Free The Bad Ones by Stylo Fantome Page B

along the lace of her bra. “You weren't nothing.”
    “You didn't sleep with Frannie up there,” she stated, then pulled at the back of his sweater. It and his t-shirt came loose, and he let her slide them over his head. She tossed his clothing onto the floor and then stared at his chest, smoothing her hands over it. He was incredible. Carved out of marble, etched out of stone. She wanted to paint him. Wanted to immortalize him.
    “No. She followed me. I was watching you,” he replied, reaching around to unhook her bra. It joined his shirts.
    “You should do less watching, more talking.”
    Suddenly, he swung her around and slammed her down onto the bench seat. He promptly began pulling at her pants and she scrambled to unbutton his, as well. She'd barely gotten his jeans past his hips when he was moving away, yanking her jeans down as he went. They slid down her legs and were gone with a whisper, then his body was hovering over her.
    “Did you let him do this to you?” Con asked, his rough hand moving over her breasts. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she nodded.
    “Yes.”
    “Ah. And what about this?”
    His voice was a purr in the darkness, and she felt his hand cupping her crotch, warm through her panties. She groaned low in her throat as he applied pressure.
    “Yes, that too,” she sighed.
    “ Dulcie. ”
    The purr had turned into a hiss, and it set her blood on fire. Made her feel at home. She lifted her hips as he peeled her underwear away from her body. Once the material was pulled over her feet, she felt him moving over her and she opened her eyes.
    It was the first time she'd ever been completely naked with a boy, but she didn't care. What was the point in being shy? Her body belonged to him as much as it belonged to her. Moonlight was filling the cab of the truck, and she watched him as he stared at her.
    “God, you are so beautiful,” she whispered.
    “What about this?” he continued with his questions, shifting around so he was between her legs. “Was he ever here?”
    “No,” she answered, propping herself and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. She dragged her tongue along his clavicle, wanting to taste him. He moved even closer.
    “Was he ever inside you? Did you let him fuck you? ”
    “ No. ”
    It hurt, but she didn't care. She cried out, but he didn't care. She bit down on his shoulder so hard, she tasted his blood in her mouth, but neither of them cared. She wanted his pain to mix with her pain. Wanted them to be seamless.
    She was a virgin, no amount of soul connection between them could change that fact, so of course it was unpleasant. He was large, and rough. She was tiny, and inexperienced. But she loved it. Loved being full in a way that made it hard to breathe, loved that she was feeling a pain only he could give to her.
    “I thought about this,” he was breathing in her ear as his hips picked up speed. “In high school. While I was away. When I was looking at your pictures.”
    A tear streamed down her cheek, but before it could tip over the side of her jaw, his tongue was sweeping it up.
    “All the time. I think about this all the time, ” she whispered back.
    He moved them again, gentler than he had earlier, and they were back in the same position as before, with her straddling his lap. If she had thought she was full before, she'd been mistaken. Her whole body shook as she slid down the full length of him.
    “Look at me,” he growled, and his hand painfully gripped her jaw, forcing her head up to face him. “God, you look amazing when you cry.”
    She kissed him, pouring everything she had into it, and she wrapped an arm around his neck before moving her body up and down. The pain was still there, sharp and insistent, but something else was beginning to blanket it. Con's hands moved to her ass, urging her faster, and she complied.
    As if she had a choice in the matter.
    She gripped onto the back of the seat, used it for leverage to push harder. To grind down