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I notice a bruise on her chin that immediately has me snapping with anger. Who the fuck put that there? Did some asshole on campus touch her without our permission?
That’s when I remember that Rook forced her to suck his mammoth dick under the table at the fancy restaurant. It probably jutted out and smacked her chin.
To be a fly on the wall.
I place my hand on her lower back, and to my great relief, she doesn’t shy away. It sucks that she always seems to run from our affection, but I can’t blame her.
She’s probably twitching in anticipation of taking our cocks. Her pussy throbs so hard from the slightest physical contact.
I think about the fact that she’s a genuine virgin, and bite back a smirk. Yeah, it’s still tough to wrap my fucking head around. Rook and I took a poll of some of the bitches on campus last week. We asked which ones still had their virginity and which bitches were filthy whores. 100% of them were sluts who’d taken more cock than I have fingers on my hand. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. Your body, your choice. I support women’s decisions no matter what they are.
It’s hot that Olivia is the only virgin at Saintswood and she’sours.Ours to wreck. Ours to mark.
I move my hand to her ass, then claw back a groan when I squeeze it. I’m surprised she can walk after that pounding she took a few weeks ago in her new penthouse. Colt has a problem knowing when he’s too rough, and he’s had a girl or two scream at him afterwards.
Colt can’t help it. After what happened to his little sister, boundaries don't exist for him. He needs to fuck his demons out any way he can.
My palm manhandles her ass. "I was going to get your roses, but I worried you’d get the wrong impression."
"What impression would that be?" Olivia snorts. "That you’re not a monster?"
"Call me a monster one more time and see what happens to you."
"Because that’s something that no monster would ever say."
I guide her toward the quad which is bursting with people. Turns out that I’m not the only one who thought it was a great day to romance my whore.
Saintswood is having their annual autumn heat wave. No one can explain it, but even though it’s chilly most of the time, there are always a few days where it feels like August. It happens twice. The next time will be in November, although I doubt anyone will be picnicking on the quad. It’ll be a touch too nippy for that, but today the weather is perfect.
My other hand tightens its grip on the wicker picnic basket, brimming with fine chèvre cheeses, cherries, crackers, and wine. This picnic basket has been in my family for generations, and I’m pretty sure my grandfather purchased it to sweep my grandmother off her feet. It’d be a romantic story except for the fact that my grandmother was a straight up whore in a brothel who took more cock than a porn star. My grandfather was a simp and fell for her straight away. He told her that he wanted to take her away from this lifestyle and make her his wife. She thought he was full of it, so she drugged and robbed him one night so he’d quit taking up her time. When he came back the following day and proposed, she knew he was legit.
Pretty Womanhad nothing on my grandparents’ love.
"This is a special picnic basket. It’s the one my grandfather used to propose to my grandmother."
Olivia touches the wicker. "I’m honored we’re using it today."
"Don’t feel too special. She was a filthy whore who aborted the first three babies my grandfather gave her because she was afraid she’d be an awful mother. At last, she had my father and decided to take a chance on motherhood."
"You come from an amazing family. Although, I struggle to see how the picnic basket comes into play."
"That’s where he put the ring. And the gun that he threatened her with. He told her that if she aborted one more of his kids, that was it."
"I'd kill for a relationship like that." Sarcastic little bitch.
Olivia turns her eyes up to me, and for a second, I forget how to breathe. My heart hammers as my palms turn sweaty. Her eyes contain universes. I could traverse their depths for multiple lifetimes, plunging toward the furthest specs of light, and never unravel the secrets of their magnetic mystery.
My fingers curl into a fist on her ass, and a guttural lion roar traps itself in my throat. Something… is happening inside of me. An emotion unlike any other is making me want to cup Olivia’s cheeks, tuck a strand of hair over her ear, and kiss her.
I don't remember the last time I kissed a bitch who wasn’t tipsy or throwing up before begging to ride my cock. Most of the time, I don'twantto kiss the girls I fuck. They’re holes to fill. Pussies to pump a load into before leaving with my boys.
"Sit down, Olive."
"It’sOlivia."
"Give me lip and see if you still have any when I’m through with you."
I take it upon myself to spread the soft blanket on the warm grass, then brush out the wrinkles. I take Olivia’s hand, then guide her toward the fabric. Her dress poofs around her as she sits down, the left side rolling up her thigh, and the sight of her bare skin, so chaste and milky, so pure, gets my dick hard.
