The Boys Who Loved Me - Krista Wolf Page 0,12

applied pressure there, bending me over even further, and that’s when I felt it: the hard, bulbous head pressed snugly against my entrance. I could sense it throbbing against me. Pushing into me. Parting me like a flower.

Ohhhhhhhhh!

My hands were on the brick wall, fingers splayed. His hands slid down my arms to cover mine, pinning me there. Holding me in position as he buried himself all the way into me, until our bodies were one.

FUCK!

Adrian began fucking me with long, powerful strokes, while kissing and nibbling my neck. I threw my head back, tossing my hair into his face as I reveled in the feeling of being taken by him. Of being so rawly possessed by him, without either of us having uttered a single fucking word.

Just like old times…

I’d dated Warren all throughout high school, and Luke through the sizzling summer after. They’d left town after that — Elizabeth too — only to come back briefly for my parent’s funeral. And then they were gone again… all of them except for Adrian. We were left alone, just the two of us. The only ones from our little group still remaining in North Glade.

And then we started fucking.

It began just like this — after a night of drinking and laughing and commiserating about our unfortunate situations. I was struggling between school and work and paying the bills, which now included mortgage and tuition. Adrian was in a similar circumstance, his mother having taken off with her new boyfriend and his father in jail.

That night we’d taken solace in each other, just as we’d taken much more carnal pleasure in each other’s bodies. Thus began a year-long affair during which the two of us rutted like animals, always rough, always like this, taking out our frustrations and fulfilling our basest desires by screwing each other into near-oblivion.

Warren never knew. Luke never knew. It was our dirty little secret — just the two of us, getting together whenever one or both of us needed it bad. We could go days, even weeks without talking. And then a phone call, or a text, or a simple stop-in would occur. We’d strip so fast our clothes would be still warm by the time we were finished, exploding wildly all over each other in only the best of ways.

But we never dated. Not even close. If we had to put a label on it, Adrian and I were merely friends with benefits.

Really, really cool benefits.

HOLYFUCKINGSHIT—

My breath was already short, but suddenly I gasped for oxygen as I was wracked head to toe in a body-shaking orgasm. The pleasure was so intense it had me screaming into the night… until my scream was cut short by Adrian’s hand sliding tightly over my mouth.

Fuck… FUCK…

I bit his middle finger — playfully, not hard — and shoved my ass back at him, swallowing his hard, thrusting shaft all the way to the balls as I flooded him with my juices. My climax was short and intense, as it always was with him. An explosion of searing heat and euphoria. Of breathlessness and relief, followed by blinding white rapture.

Adrian’s hands went to my hips, taking full control of my body as he plowed me deep. It was an indication he was close. A sure sign he wouldn’t last very much longer, not that he had to, not that he wanted to…

“Where?” he growled, grunting the word hotly into my ear. It was the only conversation we’d had so far.

“You know where.”

A few thrusts later he exploded, squeezing me so hard his fingers would definitely leave marks. It wouldn’t be the first time. I knew in my heart it was probably not the last.

Yes…

I savored the familiar joy of him blasting inside me, grunting like an animal as he reached the glory of full release. He was so big and swollen down there. Thumping away, deep in my belly.

God YES.

He kept plunging into me, filling me up. Draining himself stroke after stroke, until his balls were thoroughly empty. Eventually he slowed to a stop, his fingers uncurling. Then he withdrew, leaving me a trembling, come-soaked mess.

I pulled my jeans up over the scrap of my ruined thong, which dangled obscenely between my thighs. He’d done the same thing the first time around, only it had been a G-string instead. I could still remember the feel of the fabric going tight. The momentary flash of pain at my hips, followed by the snap of the silk fabric, giving way.

It made