Chapter 13: Double Tease
The world had narrowed to the brutal, perfect rhythm of him, each thrust a lightning strike of shame and blinding pleasure. Peter held her hips locked in his hands, driving into her with a pace that felt endless, each movement stretching her in a way that should have hurt but instead sent tremors through her very core.
“Oh god,” Rachel gasped, the words ripped from her throat. “Oh fuck, Peter…”
“Yeah, say it,” he grunted, his voice thick and low against her ear. His chest was a solid, sweating wall against her back. “Finn ever make you feel like this? Ever make you come just from getting fucked in the ass?”
She couldn’t answer. Her mouth was open, a silent scream forming as a coil deep inside her snapped. It wasn’t like any orgasm she’d ever known—it was a seismic event, starting in the violated, stretched heart of her and radiating outward in brutal, punishing waves. Her whole body bowed, a high, thin cry tearing from her lips. “Ah! AH!”
He didn’t stop. He fucked her straight through it, the sensation so overwhelming it tipped into a kind of agony, and then, unbelievably, built again. The second peak hit her minutes later, a softer, deeper unraveling that left her sobbing into the pillow, her fingers clawing at the sheets. Only then did his rhythm stutter, growing ragged and urgent.
“Fuck,” he choked out, his hips slamming into her a final, crushing time. “Fuck, Rachel. Finn’s girlfriend.” He swore again, a raw, gratified sound as he emptied into her, his body going taut and then slumping heavily over her. They stayed like that for long minutes, his weight pinning her to the bed, the only sound their ragged breathing and the distant hum of the city.
He fucked her some more, later—a lazy, possessive claiming in the hazy dark that she lacked the will to resist. She finally gave up, consciousness sliding away the moment he rolled off her, and she fell asleep right next to him, the scent of him and sex and sweat a blanket she no longer fought.
A wet, insistent pressure between her legs pulled her from the depths. She moaned, eyes fluttering open to the gray pre-dawn light. Peter’s head was buried between her thighs, his tongue working a slow, expert rhythm on her already sensitive flesh.
“Mmm… Peter…”
She came quickly, easily, her back arching off the mattress with a soft gasp. Before the last tremor had faded, he moved. He settled beside her on the pillow, his cock in his hand, and pressed the broad, slick head against her lips. She instinctively opened, taking him into her mouth, her hand coming up to wrap around the shaft. She sucked him, the taste of herself and him bitter and familiar now, a morning ritual that felt terrifyingly normal.
An hour later, he was still fucking her. The sun rose properly, painting the room in harsh lines, and the rest of the day unfolded much like the night. It was a blur of skin and gasps and surrendered boundaries. Peter fucked Rachel in every room of the house.
He bent her over the couch in the living room, the fabric rough against her cheek. He laid her back on the cold, hard dining table, her legs hooked over his shoulders. Even fully clothed in the kitchen, as she tried to pour a glass of water, he came up behind her, spun her around, and shoved her against the counter. He ripped her panties down with a sharp tug and took her from behind, her jeans around her ankles, the edge of the granite digging into her stomach as he pounded into her. No room escaped their sexual rodeo. Peter never tired and always found a way to arouse Rachel again.
It was 4 p.m. when the doorbell rang, a sharp, electronic trill that sliced through the heavy, sex-saturated air.
She pulled on one of Finn’s old t-shirts and padded to the door, her body aching in a dozen pleasant ways. When she opened it, her breath caught. The girl from the parking lot stood there, the one she’d seen with Peter, all dark eyes and a knowing smile.
“Hey,” the girl said. “Peter in?”
Rachel just nodded, stepping back dumbly. Peter appeared behind her, bare-chested, and didn’t seem surprised at all. On the contrary, he slid an arm around Rachel’s waist, pulling her against him. “Nadia. Right on time.”
He looked down at Rachel, his grin all teeth. “Told you. After fucking you all day, I wanna fuck you both at the same time.”
Nadia wasn’t shy. She stepped inside, kicked the door shut with her heel, and walked straight up to Peter. She kissed him passionately, one hand tangling in his hair. Rachel watched, a hollow ache in her stomach that wasn’t jealousy—it was a dizzying, unwelcome thrill. Then Nadia knelt down, right there in the foyer. She unbuttoned Peter’s jeans, pulled them down just enough, freed his already hardening penis, and took him into her mouth without hesitation.
Rachel couldn’t believe her eyes. A sharp, wet sound filled the quiet hallway.
“See something you like?” Peter’s voice was a low thrum. He was watching Rachel watch Nadia. “Why don’t you join her?”
Rachel hesitated. Her heart hammered against her ribs. This was the line, wasn’t it? The uncrossable one. But the excitement rising within her was a dark, physical tide, drowning the faint voice of protest. She watched the other girl suck Peter’s penis, her lips sliding expertly, and felt a fresh pulse of heat between her own legs. Slowly, as if in a dream, she approached. She sank to her knees on the cool hardwood floor beside Nadia.
Nadia glanced at her, her eyes sparkling. She released Peter with a soft pop and passed him to Rachel, guiding the head to Rachel’s lips. Rachel opened her mouth and took him in. The taste was different now, layered with Nadia’s lip gloss. The two girls took turns sucking Peter’s penis, their heads tilting together, their breaths mingling. Rachel was so aroused by the situation, by the sheer taboo of it, that when Nadia turned and kissed her, she kissed her back. It was soft, then hungry, tasting of salt and man and shared sin.
After a few minutes, Peter’s hand fisted in Rachel’s hair. “Gonna come,” he warned, his voice strained.
He pulled himself free from their mouths and stroked himself roughly, ejaculating a hot, streaming arc of semen onto Rachel and Nadia’s faces. It splashed across Rachel’s cheek, her lips, her eyelashes. She flinched, but didn’t pull away. Nadia just laughed, a low, throaty sound, and swiped a finger through the mess on her chin.
Peter looked down at them, panting, a god surveying his offerings. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You two are gonna be so much fun.” He zipped his jeans. “C’mon. Bedroom.”
He led the two girls, their faces still streaked, down the hall toward the room Rachel shared with Finn. The framed photo of the two brothers grinned from the wall, a fossil from a past that already felt a million years gone. Peter pushed the door open to the familiar sage-green walls, the bed still unmade from that morning’s first encounter.