Buyer’s Market(8)
This is nothing like what happened with Joelle. I was an overbearing ass as a friend, controlling, possessive, and that shit turned Joelle off. But Emmaline … she likes this about me. Well, she did ask how I knew where she lived. I didn’t answer. But the fact that she’s attracted to me makes my own growing obsession that much more dangerous. It would be just me that got hurt if she wasn’t interested and I had to do the smart thing and ignore it. But how do I ignore a sweet little girl that fucking wants me too?
That rage that made me punch all those cocky little shits into hamburger, that rage is a product of my desire for Emmaline. But I’m already fucking in too deep.
It reminds me of another night that went a little differently than this one, but I think of it all the same. I head down my hallway, to my massive library, fingering stack after stack of leather-bound books, and pour myself a drink. I need to dull the ache within me now. The first sip burns good going down, but I can’t swallow back the memories.
***
I see Joelle’s form fading behind the crackling bonfire. She’s wandered off with some guy that’s not her friend. He’ll probably be her boyfriend, and after the way that I looked at Joelle at lunch yesterday, I could tell she knew how I felt about her.
I know that she doesn’t feel that way. I know that we’re friends, and I’m still being a fucking creep.
But I follow her, not so close that she knows.
When they start to kiss, I expect to feel jealousy. Instead, my cock starts to stiffen. Fuck, I’m disgusting. I keep watching though, because it does turn me on.
They’re kissing, pawing each other over their clothes. I shouldn’t watch, but I keep looking. I won’t stop looking, either, when I notice that Joelle’s lips are not actually kissing this jackass’s back. He’s pawing her, but her hands are trying to push him away.
I tense up. He better get his fucking hands off of her.
“Hey,” Joelle says, finally breaking away from him. “That’s enough. I just wanna slow down a little,” she says. The nervous trill in her voice makes me furious for her.
“Don’t be such a tease, bitch,” the asshole says.
“Fuck you, Ronald, we're fucking through!” Joelle gives him the finger. She turns to walk away. Her path won’t cross mine, but I have to stay put because if this goddamn Ronald tries anything, I’ll fucking pulverize him.
“Bitch, everyone knows you’re the slow down queen. You don’t give it to that asshole you hang out with, but I can tell everyone you gave it up for me,” Ronald threatens.
Yeah, I'm about to be the asshole. I bust out from my hiding place and I punch Ronald’s dumb fucking face like I’m trying to erase his nose with my fist as the delete key.
Joelle gasps. When she realizes what’s happening, she tries to pull me off of him.
Ronald jabs out an arm and knocks Joelle over, and that moves my focus over to her. Ronald dusts himself off and touches his bloody nose with a yelp. “You fucking pyscho,” he says, spitting in my direction.
I don’t care though. I’m trying to help Joelle up. She doesn’t want my help, and gets up on her own. “I don’t belong to you!” she shouts, storming off.
***
Joelle never belonged to me.
I sent Emmaline away because I didn’t want her to see what I would do. Do, for her.
But the way Emmaline responded to my order … I swallow down my drink, pour another, swallow that down.
It goes down sweet and warm, just like her soft little breathing as she listened. Obeyed me. Without question. Trusted me to protect her.
When I got back in that car, blood on my hand and anger still coursing through my veins, I wanted to fuck Emmamline right there in the car.
That’s fucked up. I mean, she’s too young for me. So what if she’s attracted to me. Students have always been interested. I never have been. I knew that wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life. I didn’t want to be that guy, no matter how much attention I got. No matter how much young pussy I could have, that wasn’t going to be me.
And even though I don’t know Emmaline, I think this is different with her. I know it is. Fuck. I put my glass down before I throw it, and grip the desk. I squeeze it harder, my fingers pressing into the unforgiving wood, thinking about how I’d love to spread her legs wide over the edge of this desk and lick her thighs, slowly, until I got to her pussy. I want to bury my face inside of her and feel the world disappear around us. Tangle us in sighs and screams, whimpers, and lust-filled screams. I want to taste the moan on her skin.
I head back toward the hall, across the house to the kitchen. I have a wine fridge for things I want to keep in ready circulation, and the rest of my stock in the cellar. I grab a bottle of my favorite, leathery red. I pour a glass and think about pressing Emmaline up against the fridge and slamming my cock into her. I want to split that sweet little girl in half with my cock. I know she’s never had a cock like mine.