Dissent (10 page)

My
hands slid from her face, trailing over her neck, then grabbing her
breasts, tweaking the nipples through the material until she was
groaning. My lips trailed down her neck. My teeth sank into her
earlobe. “I'm going to fuck you until you forget all about that
asshole,” I said in her ear and her hands bit into my
shoulders. I knew I had her.

“Okay,”
she said, already lowering herself down to her knees and reaching for
my zipper.

It
really is that easy. Guys who didn't get ass were too busy
woe-is-me-ing to realize that all it takes is a halfway decent body
and the confidence of a fucking Greek god. That was it. Panties
dropped on command.

She
pulled my cock out, quickly taking it into her mouth deep, hitting
her throat and gagging loudly. I put my arm out on the wall to brace
myself as I looked down at her throat-fucking herself. I reached into
my pocket for one of the handy bunk bed condom, grabbing the back of
her hair and pulling until she yelped and looked up at me. “I'm
gonna fuck you from behind,” I told her and her eyes got
heavier as she obediently put her hands down on the floor.

I
got in behind her, reaching between her legs and stroking her clit
over her panties until the material was soaked against my hand, then
grabbed it and ripped it off. I pushed her skirt up high and slid in
behind her, grabbing her hips and shoving deep inside her pussy. I
hauled her back against me as I shoved into her, fast, unrelenting
until I felt her start to tighten around me. I reached down, grabbing
the back of her hair and making her head turn slightly so I could see
her profile as I slipped my cock out of her pussy and pressed against
her ass. “I'm gonna fuck your ass,” I told her, watching
her eyes widen.

But
her hips pressed back against me. “Okay,” she said, the
word barely a sound at all, but it was all I needed.

I
pushed into her, pausing when she stiffened or flinched, letting her
adjust. It wouldn't take long. The pinch would subside and she would
let me fuck her harder this way than she would in her cunt. They
always do once they get used to the sensation.

I
didn't feel the rush I usually got at getting a girl to do something
that sixty-percent of women still adamantly refused to try. All I
could think, as my dick buried to the base in her ass, was that I
just won the fucking bet.

I
reached around the front of Noel's hips, stroking her clit until she
was groaning again. “Tell me you want me to fuck your ass,”
I told her.

She
spread her legs wider, either to give me more access to her clit, or
to ease the pressure in her ass. It didn't matter. “I want you
to fuck my ass,” she said, turning over her shoulder as she
moved her hips slightly back and forth against me, preparing herself.
Widening herself.

“Yes,
ma'am,” I smiled, grabbing her hips again and fucking her until
she realized what she had been missing out on all the years she
hadn't tried it.

Until
she came, hard and throbbing.

Until
I came... thinking the whole time about god damn Darcy Monroe.

Ten

I
showered when I got on the bus, changing into a pair of men's boxers
and a white tank top. I braided my hair. I grabbed a book. Then I
climbed up into my bunk and pulled the curtain just minutes before I
heard Jay and the boys burst into the bus with what sounded like an
epic crowd of people.

Good
for them. If I wasn't in such a crummy mood, I would be out there
with them, laughing and screwing around. Maybe seeing if there was a
good looking guy to flirt with. But I was grumpy and I didn't want to
bring down the morale with my stupid temper tantrum.

Seriously.
I was in a bad mood because I caught Isaiah fucking some chick in the
ass backstage? I had been the one to bet him he couldn't do it in the
first place for chrissakes.

“Where
are you going?” I heard Jay yell. “We have too many
chicks out here for the three of us.”

“I'm
taking a shower,” Isaiah said and I could hear him passing me.
“I'm sure you guys can handle them.”

Yeah
'cause you already got some. I shook my head, looking up at the
ceiling of my bunk and rolling my eyes at myself. I was being petty
and childish and it wasn't like me. I could hear the water splatter
on before Jay or Mike or Joey put music on, the beat throbbing
through the bus and making my bed shake at the sensual, hard bass
sound of rap music. I could feel it reverberate through my body as an
image of Isaiah taking off his clothes for his shower popped into my
head unbidden.

Maybe
it was the image, or the music, or the unused energy after the show,
or even the months of pent-up sexual frustration, but I found my hand
moving down my body, sliding over my breast, across my stomach, then
slipping between my legs over the material of my shorts. I wasn't one
for masturbation. Generally I always found it to be somewhat lacking:
missing the physical contact, the shock of another person's hand on
your body. But sometimes it was all you got and you just really
needed some relief.

I
closed my eyes tight, trying to sneak out of my surroundings, trying
to forget I was one curious set of hands from being found out. I
slipped into the music, feeling the beat, rubbing against my clit to
the bass, finding my body reacting more easily than usual. My feet
pressed against the mattress, my knees moving upward as my hips
rocked against my touch. My head fell back against the pillow, my
breath starting to come as airy gasps.

I
don't know how much time passed. It always took me longer by myself
than it did with someone else. I needed to create a scenario. I
needed to slip into it.

I
didn't hear him. Or see him. I don't know if he had been watching me.
I don't know if he had spoken to me.

All
I knew was I felt him. Getting into my bunk next to me. The mattress
dipped under his weight as he slipped in, reaching blindly behind him
and pulling the curtain closed. His body pressed into me, half over
me as he propped himself up on one arm and looked down at me for a
moment, before his face lowered down slowly, watching my eyes. My
mouth fell slightly open seconds before his pressed down into mine,
soft, just the slightest hint of pressure. The contact sent a shot of
desire down the core of my body.

His
lips toyed with mine, a kiss that was barely a kiss, but every nerve
ending on my body was focused on his mouth whispering into mine. His
fingertips toyed with the side of my neck, brushing my braid away,
running over the sensitive skin, then moving lower. Over my breast,
but barely grazing it, then my ribs, my belly. Down my thigh. Then
back up, slipping under my hand and pressing against my heat.

A
quiet moan escaped my lips and his tongue slipped past them, toying
with mine until I was writhing under his attentions.

It
didn't even occur to me to push him away, to deny myself what I
wanted more than anything I had in a long time. His lips pulled from
mine, trailing down my neck, nipping sucking, licking, as his fingers
moved upward toward the waistband of my shorts, then slipping
underneath, sliding down over my panties.

“You're
so wet, baby,” he said in my ear, sucking on my earlobe as his
fingers finally slipped under my panties and the pad of his thumb
brushed over my almost painfully sensitive clit.

My
arm swung out, my hand slamming into his hard chest, feeling bare
skin under my hand. My eyes opened, finding his, dark and heavy
lidded. The realization of what was happening pushed past the fog of
desire and I felt the uncertainty push toward the surface. I felt my
head start to shake slightly. “Isaiah, I...”

“Let
me make you feel good,” he said, taking my lips again.

And
with that, my objections slipped away. I wanted to feel good. And I
wanted him to make me feel good. It was as simple, and as
complicated, as that.

His
finger slipped lower, pushing against the entrance, pausing for a
second until my hips rose up to meet him, then slipping slowly
inside. I groaned against his lips, my hand moving up and around the
back of his neck. His finger turned inside me, crooking, then
stroking against the top wall of my pussy. My legs flew out, slamming
into the wall of the bunk, my eyes flying open to his.

He
stroked over my g-spot again. “That feels good, doesn't it,
baby?”

“Yeah,”
I said, arching up off the mattress, pulling his mouth back down on
mine, wanting to be lost in it. Wanting him. Wanting more.

He
slipped another finger inside me, filling me, thrusting in and out of
me until my groans lost their noise, just an open mouthed, silent
begging. “Are you going to come for me, Darcy?” he asked,
his thumb stroking side to side across my clit as his fingers turned
and raked over my g-spot again. My eyes went to his, words caught in
my throat, and I nodded. “Mmm,” he said, closing his eyes
for a second. When they opened, his fingers started a sudden, frantic
pace, making my orgasm slam hard and unexpected through my body,
making me cry out and my legs shake as I convulsed around his fingers
over and over. “Good girl,” he whispered, stroking faster
through my orgasm, drawing it out, making my skin feel electric with
the extra sensation.

I
buried my face against his chest, taking slow, deep breaths trying to
bring myself back down, trying to get back into the moment. His
fingers stayed inside me for a long time, long enough that I felt
myself tightening around him again. Then he pulled them slowly out,
moving back slightly, looking down at me and bringing his fingers to
his lips, slipping them inside and closing his eyes. “You taste
so sweet,” he said, looking at me for a long minute before
crushing his lips down on mine hard.

This
was the kiss I wanted, hard, punishing, bruising into my lips, full
of need and want and an uncomfortable level of desire. Raw, pure.
Real. I reached around him, pulling him down on me hard, crushing
into my chest, wrapping my legs around his back, kissing him back
with everything in me. Until it wasn't even me anymore. Or him. It
was just a shared desire.

It
was just feelings. His hands grabbing my neck, pulling hard at my
hair. My fingers ripping into the skin on his back. His cock pressed
against my thigh. My nipples hard, straining against the material of
my shirt. Our tongues stroking over each others. Our rapid
heartbeats. Our ragged gasps for breath. My skin felt like it was
vibrating, like it was trying to push my pores further apart, trying
to make room to draw him in. Like if we kept it up, we were going to
melt into one pool of want and need and heat so hot it was
threatening to set the entire bus on fire.

As
if we both felt the same sensation at the same time, we both pulled
away, our eyes instantly open, clouded, yet aware. He pushed himself
upward as high as the low ceiling would allow.

Once
his body was off of mine, the whole of what had just happened rushed
back to me. The desire rushed backward like a fog, leaving only
clarity. I had just let Isaiah finger me. And kiss me like we were
waiting for a bomb to drop. Like it was the last thing we would ever
do.

But
it wasn't the last thing we would do. There wasn't going to be at a
blissful end to the world. I was going to have to face him again. I
would have to live with the reality of what we had just done.

He
pushed off to my side again, the air a cold shock to my system. He
looked at the wall for a long moment then back at me with a
distrustful grin on his face. There was a long pause before finally,
“I won,” he said, reaching for the privacy curtain and
pulling it open. He slipped down only the ladder, looking at me, “in
every way fucking possible,” he added, closing the curtain.

I
brought my hands up to my face, covering my eyes, like I could block
out the mortification.

That
mother fucker.

How
dare he? Who did shit like that? Who stoked your desire and then
threw it in your face? What kind of man pushed shame into a woman
because she responded to his touch?

His
complete and utter lack of respect for women was absolutely
unacceptable. I rolled onto my side, pulling my knees to my chest,
and stared at the wall. Well, we would have to see about that.
Because we had a very unique situation. He was going to learn to
fucking respect me. He worked for me. I owned that bastard. And I was
going to run his ass into the god damn ground.

I
smiled, falling to sleep thinking about all the awful ways I was
going to make him suffer. He was going to regret the day he signed up
to work on my tour. Hell, he was going to regret the day he learned
what a pussy was and how to play with it.