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The blonde moans with appreciation, her thighs spreading more as she rocks her ass, giving the dark-haired model better access to her clit. It’s a beautiful sight, watching one perfect creature eating out another stunning girl’s pussy. This would usually make me hard in about two seconds. But tonight, my cock seems determined to frustrate me.
Unbuttoning my pants, I slide my hand beneath the fabric and grip my partially engorged dick and start to stroke it, preparing myself for some much-needed relief.
“Finger yourself while you eat her out,” I order the dark-haired girl.
She runs her manicured fingers down the other girl’s thighs as she makes her way to her own pussy. Pulling aside the skimpy lace of her thong, the model starts to play with herself even as she continues to lick the blonde’s slit.
Both girls whimper and mewl, indicating their arousal as they pleasure themselves and each other in order to turn me on. And still, I can’t find it in me to get a hard-on. Something about their performance feels so fake, almost staged. Like they’re putting on a show just to please me. My mind flashes an image of Anya’s face, her raw emotion as she stood before me, glaring in defiance after I insulted her for being unworthy of her spot at Rosehill. The blatant truth of her emotion triggers something in me.
My cock stiffens in my palm from the unexpected image, and I glare down at my cock. The fucking bastard is doing everything in its power to insult me. Forcing my eyes and thoughts back to the scene before me, I say, “Now stand up and finger fuck your friend’s ass with the same hand you were using to play with your pussy.”
The dark-haired model turns to me, wiping the blonde girl’s juices from her lips before she slowly rises. I can see a hint of frustration in her eyes. She doesn’t like that I’m making her pleasure her friend and forcing her to wait. My lips curl into an evil smile. Though I can tell it bothers her, she knows she’s going to do as I say.
Stepping to the side, the dark-haired model caresses the blonde’s ass and gives it a sharp slap, making the blonde squeal. Then she circles the blonde’s asshole, teasing it for a moment as she lubes it with her own arousal. The raven-haired girl’s eyes stare pointedly at me as she shoves two fingers inside the blonde’s ass without warning. Crying out, the blonde throws a sharp look over her shoulder, but she doesn’t flinch from the sudden penetration.
“Harder,” I command as the dark-haired girl moves her fingers in and out of the blonde’s ass.
She does as she’s told, thrusting her fingers into the blonde girl as her other hand braces against the girl’s back. The blonde gasps dramatically, somewhere between pain and pleasure, as she tries to look appealing.
But it’s not her pain that consumes my thoughts. My brain shifts back to that first moment in the cafeteria when Anya’s eyes found mine. Her sky-blue pools of unfathomable emotion had held me captive for one instant, the pain that echoed in them seeming to call to me before she spilled the contents of her lunch right in front of me.
“For fuck’s sake!” I shout, rising from the couch.
Both models stop abruptly, frozen in position as they watch me in alarm.
“You know what? Just get the fuck out,” I say, disgust dripping from my voice.
“But–” the blonde whimpers in disbelief.
“I said get the fuck out!” I shout, snatching up their dresses and throwing them at the girls.
Startled into motion, they take up their discarded clothes and race for the doors, not bothering to dress before they slip out of the room and into the noisy club once more.
Growling in frustration, I pace. I can’t seem to get the fucking new girl out of my head, and it’s driving me insane.It’s not like I could ever be attracted to someone so worthless and poor, so why the fuck does she have to haunt every second of my day?I feel like my balls are swollen and bruised with the need for release, but nothing I would usually use as an outlet is going to satisfy me. It’s like Anya’s wormed her way into my psyche to needle me relentlessly. Well, if she won’t leave me in peace, I’ll make her life a living hell.The fucking charity case.
7
ANYA
It’s nearly midnight by the time I drag myself up the steps to my aunt’s third-floor apartment. My ears are ringing from the club’s loud music, my body buzzing from the way the beat continuously vibrated up through the soles of my feet. My limbs feel heavy with the level of exercise they’ve had to endure this week. Yet, I’m so grateful for my once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Despite how overwhelming the club was, I found I did enjoy the chance to be around some people my age and let loose for once. Whitney easily has the best sense of humor, and Paige seems perfectly open and accepting of me, as are the twins, Tori and Tammy. The guys were fun, too, though I find myself hesitant to get too close to them. For fear of ending up in the same trap as I did with Nicolo or for some other reason, I’m not sure. But they both seem nice enough; Fin, in particular, seems like a decent human being.
Extricating my keys from my purse as quietly as I can, I unlock the door to our apartment and let myself in. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, I reach down and remove my heels, relishing the sensation of the floor’s cold wood beneath my throbbing feet. While I’m used to the torturous pointe shoes required in ballet, wearing heels is a whole new world of pain that puts blisters beneath callouses and on my bruised toes I didn’t even know existed until tonight. I haven’t really had a chance to wear them more than once–and definitely not for this long.
The TV flickers from the living room area as images dance across the screen, but the sound’s been muted so as not to disturb anyone. Aunt Patritsiya slouches in the recliner, her head tilted so her jaw rests just above her shoulder, her lips parted as she snoozes in her impromptu bed. I smile fondly as I take in the sight of her sleeping soundly. She was probably trying to stay up for me.
Padding lightly across the floor, I stop next to her chair and give her shoulder a gentle squeeze. Aunt Patritsiya’s eyes flutter open, and her lips close instinctively.
“What time is it?” she asks as she takes in my face. Sitting up, she looks around in confusion. “Did I fall asleep?”
I chuckle lightly. “Yes, Auntie. But who could blame you? It’s almost midnight, and I’m sure Clara’s run you ragged to the best of her ability.”
Patritsiya smiles. “She sure knows how to keep me on my feet. But no, she was very good tonight. Though I think she likes it better when she gets to spend time with her mom.”
I smile sadly, thinking of what I must have missed out on. “Thank you for looking after her.”
“Of course, child. You deserve a night off every now and then.” My aunt rises from her chair in search of the remote to turn off the TV. “How was it?” she asks, glancing up as she shuffles through the magazines on the coffee table.
