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Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One, Page 12

T. M. Frazier

  Preppy cleared his throat, and I was mortified that I’d been caught open-mouthed gaping at his dick. So I did what any respectable junkie would do. I turned and bolted.

  “Oh no,” Preppy said, catching up to me in a few short strides before I’d even reached the first boulder.

  Damn these short legs.

  “Let me clarify,” he said, pulling me back against his bare chest. “YOU are done here, because you lost.” He spun me around in his arms and pushed me back against the rocks. His nose almost touching mine when he leaned down and said something that sounded eerily like a warning. My entire body went on high alert. “But WE are most definitely not done here, because I WON.”

  “Fuck,” I muttered.

  “No, Doc. Not with only three minutes.” He lowered his lips to my ear as he added, “But you best fucking believe that I’m going to make the most out of every single second I have.”

  He pushed his naked hips against my backside, and I gasped. And this time, I knew for a fact that the hard prodding against my lower back had nothing to do with his gun.


  It was much MUCH bigger than that.

  He shifted his hand so it was flat on my stomach. He dipped his fingertips inside my shorts.

  “Time starts now.”

  * * *


  Three minutes.

  I chose that number for two reasons. One, because fucking with Dre was everything I dreamed it would be and more. Two, because the other bets I thought of throwing out there all ended with being balls deep inside of her, and since I was pretty sure she wouldn’t agree to that, I played it safe.

  Or, so I thought.

  After Mirna had given her a little makeover I found myself panting after her like a dog left out on the porch in the middle of the day. Then, I’d shown up to pick her up and she was wearing shorts so short her long thighs were on full display and her ass cheeks were teasing me, playing a game of peek-a-boo, every time she swayed her hips or took a step. Her hair and makeup weren’t as styled as the day before and her lips were a softer pink, instead of the bright red, and I thought just then, for the first time in my life, that a girl was beautiful. I’d thought hot. Or fuckable. But beautiful was as new a thought to me as restraint.

  Not to be confused with restraints.

  Those, I was familiar with.

  On the water tower, when she was on the verge of ending her life, it was her frailty that piqued my interest. When I brought her unconscious body to Mirna’s, it was her weakness that had me stealing a taste of her pussy. And when she’d turned to me and crossed her arms over her chest, pushing up her tits, challenging me to show her my dick so she could verify the size, I thought I was about to come in my fucking pants, right then and there.

  If I’d thought her weakness was a massive turn on, it was absolutely jack-shit compared to the the surge of pure want her show of strength sent, shooting straight through my spine into my ridiculously hard cock.

  Dre wasn’t some random chick at a party who knew what the price was for the all-you-can-snort-buffet I so generously provided. She also wasn’t one of Bear’s BBB’s who knew what they were getting into when it came to the bikers and their familiars.

  All joking and heroin aside, Doc was just an ordinary girl.

  Only, she wasn’t.

  As much as I wanted to leave her alone and pretend we’d never met, it was impossible. Lately, I couldn’t even jerk off without picturing her.

  The whole restraint thing was new, but I still remembered the way she tasted and wanted to know how tight she was. How warm.

  Dre was always flushed for one reason or another. Anger, sadness, confusion, frustration. I wanted to see what she looked like when she came. I’d pictured it. Jerked off to it.

  I kept her pinned up against the flat rocks with my hips. This wasn’t about me, but there was no way I was putting my jeans back on or wasting another fucking second before I put my hands on her. I circled her waist with my other arm, and pushed my fingers into her shorts. I heard her quick intake of breath and my cock responded by hardening even more. There was something about her reaction, whether good or bad, that had me on a level of excitement that surpassed my discovery of U-porn.

  “What do you want from me?” she said, and although I knew she was looking for something deeper than the answer I gave her, I couldn’t help myself.

  “Your tits. Your ass. Your pussy,” I answered honestly, shoving my hand down the front of her shorts with such force the buttons popped open, allowing me more access.

  “That’s not what I meant,” she said, trying and failing to turn around in my arms. My fingers dipped lower until I came in contact with her clit, and I left them there without movement until I felt her squirming for more contact. “I mean, why do you want to do this? Why do you even want to touch me?”

  The words came out before I could stop them. “I have no fucking idea, but I only have three minutes to do what I want, so shut the fuck up and stop trying to stall me,” I said, gliding over her clit and farther down into her panties which, much to my delight, were soaking wet. “What’s got you all wet and worked up, Doc? Did you like what you saw?” I drawled. When she opened her mouth to answer, I shut her up again by rocking against her lower back, the only thing that came out of her mouth was a throaty groan. I rubbed my shaft up and down against her denim covered ass crack and decided that I hated her little shorts after all.

  I pulled my hand away and took a small step back, but only to give me enough room to yank down her shorts and her white cotton panties in one move. The naked flesh of her ass was exposed to me and my mouth watered with the urge to bite it, but time was running out so I settled for a stinging slap.

  “What the fuck?” she yelped, jumping at the sensation but settling against the rocks when I kneaded the raised red flesh in the shape of my hand print with my fingers.

  Standing behind her, fully naked, with her ass in front of me and her pussy peeking out from between her legs with Dre bent over had me questioning this new found restraint, but, remembering my task, I slipped my hand between her legs and stroked the opening of her pussy a few times, before finding her little hardened clit and strumming it with my thumb, like I was fucking mad at it.

  I felt her entire body tighten under my hold. I groaned when she pushed back into me in search of her release, but I had something better in mind. At least, something better for me. “We only have thirty seconds,” I said, continuing to thrust my cock between her ass cheeks as her movements for more grew bolder, pushing back against me harder and harder, as everything inside of her body seemed to tense. She was so fucking close. As one hand continued to stroke her clit, I used the other to gather her wetness dripping down her legs onto my fingers, swiping only briefly over her pussy and gathered what I needed to make this bet all the more interesting. There was nothing that could distract me from the task at hand.

  Not even the dark urges from the depths of my mind trying to claw their way to the surface.



  Everything inside of me was hot and tight, and I felt like I was about to explode. When Preppy’s hand swiped over my entrance, I knew I was only seconds away from something that excited and scared the shit out of me.

  “God damn, Doc. I can feel how close you are. This pussy of yours wants to come all over my fingers.”

  “Time’s almost up,” I managed to groan out, even in my state of ecstasy I needed to put him in his place.

  “Fuck time,” he growled, pushing one long finger deep inside me.

  “Aaaaahhhhh,” I called out, leaning against the rock for support.

  He was now grinding against me, sliding his cock through the crack of my ass over and over again as he pumped his finger inside me, angling it so that he was pushing against my front wall with his fingertip when he pulled out.

  I lost my cocky attitude, suddenly, when he lowered his cock and slid the shaft between my legs, through the wetness
dripping down my thighs. A flash of Conner holding me down by my head, while Eric raped me from behind, flooded my mind. I was there again. In that dirty motel room. I could smell his stench and relived the fear as they laughed at my cries for help. “Stop stop stop no!!!!!!!” I screamed, it was no longer Preppy behind me, but Eric. There was no more pleasure. Only pain.

  With all the strength I had, I jabbed my elbow into my attacker. Preppy stumbled back with a grunt, holding on to his ribs with one hand, his thick cock purple with his arousal, bobbing up and down as he bent over in pain.

  I felt an overwhelming tug of guilt when I realized what I’d done, and that it was not Eric but Preppy that I’d done it to.

  Guilt quickly turned to fear.

  Preppy stood, straightening his spine and his eyes darkened. He glanced down to where he was covering his torso and pulled his hand away, revealing the bright red spot where my elbow had connected with his ribs. He LAUGHED, and in my head it sounded just like Conner’s laugh, sending a trickle of fear rippling down my spine. “Oh, Doc. You did it now.” And then there it was, for the second time, I saw it. The spark of evil living behind his cocky smile.

  Fear crashed into me and the need to escape was overwhelming.

  I tried to run, but I forgot where I was and just as I was about to turn, my back connected with the rock wall. I was trapped. He was on me in a second, towering over me, his face up in my face, his cheek against mine. His cock still hard and hot between us, jutting onto my lower stomach. He reached under my shirt and took hold of my nipple, pinching it hard. A bolt of pleasure shot straight to my core.

  I didn’t like it.

  I didn’t want him, but yet I wanted him. I felt excited and nervous and strong and weak and I wanted to give in, but not as much as I wanted to get out.

  My head was a cloud of confusion, a mixture of fear and want, delivered courtesy of the man glaring at me as if he were about to eat me alive.

  There was no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t.

  “Stop! Stop! No!” I cried. Preppy watched as a tear fell onto my cheek, following it as it rolled down my face and dripped off my chin onto his chest. That’s when I noticed that, in an odd way, he reminded me of Mirna, except instead of being unfocused, it was as if he was almost hyper focused. He reached between my legs and I pushed them together, trying to keep him out. Trying to make it all stop. It was too much. He was too much. I was scared. More scared than I’d ever been, but there was nothing I could do to stop him when he pushed his knee between my legs, spreading me wide open. “No! Nooooooo!” I slapped him across the face as hard as I could, but wherever it was he’d gone, it was like there was no coming back from. He didn’t even flinch.

  I pushed against him as hard as I could. Pounding on his chest with my closed fists, kicking him with my legs. “Then you’re just like them!” I screamed. “You’re just like them!” I said, wailing against his chest.

  He stilled.

  Slowly, Preppy lifted his head and when his eyes met mine, it was as if whatever spell he was under had been broken. “I wouldn’t…” he said, and then he stopped like there was more to say, but he didn’t know how to say it.

  Suddenly, he reared back, slamming his fist into the rock above my head with a roar tearing from his throat. The soft rock crumbled into tiny pieces, falling over us in a cloud of dust and debris. He released me and I dropped to the floor, pulling my knees up to my chest and sobbing out my relief.

  Preppy moved back hesitantly, one slow step at a time. He watched me cry with confusion written all over his face. For someone who was so aggressive only seconds before, he now looked defeated. Vulnerable. He grabbed his jeans and quickly tugged them on.

  “I’m not just like them,” he said, his jaw tight. His fists clenching over and over again. “Because they didn’t stop did they?”

  I shook my head.

  Preppy ran his hand through his hair and punched the rock for the second time. I yelped. His muscles across his cheek and neck tensed. He was breathing erratically. His look drilled me to the rock. “I’d kill him all over again if I could.” He grabbed his shirt and darted through the opening I wasn’t able to find, its location now ridiculously obvious.

  It made sense that his body was built for sin, because the hold Samuel Clearwater had over me was something straight from the depths of hell.




  I was beginning to think I’d never again see the light of day.

  Or light at all.

  I didn’t even really know where I was being held. All I knew for sure was that the walls and floor were both made of dirt and were cold and damp to the touch on some days and dry and dusty on others. The ceiling felt low although I couldn’t see it.

  My voice echoed all around me when I talked to myself. “There isn’t a damned thing a chick could wear that’s hotter than high heels. That’s a motherfucking fact,” I said, into the darkness. “You can hold on to them when you fuck, too, so they serve a practical purpose. It was I who coined the term ‘handlebars,’” I coughed up dust, choking on it when I breathed it back in.

  Surprisingly, the darkness answered me back and a dim light walked toward me, growing brighter with each step. “Shut the fuck up, asshole,” Chop muttered, shining his flashlight into my eyes.

  “You know, if you didn’t look like Bear’s older, uglier doppelgänger, I would never think that the two of you were even related. ’Cause even when Bear is PMSing and in a bitch-ass mood, he’s still all there upstairs.” I pointed at the gray-haired man, staring hatred down at me. “You sir…have a few pumpkins missing from your patch.” I swayed and my vision blurred, when it came back into focus a few seconds later, Chop’s hovering image shifted from one to three, then back to one.

  One was still too fucking many.

  I was lying over the threshold of death’s door, yet it was Chop whose eyes held no signs of life, void of anything other than his constant anger. If I didn’t want to shove a rock through his skull so badly, I might have pitied the motherfucker and his sad existence. Which was fucked up because I was the one bleeding all over the dirt at his feet.

  “No more talking, boy! It’s time to SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Chop roared, slamming his hand against the wall beside my head.

  I didn’t flinch. Not because I was being a badass, but because my reflexes were shot to shit. I could tell by the way his nostrils flared that my lack of reaction was taken as yet another act of defiance. He swallowed hard, like he was holding back. From where I was sitting, that was a fucking first for the sadistic bastard.

  A few seconds passed where we just stared at one another. If the motherfucker wanted a contest of wills he was going to lose, because it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to be but hell, and from the looks of things I was pretty sure I was already there.

  After a moment a smirk crept onto his face, deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. He seemed satisfied that I was going to do what I was told, which was basically shut up and bleed. He turned around and started walking away.

  He was wrong.

  “Just one more question, and it’s a serious one,” I managed to scratch out, my throat feeling as if someone with sharp nails was trying to claw their way out from the inside. Chop paused mid stride, and I could almost see the hairs on the back of his arms stand on end. I coughed. Warm, coppery fluid filled my mouth, coating my teeth. I was used to the taste at that point and knew exactly what it was before it poured past my lips and dribbled down my chin, falling onto what was left of my shirt. “Does this place have wifi?” I asked, spitting blood as I spoke. “Because if not, I’m seriously going to have to take that into consideration in my Yelp rating. I will say, though, that the torture is excellent.” I went to lift my arm and a wave of pain assaulted my ribs. I winced but kept talking, enjoying the look on Chop’s red face as he slowly turned around, cracking his knuckles and stomping his way back toward me. “However, the staff doesn’t give me that wa
rm tingly feeling I’ve come to expect from such an establishment, not to mention they’re ugly as all fuck.”

  Chop picked up the bat leaning against the wall and turned it over in his hands. He crouched down beside me and pointed at my head with the thick splintered end. “Are you done now?” he asked, white knuckling the handle.

  “Nope,” I said, shaking my head, slowly, from side to side, ignoring the dizziness from earlier that again threatened to take hold. I slid my hand from my thigh to my crotch, grabbing my dick over my torn khakis. “You can also suck my cock, bitch.”

  Chop’s goal in life was to hurt me, little did he know that nothing he could do to my body could match the pain in my broken heart.

  If only I would have listened to her when she told me no. When