Page 39 of Revenge

“You hate me,” I continued, realizing that my voice was cracking. Tears bubbled up in my eyes faster than I wanted them to. “For the past four years, you’ve… hurt me.”

My shoulders shuddered. The tears came out small, but the sniffles turned into chokes and sobs. Elliot stayed still. I dared not look him in the eyes out of fear that I might just see a stupid smirk, a cocked eyebrow, something to dismiss my years of humiliation and his years of inflicting that suffering.

Instead, I felt something soft against the base of my neck, and opened my bleary eyes. Elliot planted a soft trail of kisses along my collarbone, then down, slowly, in between my breasts. Everything seemed to go silent—a sweet silence—as my hiccupping sobs faded into deep breaths. I relaxed into his kisses like surrendering into the folds of a hammock, feeling like I was falling and being caught, over, and over again.

“You’re right,” he said finally, lifting his head so that his nose was inches from mine. “I’m an asshole.”

I smiled, and before I knew what I was doing, I’d pushed him back onto the bed and kissed him.

Most of my life, I’d lived in my head. This was years of silence, or fantasy, of feelings, moving from my head and into reality. Into my life.

This was real.

This was my life.

And I was tired of being scared of living it.

I moved to the side of the bed for a split moment and took off my skirt. I stayed there beside him and watched as he reclined back onto the mattress, tucking his hands behind his head. Even though his body was skinny, he had a tight row of abs, and my stomach gave a flutter as his chest rose and fell as he breathed. Now it was only me, left in my panties, which were already soaked.

I couldn’t believe it.

I just couldn’t.

“You sure you’re ready?” he asked, his eyes tracing the smudged lines of mascara around my eyes rather than looking into them.

Yes.

I’ve been ready for four years and you’re overripe.

I climbed back on top of him so that my legs straddled either side of his, my pussy sitting right between his thighs. Slowly, I reached up to pull my bra up over my head, and tossed the cloth away from my body. For the first time, my chests were bare in front of another person, and it felt exhilarating.

I could do whatever I wanted to him and he didn’t even know it.

Just like I’d done on that last day of school, I reached out to stretch the elastic of his boxers down to reveal his dick, pulsing with lust, hard, ready. Lowering myself over him, I started with a kiss on the side of his neck, down his tattoo. As I continued, I felt my nipples brush against his chest, and the tip of his cock rub against my belly button.

I could feel his hands skim over my shoulders and down my back. As I came closer to his own belly, my hand crept down his side and over his pelvis to fondle him while I kept the other stretched out, gripping his shoulder. As soon as my fingers touched his hot cock, he bucked beneath me. My panties grew wetter.

Yes.

I wanted this.

I wanted to fuck him. Hard.

Sinking further down his body, I moved my hands to his hips and lowered face closer and closer to his dick until my breath, hot despite my cold skin, rushed over the tip of his manhood and caused him to flinch.

“Do it,” he seethed.

I lowered my lips to his cock, but instead of darting out my tongue to lick at the skin, I went all the way, and slipped the tip of his cock in my mouth. It felt hot, tasted slightly salty, and I couldn’t help but giggle a bit as I dipped my head lower, taking more of him across my tongue, feeling his hips rise beneath me, sneaking more of himself past my lips.

I swirled my tongue around his cock as if it was my goal to feel every inch of him before he felt every inch inside me. Right now, he was mine, and I wanted to milk every second of it for what it was worth. I sunk my head a little deeper, and soon, established a slow, steady rhythm of sucking as he throbbed on top of my tongue.

Suddenly, I released him from my lips. Elliot gasped.

I sat back, wiping an arm across my mouth as a fat smirk spread across my lips. Turning onto my side, I slipped off my panties. They were drenched, already dousing our little corner of the room with the musty scent of sex.

Without giving him a second to protest, I climbed back on top of him in an almost downward-dog pose, supporting myself above him so that my breasts hung over his chest, my pussy was angled inches from his cock.

I could imagine it. Could already feel it plowing up, into me.

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