big.
His face drifted back up to mine and we kissed again. Then, he pushed inside me. My toes curled. Penetration alone was enough to bring me to the verge of cumming. But it wasn’t enough for him. He reached down and began to massage my clit. He started to ram his dick into me. No build-up—straight from zero to Prime Time. I was quickly falling into ecstasy.
Liam grunted, pulling me back into reality. His face and body were dark, concealed in the room’s shadows, though I could see the silhouette of his bulging muscles and throbbing veins, and the moonlit glisten along his sweaty arms and back. I tried to hold onto his arms, but he was too slick, too firm. His cock became impossibly harder inside of my body and his breathing deepened. On his breath, I could smell whiskey.
Just like I could on Hunter’s breath, the night before he left town, as he held me down and rammed me full-force with his big cock. I squirted all over his dick, but I don’t think he noticed. Every part of him was focussed on slamming me as hard and fast as he could.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” I heard myself say.
His hand released from my wrist and drifted up to my throat, clamping down, pinning me still. A quiver ran through my body. I could see stars, though I’m not sure if it was to do with lack of air or me coming on his dick. His grunting loudened. I didn’t want it to end; I wanted more. More.
My legs reached up, wrapping around his warm, rigid body. I pulled myself in tight, getting as much of him inside of me as I could.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” Hunter muttered.
“Fuck me harder.”
He did. The bed rattled with every thrust, probably on the verge of falling into pieces.
“Harder,” I heard myself demand again.
His grunts became screams. I tried to squirm but his grip on my throat had become too tight. I came again. My vision became a haze and my pussy squeezed him tightly. A few more thrusts, and he came too.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his warm come filling up my body.
“Oh, Hunter,” I said, running my hand down the ridges of his muscular back.
Suddenly, he became still. “What?” he said.
I wasn’t dreaming. Hunter wasn’t on top of me. Liam was on top of me. I couldn’t see his face in the dark room, but I could feel his betrayed expression.
“W—What?” was the only thing I was able to say after a few moments of silence and stuttering.
He said nothing. He stood up, slipped his pants back up, and left the room. Then, I could hear the front door slam.
A dull, clenching pain throbbed in my chest, where my heart was supposed to be. I’d re-earned my title of the Witch of Nintipi. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I didn’t deserve to cry.
CHAPTER NINE
It wasn’t hard to find Kyla’s home address. All I had to do was go into her bar and ask the bartender that was working. He gave me a weird, hesitant sort of look, but he went into the back room and came out with the address written on a little piece of paper. “She lives here,” he said as he handed it to me, still with that slanted look—as if he recognized me but couldn’t place me.
As I was half out the door, he put it together. “Wait,” he said. I turned around. “Aren’t you that soldier—the one from the Congo?” he asked.
I thought for a moment, remembering what Anders told me, about keeping my mouth shut. I shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah—I saw you on the news. Sergeant Sykes,” he said.
“Nah, man. You’ve got me mixed up with someone else.” I turned and left.
I didn’t like my celebrity status, even though I knew it would only last a few days—a few weeks at most. I was never one for attention. Attention was Greg’s thing. The only attention I’d ever wanted was female attention, and even then, if it had nothing to do with sex, I wasn’t interested.
His face drifted back up to mine and we kissed again. Then, he pushed inside me. My toes curled. Penetration alone was enough to bring me to the verge of cumming. But it wasn’t enough for him. He reached down and began to massage my clit. He started to ram his dick into me. No build-up—straight from zero to Prime Time. I was quickly falling into ecstasy.
Liam grunted, pulling me back into reality. His face and body were dark, concealed in the room’s shadows, though I could see the silhouette of his bulging muscles and throbbing veins, and the moonlit glisten along his sweaty arms and back. I tried to hold onto his arms, but he was too slick, too firm. His cock became impossibly harder inside of my body and his breathing deepened. On his breath, I could smell whiskey.
Just like I could on Hunter’s breath, the night before he left town, as he held me down and rammed me full-force with his big cock. I squirted all over his dick, but I don’t think he noticed. Every part of him was focussed on slamming me as hard and fast as he could.
“Fuck, I’m going to come,” I heard myself say.
His hand released from my wrist and drifted up to my throat, clamping down, pinning me still. A quiver ran through my body. I could see stars, though I’m not sure if it was to do with lack of air or me coming on his dick. His grunting loudened. I didn’t want it to end; I wanted more. More.
My legs reached up, wrapping around his warm, rigid body. I pulled myself in tight, getting as much of him inside of me as I could.
“Your pussy feels so fucking good,” Hunter muttered.
“Fuck me harder.”
He did. The bed rattled with every thrust, probably on the verge of falling into pieces.
“Harder,” I heard myself demand again.
His grunts became screams. I tried to squirm but his grip on my throat had become too tight. I came again. My vision became a haze and my pussy squeezed him tightly. A few more thrusts, and he came too.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned, his warm come filling up my body.
“Oh, Hunter,” I said, running my hand down the ridges of his muscular back.
Suddenly, he became still. “What?” he said.
I wasn’t dreaming. Hunter wasn’t on top of me. Liam was on top of me. I couldn’t see his face in the dark room, but I could feel his betrayed expression.
“W—What?” was the only thing I was able to say after a few moments of silence and stuttering.
He said nothing. He stood up, slipped his pants back up, and left the room. Then, I could hear the front door slam.
A dull, clenching pain throbbed in my chest, where my heart was supposed to be. I’d re-earned my title of the Witch of Nintipi. I wanted to cry, but I couldn’t. I didn’t deserve to cry.
CHAPTER NINE
It wasn’t hard to find Kyla’s home address. All I had to do was go into her bar and ask the bartender that was working. He gave me a weird, hesitant sort of look, but he went into the back room and came out with the address written on a little piece of paper. “She lives here,” he said as he handed it to me, still with that slanted look—as if he recognized me but couldn’t place me.
As I was half out the door, he put it together. “Wait,” he said. I turned around. “Aren’t you that soldier—the one from the Congo?” he asked.
I thought for a moment, remembering what Anders told me, about keeping my mouth shut. I shrugged and shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah—I saw you on the news. Sergeant Sykes,” he said.
“Nah, man. You’ve got me mixed up with someone else.” I turned and left.
I didn’t like my celebrity status, even though I knew it would only last a few days—a few weeks at most. I was never one for attention. Attention was Greg’s thing. The only attention I’d ever wanted was female attention, and even then, if it had nothing to do with sex, I wasn’t interested.
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