Crowned Crew Heights POV & Stories - E. M. Moore Page 0,2

eyes burn with desire as she places her hands on my chest, her gaze perusing the swollen bruises on my face.

I can’t quite figure Cherry out. She lets me get away with whatever the fuck I want. I went down on a girl at a party right in front of her once, and she laughed it off. Either she really does understand how things work in the Crew and she’s willing to be my bitch, or she really doesn’t give a shit about me, and it’s all about my cock.

She drags her gaze down my body. Unbuttoning her barely-there shorts, she pants in my direction. Through her thin top, I can tell she’s already turned on by the pebbling of her nipples.

“Have fun last night?” she asks.

The bell rings. The voices in the hallway are still there. There’s no panic to get to class in this clusterfuck of a school.

She shimmies her shorts and panties down her legs. Her cropped shirt allows all of her to be hanging out, and I take my fill.

Reaching for me, she grabs my hand and tugs me closer. “Well?”

“Crew shit,” I tell her. It’s not a lie, and if it were, I wouldn’t feel bad about it.

She moves my palm down her navel until my fingers sink between her folds. She rubs against me, working herself up until juices coat my fingers. “You know I like that,” she pants. She looks over my shoulder and smiles. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone’s watching. Cherry sure as fuck isn’t shy about what she wants. She bites down on her lip. “I need your dick.”

I pull away from her, caging her against the wall. Her cleavage brushes against my chest, as I’m sure was her goal when she put her flimsy shirt on this morning. “What if I don’t want to give it to you?”

She smirks like this is some game.

Her gaze flicks down, and I know she’s about to find that I’m not even turned on. I take her inattention as an opportunity to look at her. She always does the exact opposite of what I think she’s going to do. I could probably call her a whore right here, and she’d just laugh and suck my dick anyway.

There’s something wrong about that. Right?

“Johnny...” she murmurs. Right here in the dim hallway, she peels her shirt over her head. She’s not wearing a bra. Her tits are out, and my cock jerks in my pants. She knows I’m a tits guy. “Fuck me.”

I press my tongue against my teeth. Just once, I wish she would ask if I’m okay. I don’t need her to fall all over me, and I don’t want her asking real questions about how I got black and blue marks all over my face and how I’m clearly walking with a slight limp this morning because I still fucking ache, but the least she could do is ask if I’m alright. Right? That’s the decent fucking thing to do.

I close my eyes. That kind of thinking is what gets me ridiculed and mocked by my father. It’s what makes him try to set me straight with his fists.

I force my eyes open. “Change of plans,” I growl as my dick lengthens in my pants. I push her shoulders and force her to her knees. Exhilaration settles over me when she’s face-to-face with the bulge in my pants. Licking her lips, she gazes up at me demurely, which we both know is a complete farce.

I don’t even need to ask her for what I want. She lowers the zipper on my jeans, tugs my boxers down, and immediately wraps her mouth around my swollen cock. She takes me in again and again. I hover over her, resting my forearms against the wall above her. I close my eyes, living in the feeling, letting the pleasure take root in my balls and spread. The noises that pour from her mouth are as much for me as they are a show for anyone watching.

She certainly does play the game well. Anyone who walks by knows exactly what’s going on, and my reputation—as well as hers—stays firmly in place.

For a moment, while she sucks me off, I dream about a different life. About one where I don’t have to worry about all of my actions being dissected. I imagine a girl who makes those noises because I’m driving her so fucking crazy with desire that she needs to expel it into the air. I drive