I’ve made this much money.”
He scoffs, his eyes set ablaze. “It’s not like I wanted to be fuckin’ a freak like you, Lip. Don’t the truckers get in and get out just as fast?”
“Um. Oh... yeah. Everyone is fast,” I answer, but I’m confused why he’s upset.
Apparently, my reply wasn’t good enough because he doesn’t say anything else. Without a second glance, he climbs into his truck, the engine roaring to life as he pulls away, leaving me standing there. No words, no acknowledgment — just the fading sound of his truck as he drives off.
I cross my arms nervously, unsure if I just imagined the last few minutes.
Gosh. Is this real? Did that just happen?
***
CHAPTER 4
Libby
My vibrator buzzes softly as I stretch across the cool sheets of my bed. The morning sunlight filters through the lace curtains, casting delicate patterns on the faded wallpaper. I never masturbate in the morning, but today, I’ve never been so eager.
I can’t help myself. I’m addicted to the memory of Rylan making love to me. I don’t even have to make up fantasies anymore about him or any other guy. I just replay it over and over. It’s just as good as when it happened.
Yet, I’m still in disbelief. I really lost my virginity to Rylan Westwood. This cannot be true. A guy has never touched me before. That was the first time. It was more incredible than I ever imagined!
I suppose I’m obsessed with memories of Rylan. I literally can’t stop thinking about him... especially the feel of his large hands squeezing my hips so passionately, or the moment he finished.
Am I in love?
A long breath escapes my lungs as I steady the vibrator on my throbbing clit, my orgasm rising to the surface.
Dad swings open my bedroom door.
“Oh!” I yelp.
“Ah!” he belts.
Holy smokes! I thought he was at work!
My face burns with embarrassment as I snatch the sheet and pull it over my body.
Buzz.
Shoot! My vibrator is still on.
Panicked, I fumble to turn it off, praying to God he can’t hear it. His hand covers his eyes as he turns away, probably horrified by the reality that his ‘little girl’ is a grown woman doing an adult thing.
“Oh! Oh my! Sorry,” he stammers, his voice thick with embarrassment, too.
The horrifying moment lasts only seconds, yet it feels like an eternity before the door finally closes as he leaves my bedroom.
I let out a shaky breath, my body frozen in a state of shock.
Wanting to rush out of this house as fast as possible, I hurry to get ready for work. I yank on a baggy shirt and tuck it into my black pants. I glance at myself in the cracked mirror, trying to push away the shame that still lingers in the pit of my stomach.
As I make my way to the front door, Dad intercepts my quick escape, his expression half confused by his illness, and half resembling a concerned parent.
“I’m really sorry,” he murmurs, his eyes filled with remorse.
“It’s okay, Dad,” I reply, but hate that he’s acknowledging what happened.
“I mean it,” he reassures. “I’m really sorry.”
“I know it wasn’t your fault. It’s your illness. You just forgot where you were going.”
He nods, but I can see the worry etched in the lines of his gaunt face. “I just wish...” he trails off, his gaze falling to the floor.
“What is it?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath. “I wish your mother were still here,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “She would know how to handle things like this. And she’d be able to help with... with everything.”
My chest tightens at the mention of Mom. It’s been years since she passed away, but the pain of her absence still feels raw. I miss her more than words can express, and navigating Dad’s illness without her is overwhelming at times. Actually, all the time.
“I miss her too.” I squeeze his hand reassuringly, feeling his bones under his thin skin. “But we’ll get through this together, okay? We always do.”
He nods, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his thin lips. “Okay,” he says, his voice choked. “Thank you, pumpkin.”
I return his smile, my heart heavy with love and sadness. Taking a deep breath, I head out the front door, his words echoing in my mind.
The crisp fall morning air chills my face, but I hardly notice. I’m more focused on making this work. No matter how difficult it becomes, I have to be there for him.
Somehow, I’ll find a way to keep our family business going, too. I just hope I can figure it out. He’s tried to teach me everything he knows, but honestly, the taxes, finances, stuff like that... it’s confusing. Especially since I didn’t learn about this stuff in school and Dad is slowly forgetting how to do these things.
I know one thing for sure, though: I wish I had someone to help me.
***
CHAPTER 5
Rylan
Okay, I messed up.
I’ve never bought sex before, and certainly never slept with a freak like Lip.
“Ry-Ry. Let’s get this barbecue over quickly, okay?” says Kerry as I park my truck.
From the street, my little nephews run across the lawn, playing flag football. Over the backyard fence, the smoke of a grill rises into the air.
“Kerry. My mom will be disappointed if we don’t stay that long,” she replies.
“So! We need to go to my parents, too. They are expecting us in an hour.”
I sigh, not looking forward to telling Mom I have to leave so soon. Plus, Kerry’s mom is pretty awful. And her dad is a miserable fuck. God, I hope I never turn out like him.
“We’ll see how it goes,” I reply, and get out of the truck before she can start bitching.
Once in the backyard, my mother gives me a warm hug. It’s a relief to feel her plump body under my arms. Reminds me of childhood — when things were simple.
Kerry hands her a small bouquet of yellow flowers, something she does every time we visit my family. Mom thanks her and like clockwork, hurries to put them in a vase.
A hand pats my shoulder firmly. I turn and meet his commanding gaze and subtle smile.
“How’s the arm?” he asks, as he always does. I’ve never had issues with my arm, so I don’t know why he starts every conversation with that question.
“Arm is good. Coach loves my play. Says some important people will be coming next week to watch.”
“That’s great! I wonder which teams will be checking you out.”
I square my shoulders, feeling a mix of pride and anxiousness.
“He didn’t say which teams,” I answer, rubbing the back of my neck.
I love making my parents proud, especially Dad — even though he smacks me on the side of the head when I let him down.
But I get his passion for my success. He attended every one of my football games, from pee-wee to college. He’s my biggest fan, other than Kerry. So my success is his success.
“I can’t wait till Rylan goes pro, too!” announces Kerry as she reaches up to kiss my cheek. “I just know he’ll be drafted first round for sure. I check the college QB rankings regularly. Rylan is always in the top 3.”
“Listen to her! Nice to have a woman as dedicated to your dreams as you are!” says Dad.
Not really. The truth is, playing in the NFL is my dream, but sometimes it feels like it’s their dream.
After Mom returns, she and Kerry talk. For some reason, I’ve felt nothing but anxiety around Dad, so I slip away to find my nephews.
As I instruct my eldest nephew on how to run a new route, my phone chirps. Once again, I sigh, knowing who’s texting.
Kerry: OMG. SAVE ME!!!Ur mom is talking my ear off!!
I wish Kerry enjoyed spending time with my family. I want to stay longer, but if I make her wait too long, she’ll bitch for hours once we leave. So I trudge to the backyard and recite the ‘we gotta get going’ speech.
So, once I look down at Mom, I say with a heavy heart, “We have to leave for Kerry’s.”
“Yeah,” Kerry adds in a distraught voice. “My brother is flying in from Georgia. Haven’t seen him for so long!”
Unfortunately, she’s lying. Her brother rather have his teeth pulled than fly home.
“Oh! Gosh. Already?” says Mom, looking so sad it makes me hate myself for leaving early.
“Yes. Sorry, Mom.”
After giving each of my parents a hug and promising to visit soon, I leave with Kerry, who practically drags me back to my truck. On the drive to her parent’s place, she indeed talks nonstop.
“Oh my God, your mom wouldn’t shut up. I swear, she knows nothing about politics. She really needs to go to college. It’s like she doesn’t know how the real world works. Oh! And why did you make me wait so long?”
“We were only there for 45-minutes.”
“Really? Felt like forever. Oh well. Thank God we’re heading to my parents. At least they know what they’re talking about.”
“My mom is a sweetheart. I don’t get why you hate her...”
“Babe! I don’t hate your mom! Both your parents are just uneducated. You know, once you go pro, you shouldn’t let them give you advice anymore about your career. I mean, what does an old gym teacher know about being a professional athlete.”
“My dad wasn’t a gym teacher. He was a shop teacher and the football coach.”
“Okay, but he doesn’t know the business side of the sports industry. Hey, you know what? By the time you are drafted, I’ll be finished with my business degree. I can probably help you, babe. Wouldn’t that be great? Me being your manager?”
“Er. I think the league helps connect me with managers or agents that handle that.”
“Agents! You can’t trust those guys. They just want to take your money through huge commissions. They don’t care about you.”
I shrug. Honestly, I haven’t thought that far ahead. I figured the NFL arranged that stuff. She could be right, though. Some agents probably take advantage of players.
“We’ll see,” I reply, not wanting to make a decision right now.
“Sure! And in the meantime, I should probably talk to the NFL people that are visiting next week, too. We need to vet these guys and decide which teams would be best for your career. Talk to them. Really get to know if you are getting the best team for your talent.”
“I don’t think I meet them. Coach just said some NFL people would be watching.”
“Oh? I’ll call my uncle later and ask.”
Fuck, my anxiety has tripled in the past five minutes.
When we arrive at Kerryanne’s parents, I’m greeted by Jennie, her obnoxious mother. Her poor husband, Gary, is dressed in a matching outfit and it looks ridiculous. Red and blue shirts and white pants. The American flag colors. Nothing wrong with patriotism, but man, Gary looks so pathetic matching with his wife.
He shakes my hand, giving me a forced smile. I don’t think that guy has been happy in years.
Jennie pokes my arm. “Goodness Rylan! Look at these arms. Multi-million dollar biceps here!” She glances at her husband and adds, “Would be nice if you worked out once in a while.”
“Ha, ha,” he replies with another forced smile. “Yes, dear. I probably should.”
I side-step to escape her touch and the awkwardness. When they head outside to retrieve the food from the grill, I whisper to Kerry, “Hey. Let’s go to your old bedroom.”
“Why?” she balks.
“Just uh, for fun,” I answer, but I’m sure she knows I want a quickie.
“Uh, I have a headache.”
“So?”
Before she can argue, I snatch her hand and lead her to the room. Once inside, I softly close the door. When I glance at Kerry, her arms are folded and head cocked. I still try to reach for her, but she moves away.
“I told you. This Saturday is a big game, and I don’t want sex to affect your performance.” She then stomps her heel on the carpet to appear tough. I don’t care because I can’t stop staring at her full lips and wishing they were wrapped around my dick.
“Are you listening to me, Rylan?” she hisses. Apparently I’ve dazed off on that visual.
“Uh yeah, babe. But we haven’t fucked in two-months. I’m losing my goddamn mind.”
“I’m on my period, anyway.”
“Then give me a blowjob!” I blurt.
“Ew, no. Quit asking for that.”
“A handjob then,” I counter.
“I slept on my hand last night. It’s been hurting.”
“Fuck, Kerry! What am I supposed to do?”
She shrugs but softens her voice as she replies, “Use your hand like a normal guy.”
“A normal guy?” I repeat in disbelief.
When she doesn’t respond with anything other than a defiant glare, my eyes roam over her bedroom. We once fucked in here every other day. What happened to her?
My gaze stops on her dresser, and I pull open a drawer. It’s still packed with clothes, but hidden at the bottom is her old vibrator. After I find it, I turn it on and hold it up.
“Still works. Why don’t you use it in front of me? I’ll jerk off while I watch you.”
“Gross! I told you, I’m on my period! I’m not doing that.”
I look up at the ceiling, certain she has been replaced by an evil twin. What did I do to make her so repulsed by sex?
“Kerry, I don’t care if you’re on the rag. Just put a towel underneath you. It’ll still turn me on.”
“Ew! That’s it. I’m out of here!” she snaps, then rolls her eyes as she pushes past me. “I have cramps anyway. Bet you didn’t consider that,” she adds before darting out of the bedroom.
I clench my jaw but suppress my simmering rage. I guess I should feel ashamed for not considering she’s in pain. However, part of me wonders if she is lying. I think she was on her period two-weeks ago.
Once I slip the vibrator back into the drawer, I return to the living room. Kerry takes me by the wrist for pictures next to the fireplace. After snapping tons of photos, she immediately posts them with stupid captions like, ‘memories with my love!’
A good memory would be a blowjob instead of taking selfies... or even better, being with my own family for more than an hour.
“Babe, go on your Instagram and like my posts.”
It takes everything in me to hide my irritation, but I do as she asks and unlock my phone. As I tap the heart on her posts, a DM pops up.
Libby Finch: Hi Rylan how r u?
What in the hell. Why is this freak-show messaging me? Bet she wants to make some money.
Kerry stretches to catch a glimpse of whether I’m liking her posts, and I quickly exit the chat just in time.
After I like Kerry’s posts, she slips away to show her mom. They blab on for hours while I sit on the couch, watching football on TV. Her dad loves when we hang out and discuss football. Watching football with him is the only good thing about visiting here.
A commercial begins, featuring a tan woman in a skimpy bikini. She steps out of a pool, water droplets cascading down her incredible rack. Without thinking, I bite my bottom lip.
Man, I’d like to titty fuck that girl.
I glance over at Kerry in the distance. She’s talking to her mom in the kitchen. Maybe Kerry will let me do that to her?
Doubtful.
“Pretty girl,” says Gary, his eyes fixed on the nearly naked woman, too.
I guess we both have blue balls. What if I become Gary? The thought prompts me to quickly pray silently, ‘please don’t let Kerry stay a prude once we’re married.’
As if I’ve been sucker punched, a flash appears, then the memory of Lip’s round ass. God, the softness of her hips under my palms was heavenly. I draw in a short breath just as I recall how amazing her tight pussy felt around my dick. Fuck, that was good.
I want to see her again.
That insane thought is immediately followed by a wave of guilt, making me wince.
I can’t see her again. I fucked up once. I can’t do it twice. I feel bad enough.
Kerry walks in front of the TV, then points her finger at me. “Jesus, Rylan. Are you ever gonna come socialize with my mom, or are you just gonna sit here and watch football all day? It’s rude!”
Oh yeah... I definitely want to see Lip again.
***
CHAPTER 6
Rylan
The boys and I sit around a campfire. Following our loss to Clemson, we drown our wounded egos with cheap beer.
“Did ya get Kerryanne to suck your helmet?” Garrett jeers loudly, prompting everyone to laugh.
“What do you think?” I grumble, hating that my pathetic sex-life has become a running joke.
Of course, they all laugh again, knowing I’m such a pussy for putting up with a tease like Kerry. I can’t blame them. I’m the star quarterback.
In fact, Kerryanne is right. I’ll probably be a first-round pick in the NFL. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway.
But if she knows I’ll go pro, why can’t she be grateful? Do whatever I want? I must admit, though, I’m not a great boyfriend. I cheated.
The guilt weighing on my shoulders has been building. Mom would be so fuckin’ ashamed of me, too. She always taught me to treasure a good woman like Kerry. Most girls aren’t like her and won’t be as dedicated to all aspects of my life.
Yet, I did cheat. The only relief I get is when I tell myself, ‘Oh well. I can’t change it now. Just don’t do it again.’
I wish I could, though.
Fuck.
Suddenly, Chris, our second-string quarterback, smacks my shoulder hard. Giving me a wicked smile, his dimples crater as his curly black hair falls forward.
“Don’t worry, buddy. Kerry will suck ya one day. Maybe on your 50th wedding anniversary, huh?”
My teammates laugh once more, their hackling as annoying as nails on a chalkboard.
As their laughter dies down, my guilt disappears and the sting of humiliation takes over. Since I’m the leader of the team, I can’t let Chris one-up me. I need to salvage my self-respect before this gets worse.
I lift my hands, my palms facing them as a gesture to shut up.
In a casual tone, I say, “Yeah, but I hooked up with some chick yesterday. Thank God, or I would have died of blue balls.”
Garrett grins, his eyes widening in surprise. He knows I’m not the cheating type. Actually, he always wants me to party with them in hopes of attracting more women.
“Oh, really?” He leans forward in his chair, not bothering to hide his excitement that I behaved outside my norm.
I nod, feeling my status among the guys restored. “Yep. Her pussy was so tight, too. I nutted in probably 60 seconds.”
They all laugh, as I hoped, but this time with me.
“No shit. A virgin?” asks Chris.
“Fuck no. She was down. She knew the drill. A fan of mine. Loves our team.”
Is Lip a fan?
Abruptly, another thought hits me. The blood on the condom. She was on her period... I think. Could she have been a virgin?
What am I talking about? Who fuckin’ cares.
Garrett tosses an empty beer into the fire. “Does she hang around the field? I’ll have to give her a try after practice.”
Instantly, my gut twists.
What the hell. Why did I have that reaction?
Then, an image flashes of Garrett’s massive, linebacker body fucking Lip while she clings to a tailgate.
Ouch.
I touch my jaw, realizing I’m biting down so hard that my molars ache.
Huh. I probably don’t like the idea of sharing her with these douche bags. Yeah... that’s it. She was my find. Why dirty the experience by hearing my teammates tell campfire stories about fucking her, too.
Now determined to keep these guys away from Lip, I shrug and reply, “I didn’t even catch her name.”
Garrett slumps, pouting, but doesn’t push for any more details. We hang for a couple of hours, and after 12 beers, I climb into my truck with a healthy buzz. I look down at my jeans and my dick is suffocating under the denim.
Yep. That’s the only bad thing about drinking. I get fuckin’ horny.
Maybe Kerry is still awake? I should call her... but why? She’ll bitch and make-up excuses for why she can’t fuck.
Lip might be working tonight.
Immediately, I silence that thought and call Kerry as fast as I can.
“Rylan?” she answers, her voice faint.
“Babe. Can I stop by?”
“Um. I was asleep. Where are you?”
“Just hangin’ with the boys. Can I come over? We can cuddle.”
“No Rylan. I don’t want to fuck. I told you I have cramps. Plus, you lost today. We need to double down. We shouldn’t even kiss until you win again.”
I ignore that nonsense and reply, “I said cuddle.”
“Yeah. Well, last time you said cuddle, you poked me in the back with your dick until I finally gave in.”
I roll my eyes, hating that I held any hope she would actually let me fuck her.
“Alright,” I murmur, not even bothering to deny that was probably my game plan. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Before I can hang up, she says in a sweet voice, “Rylan, baby. Just jerk off in your dorm and think of me. Okay?”
“Sure,” I reply, annoyed by that suggestion. Nothing like tugging yourself when plenty of other women are ready and willing.
“That’s my Ry-Ry! Goodnight, baby. I wuv you,” she says in a girly voice.
“Love you, too,” I mutter, and the phone goes silent.
I grip the steering wheel and rest my forehead on its hard surface. With my eyes closed, I visualize fucking Lip.
I did it once. What’s a second time? It’s not a different girl.
Fuck it.
After stuffing my cheek with a nicotine pouch, I head to Finch’s to recapture that feeling I had with Lip. To escape from this crushing anxiety, frustration... fuckin’ confusion.
The drive is short, so it’s not like I have too much time to dwell on whether this is right or wrong — which is great. And when I storm inside, I’m in a hurry to prevent the guilt from resurfacing.
“Where’s Lip?” I ask the nerd with glasses as he scans my case of beer.
I shouldn’t drink more, but the night isn’t over. Why stop now?
“I think she just left,” the nerd replies.
Despite the crippling sense of guilt fighting to resurface, I’m surprised by the onslaught of disappointment that follows. Thus, I find myself rushing out the door. My gaze sweeps over the parking lot.
Just then, I spot Lip’s old white truck pulling away. I jog towards her, signaling to stop.
Her eyes widen, and she slams on the brake, causing her truck to jerk. I walk to her door, giving her time to roll down the window.
“I got another 50. You down?” I ask, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I’m suddenly worried she’ll say no.
“Uh, sure,” she replies, her voice almost giddy.
Why would this chick want to get plowed for two-minutes? Whatever. She’s a loser. I assume she’s used to old truckers. I’m a catch and the same age. She probably likes the change.
And I like that I won’t be caught.
Hence, I hop into her truck and instruct her to drive to Gerger Lake to have a beer and fuck. It’s a tiny fishing spot, barely big enough for boats with propellers. However, it’s empty at night and dark enough that I hopefully won’t see her nasty lip too much.
“Where’s your mask?” I ask.
“Left it at work. Should I go get it?”
I shake my head, not wanting to chicken out if we return to the truck stop.
Once we arrive at the lake, I’ve already finished a beer.
“Want one?” I ask as I crack open a second.
She shakes her head fast.
Oh, fuck. Another uptight woman.
Hoping this will still be fun, I let my eyes drift over her body. Other than that busted lip, she’s not terrible, I guess.
Suddenly, Kerry’s disgusted face flashes in my mind. If she discovered that Lip and I are messin’ around, she would vomit and claim that I’m a bigger freak than Lip.
Whatever. I’ll just get this over with and worry about the consequences and guilt tomorrow.
Determined to nut, I gulp most of the beer, set the can on the dash, and pull off my sweater. Then I undo my jeans, sliding them down to my ankles.
“Hop on,” I command, pressing a fist to my mouth as I stifle a burp, hardly caring as I watch her hesitate. She pauses, eyes lingering on mine, then finally nods and slips down her clothes, panties and all.
Thank God.
She carefully straddles my lap, and I can’t help but notice the way her thighs tremble. At first, it’s barely visible, just a faint quiver, but as she settles into place, the trembling grows.
She seems nervous. If this is her side hustle, she should be more relaxed.
So I stuff my finger up her pussy to see if she was lying. Once I withdraw and study the sheen, it isn’t red. She’s not on her period... But my dick was red.
“What the hell, Lip! Were you a fuckin’ virgin?”
CHAPTER 7
Rylan
“What? No! I just finished my period yesterday,” Lip explains in a panicked voice.
I stare for a moment at my glistening finger. Everything about this is weird. A lot lizard, or a virgin? If she was a virgin, it doesn’t turn me off. Actually, I’m having the opposite reaction. I guess I like the idea. Was I really her first?
I drift my gaze down as she slowly lowers herself onto my shaft. And by slowly, I mean a tortoise could move faster. I check her eyes, but they’re squeezed shut.
Is she wincing?
Her pained expression and slow speed cause me to smirk.
I hook my hands around her waist and slam her down onto my cock. She cringes and I can’t hold back a devilish grin.
“That hurt, freak-show? Are you sore from the other day?” I tease, biting my bottom lip as a thrill sparks inside me. She shakes her head, eyes cast down, her face flushed with that unmistakable shyness.
Of course, I still don’t believe her with such a bashful reaction, so I direct her hips up, then slam her down on my shaft again. Just as before, her face twists in pain.
I chuckle. “Holy shit. You were a virgin.”
She veers her eyes to the floor mat, turning her cheek. Although her hair falls forward, the strands aren’t thick enough to mask her bad side entirely.
Yuck. That ugly lip glares back at me.
With a firm hand, I grasp her jaw and make her turn her face so only the normal side is in view.
“Don’t make me look at that screwed up lip of yours,” I order, making sure she sees how disgusted I am. “Got it, you fuckin’ snaggletooth?”
With my hand still clutching her jaw, she tries to nod, and I release my grip.
I then move her hips, and my eyes close as I enjoy the feel of her wet sides hugging my shaft once more. It feels sublime, like it did before. Even better. It’s obvious she still doesn’t know what to do, though, so I keep guiding her hips the way I want.
I peek at her face, her normal side still facing me. Her expression is scrunched with discomfort. She’s clearly hurting, yet the fact she’s enduring it makes my cock throb.
“How painful is it?” I taunt.
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t hurt. I swear!”
Ha. She’s still trying to pull off this prostitute nonsense. If she were, she’d be the worst prostitute in the world.
I grab her jaw again, my grip firmer this time, fingertips pressing into her soft skin, leaving no room for defiance. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Do as I say or we’ll stop. Now answer me. Your pussy hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” she replies meekly, sounding defeated.
“Good,” I murmur, a wave of satisfaction settling over me, but I’m unsure why. All I know is that she feels amazing. I don’t really want to go to the dorm yet and this is fun, so I stop her hips and take another swig of beer.
“Let’s switch it up,” I say, guiding her down onto the bench seat, her legs spread beneath my gaze. I pause, taking my time, letting my eyes trace every curve, every line of her naked hips.
“Wow, you shaved,” I say with a half-cocked smile, chuckling a little.
“Yes, wasn’t I supposed to?”
Such a simple response, yet it causes me to pause and lift my brow. A woman has never asked me what she should do with her body. In fact, now that I think about it, I’m surprised she took the initiative and did what would make me happy.
Cool.
“Yes. I mean, you didn’t have to go so bald, but better than that overgrown lawn you had before.”
She smiles, apparently with the same sense of pride I had earlier. However, just as quickly, her expression shifts. She’s fighting the urge to cringe. Is she embarrassed?
Not wanting to deal with a woman’s drama tonight, I pretend I didn’t see her expression change. Instead, I resume my study of her body, even turning on the cabin light so I can see better.
Her entrance is swollen, red, and has a small tear. My body shivers for some unknown reason.
I swallow back another burp as a sudden realization hits — I forgot to put on a condom earlier. The thought jolts me, a mix of tension and hesitation squeezing my chest as I pause.
Fuck.
“Are you on birth control?” I ask.
“Yes, actually. To help with my complexion.”
“Nothing is gonna help that face,” I reply without missing a beat, then chuckle.
God, she makes it so fuckin’ easy. Being cruel to Lip is like breathing. I wish I could say this kind of shit to Kerry when she’s acting like a bitch.
This time she doesn’t just take my jab and defends herself. “Well! I take the pill in case I have sex, too.”
As she looks up at the truck’s ceiling, I almost feel sorry for her. But I know why I’m here: To have some fuckin’ fun for once. Determined to do just that, I open her legs wider and lean my hips forward.
I place the tip of my cock on her delicate flesh and gently trace her entrance. The sensation of her heat and the subtle wetness around her opening makes my pre-cum seep out, adding to the warmth and slickness.
Licking my lips, I stare down, loving the way it looks. I dip in a little, watching her opening stretch around my width, straining to give to me.
I glance at her. While holding her breath, she watches with a peaked brow. The fact she’s as interested as me is unexpected. Kerry would have stopped this by now.
Firmly but at a slow speed, I glide the tip of my cock in a circle inside her opening, wanting to apply pressure to all sides of the tender flesh, especially where she tore.
“Does that hurt, baby?” I ask, surprising myself that I called her that name.
She nods.
I love it and press my tip in deeper, then gently pull out, enjoying how much her opening has to strain and stretch for me. As I withdraw the head of my cock, her pussy clenches, looking as though it’s trying to stop me from pulling out. So I push it back in, hypnotized by how her perfect cunt swallows my dick like it’s hungry.
For a moment, I leave my shaft buried inside her, savoring her wet, soft sides and the beautiful silence. Once I pull out, I trail my tip up, reveling in the sensation of her pussy lips sandwiching the tip of my cock in a pulsating embrace.
“Fuck,” I exhale, then dip back into her, watching my shaft disappear into her pink warmth.
My entire length is tingling, and I shudder, fighting the urge to cum. I might be enjoying this too much. But I start moving anyway, and glance at her eyes. She is looking at me head on.
“Turn your face,” I remind her.
She obeys, and it makes my cock twitch inside her.
What the hell. Why did I like that so much?
I shrug it off and move faster, each thrust intended to stab her deeply and cause pain. Her face contorts as she bears my force.
Ah, I love that reaction.
Out of nowhere, I picture Garrett railing her, causing my hips to freeze.
What if they find out about Lip? It’d only take 50 bucks, and suddenly I’d be forced to share her. I grit my teeth at the idea, the thought of waiting my turn, them touching her — it’s enough to make my blood boil. And I don’t want their sloppy seconds!
Shit.
With that terrible thought, I say in a gravelly voice, “Lip. Promise me something.”
Her gaze lifts, eyes cautious as she replies, “Sure, what?”
I hold her stare, my voice rougher than I expected. “Don’t let anyone do this to you. Alright?”
“What do you mean?”
I gently take hold of her clit between my fingers. I gently apply pressure as I glare into her eyes.
“You heard me. Don’t let anyone fuck you. I want your pussy to be mine.”
“Really?” she says, her voice filled with excitement.
God, this girl isn’t Kerryanne in the slightest. I hate how my own girlfriend is always cock teasing me to the point I’m begging for sex. It would be amazing to have a woman I can fuck whenever I want.
That’s a good idea, too, so I add brusquely, “Yes, that’s right, and I get you anytime I want. Whenever I show up, you have to stop what you’re doing and let me fuck you. Got it?”
She hesitates before replying, “What if I have to work the register or something?”
I pinch down on her little nub hard, making her thighs tighten as she tries to bear the pain.
“Whenever I show up,” I repeat.
Her head bobs up and down in a frenzy of agreement, and once I release her, she immediately covers her clit to soothe the pain.
Fuckin’ hell.
The grin on my face must be huge as I’m reeling from how effortlessly she agrees to my demands. Now this is a breath of fresh air.
“Good baby,” I say, then lower my face between her thighs.
I can’t help it. I’m compelled to reward her.
***
WANT MORE?
Thanks for reading this sample of Pretty Ugly Girl!
Rylan is an asshole. He gets much worse.
Libby is a doormat finding her way after meeting someone who is as cruel as he is tender.
If you like bully romances with dark twists, please hop over to Amazon and purchase a copy. For less money than a Starbucks coffee, you help me get closer to my author dreams. I make so little off my writing, but I pray one day that changes so it can be my career.
Like Libby, one can dream!
Thanks you so much for your support,
XOXOXO
Endley Tyler
https://linktr.ee/endleytyler
All socials: endleytyler
Inkitt
DARK ROMANCE: @endleytyler
This book, Pretty Ugly Girl, will be adapted to a three part book series (NON-DARK), in a new saga under this author:
NON-DARK ROMANCE: @norajanetyler
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