Slammed (8 page)

LUCY

Another thirty minutes and we’re in the middle of nowhere. I’m talking survivalist communes around the corner.

My panic ratchets up yet again when we leave the road completely and travel down another dirt trail. There’d better not be a creepy cabin at the end of it. I don’t gel well with the great outdoors.

To my surprise, the scrub either side gives way to expansive, horseshoe-shaped canyon, a waterfall gushing into the air on the right, wind whipping my hair likewise as Nate helps me get the helmet off.

Hand-in-hand, we approach the edge.

Nate seems curious. “You’re not scared of heights?”

“I’m not the girly-girl you think I am, Nate Compton.”

“No? Sure fooled me with that Disney collection and red ribbon in your hair.”

I reach up to check it’s still there. “It’s my ‘thing’. I’ve had it since I was little.”

“Like a comfort blanket.”

“In a way. Why, what’s your ‘thing’?”

“Being a bad ass,” comes his lighting reply, his face twisted up trying to hold back a smile. “Like all bad asses I have an ex-con named Bobby I get all my ink work done with. I sit around all day lifting weights and drinking motor oil. My breakfasts consist solely of crushed dreams and a deep-seated loathing for authority.”

I haven’t really seen this side of him, the prankster. I like it.

I look to the canyon again, the river running through it a single strand of silver. In the distance cauliflower clouds light up, a dark mass squatted on the horizon.

A storm’s coming.

“How’d you find this place?”

“Google.”

I roll my eyes. “No, you should say it’s where you used to come as a kid, that your great-great-grandfather lived down there by the river.” It’s only as I finish the sentence I realize the whole family thing probably hits a nerve.

He’s silent, eyes sweeping over the canyon, wind picking up his tee just enough to show off the hard muscles below.
Hard muscles that were all over you last night. Nate ‘King’ Compton all over you—
inside
you.
I try to claw the conversation back. “How long were you at that foster home, the bad one?

Nate turns. “Too long,” deflecting. “What about you? How old were you when you hit the system?”

“I was pretty young at the time, maybe four. Dad—the Dean, that is—doesn’t like to talk about it. Says it wasn’t a very nice place.”

“Few of them are. You don’t remember anything about it, about the other kids?”

“Just bits and pieces, none of them good. I imagine it was a lot like your situation. How old were you when you put into the system?

He nods solemnly, hand tighter in my own. “Seven. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.”

“But, I mean you’ve come through okay, right?” I stand back and get a good look at the man candy that is Nate Compton. “I mean,
look
at you.”

“Like I said, biceps made of crushed dreams.”

“And your eyes? What are they made of?”

He catches me around the waist and pulls me close. His eyes are blue steel in the moonlight. “Ego, mostly. Maybe a drop or two of hard-done-by.”

“You’re quite the comedian.”

He draws me to him tighter, his cock an iron bar against my groin. “I’m a lot of things.” He stands back, reaching into his jacket pocket and producing a ring, holding it out to me.

“What’s this? You’re proposing?”

He backs up a bit more. “Whoa, no, I-”

“What? I’m not marriage material.”

He scratches his head. “I mean, yes, you are, but no, not… I’ve really screwed this up, haven’t I?”

I punch him lightly on the shoulder. “Oh, fiddlesticks, you’re doing fine. I’m just messing with you.” I take the ring from his hand. “But I am curious about this. Flowers too cliché, thought you had to step it up?” I look down at the ring. It’s silver, a little tarnished, black stone in the center.

“It was my mother’s—my biological mother’s.”

“And you’re giving it to me? Why?”

“Didn’t think you’d need that purity ring anymore.”

I raise my eyebrows. “What makes you think it’s a purity ring? It could be from my other boyfriend.”

“It says ‘#waiting’ on it.”

Damn.
“So it does.”

He takes my hand, so tiny in his own and draws the ring Dad gave me away, replacing it with his mother’s. Incredibly, it’s almost a perfect fit. He slips the purity ring into my pocket.

I look down at Nate’s ring, this sincere gesture, suddenly struck with an overwhelming horniness.

I’m about to take off my top when headlights swing through the scrub. We break apart.

I crouch. “Expecting company?”

“Probably kids coming out here to bump uglies.”

I burst out laughing. “Bump uglies? Is that the best you’ve got?”

Thunder cracks in the distance.

“Make muffins, park the car, pogo, the horizontal monster mash, fuck. What do you call it?”

“I don’t know. Making love, perhaps?”

“Is that what we did last night, ‘make love’? Because it sure felt like something else.”

We’re both watching a car emerge a bit further up, the lights going off. “Last night was pretty incredible. I will give you that. Honestly, I don’t know what to call it. It was just… new.”

Teenagers start to spill out of the car, the telltale sound of bottles falling out with them.

Nate reaches to the bike and hands me my helmet. “Let’s go and leave them to their ‘love making’.”

I give him a salute, “Ten-four, big buddy.”

He just shakes his head in response, but I see the smile there. He’s
loving
it.

The journey back to campus seems to take forever, the highway stretching along like a flattened anaconda, all cracks and scales. I see a roadhouse coming up ahead. I’m still wet from before, clit throbbing pressed up against his back on the bike. The vibrations haven’t exactly been helping either.

I tap Nate on the shoulder and point to the roadhouse. He gets the idea, pulling off the highway and heading up the side road. The roadhouse looks as deserted as its surroundings, a neon sign reading ‘Grill’ buzzing on and off, the harsh fluoros above the pumps making the whole thing look like a UFO crash site.

Nate goes to pull up to a pump, but I tap him on the shoulder again and direct him to park around back.

He kicks the stand down, switches off the ignition and pulls his helmet off, his hair somehow even more perfect than before it went on.

I take my helmet off, pulling out my ribbon and shaking my hair out, watch him dazzled by it. I place the ribbon in his jacket pocket. “See that. The ribbon’s gone.” I flick my head back to where the restrooms are located. “Guess that means the good girl has gone home, too. What to do…” I flick my head back again to make sure he gets the hint, and boy does he get the hint.

He scoops me up into his arms and runs down to the restroom, kicking the door open and placing me on my feet, driving me up hard against the wall next to the basin.

I push him back, the vixen taking over. I feel powerful, unhinged.

I kneel on the floor, tiles cold under my knees. I start taking his pants off, grabbing his jocks and heaving it all down to his knees. His cock pops free, slapping against my chest.

The light above the sink buzzes, the faucet dripping—
tap, tap, tap
—as I take hold of his cock, turning my eyes up towards him and licking my lips.

“Lucy,” he says, holding my head, “you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” I purr, right before I part my lips and take him into my mouth.

“Fuck,” he responds, body hunching over. I let the hot lump of his cockhead slip free before plunging over it again, working him against my tongue until he clutches my shoulders and tries to ram himself down my throat in desperation. He shakes with desire and I cannot help but smile internally at the sudden power my lips and mouth have afforded me.

He reaches down, takes my fingers and places them one by one into his mouth, teeth sinking into my flesh to stifle his need. I ring his cock with my free hand and draw him deeper, working faster and faster, letting everything grow sloppy and wet. I pull away, jerking him off, a pearly drop of fluid caught in his slit. “Am I doing it right?”

He smiles. “So fucking right.”

He pulls me to my feet and presses me against the sink. He thrusts his hand, hard and firm, between my legs, rubbing my already soaking pussy through the tight crotch of my Levis. Even through the thick denim, his touch sets me aflame as my mind considers the minimal barrier between our bare skin.

You’re not imagining it, Lucy. This is real,
all
real.

I whimper as he continues to fondle me. My hands reach back and grip the side of the sink so hard my knuckles turn bone white. I rock against his hand as it see-saws between my legs, the scent of my damp desire rising up between us.

“Take me,” I huff. “Take me hard.”

My cheeks flush a deep red from the words. I gasp as he applies more pressure, starting to stroke my sex rhythmically, rubbing the wet spot at my crotch until my clit surges in anticipation.

It all seems so taboo, but everything in my body as his fingers scissor between my legs suggests otherwise.

“You want me to fuck you?” he says, growling into my ear, breath hot against my cheek. “You want me to stop rubbing your pussy and fuck you with my big, hard cock.”

The word starts a fresh deluge from my hole. My legs are weak, but I find myself pushing down into his hand, urgent for more.

I kiss him deeply, nip at his top lip. He takes a fistful of my hair and turns me around, bending me over the basin so I see myself in the mirror, mouth open with need, eyes glassy. He stands behind me in the shadows, pressing himself into my backside. His hand slides down the back of my panties to find my sex hot and slippery.

I push my butt back against his cock, pivot my hips so he can better angle his hand, fingers shoveling into my pussy. There’s a warm wind running under the door, but still I shiver at his touch. My nipples are pressing through my shirt. They jut out like stiff diamonds to the mirror.

There’s a sound in the distance, a cat-call, animal, people perhaps, but such things sit at the periphery of my mind he pulls my hair back, my eyes snapping to the peeling roof and his lips falling hot on the side of my neck.

Just the thought of him gripping his cock, the image of my body in his head as he spends himself, sends a raging fire spearing to my pussy. I reach back and rub his cock behind me, whimpering into the open air as I run my fingers over its contours, right up to the bulbous head.

I am yours. Take me however you want.

My head starts to fill with cotton wool as his fingers brush past my clit and back into the slick folds of my sex.

I close my eyes. My mouth opens, my jaw strained, trying to close but pried open by this new pleasure as his fingers play in my wetness, sliding into my slit, rubbing the sensitive entrance.

Short, sharp kisses down my collarbone. His teeth graze my flesh where it’s most tender as his fingers dip into me below. I’m so hot, burning up inside and out.

Nate pulls my shirt aside and finds a spot on my shoulder, an inch-wide section of skin. I go absolutely crazy when his lips press down upon it. He does it gently at first and then sucks harder as one of his fingers burrows inside me.

I writhe and buck between him and the edge of the basin, losing control of my body, handing it over to more instinctual urges.

I’m fully awake, completely electrified as he finger-fucks me, his thumb on my clit and my jaw snapping open again in delight.

He lets go of my hair and undoes my jeans. I reach down and help him, gripping the top and managing to push them down until they are halfway down my thighs, panties stretched inside, my sex exposed to the humid desert air.

I’m dizzy. My eyes roll up into the back of my head when the pressure on my clit increases, my labial folds opening up like an exotic, pink flower under his touch. My body prepares itself for him, for his beautiful, glorious cock.

I can’t stop the moaning and mewing that’s escaping my mouth. I try as hard as I can but fail.

I spread my legs a little wider, pushing my ass out until my jeans stretch like a rubber band between my knees.

Nate lets out a breathy sound halfway between a gasp and a heart attack at the sight. He’s standing back, admiring my butt.

“God, I…”

His scorching rod falls between my buttocks, sliding there in the crack of my ass. He humps my back, smearing himself over my ass cheeks, the substance chilling fast against my skin.

One of his hands moves under my T-shirt, running easily under the snug tee and into under the left cup of my bra. His fingers brush against the underside of a breast, snaking upwards to the nipple, pinching and rolling it until sensation floods through my body. I bend forward, leaning against the basin and pushing back into his cock.