“How old are you?” he asks uncertainly.
I shrug as I force a smile onto my lips.
I’ve watched Grace enough times to know that being coy can help reel in the audience—even if it is just a private party of one for the moment.
He cuts his eyes up and down the street before he lets out his breath and follows me into the alley. I do my best to lead him further into the dark, walking backward until I’m sure that no one will be able to see us.
“You ever been with a man before?” he asks, closing the gap between us and gripping my chin with his hand. His touch is as gentle as it was when he shoved me into the alley, but that doesn’t matter now.
I shrug again as I let the hem of my skirt drop.
“Fuck, I don’t wanna be anyone’s first,” he mumbles under his breath.
“Then don’t,” I reply reasonably.
He arches an eyebrow at me in confusion until I crook my finger and beckon him closer.
Running a hand back through his hair, he glances over his shoulder again before he reaches down for the zipper on his jeans and pulls it down.
“Guess I wouldn’t mind a little head,” he agrees with a smirk. Once he pulls his cock free from his jeans, he gives it a couple of tugs and I watch as it begins to rise. “Get going.”
I look up at him and allow the smile to spread a little wider as I begin to lower myself to my knees. I’m careful to make sure that I don’t get my dress dirty by rolling it up and using one hand to hold it firmly against my thighs.
I look up at him again as I use my other hand to reach for his cock and maintain eye contact as I press my tongue against his salty skin, running it up his shaft. When his breath hitches slightly, it tells me that I must be doing this right.
So, much like my sister, I decide to indulge him for a moment. I take his cock into my mouth and begin to move my head up and down, tongue swirling along his length, my hand trailing behind it. I don’t know why I want him to enjoy this, but I do.
I know why.
I just have to wait for the perfect moment.
I pull his cock out of my mouth and run my hand up and down his shaft, using my thumb to wipe away the bead of salty liquid on the head before he grabs me by the back of my head and roughly pulls me back against him.
I gag and my eyes start to water.
He puts a hand on either side of my face and begins to thrust his hips.
He’s taking control now and this won’t do.
When he gives me the slightest reprieve, when he chuckles tiredly, and when I feel the warm liquid spill into my mouth, I lean forward and do my best to take his length into my throat again. Only this time, it’s at my pace and not for his pleasure, but for mine.
“Goddamn you’re good at this girl,” he says in a thick voice as I let go of my dress and place a hand on his hip. I dig the fingers into his jeans as much as I can, slowly begin to pull back on his shaft, swirl my tongue around the head of his cock that’s still in my mouth.
When he looks down at me with a satisfied, tired look in his eyes …
I bite down as hard as I can.
He lets out a scream of agony, and tries to push me away, but I won’t let go. I dig my other hand into his hip and attach myself to him like a fucking viper as I continue to grind down on his flesh.
He’s begging now, crying, promising me that if I just stop he won’t tell anyone, and that he’ll let me go inside anytime I want.
When his pleas don’t work, he grabs my hair and begins to yank it as hard as he can to get me to let go, but I’m locked in by my will, not just strength alone, and he quickly realizes that mistreating me is only making it worse.
It’s when he finally stops fighting, when he’s nothing more than another man who thought himself higher than he really was, that I feel my teeth grind against each other.
When the blood rushes into my mouth I push him away, getting to my feet.
I look down at my dress and sigh.
I can’t go into the bar with blood on my body; there will be no way to explain it.
Taking a deep breath, I pull it over my head and fold it neatly until I’m able to tuck it under an arm.
Then I reach into my mouth and pull out the chunk of mutilated flesh I was able to gnash off with my teeth.
“These look different when they’re in pieces,” I murmur. Oh well.
“What’s your name?” I ask, turning my attention back to him. He’s on the ground of the dirty alley now, hands covering what’s left of his cock, and sobbing like his heart might break.
“I used to cry like that,” I tell him softly as I walk closer to stand over him. “And you know what helped me?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a rat sitting against the alley wall watching us. I close my eyes for a moment, count to five, then blindly reach out to grab it, smiling when it begins to squeal and squirm in my hand.
“Do you want to tell me your name so I can tell you what helped me?” I ask him again as I sit down on his chest, pinning his arms beneath me.
“Fuck you,” he manages to sputter, and I shake my head.
“No, thank you.”
I balance my dress against my thigh. I pull an arm back and
