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I grasp my cock through my pajama pants. The phone topples out of my hand onto the bed. Leaving it, I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. I crack my neck, left, then right. Feels better.
My gaze drops to my lap. I’m going to have to take care of this before school. Like I do every morning. I’d hoped that getting married would chase away the erotic dreams of Crina that hound me every night.
But soon—one day soon—I’ll be taking what’s mine.
Fuuuck.
I squeeze my cock again and saunter over to the bathroom with a ten-inch pike between my legs, every jarring movement of my legs reverberating up to the tip of my dick. I grab a toothbrush and jump into the shower.
I clamp down hard on the toothbrush when I grab hold of my cock and stroke hard. I imagine Crina spread-eagle and dripping beneath me, taking my thick cock. Smearing her virgin blood all over my shaft. It doesn’t take me long to come. It never does with her.
I brush my teeth and step out of the shower. My cell phone lights up.
A text?
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I hurry to my bed and swipe the phone, opening it to a message from Crina.
I raise my face to the ceiling and let out a little prayer of thanks before reading it.
No, you fucking asshole. No, I won’t be your virgin sacrifice. You better go back to screwing other bitches, ’cause you’re never gonna see my pussy in the light of day.
I bark out a laugh.
This happens all the time, getting a text from her responding to the very thought in my head. That’s how in sync we are. Despite the fights, despite the mistakes—and I’ve made some doozies—we’re connected in a way that defies explanation.
Okay, Chuckie. Believe what you want, but I will bust through that pussy and make you come on my cock the first time. That’s my promise to you.
I hate you, you Popescu pig. You’re ugly and dirty and everything nasty. I’ll die a virgin before I let you touch me with your cock.
I chuckle at her bluster.
Baby, it’s already touched you. You were choking on it in church yesterday. Remember?
I can practically hear her head explode from her townhouse down the street from me. But I also know that she wouldn’t text me without a reason, and I’ve got a good guess as to that reason. This isn’t our first rodeo together; I put out my bait and see if she’ll bite.
If you’re so confident in yourself, meet me on the roof and prove me wrong.
Fuck you and your roof.
Not much of a bite, that. Hell, that wasn’t even a nibble. But I’m not one to go down without a fight.
Is that doubt I hear…
Fuck you.
Too much protest, so I poke her again.
Not so sure of yourself, are you?
And what’s her answer?
[middle finger emoji]
I can feel her fear ringing through the phone. I may have messed things up over the years. I wince. Okay, I may have torn her apart Freshman year, and my proposal clearly shows that we haven’t moved past that, but, seriously, what had she been thinking waltzing into the boys locker room?
But I know Crina. She’s afraid of me precisely because we’re explosive when we come together. She may hate me, but she can’t resist me any more than I can resist her. And she’s afraid of my intentions—as she should be. I went the extra mile to keep a distance, to give her a chance at a real husband and family, but then her clan put her up for bid, available for marriage to any made man.
She’s mine now and I have every intention of owning her, heart and soul.
