You'd just got done sayin' that you thought he was an honest, handsome man, that he oughta' be let in. 'Bout to shake his hand. All because you were thinkin' with your cunt and you knew it. But yes, what did you do?

"Lookin' at him like that! Talkin' to him like that!"

"Daddy, he's just a—"

"Jesus Christ, don't be kind to him!" he bellows, adjusting the shotgun on his shoulder. "Go on upstairs. Let me handle this."

Knowing better about that, you obey your father and recede into the safety of the house, but not before casting one more glance at the stranger. He gives you a smile that says a whole lot and you feel the butterflies start up again, beating their excited little wings against your ribcage.

Your father's words echo in your mind as you sit cross-legged on your bed, staring outside. You don't know how long you've been there, just gazing out through the glass, but it's long enough that the coyotes have started up their yipping and howling outside your window, barely louder than the thoughts swirlin' around your head.

What were you thinkin'?! You don't offer a stranger your hand, you don't let them in. You know better. There's shit in those woods you wouldn't believe.

You.

Know.

Better.

Apparently, you didn't, because the second you think everyone's asleep, you're acting on your own hunger. You pull a blade from the kitchen and hurry to the door, excitement coursing through your system like electricity. You've barely pushed it open all the way before you're calling out to him.

"You still out there?" You ask into the darkness.

If he isn't, you're silently hoping he comes back at the sound of your voice, hoping the breeze carries it to wherever he is. A few seconds pass before he rounds the edge of your porch, coming from the side of your house. His hands are tucked in the pockets of his slacks as he nears the door.

"Sure am," he drawls.

"I have somethin' for ya'."

You lift your hands to the door, and press the blade against the meat of your palm. With one swift flick, you slice deep. As the skin separates, blood welling up from the thin laceration, Remmick's eyes dart to your hand, pupils dilating. He looks starved. You smile softly through the burn.

"Smilin' at me like that… hoo!" He shakes his head to the side like you've just slapped him across the face, a burning desire evident in his features.

You hesitate for a moment, debating on how to get it to him safely. You wince at the thought that pops into your head, but you bring it to your mouth, chasing the runnel that makes its way down your wrist. The stream of coppery, heady liquid that floods your tongue almost makes you gag, but you settle your reflex with a deep breath through your nose. Remmick's head tilts upwards, like he's trying to get a whiff of it.

You gather it in your mouth, and take a step towards him, still not crossing the threshold. If he is what your daddy seems to think, he can't come in unless invited. You launch the mouthful of blood out the door, aiming for him. It lands mostly on his face, splatters of crimson against his pale skin. He's not offended — he knows what you're doin' — and cracks a pleased smile before reaching up, fingertips swiping away the viscous liquids. He looks at it running slowly down the pads of his fingers, and chuckles a little.

"What's funny?"

"You shoulda' listened to your daddy."

"'Bout what?"

He brings the stained fingers to his open, waiting mouth and smears them along his tongue. He swishes it around on his tongue before swallowing it, closing his eyes like he's savoring a piece of succulent meat.

"You know better, babe. Feedin' me?"

For a moment, you say nothing, just watch him. Watch him watch you.

Finally, you heave a sigh. "I gotta' go back upstairs… if my daddy hears me talkin' to you—"

"Let me in." He says abruptly, bracing himself against the door frame so hard you hear the wood creak. His eyes search yours, desperately, and you feel your cunt clench with heat. "Let me in and I'll show ya' a good time, I promise. I've learned the warmth of yer' doorways and —"

You titter, shaking your head back and forth. "I can't let you in."

He doesn't seem put-off — quite the opposite, actually. There's a fervor in him that wasn't there before. "I'll come back. It won't be them coyotes you hear outside."

"What, you gonna' howl outside my door?"

"When's the last time someone touched you, hm?"

His eyes snap back up to yours.

"It's been a while," he says sheepishly, scooting his mashed potatoes into a corner.

"You've been here longer than me... there's gotta' be places where they won't find us."

Again, his eyes desperately search yours. Searching for... something. What? That you're joking? That you're just trying to get a rise out of him, see how easily he'll fold in your grip? But he finds none of that... only the depths of your curiosity.

"What do we need to go there for?"

He's balls deep inside of you and telling that you're too loud? What does he expect!? Eyes rolling back in your head, you let out another one as he ruts into you, never losing his rhythm despite the commentary. He's incredible at multitasking; you can hardly form your next words, feeling completely consumed by his unabashed passion. Ready to be completely mortified that you're fucking his nephew in his trailer while he's present, you muster up the ability to speak again. "Euuh.... mmm...! Fuck, Eddie.... Everyone? Who is everyone? I thought Wayne was gone..."

Eddie chuckles above you and nods, reassuring you that Wayne is, in fact, gone for the weekend. "The entire park, sweetheart. You have any idea how loud you are?"

Bashfully, you look up into his chocolatey eyes, briefly admiring the way that the light creates a halo in his fluffy hair, and then, proceed to clamp your hand over your mouth, silencing any further moans.

"Oh no," he starts, ringed fingers wrapping effortlessly around your wrist before tugging it down towards your chest, opening up the gateway again. "Just because I mentioned it doesn't mean I want you to stop, princess. It's simply... an observation."

Eddie takes a breath, and using that same hand, he brings it between your bodies, immediately finding your swollen, sensitive clit. The way his body hits you with every thrust is decidedly enough, but when his fingers start circling the bundle of nerves, you can't help but let out another shrill moan. He knows this, and intends to milk you of every single moan, whimper, mewl, and whine you have in you. As white hot pleasure consumes you, flames of passion licking at your center, your fingers claw at the sheets below you, knotting in them tightly.

"S-sorry," you whimper, feeling suddenly shy.

Eddie shakes his head, almost regretting that he's said anything. Really, to him, knowing that he can make you this loud is a gift that he'll treasure until the end of his days.

He thrusts his hips hard, bottoming out. Another throaty groan tumbles off your lips. "Ah-ah. Be as loud as you want, baby. It's music to my ears."

Though it's a command, it's said as a whisper, and it washes over your bare neck, her words resting heavy on your skin. You mewl pathetically and clench your teeth, digging your head into the feather down pillow. You'd be lying if you said you didn't love the hold she had on you and how she exercised her power, but it would also be a lie to say it wasn't absolutely torturous at times. "Sof, please..."

She draws her hand further away, and raises one of her sculpted black brows high on her forehead, punctuating her order.

"What did I say? You have to work for it."

You aren't sure how you're supposed to do that, but you hurriedly act on impulse, craning your neck up and bring your mouth to her in a sloppy collision. Your kisses are haphazard and desperate as you pepper them along the column of her neck, and you vocalize into each kiss, soft little moans vibrating against her skin. You lean further over into her, and reach your hand up to her breast, cupping the mound beneath her silk blouse. She shifts closer, wordlessly leaning her head against the ornate headboard, her eyes fluttering shut. Sofia is rarely loud, but her pleasure always resonates through you, despite that.

In a whimpery, breathy voice, you repeat please Sofia over and over again until it sounds like a prayer. Her hand gradually lowers back down, until she's cupping her, the tips of her fingers teasing your entrance. Your muscles clench at the feeling, revelling in the soft, controlling way she touches you. "Was that so hard?" She drags her fingers softly upwards and begins rubbing tight, firm circles on your clit. The muscles in your thighs twitch uncontrollably.

Eddie doesn't hear you. At all. His eyes are drifting over your body, drifting down over the lush backs of your thighs, and the curve of your ass. They come to a stop right between your legs.

There's a silence hanging heavy in the room, because Eddie has a visual in front of him that actually renders him speechless. He'd wanted to try new positions, but had no idea that you were as supple as you were. Usually, you two fucked in simple positions; missionary, cowgirl, doggy. All that is a blur to him, because now, your core, your dripping center, is completely exposed to him. In this position, he has perfect access to do whatever he wants to her. Fuck her, eat her, finger her... "Eddie?"

He blinks. "Sorry uh - what were you saying, princess? I was kinda' distracted..." As he speaks, he runs one of his ringed fingers along your slit, dragging it down carefully towards your entrance. The feeling Is tantalizing and has you rolling your eyes back in your head. You try to repeat yourself, but as the first word leaves your parted lips, Eddie sinks his middle finger into your waiting cunt. He sinks it to the knuckle, before slowly dragging it back out. It's coated in slick, and glistening. You tuck your chin to your chest, almost bashfully, even though in this position, there's no room for shame.

Max does his best to frown, but the way your index finger is are stroking up and down, passing over the underside, over the ridge of his head has his face contorting into another expression. It's almost pained, and sweat is accumulating at his hairline. "You said you loved it, though..."

Oh, you do love it. So much. You smile, nodding, and grip his cock through the fabric, which is warm to the touch, heated from his raging erection inside. A small wet spot is forming just underneath the waistband, and you rub your thumb over it, smearing the precum through the fibers.

At that sensation, Max lets out a high-pitched whine and thrusts his hips up, gripping the edge of the mattress tight. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... do that again."

"I'll do you one better..." You pinch the elastic of his boxers and pull them down, hitching them underneath his balls. His boner bobs in front of you, angry and red and desperately wanting relief. You grip it again, skin on skin and stroke him slowly, angling it towards your face. You think about kissing the tip, but that just might kill him.

"HuUUH! Fuck, oh my god!"

His cock twitches hard in your grip as Max tightens up, clenching every muscle in his body, and lets out another plantaitive little whimper. Restraint isn't in his vocabulary, you're learning, because he's completely open and honest about how he's feeling. The muscles in his abdomen are flexing with every pass of your hand, quivering underneath the skin as he fights to keep control of himself.

"You like that, baby?"

He nods his head furiously, fluffy locks bouncing on his head. "Uh-huh... uh-huh... fuck, oh my god..."

"Can I suck your dick, Max? I wanna' taste it..." Max looks down at you, between his legs. His face is flushed, his jaw hangs slack, and he looks like he's going to pass out. You let out another giggle, and grip the base of his cock. It twitches again, and he bucks his hips up into your fist.

"I... I don't know how long I'll last..."

You aren't even paying attention to the screen at this point, you have no idea what's happening, and you can't see the black and white images flickering on the screen through your fluttering lids. It had been such a treat for Elsa to suggest a film in the tent, out of the ordinary from her usual demeanor, and here you were, wasting it. You rolled your lips inward and bit down as a shiver claimed your body. If there was an award for not keeping it together, you'd take it home. It was Jimmy's fault though - he was the one who had slipped his big ol' hand into your dress.

With your chest heaving, straining against your dress, you turn your head just enough to catch a glimpse of Jimmy's face. It's as casual as ever. He isn't looking at you, isn't furrowing his brows, licking his lips - nothing. Not even a twitch. It's almost frustrating to know that he can be so straight-faced, so unassuming when you're letting coming undone next to him. You shudder as softly as you can, pressing your legs together around his hand, and he responds by curling his fingers up into a deeper spot within you. Still, his face is impassive.

You feel your core tighten and spasm, warning of the oncoming orgasm. A few more slow, careful pumps of his fingers and your cunt clamps down around his digits, fluttering in an erotic rhythm. Biting down on the plush flesh of your lip, you bow your head into Jimmy's warm, bare shoulder to hide your expression. To anyone else, it's a moment of tenderness; which you two had been dating for a while now, it wasn't unusual. But underneath that blanket, your full hips rutted delicately, in the tiniest movements, against his fingers.

Though your head is still on his shoulder, you feel him withdraw from your cunt, and wipe his fingers on his jeans and his hand comes up around your shoulder to snuggle you closer to his body.