Preppy the life amp deat.., p.16
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       Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part One, p.16
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         Part #5 of King series by T. M. Frazier
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  Before I could ask him what the fuck that meant, he leaned down and pressed his lips to a spot behind my ear that made me close my eyes and almost forget that just happened. Almost. I pushed at him again, just enough to separate his mouth from my neck, which instantly felt cold at the loss. “I wasn’t even trying to kill myself!” I huffed, still out of breath.

  “You could have fucking fooled me, Doc,” Preppy spat, his eyebrows knitted tightly together and he looked down at my arms.

  My chest heaved up and down. “I don’t want to die,” I tried to explain again, but the anger etched in the lines of his face only grew deeper. I needed to talk faster. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself, I was just…I was trying something because I don’t know how to make the pain go away,” I admitted in a rush, suddenly feeling very ashamed of the self harm I was trying on for size.

  “Doc,” Preppy groaned, stepping forward he weaved his his fingers through my hair, his hand firmly gripped the back of my neck. He pulled me closer, and I stumbled forward until our chests were pressed together. His eyes were dark—pupils huge. His eyelids hung heavy and red. He sucked in his thick lower lip. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, more out of breath at that moment than I was with a train heading straight for me.

  “Because, baby girl. If hurt is what you want, hurt is what I can do.”

  “What…what are you doing?” I asked, as he reached for his belt and buckle, freeing it of his pants and tossing it aside.

  “I’m going to hurt you,” he said, undoing the top button of my shorts and pushing his hand into my panties, cupping my sex in his warm and powerful hand. He squeezed, just a little, a show of power. “I’m going to hurt you with my lips. With my fingers. With my cock. It’s going to be the best fucking pain you’ve ever felt.”

  “No!” I said, a knee jerk reaction to his words. I tried to sit up but he squeezed again, and I fell back into the grass as a sensation washed over me that had me pushing my thighs together, trapping his hand between my legs.

  Preppy held my hands tighter over my head to keep me still. With a crooked smile on his face, he leaned down so his lips brushed my ear. “No doesn’t mean shit to me, baby girl.” He followed his words with a sharp bite to my earlobe that sent a jolt of pleasure pulsing through my body, tightening my nipples which rubbed painfully against my shirt. A tightening sensation ripped through my lower stomach and I felt a flushing from my core. Preppy abruptly pulled his hand from inside my shorts, obviously aware and probably repulsed at whatever had just happened down there. My face reddened when he held up his glistening fingers and stared at it in wonderment, shocking me even further when he licked his palm slowly, from wrist to fingertip, closing his eyes and groaning.

  “That was the best NO I’ve ever fucking tasted,” he said, and without another word he was yanking down my shorts and underwear in one move, before climbing back up my body so we were again eye to eye, his hand back between my legs. I yelped when he pinched my clit, and although my mind was protesting, my body wasn’t, my legs falling open at his rough touch. “I’m going to own this tonight.”

  At the word “own” my entire body stiffened.

  Preppy leaned down and pushed my shirt up to my neck, his mouth finding my nipple and sucking it between his lips, biting harshly down on the tip and blowing on it as he made his way over to the other. Still I remained stiff. “Just tonight,” he muttered to himself. “Just tonight, this is mine.” He breathed over my nipple before sucking it into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the tip before releasing it. “I CAN’T keep you.”

  “You’ve said that,” I breathed, as he pressed two fingers inside of me. “I can’t be owned,” I cried out and bucked my hips, reveling in the sensation that was even more powerful than in the cemetery just an hour before.

  Preppy continued to assault me with his fingers. “No, but you will be fucked.” He worked his own pants with his other hand. Withdrawing from between my legs again, I shifted at the loss of his touch. He lifted off his shirt and there we were, in a field, completely naked with critters chirping and branches snapping. He grabbed my thighs and pulled me forward, his huge throbbing erection was pressed up against my core, hot and impossibly hard.

  I tried to roll over and scramble away because I finally realized what Preppy meant by hurting me. “No!” I said, crawling only a foot or two before he was on me, his chest to my back, his mouth on my neck. He pushed my legs apart, and I groaned when he slid his length against my opening. I lunged forward but only managed to land on my stomach in the grass. Preppy fell against me, his hold firm. “But I said no,” I huffed out.

  “It’s adorable that you think that can stop me.” He ran his length against me again, and I couldn’t help but buck back against him, needing more.

  “But you’re going to hurt me,” I panted, referring to the massive size of his cock, which stretched well above his belly button, the tip thick and purple.

  He chuckled low in his throat. “That’s the plan, Doc.” He pulled back, but only to grab me by the waist, lifting me up so I was on my hands and knees. I felt his throbbing heat and another flush of wetness left my body. Preppy hissed and again covered my body with his own. He reached around and without warning, painfully twisted one of my nipples as he roared out, thrusting hard and deep inside of me, fighting my tight entrance. It did hurt like fucking hell, but I never wanted to feel anything else ever again. It was an exquisite pain. A torturous pleasure. It was nothing I’d ever felt before.

  “Is this still a no?” he taunted, pushing inside again, this time much harder, hitting a spot that made stars dance in my eyes. “Is this cock enough hurt for you, Doc?”

  I couldn’t form the words to attempt to answer when he yanked me back by my hair and covered my throat with his hand, squeezing just enough to allow me to still breathe. He turned my head so we were looking right at one another as he started moving again. “Tell me ‘no’ again,” he dared, continuing to twist my nipple with one hand and choke me with the other as he pulled in and out slowly a few times, dragging his shaft against something inside me that felt like when the tip of a sparkler is ignited. A flash of light and heat that grew brighter and bolder. Stretching everything inside of me. It was painful, but it was the pain I was seeking. The release from my own thoughts. Preppy was right. His kind of pain was one I wanted, a pain that made me cry and buck back against him. “You need more? Don’t you?” he whispered, the chords of his neck strained. He released my throat and nipple, and pushed me back down onto my hands. “Tell me ‘no’ again, and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you more,” he said, grazing his teeth over the skin of my shoulder and thrusting hard inside me, stilling when he was buried as far as my body would let him in. “Say it,” he hissed, grinding his hips against my bare ass.

  “No!” I managed to yelp. My body was alive. So fucking alive. Every fiber of my being wanted to be touched, licked, fucked. The aching in my core became almost unbearable, needing to be released or stopped or something. “YES!” I cried out, finally admitting what I’d been trying to deny for so long. Telling him what he wanted to hear so he’d give me more of what I was seeking.

  I wanted more and he gave me more.

  He didn’t just fuck me, he took command of me. An all out assault on my body. Hard and long he fucked me, like he was punishing me and his cock was a lesson I needed to learn. The hurting became real in a way that had me pushing against Preppy. “I think you need to stop. Please stop. It hurts too much. I can’t keep…” The words fell away from me as I was answered with a furious thrusting, his hips slamming against my ass, his hands digging into my shoulders as he fucked and rode me all at the same time. Ignoring my requests for a reprieve from this new kind of suffering, I felt Preppy’s abs contracting over my back and his muscles tense. He was tense, giving me his all, but he was still holding back.

  “Give me…all,” I muttered as I felt something turn from pain to pleasure, igni
ting a heat around my stomach and pussy, reaching to other places in my body. The sound of another train approaching dinged nearby. The skating of the metal against the tracks. The horn wailing, grew louder and louder as it came closer. I was there, right there, but couldn’t find what I was looking for. “I can’t…” I said, pushing back against him, meeting him thrust for powerful thrust.

  “I know what you need. I got you,” Preppy said. He reared back, something clicked behind me, followed by a sharp scraping sensation against my lower back, giving me just enough pain to bring me over to the pleasure I was seeking.

  The train whistle blew, the ground around us shook like a thousand thunderous horses were about to stampede over the top of us. I screamed loud and long, the sound swallowed by the high-pitched scratching of the passing train, its wind blowing my hair around my face as I crashed over the fence I’d been climbing, giving the fluttering feeling inside of me wings. Wings on fire, flying all over my body in a degree of pleasure that had me lingering on the border of unconsciousness as I sank further and further into wave after wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure I never wanted to end. My pussy tightened around Preppy, holding him still with one last chokehold I never wanted him to escape from.

  “So fucking….ahhh” Preppy roared, and with one final thrust he pulled out of me and I felt the loss, my pussy clenching at nothing but the space he’d filled. He spread my ass cheeks with one hand and I turned my head just in time to watch him take his cock in his hand, stroking himself as he spurt hot streams of white, directly into my most private of places. Preppy groaned, as he watched his cum drip from my ass over my swollen pussy. His groaning, his sounds of pleasure, sounds that I caused, was like music, a song I never wanted to end.

  The train passed, leaving an echo of screeching metal in its wake. Preppy flipped me over and collapsed on top of me, between my still spread legs. His cock resting over my pussy, still pulsing against me as he recovered from his own orgasm.

  “Your pussy,” Preppy said, trying to catch his breath. He was hunched over my body with his chin resting between my breasts, looking up at me through eyelashes so long, it wasn’t fair for them to be on a man. “Fuck, it’s so fucking good,” he muttered, thrusting against me with his still hard, yet softening cock like he couldn’t get enough.

  Preppy may not have been able to keep me, but I’d been wrong on the other account.

  Because after that night there was no denying that he owned me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  DRE

  “Tell me about Conner. Tell me why he didn’t deserve what I did to him.”

  I rolled away, but he grabbed my shoulder and rolled me back. “Tell me and I promise if I can help take away that hurt I will,” he said, in a moment of sweetness that surprised me.

  And I was tired of living with the burden. As much as I didn’t want to ever recall what happened in my head, never mind speak it out loud, the words just started to flow.

  “My dad’s just a regular guy. He was always kind of lost. He’s an engineer but never stayed with the same firm for too long, a few years at most. Then he found Jan and everything changed. They got married and he was happy again. Jan wasn’t my most favorite person but I guess stepmom’s never are, but she was nice enough and she made him smile, that’s all that mattered. What I liked best was who she brought with her.”

  “Who?” Preppy asked, tracing lazy circles around my belly button.

  “My stepsister, Amelia. I called her Mellie. That’s who I was writing the letter to. I really wasn’t trying to kill myself, just unburden my soul. After the cemetery and Conner and everything, I didn’t know what to do so I just started writing.”

  “You said you don’t have anyone. Why didn’t you try calling her?”

  “I can’t,” I admitted, choking down a sob. “She’s dead.”

  Preppy nodded in understanding. “People die, Doc.”

  “They do,” I said, inhaling a shaky deep breath, “but she’s the only person I’ve killed.” And before I could convince myself that it was a bad idea, I was rubbing the scar on the side of my face and was telling Preppy the story that’s haunted me since the day it happened. The story that started and ended it all.

  I don’t drive.

  I never learned how. Well, I never finished learning.

  My stepsister. She was older. She was eighteen and just about to leave for college. She was going to be gone, she didn’t need to be nice to me, she didn’t even need to ever see me really. We were only going to be living together in the same house for a few months.

  She was pretty. Tall, blond, huge blue eyes. She turned down modeling contracts because she wanted to focus on her education. She wanted to be a doctor, not just any doctor, but one of the ones that traveled to other countries and treat people without access to medical care. She was a good person and that’s what makes this all so much worse. If she was a bad person, someone like, someone like me, then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad but it is and every day it hurts more, even though they say it’s supposed to hurt less.

  I’d just gotten my driver’s permit. My dad was supposed to take me driving that Saturday, but he called and couldn’t make it. Work stuff. When Mellie saw how disappointed I was, she volunteered to take me.

  We went to this abandoned parking lot next to the highway. She was so patient and I was such a brat. Nervous laughter. But then I got the hang of it, or so I thought I did. We sang along to the radio and must have gone around that damn parking lot a hundred times.

  We were almost out of gas. I put the car in park and reached for the handle so we could switch and go get gas. Mellie said that it was close and I could drive.

  I should have said no.

  I was nervous, I pulled out into the road without looking and a car hit the passenger side. It didn’t even feel hard but when I looked over, Mellie’s head was all awkward and she was bleeding from her mouth.

  The car isn’t even what killed her, it was the air bags. Freak accident. But if she was driving it would have never happened. It was all my fault.

  Our parents got divorced a few months after she died. My dad tried to keep a positive attitude, but he couldn’t. Neither could I. He rarely ever came home early from work, and I stayed out all hours of the night doing whatever I could to get my hands on what would help me forget.

  Soon a bunch of kids I was hanging out with suggested a road trip. There was a ton of us that piled into this van and headed south, but after a few months the drugs grew stronger and the party was over for everyone but Conner and me. The rest of them went back to their lives and I just couldn’t. I mean, I tried a few times, but every time I was about to get on a bus or a plane or hitchhike, I just…couldn’t.

  Conner. You wanted to know why I wanted you to keep him alive. Conner was Mellie’s boyfriend. They met when they were in kindergarten and were inseparable. He couldn’t cope and neither could I, and I guess I let him rough me up and toss me around because I felt like I needed to be punished for what I’d done. I needed to make it up to him. And in my mind, there was nothing he could do to me that I didn’t deserve. Until it was all too much, and I took my dad’s final offer and the bus ticket. That’s when I met you on the tower. I stayed because I felt like I deserved it.

  Plus he funded this little adventure. Well, at first he did, until his credit cards were all maxed out. That’s when we started forging or stealing or doing whatever to buy more drugs. I kept saying yes. Not because I wanted to keep going, but because of the guilt.

  “It’s bullshit you know.” Preppy said, pulling me back to the present. I was shocked at how easily the story had flowed out of me.

  “Guilt doesn’t feel like bullshit. It feels like a rock on my chest. It hurts like it’s real.”

  Preppy looked at me, studying me with intensity. He turned away and muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, but if I had to guess it sounded very similar to “I fucking know the feeling.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

&n
bsp; PREPPY

  PRESENT

  “Looky here,” I said, snapping my fingers, “It’s the fucking bell boy. Has my luggage arrived?” That question was met with a blow to my jaw that rattled around in my head before everything went black.

  When I woke up with a headache that seventy party patches couldn’t cure, I heard whispers on the other side of the wall. Female whispers.

  “Is someone there?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’m here,” a meek voice responded.

  “Who are you?” I manage to ask as I set myself upright.

  “Nobody. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Nice to meet you, nobody. I’m Samuel Clearwater. My friends call me Preppy.”

  “I know who you are.”

  “Well then, this is a fun game. You know me, but I can’t know you,” I said, letting my head fall back against the wall.

  “It’s better if you don’t.”

  “It would also be better if I weren’t in some biker’s homemade torture chamber, but we all can’t get what we fucking want, now can we?”

  She sounded better off than me, her voice clearer, although not by much.

  “Are you always so comfortable around other people?” the feminine voice asked, reminding me of the question Dre had asked me when I’d taken her to Billy’s place. “Is your glass always half full, even in here?”

  I laughed and then coughed, “Lady, right now my cup is half dead so stop shitting on my parade and take your torture and rape like a fucking man.”

 
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