Cross

If she told no, I'd probably follow her back to her place anyway. Her eyes and her smiles said yes all through dinner. She wants me as much, as I want her. If that's even possible.

She’s this riddle I can't quite solve, and it's been like that since I first saw her on the sidewalk in front of Lily's school. The riddle is simple, it basically just says, "Why can't I get her off my mind?" and I'm hoping that fucking her will make it possible to stop thinking about her. But even as I ride to her house, keeping her rear lights in sight, I don't think that's gonna be enough. I have to figure her out completely before that will happen. I have to know why she has none of that basic fear everyone seems to have of me when they first meet me. And how she can just twirl into my life like she belongs, give me hard straight answers, where everyone would rather beat around the bush, fearing they’ll make me angry.

What am I thinking?

I'm not interested in figuring her out. She just doesn’t know enough about me and what I do to fear me. She's probably led a sheltered life in some gentrified city and never even come close to a true outlaw. I just need to fuck her, make her come on my cock and scream for more. I'm good at doing that. That'll break right through her proper, cotton ball-sheltered worldview. She'll thank me in the morning, ask for more, and I might even oblige a couple of times. That's pretty much where this is heading. Nowhere via somewhere that's gonna be a lot of fun.

It's been awhile since I corrupted an uptight good girl. And Roxie is as sweet as they come under that stern exterior and fearlessness.

* * *

Roxie

I gave him my address? What the hell was I thinking? Not very clearly, that's for sure.

But the rumbling sound of his Harley as he follows me home is reassuring too, makes me think of happier times as it reverberates through my body all the way to my core. Makes me remember sneaking around with Joe the Prospect when I was eighteen. He was tall and muscled and so tatted up there was never any chance I'd be allowed to keep seeing him. He wasn't very interested in anything but sex, if I think back on it anyway. But those few weeks that we managed to get away with it were a lot of fun.

I also remember raging and ranting at my dad over being so damn protective of me that I was looking at dying a virgin, if he didn't let up. But his answer was always the same: "Once you come of age, you can make your own choices. Until then you listen to me."

And he meant of age as in twenty-one, not eighteen. I never got to find out if he'd make good on that promise, because I was just shy of my twenty-first birthday when Lizard took him from me. I think he'd loosen up once I turned twenty-one, since he was a man of his word, but I never got to find out. I'm also not gonna think about that at all.

By the time I reach my driveway, and I'm waiting for Cross to walk up from the sidewalk where he parked his bike, excitement over what's coming is all I feel.

It's not even eleven yet, and the houses on my street are almost all still lit up. People will know I brought a biker home with me, and this town being so small, and with me being the new face in it, there will be talk. But I don't care about that either. I hardly remember the last time I didn't come home alone, and it's been almost a year since I've had sex. I can have a little fun, can't I?

I motion for him to follow me, then walk across the lawn to the front porch. His piercing look, just as potent in the dark, as it is in full light—maybe even more so—promises he'll grab and kiss me again as soon as he reaches me. And while I want nothing else right now, I do know we shouldn't be doing that in full view of the neighbors. But the porch is dark and partly obscured by a huge oleander bush, so no one can see me shiver, as he runs his hand down my bare back while I fumble with the keys, trying to get the door open as fast as I can.

He grabs my waist once we're inside, twirls me to face him and pulls me close, kisses me even deeper than before, his tongue hard and demanding as it enters my mouth. He squeezes my breasts through the silky fabric of my tunic, kneading and caressing them, his touch just shy of being painful, his kiss growing fiercer.

My breasts are small enough to fit in his palms, and he grabs them roughly for a second, making me moan. But he releases them much too soon, leaving my whole body pulsing in ever mounting waves of hot desire. Everything about him makes me want to get naked with him. His smell, which reminds me of sitting by a fire on a cool summer night, the air fragrant with the scent of burning wood and flowers. His dark eyes, which pierce me all the way through, and make me certain he sees everything, sees right into my soul, sees all my secrets, even the ones I keep from myself. His hard, muscled body, so powerful and stead like a rock I can shelter behind through any storm.

His prickly stubble brushes my soft skin as his lips travel from my lips down my neck, leaving tiny explosions of pleasure, which quickly become pools of hot desire all converging somewhere deep in my belly, sending pulses of unbearable need through my entire body.

"I like it rough," I hear my voice say, my mind not fully aware of even thinking it.

He stops kissing my neck, gazes so deep into my eyes I shiver.

"Good," he says and grins. "Because rough's all I do."

He pulls on the hem of my tunic. "Take off your clothes."

I smile at him and grab his hand, pull him after me along the dark hallway to my bedroom. The moon is almost full tonight, but the trees in my backyard block some of its brilliant light from entering my bedroom and bathing it in silvery white. Wind is moving the tree branches, making shadows and light dance across the walls and ceiling. But I only have a second to admire it, before he flips the switch by the door and harsh yellow light illuminates the room.

"I want to see you," he says as I turn to him questioningly. Which makes me a little apprehensive, since, yeah, I'm not perfect. But he sees everything anyway, I can hide nothing from him.

I take a step back and pull the tunic up over my head, my already hard nipples growing even tighter as his gaze falls on them.

"Don't stop now," he says hoarsely, as I let the tunic drop to the floor at my feet then just stand there, enjoying the heat his gaze is bathing me in. If he delivers half the passion his dark eyes are promising, I might finally get an orgasm that makes me scream.

I undo the button of my jeans without thinking twice, just reacting to the command in his voice, the promise in his eyes. As hard as I try to peel off my tight jeans in a sexy way, I don't quite manage it and even stumble, as I kick off my shoes, while still pulling down my pants.

He looks me up and down once I'm standing before him in just my thong, his grin growing wider with each inch of my skin his gaze takes in. The front of his jeans is tenting up, something big straining against the zipper, and my panties grow even wetter.

He removes his cut, then his shirt in one smooth, practiced motion, not unbuttoning it, just pulling it up over his head. Going by the rippling, taut muscles of his arms, I was sure his stomach and chest would be quite a sight, but seeing it for real takes my breath away anyway. He's hard all over, a huge tattoo covering his entire well-defined chest. It’s a gorgeous drawing of an angel and devil entwined mid-flight and about to kiss, even as they fight each other for supremacy.

He pulls his belt from the loops then unbuckles it, and I take a step towards him, then another, no longer in full control of my movements, pulled closer by the magnetic force he actually is. He grabs me once I'm within reach, kisses me again, his hands matching the intensity of his lips, as they grope my ass, knead my breasts, pluck my nipples, squeezing and pinching them until I can no longer tell the difference between pleasure and pain.

My head is spinning from the kiss, the rough way his hands are bringing the desire inside me to a boiling point even though he hasn't even touched my pussy yet. I let out a long, hoarse moan once his strong fingers finally find my clit.

He rubs my pussy over the panties, the fabric muffling the pleasure, yet guaranteeing more to come. I haven’t been touched with such animal need nor kissed with such passionate abandon in almost ten years. And I missed it so much, I'm finding it hard to breathe.

But that's mostly from his talented fingers working my clit as his other hand plays with my nipple, pinching and pulling, twisting. His lips kiss the pain away each and every time, but I do yelp as a stinging slap lands against my butt cheek, sending it jiggling.

"Get on the bed," he says, releasing me so I can obey and sit on the edge.

He unbuttons his jeans the rest of the way as he approaches. I bring a finger to my mouth, biting the nail, as I wait to finally see all of him.

He chuckles as he unzips his pants, laughs outright as I gasp once his cock finally comes into view. At least half of it is still hiding inside his boxers and it already looks too long, too fat to take.

But I'll try.

I reach out tentatively, stroke it with just my fingertips. But he smacks my hand away, shakes his head as I look at him questioningly.

"With your lips," he says, and I lean forward obligingly, take just the tip into my mouth. His taste bursts inside me, racks me right to the core, as I realize it's the taste I've been missing all my life. It's better than chocolate, better than sugar, better than wine, and I take more of him, suck and lick, wishing to swallow him whole, as physically impossible as that actually is.

He grabs a fist full of my hair, holding my head in place as he thrusts in deeper, making me gag and fight to keep my mouth open for him. The thick vein running the length of his shaft is pulsing against my tongue, tears streaming down my face as he pushes more and more of his massive girth down my throat, ignoring my gags, oblivious to the fact my teeth are grazing his velvety skin on each thrust. I open my mouth wider, abandoning all pretense that this isn’t exactly what I need, what I’ve needed for a long time, and exactly what I wanted from him since the first time I saw him.

"Not bad," he whispers, right before pulling out and yanking me to my feet.

I smiled at him, but I don't think he saw, because he spins me around and bends me over the bed, spreading my legs wider with his powerful, hard thigh.

"Rough, you said." I can hear the smile in his voice, as he says it, but I'm not so sure anymore, not after seeing the size of him.

"I—" I stutter as I look at him over my shoulder.

"You'll take it," he says with harsh finality.

He pulls my cheeks apart and runs his thumb across my opening, then pushes it into my pussy, starts pressing and rubbing that special spot inside me as his fingers play with my clit. A few seconds is enough to turn my legs to jelly, my whole body soft from the pleasure he's giving me. He picks up speed, his thumb slamming against my pleasure button and my moans turn to shrieks, as an orgasm washes through me, making my knees buckle, hit the edge of the bed, but I feel nothing but pleasure, which blankets everything in a thick layer of warmth, safety, and the knowledge that all is just perfect.

"Kneel on the bed," he commands hoarsely, pushing me forward with the hand still playing with my pussy.

I do as he asks, feel the bed wobble as he gets on it behind me. He removes his thumb from my pussy, and I look back at him questioningly, see the light of passion turned to a raging forest fire in his eyes as he grins at me.

"Ready?" he asks. My eyes flick down to the massive, pulsing cock he's holding in his fist. I bite my bottom lip, but nod.

He smiles as he pulls my thong down to my knees roughly, his hand on my hip steadying me as the head of his cock presses against my opening. As I feel its girth, I'm suddenly not so sure I can take him.

"I—" but the end of my objection is swallowed up in my scream, as he thrusts his cock into me, making me buck forward to get away, but missing the fullness the second it's gone.

"Slower?" he asks, running his hand up my back gently even as he grips my hip roughly and pulls me back to him.

I look at him over my shoulder and nod, but as his dark eyes fall on me, so full of passion and need, and his desire for me, I don't want slow anymore. I want him to take me like he wants to. The way a man would take a woman in a time when raw desire was all that mattered in mating.

He enters me more slowly this time, my pussy clenching against his cock as it slides ever deeper, my moan soon becoming a gasp, then a shriek once I'm sure he can't go any deeper. He pulls out just as slowly, making me feel each half-inch of his large, pulsing cock as it leaves my body. He enters me slowly again, going even deeper this time, before retreating. My whole pussy is now pulsing with the need for him to fill me again each time he pulls out.

His sudden hard thrust takes me by surprise, makes me yelp, but he's gripping my hips so tight now that I can't escape. He starts pumping his cock into me faster and deeper, hitting some center of pleasure inside me that no one's ever touched before. The feeling is so intense all I can do is shriek and arch my back to give him easier passage. His thrusts get fiercer once I do. I collapse on the bed, trying to get away from the worst of the fiery pleasure stabbing at my pussy and coursing through my entire body, but he follows, his cock not missing a beat as it fills me even deeper, sending the whole bed wobbling and shaking from his powerful, merciless thrusts.

And suddenly I don't want to run anymore. My body is molded to his cock, my pussy welcoming each thrust, and there's only one thing I know…

"Harder," I whisper, but it's loud enough to echo, bounce off the walls.

He takes it as a command, starts bucking faster, his cock piercing me so deeply now, filling me so completely that it's all I know…that, and the searing pleasure he’s giving me.

He grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks my head back, making me arch my back even more to lessen the sharp pain in my scalp and letting his thrusting cock in even deeper. All those sensations just get swallowed up by the pleasure building in my pussy, heightening it. A few more thrusts are all it takes for me to come so hard that even my scream turns to mute silence, and for a few crumbling minutes the world is bathed in a soft red sheen—the color of all my dreams—as the tidal wave of pleasure he's giving me erases all but my need to keep riding it.

He's still thrusting into my pussy when the room finally comes into view, coaxing another orgasm from me before the first one even fades fully. My vision doesn't return after the second one. This time I'm just left floating in a haze of pleasure. I wouldn't even know my name right now, if someone asked it of me. But I do know that he kept his unspoken promise and gave me even more pleasure than I believed possible.