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The orgasm is so strong and sudden that it takes me a while to empty my cum down her pretty throat.
Then, before I’m done, I pull out and finish on her face, smearing her petite nose, her plump lips, and her soft cheeks. Even her eyelashes. I mark her in a way I’ve never felt the need to mark anyone before.
Fuck.
She won.
But it’s not only about the bet. As I stare at her satisfied expression, even as cum and tears mar it, I feel like she won something else, too.
12
Naomi
If going to college was hard before, it’s now close to impossible.
On Monday, I walk down the hall like a druggie experiencing symptoms of withdrawal. Not only are my fingers twitchy, but I keep watching my back as if expecting a sudden attack.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration.
Or is it?
I honestly don’t know anymore. I spent the whole weekend overthinking until my head nearly exploded. I didn’t find the same level of joy in bingeing on my true crime shows and podcasts.
Instead, I kept replaying what happened two days ago in the haunting darkness of the forest.
The chase. The blowjob. How Sebastian came all over my face.
It should’ve been humiliating, right? But I found myself staring at the mirror, recalling how I looked after he drove me home.
I was a mess, but not in the negative sense—far from it. It’s the most beautifully haunting mess I’ve ever had the chance to witness, to breathe in and feel up close.
Sebastian sent me a text that night. No clue how he got my phone number or even knew my address.
But then again, the Weaver surname could probably get him anything he wants. Including people’s private information.
Sebastian: I’ll dream of my cum on your face, Tsundere.
Then he sent two more on Sunday morning.
Sebastian: Do you want to meet in the forest for a morning run and other things? I miss your mouth already. If you want mine, just ask. *wink emoji*
A few hours later, he sent me a picture of himself, half-naked with droplets of water traveling down his cut abdomen.
He has two small tattoos—two lines of script at the top of his right pectoral muscle. One is in Arabic and the other is in Japanese.
I don’t understand the first, but the second is a saying in Japanese that literally translates to ‘The weak are meat; the strong eat.’ As in, survival of the fittest.
I can’t stop wondering about the reason he got it and if the Arabic words mean the same thing.
I totally didn’t ogle him, though. Okay, that’s a lie. I think I may have been staring at it since he sent it and that’s such a bad idea. Not only is he distracting, but the view has triggered memories of the night at the forest that I haven’t exactly been able to wipe from my head.
He also sent a text attached to the image.
Sebastian: You could be having a shower with me right now, but you’re a coward.
I’m not a coward, I’m just selective about my battles.
And judging by the way he triggered parts of me I didn’t even think existed, it’s safe to say Sebastian isn’t a battle I can take on right now.
