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Briggs picks up speed. He thrusts into my ass at a rapid pace while furiously rubbing my clit, pressing his fingers down so hard it almost hurts.
I find my release seconds later. Unlike my first one, this one builds slower and lasts longer. My whole body tightens, every muscle in my body stiff as pleasure ripples through my body for what feels like minutes.
“That’s it, I knew you would like this,” Briggs says into the shell of my ear while I slowly come down from my massive orgasm.
I’m barely aware of Briggs removing his finger from my clit. He grabs my hips on both sides and fucks me hard. My body is so limp now, I feel like a rag doll he is using as a fuck toy.
Crazy enough, I don’t mind. After the release he just gave me, he can do whatever he wants to me. I guess he does that either way.
He fucks my ass violently for a few strokes before he comes with a roar. He stills deep inside of me, and I can feel his cock pulse against my used inner walls as he comes.
Briggs collapses on top of me, and I enjoy the weight of his body like a heavy blanket. We lie there for a few minutes, both catching our breaths, before he slowly peels himself off me. He disappears into the bathroom and returns a moment later witha washcloth in his hands. He cleans me up with the warm cloth, his gentleness in stark opposition to the way he just fucked me.
Through everything, I don’t move. I just lie there, letting him rub the sticky come off my skin.
“Are you okay?” he asks, surprising me with his question. I don’t think he’s ever asked me that before.
“Yeah… this was just intense,” I admit.
“You did well. I knew you would come.” He throws the washcloth somewhere next to the bed. “You like a little pain.”
“I guess I do.” I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but it’s true.
“But you also like to cuddle after.” Briggs rolls me onto my side and cuddles up behind me.
“I do,” I say, wiggling closer to him.
He slings an arm around me, and I let my eyes fall shut. I think I need a little nap after this passionate encounter.
28
BRIGGS
“Just relax. I’m telling you, it’ll be fine.” She is so easily spooked. I mean, I already knew that. It’s not like I’ve never taken advantage of it. But when I tell her she has nothing to worry about, I expect her to believe me. Obviously, she doesn’t.
“It’s easy for you to say.” She wraps her arms tight around the notebook she’s holding in front of her like a shield. Like that would do anything to help her. “You sort of set the example from day one. All anybody wants to do is impress you.”
It’s not like I didn’t already know that. I’m not going to take responsibility for what a bunch of random people decide to do, though. “Then I’ll set another example,” I decide. We’re already on our way into the room for English class, so I’ll have to wait until later to punish her for clicking her tongue and rolling her eyes like she doesn’t believe me.
If it’s anything like the joy of taking her ass, it will end up being a fun lesson—for both of us, since she fucking loved it. Just like I knew she would.
“Your hair looks great today, Wren.” The chorus of giggles from the other side of the room dies a quick death when I lookthat way. I don’t even know the name of the girl who said it. How pathetic, taunting Wren for no reason other than to make herself look good. At least I had a reason for what I did. I sure as hell didn’t ask for her help, whoever she is.
“If you’re jealous, why don’t you ask her where she got it done?” I ask as I drop into my seat. “It looks like your hair could use a little work.” It’s amazing, the reaction that gets. Strangled laughter, a few gasps of surprise. Because these people think I’m that fucking predictable. They don’t know the first damn thing about me, about what goes on inside me. When tormenting Wren was my reason for living, it was fun to let them in on the game. The game is now over.
“Seriously?” Wren sits in her usual spot in front of me but turns her body in the chair to look at me wide-eyed and even paler than she was on our way to class. “Since when do you stand up for me?”
It’s a stupid question, but I can see where it’s coming from. “Don’t worry about it,” I reply, since this isn’t exactly where we should get into a deep conversation about it. I don’t think I would know what to say if we did, anyway. What, does she need verbal confirmation that things have changed between us? She can’t tell by now?
The fact is, I’m not sure how I feel. Conflicted, yes, but that’s as far as my understanding goes. What a shame I don’t have a father who could maybe help me through it, give me the kind of talk dads are supposed to give their kids. The idea of him doing that makes me snicker to myself as Professor Morgan enters the room.
Before turning around, Wren whispers, “Does this mean you’re going to do half the work on our project now?”
“Uh, let’s not get carried away,” I whisper back. “I’m still an asshole. You’re still doing all the work, and I still expect us to get an A.”
It’s one thing to ignore the looks I’m getting from the people in class, but shit gets real when class is over and it’s time to go to the cafeteria for lunch. “I’m starving,” I tell her when she drags her feet and slows us down as we’re crossing the quad. “Can we hurry it up? Or do I need to carry you?”
She can’t hide behind her hair anymore. When she ducks her head, most of her face is still visible. Her eyes never stop moving. “Sorry if I’m not as ready to believe everybody’s going to be cool with me as you are.”
