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18
Camdyn
In a flash, I’ve got Willow up against the wall. I’d rather descend to my knees with one of her thighs over my shoulder, face-planted in her pussy, while I try to lick the juices before they run down my chin and chest. For now, I’ll go for the shock factor as opposed to mentioning the .22 in her backpack.
Base backing my voice, I threaten, “I said, ‘I’ll see you at school on Monday, Lolo.’ ”
Mouth pulled in pensively, Willow contemplates crossing me. It takes every ounce of self-control in my body not to bend her ass over the bed and slaughter her virgin pussy. I hide the predator in me for a moment, toss her a smile.
“You’re supposed to call me Willow when you act like a bucket full of pricks.”
I’m reminded of what I crave more than the pleasure of a release. This game. Getting in her gorgeous head, gleaning her fears, stretching her forbidden desires to the bitter end. When I cum for the first time, all the bullshit will have been worth it.
But one of us will break first.
Her pussy.
Or my resolve.
And then I’m ramming my dick so far into her cunt the crown of my cock beats her windpipe.
I begin, “It pains me—”
“You’re in pain?” She intones, eyelashes fluttering.
“Literally pains me how ye’ve taken your opportunity for granted. All I wanna do is catch up on the marvel of kissing you. You and I were kissing virgins together, Willow.”
“How do you know—I,” she swallows hard, attempting to keep her voice steady. “I kissed Chris—”
“I’m not in the mood to punish ye, Willow. Stop lying. Save that mouth for more worthy sins like my dick. Now, the reason I’ll be seeing you on Monday is because, much like other institutes of higher education, DuPont Academy has a system of networks, which reach out to absent students’ guardians—unless you’re a Hollywood star or something. Ye, Willow, are my star.”
She attempts to maneuver from the wall. “What are you getting at?”
“Ye were truant Tuesday through Friday. The calls Hillary Bernard should’ve received were intercepted.” Another reason you owe me.
One brow pulls in reflection. “Should I thank you, Cam?”
“On your knees is an option.”
“Nope.” She pops her lips.
“All I’m saying is, I’ll see you on Monday. You’re gonna want to see me.”
“Why?”
I take a strand of her hair, run my thumb over the dense, gorgeous woven loc. In a friendly voice, I tell her, “We’re at the part where I say run along. Do it this time before I’m angry.”
Stepping back to give Willow space, I catch the rage in her gaze as she leaves. I look toward the camera Amir hadn’t finished installing. Relief floods through me. Although another form of ammunition, nobody saw me stuff my tongue inside of Willow Greene on the deck of the yacht. Still, Amir probably blabbed about the canceled event. I’ll have to persuade the Barbies into not being the selfish little bitches that they are. They’ll know I took the yacht out without them. They’ll know who caught my attention. And I need to know why Willow had a .22.
