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Worst Things

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Billy was bored.

He had just graduated. Summer had just begun. He had just gotten a job at the local community pool that would hopefully help him save enough to get out of this shit town. He wouldn’t have to deal with his asshole of a father anymore. The smell of cow shit would no longer burn his nostrils. He would be far away from this shit hole.

But until then, he found ways to occupy his time. Like this party whoever the fuck had thrown. A celebratory kick off for summer and celebration for the graduating class.

It was like every other party Billy had been to. Booze and smoke everywhere. Loud music. People chanting for him to do this or do that “come on break your leg record, man!” Tommy had yelled in his ear, but backed off as soon as he saw the annoyed scowl on Billy’s face.

Sure, there was plenty he could get into tonight. Smoke a spliff down in the basement. Break his keg record that he rightfully stole from King Harrington. He could fuck one of the many bitches that were trying to hang off of his arm. On a good night Billy wouldn’t be so picky. He liked the attention. Liked girls willing and ready, was less work for him. But it sometimes got sickening. Having the same bitches in heat, on his trail, willing. Ones he had been through and through. That’s maybe why he liked working at the pool as much as he did. New faces. New chicks and moms who gawked at him. Willing.

But tonight wasn’t a good night. He had felt annoyed even before arrive at the party. Having even debating on coming but not wanting to stay home and listen to Max and her friend in the other room laughing and giggling all night. Shit would annoy him even more. If tonight was a good night Billy wouldn’t have the permanent scowl on his face and he would of taken the chick currently twirling her hair at him and pushing her chest out, trying to impress him, up stairs and got it done and over with already.

Maybe he was sick of the same old shit at parties that ended the same, him getting drunk off of his ass, some chick sharing a bed with him for a couple of hours, begging him to stay, him laughing in her face and hopping into his Camaro and speeding all the way home.

But instead he stood in the kitchen leaned against one of the counters a newly lit cigarette hanging from his lips, a half empty beer in his hands, some chick on his side trying to catch his attention, him looking forward, puffing out smoke through his nose, scowl still etched across his brows.

Billy pressed the beer can to his lips emptying out the rest of its contents into his mouth, crushing it with his hand and tossing it to the floor.

“I have to piss.” He quickly spoke to the babbling chick beside him before he pulled himself from the counter and headed straight for the stairs, praying the bitch wasn’t following him, not bothering to look in her direction as he declared his escape.

Once at the top of steps his annoyance seemed to sky rocket. It was apparent that most of the rooms with potential places he could escape to or take a piss in were occupied with people getting their rocks off or attempting to.

He stood outside of the main bathroom of that floor pounding on the door and threatening whoever was in there that if they didn’t come out would soon regret it.

But his threats went unnoticed or cared about, so it left him continuing his search. Finally stumbling on an unlocked door with two people half naked and hands in each other’s pants, freezing in their tracks as they saw Billy and quickly fixed themselves and bolted out of the door when the bronze haired male took a big drag of his cigarette smirking at them.

Thank fuck. Billy cursed as he walked to the bathroom attached to the now empty room, taking care of his business. Stopping to stare at his reflection before he left the overly pink room, his eyes trailing down his own chest being shown off from his deep red shirt, unbuttoned and hanging open. His necklace reflecting off of the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Putting his cigarette back to his lips to hang from there, dragging his hand down the front of his tight blue jeans, repositioning himself with a grin. He was looking too good to be at a shit party like this. At least his efforts didn’t go unnoticed by the many chicks here. He smirked blowing out a puff of smoke at the dirty glass and turned to exit the room.

Only to come face to face with a pair of brown eyes staring him down.

“Done in there?” The girl smirked as she watched Billy exist the only free bathroom in the entire place it seemed.

It was obvious she must of caught the show of him admiring himself, something he couldn’t careless about. But it made him smirk.

“Enjoy the show?” Billy smirked, his tongue snaking out of his mouth to run across his bottom lip.

“No matter how much I enjoyed it,” Her tone held no annoyance, only the underlining tinge of humor and teasing. “It’s obvious you enjoyed the show more.” She retorted giving Billy a smirk to match his own.

Something that made Billy’s lips curl from it’s signature smirk to a grin.

He had seen her before. They went to the same school. Were in the same graduating class. Heard rumors about how much of a prissy bitch she could be from whatever asshole she had wounded in the locker room after gym class. He knew her family had money. The way she was dressed proved that: a pink dress that stopped dangerously close to mid thigh, the dress did little to hide the curve of her hips or her ass he was sure, fishnet stockings, a pair of black boots that stopped just above her ankle, and a leather jacket that stopped just below her tits that poked out of the top of her dress just perfectly enough to keep you looking, the jacket itself put any jacket her owned to a shame. She looked different than how she dressed when he would see her in the halls of Hawkins high. She dressed different than most of the girls here, all having thrown together some slutty outfit that consisted of a some feather skirt and or skin tight shorts.

He was almost certain she only dressed like this for one reason and one reason only: attention. To show off whatever to whoever. Parties were the perfect place to do it too. Billy would know. He loved to dress for the attention. He also liked having a good fucking style. And in a shit hole like Hawkins it was easy to be better dressed than most of the hicks and cows here.

“Haven’t seen you at one of these before.” Billy broke the silence that had spread between the two. “Daddy let the princess leave the castle for the night?” He let out a puff of smoke as he spoke, his smirk still present and still ever annoying.

She knew him. Who did not know Billy Hargrove? The reigning champ for biggest douchebag in Hawkins, currently. Stealing the title from Steve Harrington like it was nothing.

Oh, yes, she knew all about Billy Hargrove. Knew how he got by on threats, his fists, and that annoying smirk and prodding he loved to do to put someone on edge. She had seen it first hand. She had heard it through the many times she was in the ladies bathroom about how good looking he was or how his ass looked amazing in those tight blue jeans he wore. And yeah, they weren’t wrong. Where Billy lacked in being a decent human being he sure as hell made up for in looks. But god was that smirk annoying, and was he ever not smoking? Or had his shirt actually buttoned?

She did give him props for his fashion sense though. Something she herself took pride in. At least when she could. If her father had caught her leaving the house in her current fashion statement she would of been screamed at and grounded until she shipped off the college she was sure.

But her father wasn’t here. Her father was peacefully sleeping the night away back at home beside her mother, as their beloved daughter lied saying she was staying at Carol’s house tonight, instead accompanying her friends at some house party where she was on her third beer and was sure she had gotten a contact high from being in the basement for far too long.

And now she was stood in front of Billy Hargrove. His words holding a teasingly mocking tone as he spoke to her. His smirk etched on his face as he puffed on his cigarette.

She was sure he had heard about her. From the ‘princess’ comment. It wasn’t like she the prestiges rich girl of Hawkins High. No. She would never hold such a title when she had quite a few notches in her belt, but most at Hawkins didn’t know that. And those who did didn’t open their mouths about it. Something that surprised her. But just because her family had money and her family carried themselves as if they were such things as prestiges, which underneath it all it was far from that, everyone look at the girl as if she were some delicate princess.

She really shouldn’t complain about it. There was much worse things to be known for or thought of. She was sure Billy knew that for a fact.

But he was right, she didn’t usually come to these things. Having usually had other plans that were a lot more exciting than this drunken hook-up fest. Once she had spent a good hour here she had regretted even agreeing to come. But she wasn’t about to waste a good outfit nor did she want to hear it from Carol later about how she couldn’t stick it out at her last high school party.

And plus, now, it was getting interesting. She was in a room, alone, with Billy Hargrove who couldn’t stop trailing his eyes up and down her legs. If this were any other guy she was sure she would roll her eyes and say something mockingly wounding to send them scurrying away.

She hadn’t planned on doing anything with anyone tonight. Especially not with someone like Billy. But there were worst things she could be doing right now and playing whatever teasing game the older male wanted to play was fine with her.

“Well,” she spoke slowly as she walked towards Billy, her red cup in hand, her heeled boots leaving markings in the shag carpeting as she did so. “Daddy doesn’t know I’m here. So, the princess left on her own.” She smiled up at him as she stood a few centimeters away from him now, bringing the brim of her cup to her lips to take a slow sip from it as her eyes never left Billy’s.

Billy almost laughed. Almost. He had expected her to ignore his snide comment or even shoot one back. That’s what people usually did when it came to his taunt and teases. But something told him he wasn’t going to get those same reactions out of this one, and that alone thrilled him. Slightly. It was nice to have a girl who didn’t bow or crack at a single word he let fall from his smart mouth.

“That explains it.”

“Explains what, exactly?” Her brow quirked with interest.

“Why you’re dressed like a slut.” Billy smirked at the way her face had changed, how it fell for a split second. He was a little shocked when it bubbled back up though. Her eyes narrowing in on him, the right side of her mouth coming up in a half smirk.

“Do you miss the sweaters and blue jeans?” She retorted, referring to her usual wardrobe. The only one he had ever seen her in.

He had to admit he preferred this look on her. She looked good in both if he was being honest. He remembers catching sight of her ass a few times. Almost surprising himself as he thought back on it as to why he didn’t try and bed her before. Especially with the way her eyes dropped to his chest every now and then and the way she wasn’t backing down and was playing this little game with him. Most would of called him an asshole and left by now. But he knew she wasn’t like that. Not with the way she was looking at him. And if the rumors were true, he couldn’t deny he loved a corrupted good girl.

Billy takes the last drag of his cigarette, putting out the butt on the wooden nightstand placed beside him. Letting the smoke blow out of his nostrils as he spoke. “No,” he smirked shaking his head. “I think,” he stepped closer to her. “You look,” another step. “Better,” another step he was now stood completely in front of her. “This way.” He made a show of letting his eyes rack up and down her body. “Much better actually.” He teased with a smirking grin.

She stared up at him with the same smirk she had been sporting since she saw him gawking at himself in the mirror. She probably shouldn’t be here right now. In this room. With Billy. Him dangerously close to her. Her insides burning from the way he has called her a slut. Something he himself had obviously liked doing. A look he obviously liked. It was really all moving a little too fast. Just minutes ago she was complaining about this shit party, sneaking off to hide in a bathroom, and now she was flirting with Billy Hargrove, someone who she knew but hardly knew. Did these kinds of things just happen at parties? Did Billy shack up with girls this easily? That answer seemed more obvious than not.

And it’s not like she had not had a one fling before. It was not like she was some little virgin who couldn’t handle her shit. It wasn’t like Billy would call her tomorrow morning and confess his love to her and nor she to him. The lines were not blurred here. Either one of them got annoyed with the other and walked away or they ended up in bed together. There was not really an in between and she didn’t care if there were or not.

There was worse things she could do than fuck Billy Hargrove.

“Slut must be your type then.”

Her retort made him laugh softly. Yeah, he supposed slut was his type, some nights. Tonight wasn’t one of them. But she also didn’t look like a slut. Not in the sense he was referring to.

He was sure she wasn’t the type of girl to just open her legs up for anyone. At least he never heard anything about it from any of the guys at Hawkins, or even the ones she turned down. But he also knew she wasn’t a virgin. Virgins cracked under pressure. Virgins begged for it when Billy was this close, their eyes dilated all to hell, breathing heavy and already sated.

No her reactions were different. Her body language didn’t scream fuck me, but her eyes screamed she was willing. To keep it up. Keep letting his smart mouth do the talking, the thinking, and she would spread like butter for him. And up until this point he didn’t think this party could get any better, he didn’t think there would be anyone worth his time.

But ducking Hawkins High’s princess seemed to be at the top of his agenda now.

“Maybe.” Billy shrugged. Moving in closer so his face was inches from the shell of her ear, his voice octaves lower. “But we both know you don’t hold that title, just like being called it, don’t you?” He noted the sharp breath she took in that she quickly tried to hide with a press of her lips in a tight tempted smile. He smirked. He had her. It didn’t take much effort because she knew she had him too, the way her eyes dug into him. The way for every inch he moved closer to her she leaned in to him.

This was different for him. He normally didn’t have to try so hard. It was usually painstakingly easy for him. But this was a new type of easy. A new type of not trying so hard. She was fire just like him. Her words were teasing, rough, and edgy as his. She matched his energy and he loved that. He fucking loved that.

That’s why he didn’t second guess himself on her being with this or not, as he let his finger tips skate ever so light up her inner thigh as he continued to speak.

“I like being called a slut just as much as you like eye fucking yourself in the mirror.” Her tone had turned almost soft. But it held that daring undertone to it. That cocky tone that matched his hand in hand. It made him press his front teeth into his lower lip, biting back his smirk. And without even being asked, or indicated, she let her thighs falls apart so his fingers could skate farther up her fishnets and up and under her dress.

Billy pulled back and watched her face as his fingers inched closer and closer to her core. Their eyes locked on each other’s, daring the other to pull away, to end this game. To show any sign of disinterest. But there was none and the two knew they were not going to find any.

Her lips parting in a silent moan as the tips of his fingers brushed against her clothed core. Forcing herself to not move forward. To not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how bad she was a willing party in this. Billy loved attention. Loved to know his efforts drove people wild. She knew if she withheld, used some restraint she knew it would drive him nuts. The same way it drove her nuts that his lips looked so plump and perfect right now. The same way it drove her nuts the way she wanted to kiss that fucking smirk off of his face.

But her body told Billy a different story of withholding as he pressed his fingers against the fabric of her panties feeling the wetness already pooling there.

Oh,” he made a sucking noise with his teeth and lips, “you really do like being called a slut.” He smirked.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She shot back, one of her hands coming up to splay across his exposed chest, trailing her nails down the tanned skin lightly, smirking when it makes Billy hiss lowly and open his mouth, letting it hang open, lips wet, looking needy. “Because we both know you like being called a slut too, don’t you Billy?” She watched his eyes go dark and she couldn’t help the intake of air that almost made her choke as she felt him press his fingers more into the material of her underwear, his index finger pressing lightly on her covered clit. “We all know,” she spoke lowly, tauntingly, her fingers trailing from his chest to the top of his blue jeans to the front of them. “Everyone knows Billy Hargrove is a slut, too.”

Their mouths are dangerously close to each other’s. Their eyes burning holes in the others. Black holes that are silently begging. Silently telling the other to push more. Go further. Find that limit.

Her mouth lifts in a smirk as her hand finds what it’s looking for, Billy is hard. Rock hard. Pressed against his blue jeans and when she runs the tip of her nails along the right fabric, a low gruff groan falls from Billy’s lips.

“Looks like Billy likes being called a slut too.” His hot breath is hitting her in face and it’s doing little to stop her. To pull back. If anything it’s pulling her in more. “Tell me,” she pushes forward, their lips so close with one swift move they would be in a lip lock. “Do you like being called a slut, Billy?”

And before either of them can do anything. Say another taunting word. Press another finger anywhere, Billy’s mouth is on hers, it’s rough and his teeth are scrapping across her bottom lip, a low growl erupting from Billy’s chest. His hands finding her hips. Gripping them. Pulling her closer so her body is flesh against his. Her hands flying to his hair as she tangles her fingers within his hair, pulling, pushing, needing him closer.

And, finally, Billy was no longer bored.

Chapter Text

Billy doesn’t know if he would consider himself a generous lover. Even in his most generous state, between some chicks legs, his tongue working her enough to have her hands tangled and pulling his hair, her back arching from the bed. Even then, he was still thinking about himself. Thinking if he should let her come or start fucking her and let her come on his dick. Some times he didn’t care if a chick came. It depended on how generous he was truly feeling. But other times he loved making a bitch come. With his mouth. His fingers. It didn’t matter. He loved sliding into a wet pussy. He loved the salty taste and slight musk. He loved it. But some nights getting his dick wet and coming was the only thing on his mind.

And with as good as he fucked some of these chicks who had never had a good fuck in god knows how long they never seemed to mind not finishing. Some did though. Some would scowl at him and he would smirk and put a cigarette between his lips. Either way, he didn’t hear any of them complaining.

If there was anything Billy Hargrove was good at it was fucking.

But tonight, he wasn’t feeling that generous. At least not enough to drop to his knees and it seemed neither was she. Something that didn’t completely piss him off.

No. The two were more interested in the main event.

The two had removed their clothes faster than either them realized just how fast their fingers were moving, unbuttoning buttons, pulling apart shirts. Billy had swiftly removed her leather jacket tossing it where he didn’t know, nor care. She had unbuttoned the rest of the buttons in his shirt, pulled it from being tucked in the top his jeans and slid it down his shoulders. Billy smirked to himself as she parted the kiss, her eyes on his body as she revealed more of him, more tanned skin, more muscle, taking in how broad his chest actually was and the small patch of hair on his chest and small trail hair leading down from his naval, and the just how fit he actually looked.

The smug look on his face made her want to smack him. And, so, she did. Her palm making contact with his cheek, a small smack that surprised him more than hurt. It was nothing compared to all the slaps to the face he had gotten before. It didn’t hurt. He barely felt the sting. It all went to his dick. The sting. The burn. No woman had ever smacked him during sex, at least not in the face. And, he kind of liked it. Shit. He liked it a lot. It made his hands burn. It made his dick ache even more. The look on her face read worry, wondering to herself if maybe she took it too far. But it made the smirk grow wider across his lips and he was grabbing her wrist and pinning her down to the bed, her arms above her head, her lips sunk into her bottom lip, her pupils blown out and waiting for his next move.

His being, to get the rest of her clothes off. He was already rock hard and didn’t feel like waiting any longer. And with how needy her eyes trailed his body and her nails dug into his tanned skin, he knew she couldn’t either.

Though she would never admit it. She wasn’t about to be Billy Hargrove to fuck her. Even if she wanted it bad. So bad she found her hips rolling up of their own accord, trying to catch any friction she could. And with Billy’s hips pressed flesh to her it wasn’t hard to do so. The rough texture of his jeans rubbing against her clothed center, making her lurch forward at the rough feel that made her core ache even more. Fuck. Fuck him and the way his toned tanned skin looked, how tight and taught his body was. Fuck how the tattoo on his bicep felt as if it were taunting her, begging to her scratched, bit. Really they had never had any actual interaction for her to feel hate towards the bad boy of Hawkins. But, she knew his reputation, she knew boys like him. Violent. Assholes. Selfish. Boys she should stay away from. Boys who shouldn’t have her dry humping his jean clad dick. So, fuck Billy Hargrove.

And god she hated that smug look. The way he smirked down at her when she rolled her hips, if her hands weren’t pinned above her head she would smack him again. But she knew it would only fuel not only his but her fire too. It had sent a pulse through her core, her hand stinging. She had had rough sex before, or what some high school boys consider it: light choking and spanking and thrusting into her roughly that left her hips hurting more than wanting more. She had never hit anyone in her life. She hated to sound like a fucking cliché but that’s not who she was. She wasn’t violent. But the adrenaline pumping through her, the want, the need, it was as if a dark cloud of lust and desire had planted in her brain and all she wanted to do was torture Billy in the way he was torturing her with his fucking smirk and looking so good, and the feel of his clothed cock against her.

So when she rolled her hips again, sharper and more aimed, her panties running ever so perfectly against the rock hard bulge protruding from his jeans, feeling Billy’s grip on her wrists tighten and his mouth drop open in a silent groan, his eyes and face telling her everything she needed to know: he wanted her just the same.

And as he removed his hold on her, moving his hands to the back of her dress, unzipping it and pulling the straps of her dress down her shoulders, leaning up to the pull the rest of the dress down her legs and off of her body. His eyes never leaving her tits. She hadn’t worn a bra. Not for this specific occasion, but was thanking god she hadn’t, as she watched the expressions on Billy’s face play out. Cockiness, interest, lust, desire. It all flashed across his features as his eyes trailed along her naked chest and down to her hips where her stockings and underwear were still attached to her body.

Billy had seen many tits in his life. Many. He would be lying if he said he didn’t like a certain kind. But he wasn’t too picky. Tits were tits and he liked just as much as he loved a nice ass. He didn’t know which he liked more. But as he stared down at her half naked figure, her tits moving as she breathed heavily, he decided these were the best he’s seen, at least in a while, and actually real and not in some penthouse magazine.

His dick twitching against his jeans. He needed to fuck her. He needed to get to the main fucking show before he lost his mind and just said fuck it. But he also couldn’t stop himself from leaned forward and attaching his lips to one of her nipples, pert and begging for it. He smirked against her supple skin as she let out a loud moan, pushing her chest up as she arched her back, her nails digging into his biceps.

No, he wasn’t feeling generous, and yes he wanted to sink his dick in her already. He can’t remember the last time he felt this fucking turned on. This wanting. Maybe sometimes when he’s alone and thinking about all the middle aged moms who stare at him while he works, loving the want, finding it a desire in it’s own, and his hand knowing his dick better than any female. That sometimes got him going real good.

But it was never nothing like this. So maybe, maybe, he was feeling a little generous, and the way she was rutting against, her practically begging for it, and god does he love when bitches beg for him, for his cock. And so he didn’t stop his fingers from running down her abdomen her skin heating up even more as he touched her. His fingers finding the top of her stockings, slipping them past the fishnets and into her cotton panties. His fingers sinking into her wet folds.

She was soaked.

“You’re such a slut.” Billy groaned against her breasts as he sucked and bit at her skin. He let his tongue travel from her nipple, up her collar bone, up her neck, and to her ear lobe, where he bit at the sensitive skin. His index finger running along her wet folds slowly, loving how she was barely touching her and she was still pressing herself up into him, her moans erratic. God she wanted it bad. He fucking loved it.

He let his fingers explore her wetness for a bit longer before he found that bundle of nerves he knew that drove women crazy, the pad of his index finger rubbing slow circles against it.

“Shit,” she moaned, her eyes closed, clenched and her jaw lax and hanging open.

“You’re so fucking wet for me. So wanting. So ready and willing to be fucked by my cock and I’ve barely touched you. Barely showed you what I can really do.” Billy chuckled softly agains the shell of her ear. His voice having dropped a few octaves and it made a shiver run up her back. “Are you always this easy? Always such a slut for the other guys you fuck?”

“Fuck you.” She scowled at him. Or she thought she was scowling at him as he turned his head to look down at her, but with the way his finger was working at her clit and sliding one of his other fingers inside of her, her body reacting in a way she couldn’t hide or suppress with a scowl she was pretty sure was anything but.

“Oh,” Billy laughs again. That annoying laugh that she wants to smack him for, but she can’t move. Her fingers are gripping the blanket of the bed because it just feels too good. Everything. His finger on her clit, his fingers inside of her, the way his words roll off of his lips in a rough sensual tone. God she hates it. But she can’t get enough and she doesn’t want him to stop. Not even when his lips are dangerously close to hers, his smirk wide and taunting. “That’s the plan baby, to fuck you.” He presses a soft kiss to her lips, too tender for a moment like this, but she realizes why when she feels his tongue run across her bottom lip before he sinks his teeth into it. “Like the slut you are.”

And she wants to say something. She really does. Something snide and just as teasingly annoying. But she can’t form the words at the moment. Her words going right down to her core, pulsing against his fingers. And she knew for whatever she spit back at him he would find more words to assault her with. So, instead she tangles her hands in his hair, gripping a patch in the back, pulling him to crash their lips together once more. A low groan erupting within Billy’s chest.

Her other hand fumbling to unbutton his pants, not bothering to push them down when she finally gets the button, only slipping her hand through the opening, and not being too shocked to find him not wearing boxers, and wrapping her hand around his hardness. Giving it a tight squeeze, making Billy pull from her lips, a soft groan falling from them as his eyes catch hers. The look within them even more hungry than before.

She lets an taunting smirk form on her lips as she pulls him out of his tight blue jeans, a slight hiss falling from his lips at the feel of the cool air around them. Her thumb coming up to smear the precum that sits there, spreading it along the head of his dick. She feels him pulse in her hand and the slight stutter of his hips and the groan he represses.

She leans up slightly her lips brushing against his as she speaks, “fuck me, Billy.” She’s not one for begging. But she’s sick of this, and she knows deep down he is too. His cock flexing in her hand is proof of that. They both need it. Before she comes on his fingers and before he comes in his pants. Which she would love to see. But right now, she wanted other things. “Fuck me, like the slut I am, and know you are too.”

And then her mouth is on his again, his breath heavier, his kiss rougher as he pulls his hand from her panties, wastes no time in pulling her fishnets down, she hears a slight rip but neither of them bat an eye at it, her panties following suit.

And then it’s on to his jeans. He’s standing before she can register it. Quickly pulling his pants down his legs and stepping from them. She expects him to pounce back on her, with the hungry mixed with anger look on his face. But he doesn’t.

No, he’s taken himself in his hand, stroking himself as he just stares at her. His tongue running along his teeth, along his lips. And so she opens her legs wider showing herself off to him, her hand traveling down the space of her breasts, past her naval and to her core. Spreading her wet folds for him. Watching as his breath hitches as he continues to stroke himself. His eyes on her cunt as she plays with it.

And fuck. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Why he’s not fucking balls deep in her right now. Why he’s just staring. Watching. He’s never really care enough to just stare. Sure he doesn’t fuck cows. He fucks girls with nice bodies. Nice looking. And he lets himself worship their bodies, on occasion. Not often. It’s Hawkins, there’s no models or like the girls in California. If he’s lucky he will find a girl with both nice tits and ass and everything else passable. Sure.

He usually just got his dick wet and left. Let them worship him rather than the other way around. He couldn’t be bothered.

But right now, as he stared at her all spread and wet on the bed for him, her hands on her cunt, his dick rock hard and pulsating against his warm palm, he doesn’t want to take his time. He doesn’t want to worship her body. He just wants to fuck it. Replace her hand with his cock. It’s a feeling of pure lust and ravish that he doesn’t remember feeling, at least not in a very long time. He wants nothing more than to wreck this girl. To fuck the smirk off of her face. She was a slut. Fuck. She really was. But he was too.

And if Billy knows anything it’s how good sluts fuck.

So without a second look, stroke, or thought to keep watching, he is back on her, his lips on hers, his teeth in her bottom lip, biting hard enough to make her yelp softly. Her hands once again finding themselves in his hair as she pulls at the back locks. His hand snaking between the two as he wastes no time in lining it with her dripping hole, groan softly at the heat radiating off of her cunt and in his cock.

And without warning he thrusts into her and she’s moaning against his lips, her fingers digging into his back. It makes him hiss. She’s so wet. So warm. So fucking tight.

She pulls off of his mouth and looks up to him, his eyes are already on hers and she wants to tell him to move. To fuck her hard. Not wanting him to be polite and wait for her to adjust, because yeah, he’s big, but not too big, he is more thick than anything, and the stretch burns so good. So so good. But the words are stolen from her mouth as he thrusts into her quick and rough. The snap of her hips making her back arch, moans falling from her lips as he starts a fast pace.

And fuck she loves it and he loves it. His hands are in her hair, pulling her up to meet his lips, pulling her down so he can sink his teeth into her neck. Her hands staying planted on his back, his upper shoulders quickly becoming red and irritated, marked up from her nails. And god it hurts, but it feels so good. He’s had bitches scratch his back up before. Out of it being too much for them. Billy fucking them without a care of how their body was reacting. But now, this time, it was for his own pleasure. Hers too. Each time her nails dug deeper, ran down, marking him the groans that fell from his lips was a song her never sang before. Low. Gruff. And when she sank her teeth into the flesh of his shoulder as he slipped one of his hands between them, his finger finding her clit as he played with it fast and rough, sent his falling back, a loud ‘fuck’ falling from his lips.

“Wrap your legs around me.” Billy spoke, demanding, ordering, and if she wasn’t in fucking heaven right now, with how his hand gripped her hip roughly, his fingers sure to bruise her skin, his mouth all over her neck and the how filled, how full and fucking wet she was right now, she was sure she would reply with something snide.

But she couldn’t. She didn’t. She obliged, wrapping her legs around his waist, feeling her back being lifted a few inches off of the bed and Billy wrapped his arm around her back, getting better leverage, a better angle for him to thrusts his hips up, deeper, faster. The sound of skin slapping against each other and their heavy, loud, breathy moans filling the room.

She didn’t know if anyone could hear them. She could still hear the bass of the loud music coming from down stairs. The slight noise of people walking through the hall. She was sure it sounded like a fucking porno in here. But she didn’t care. All she cared about was how good Billy felt inside of her. How good it felt to have his mouth on her skin. On her lips and how good his moans felt as she started moving her hips up in rhythm with his own.

She felt his hand come to grip her ass, hard, squeezing it in his palm. He could feel her hips moving with his, the new angle and movement pushing him deeper than he already was, he was sure he couldn’t get any deeper, couldn’t feel any better. He hadn’t fucked like this in a while, maybe even forever. It never felt this good. He was never this fucking vocal. He couldn’t give a shit about all that. But god. Her cunt felt so good. Her mouth. Her hand. It felt so fucking good.

He could feel her cunt start to pulse against his cock. She was close. Her moans growing louder, her grip on his back deeper. Her not being able to keep her eyes open. She was going to come all over his cock and fuck he was going to love it.

“God, fuck, you feel so good.” Billy groaned against her lips. “Going to come on my cock, baby? It’s that good for you?”

She moaned against his lips. She almost forgot how much of a talker he was. Having only heard his moans and pants for the last minutes. She almost expected it to annoy her, to throw her off. But it didn’t. It made her moan even more needy and whiney. Fuck, she really loved his voice. She loved the dirty words rolling from his lips. She loved it all. He was fucking her good. So so good. And she was so so very close.

“Such a slut.” He groans in the crook of her neck as he starts to go faster. Harder. Her hips almost clashing with his. She’s sure it would hurt if she wasn’t in such a euphoric state right now. If it wasn’t so good. If she wasn’t so full.

He’s dangerously close to. Almost finding himself angry at himself for not being able to keep going. To fuck her all night. To hold on to the feeling of the wet grip her cunt has on him right now. But it’s too good. Too rough. Too intense that he knows he’s not going to last long. And he actually wants to see her come. Wants to feel her tense and come on his cock.

So he moves his fingers faster on her clit. He snaps his hips up in that way that has her digging her nails deeper in his back and clenching her eyes shut and swearing against his neck.

“Fuck, Billy.” His name falls from her lips sweeter than any rock song he could blare on a rough day. It’s not followed with snide or attitude or teasing. It’s filled with pleasure and whining. And he fucking loves it. He loves when bitches scream his name.

“Billy...I’m going to, come.” She says more softly than he expects her too against his ear. “Fuck, it’s so good.” And with a couple more hard thrusts and his fingers working her, she comes, the waves of pleasure crashing over her like an ocean. Drowning her into a sedated bliss and aching. Her legs tightening around his waist, her nails drawing down his back, her hand gripped tight in his hair.

“Shit,” Is all Billy can say, shit, fuck, God. Her cunt is squeezing him like a vise. So wet. So hot. Too fucking tight and with one more hard thrust, he’s letting her back fall back on the bed and he’s pulling himself out of her, his hand working his cock as his beads of hot white come shoot out on to her stomach.

Fuck,” Billy doubles over, his body leaning over hers. One hand gripping the blanket, the other still wrapped around his cock. He’s smiling, laughing softly. Part of him wants to announce just how incredibly that was. How so fucking great. But, once he’s done panting and the euphoria is gone from his mind, he knows he won’t give her the satisfaction.

So instead he leans back up, smirking down at her. “Told you, you were a slut.” He moves from her body and stands, grabbing his jeans and pulling out the pack of cigarettes from it, taking one out and placing it between his lips, lighting it. He inhaled deeply, filling up his lungs and letting the smoke roll out as he watches her stare up at the ceiling for a beat, before she’s standing, grabbing her clothes and walking into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

He doesn’t feel bad. She didn’t look pissed off. She didn’t look like anything. He was sure she was still rolling from the great fuck they just had. He knew he was. His body was still hot. On fire. Still buzzing.

And she wasn’t pissed off. Her legs felt weak as she stared at herself in the mirror, grabbing a piece of toilet paper to wipe the dried come from her stomach. She does her best to fix her hair, knowing damn well people were going to take one look at her and just know she just got fucked.

She grabs her fishnets and looks at the small, but still very noticeable hole now in them thanks to Billy. She can’t find herself to be mad about it though. Or care. It almost makes her smirk. She slips her underwear back on, her dress, her jacket. Hissing slightly as she shimmies into them, the burn and ache between her legs incredibly present and sending a shiver up her spine. She was going to be sore for a few days she was sure of it.

Once she’s done and has done all she can do to look the least bit not fucked up, literally, she exists the bathroom and she’s surprised to see Billy still in the room. Fully dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed puffing in a cigarette.

He turns and looks to her. She still looks good as hell, even though she just got the fuck fucked out of her. And he still looks good. Like always.

He smirks at her, raises his brows as he see’s the ripped fishnets in her hands, almost wants to laugh. He wants to tell her he knows he is the best fuck she’s ever gotten and will probably get, even for a slut like her. But he doesn’t get the chance, before she’s heading towards the door, a smirk on her lips.

She doesn’t say anything to him as she closes the door behind herself. Leaving Billy in the now hot and musky room alone.

He takes drag after drag from his cigarette, laying back on the bed, smirking at the sting that comes from his shoulder. Laughing to himself. Thankful she didn’t want to stay around cuddle or some shit after that. She didn’t seem the type though. He was glad. He didn’t know what type she was. Slut. Maybe not. Either way.

Billy didn’t have a shitty night like he expected to find himself having, got his dick wet, so fucking wet and so fucking wet, his dick still aching from it. It was a good night. A good fuck.

The king of Hawkins High still had it.

Chapter Text

Billy had to go.

He had to get as far away from his house, away from Neil, as possible.

Tonight had been a night like many others. Billy had done something to piss off his father it resulting in him pounding on Billy’s door and doing more talking with his fits than his mouth. Something Billy was used to by now. Something that he learnt it was easier to keep his mouth shut and take whatever was going to be given to him rather than go off on Neil. Billy had learned that lesson way too many times. The more he spoke out of turn or let his anger and annoyance add fuel to the fire it only resulted in worse consequences, worse slaps and punches.

By now Billy would like to think his skin was thick. The bruised less easier. It hurt just a little less. Initially. But once the adrenaline stopped pumping through his veins it only left him with a pounding headache and an ache to wherever his father decided to hit him this time. So maybe it didn’t hurt a little less. But he wasn’t a pussy. He could take it. Neil wasn’t shit. He had dealt with the bastard all of his life.

And tonight he wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing him pop off. To shed a tear of anger. So after he got a few slaps in he left. Jumped into his Camaro and sped off.

He didn’t know where he was going. Fuck he didn’t care. He just couldn’t stay in that house. He couldn’t take seeing his Neil’s face for one more second. The sadistic smirk on it that Billy had to stopped his clenched fists from punching. No. He knew better than that. He tried that once. It only left him with a cut lip and a black eye.

He couldn’t stand to see the sympathetic look from Max as she stood in her doorway listening, watching. Fuck her. He didn’t need her sympathy. He didn’t need anyone’s. At least Karen had grown used to it by now. Turning the other cheek. Not giving a fuck while her step son got beat on. She didn’t give him her sympathy and he wouldn’t give her his when he heard Neil screaming at her and dishes being thrown.

Fuck them. All of them. Fuck that house.

And fuck this town.

He didn’t need any of it.

His grip on the steering wheel was tight. His knuckles going white. The adrenaline in his veins hadn’t stopped yet. It was making his hands shake. Fuck he hated this place. Hated his life. At times. The only time it didn’t seem like a big mass of shit was when he was alone. Not around anyone in the house. In his own space.

He felt tears slowly well up in his eyes. “Fuck, don’t be a pussy.” He scolded himself, beating his palm on his steering wheel as he drove down the deserted streets of Hawkins.

If this was a night he thought he could get away with it he would stop at a bar and pick a fight with some random asshole. That always helped him get his aggression out. Lifting weights. Smoking almost an entire pack of cigs. Burying his dick in some bitch. The only things that seemed to calm his nerves when he wanted to beat his Neil’s teeth in. Or fucking disappear.

At least he knew he would win if he picked a fight with some random. He always picked the least likely ones to even be able to take him. He would beat their face in until his knuckles were bruised and bloody.

He would lift weights until Max or Karen pounded on the door to turn down the music, his body covered in sweat, tears streaming down his face, his veins popping from his skin. His only response being a scream. A scream of exhaustion and anger. His body aching from lifting for hours. His ears ringing from the loud music. His eyes burning from acting like such a pussy, letting tears fall from them.

And when it came to burying himself in whatever pussy he could find, that was truly something he could get lost in. They wanted him. They all did. They always did. They didn’t make him feel like a piece of shit. They didn’t pity him. They didn’t look at him like he wasn’t anything other than fucking godly. They wanted him. The craved him. They dropped down to their knees and too his cock into their mouth without him even asking. Granting him sweet relief and a few minutes of euphoria, before it ran off and his face started to fucking hurt again.

But unless he went home or went found some sorry asshole on the side of the street none of those things were going to happen tonight.

So, he turned up the music on the stereo, lit a cigarette and speeded down the dark road, headed nowhere and not caring too much of where he ended up.

Her on the other hand, she was having the same shit night. At least her definition of a shitty night.

Having, out of the kindness of her heart, picked up a job at her parents jewelry store for the summer, seeing as how she had nothing better to do before she went off to college. It was better than having a boring summer, or spending it drinking at some pool party in someone’s backyard that was bound to get raided by the cops, a reprimand she didn’t need to hear from her parents.

It wasn’t a hard job. Hardly anyone came into the store. Those who did only window shopped. She had made one sale in two weeks and that was only because she flirted with some older man just so he would get out of the store faster and she could go back to reading her a magazine. It sounds shitty. She sounds shitty. But she didn’t even know why her parents owned the place. And with the mall now putting all of the businesses in Hawkins into the ground, it was pointless to her.

But it was her father’s passion. Supposedly. And it had air conditioning and she mostly lounged in the back. So it wasn’t all that bad. It could be worse she reminded herself.

Like right now. It was fucking worse.

Carol had sworn up and down all day that she would pick her up after she closed up. The brunette having called the shop phone three times, twice to tell her she would be there and to gossip about Tommy. The third time to say she couldn’t make it because of Tommy.

She didn’t really know why she stayed friends with the girl. She was more of an annoyance than anything at times. But Carol had never done her wrong. At least not to her face. She had her moments where she was a great friend, and others that made her questions why she hung out with the girl.

Like right now.

As she walked down the road towards her house, the only thing lighting the deserted road being a couple of flickering street lights. She should of been scared. Or at least a little fearful. It was ten at night. It was dark, and she was a pretty girl walking alone in only a white polo and skirt that barely brushed her knees, it being too hot in the small town to wear anything more or less, she should of been worried. Her eyes shifting in every direction, jumping at cars passing by or leaves moving in the wind.

But the only thing that came from the girl was grumbles. Fuck Carol. Fuck Tommy. And fuck her car for being in the shop for god knows how long, it wasn’t her fault she backed into a mail box, it really wasn’t. Maybe she was going too fast, maybe. But Jesus. It was only a mailbox and her car should of been done by now so she didn’t have to walk in the pitch dark.

She would of called her parents but they were asleep by now. Once eight o’clock hit her parents were ready to slip away to their bedroom. Something that was blessing when it came to the girl sneaking out or staying out late. But right now it pissed her off. She knew if she were to call them her father would come in a heart beat. But she wasn’t a little girl. She could walk. In a few months she wouldn’t have her parents to call on for help she would be alone.

And her night couldn’t get anywhere worse right?

Billy had almost thought about going to Tommy’s house. The dude was an annoying little prick, but he knew he would have a splif he could smoke, or would let him crash in his basement.

Or he could just drive all night. Find a place to pull over and knock the fuck out. Say fuck it and not go back home at all.

Two options that he knew he wouldn’t do. He knew if his dad didn’t see his Camaro in the drive way when he woke that it would be another beating about responsibility. He knew it wasn’t because his dad was worried about him. That was a joke. Neil only worried about himself. No, it was more like Billy should be at work, contributing. Not being a piece of shit. His father has screamed in his face.

The adrenaline had solidified in his veins but his anger had not budged. The nicotine had stopped his hands from shaking and he could now feel the pain in his cheek and abdomen. The pain only adding fuel to his anger. His frustrations.

Billy turned a sharp corner, speeding down a dimly lit road, ready to just say fuck it and turn around and head home, because there was no point in running from something he couldn’t, he wouldn’t escape any of this shit waiting for him back at home no matter how far he drove off. At this point he was just wasting gas and waking the entire town of Hawkins with his music and loud engine. But fuck them. He didn’t give a shit. Not really. Maybe a cop would pick him up and he could sleep in the station tonight. Anything was better than going home.

But that’s when Billy saw her. He wouldn’t of had if it wasn’t for his high beams being on and the scowl she gave him as he drove past, he guessed at the loud music coming from his car, the speed, she was probably afraid he was going to hit her. Looking in his rear view mirror he made sure it was her, and not some other chick. But wearing a skirt like that, her legs on full view and that little rich girl bag that hung from her shoulder he knew it was her.

He smirked. Laughed even. A loud booming laugh that sounded almost weird to his own ears.

He loved it when pussy came to him.

And without a second thought, glance, Billy was making a sharp u-turn and headed back in her direction, pulling up beside her, his tires squealing as he came to a quick halt. Something that made her jump.

“Are you lost sweetheart?” Billy turned down his music as he spoke, leaning over into the passenger seat slightly as he looked at her through the open window, smirk on his face.

She didn’t have to look to know who it was. Billy was the only asshole in Hawkins who owned a Camaro and the only one who would be blaring Ratt at ten o’clock at night while speeding down a dark road. No one other than Billy could be that stupid. That annoying.

She hoped her scowl would make him drive right past her. But god forbid anything go her way tonight. Of course he would turn around and pull up next to her. Of course.

“Why? Are you here to save me?” She spoke sarcastically, sending him a fake smile as she kept walking. Him driving beside her slow enough to keep her pace.

It had been two weeks since their little run in at the party. And if she was being honest she hadn’t really thought about it since them. Once the marks on her neck had faded it was as if it never happened. And she was sure Billy had long forgot, up until now it seemed.

It had been a one time thing. Something she planned to stick with. One. Night.

“Just think of me as your knight and shinning armor.” Billy laughed, a cocky laugh that made her roll her eyes. She turned to look at him, bending slightly to see him. He had a leather jacket on tonight. Red shirt. Unbuttoned of course. Same old blue jeans. She wondered if they were his only pair, she hadn’t seen him anything else.

“I don’t think my knight would be driving a,” she pretended to look at his car disgusted, “car as charming as this.” She smirked when she heard Billy scoff. As if her insult about his car didn’t bother him. Oh she knew it did. If there was anything Billy loved more than himself she was sure it was his Blue Camaro. He seemed like the type.

Billy leaned back in his teeth, running his teeth across his front teeth. Looking at the road ahead as he smirked. He had almost forgotten how much of a kick she had to her. Having an answer for everything. Almost reminded him a little of himself. Smart mouth. Smart ass. Nice ass. He noted as he turned to look at her again, watching the back of her legs as she walked, watching the way her skirt rode up a bit as she walked.

For a rich girl, who he was sure was a daddy’s girl, they always were, she dressed like she was trying to make a statement to her parents. Rebel against them. But something told him that wasn’t the case. Hell, he didn’t really care what she wore. He didn’t give a shit. He was just surprised a daughter to a respected family would leave the house like that.

He wasn’t going to question it though. He didn’t care enough to. He it was kind of impressive to him. She dressed different than the other sluts in this town. He liked it.

”Beggers can’t be choosers” Billy gave her a fake smile.

“Who said I’m begging?” That made her stop in her tracks and Billy broke out in booming laugh. He could see the fire in her eyes. He had struck a cord.

“Your outfit does.” Billy smirked, stopping his car, leaning over to point in the direction of her skirt.

He really didn’t give a fuck what she was wearing. He was trying to get her going. Piss her off a little. If she was going to take shots at him, it was only fair he do the same.

“What is with you and my outfits, Hargrove?” She stepped closer to the car now, her arms coming to rest on the door as she bent over to stare into the car at him. “You have something for ladies fashion, or just something for me?” She smirked.

Billy sucked his teeth. A soft laugh coming out as he itched his eyebrow, debating his next words.

“No.” He smirked. “Just of whats underneath.”

She hated that laugh. That fucking smirk. God he was such a smug asshole. She almost found herself questioning how she could of slept with him. And she wasn’t even drunk.

She rolled her eyes at him standing straight once again as she looked out into the darkness of the road, Billy’s headlights being the only thing lighting the road. She wasn’t about to give it up to Billy Hargrove, again, just because he offered her a ride. She didn’t even need one. She could make it home. She could. It was only, maybe, give or take, thirty more minutes, if she walked fast twenty.

But she couldn’t deny the ache she felt in the back of her calves or her heels. And fuck, she really didn’t want to walk. Knowing she could or not. She was not too righteous to admit that it fucking sucked. And she was sure about a dozen mosquitoes had already bitten her up.

Shit,” she mumbled softly to herself. It was Billy or continue the assaulting ache in the back of her legs. She exhaled through her nose deeply. Fuck it. She could put up with him until she got to her house.

Without giving herself a chance to talk herself out of it she opened the passenger side door to the Camaro, sliding into the leather seat.

“Wipe that smirk off of your face, Hargrove.” She scowled at him. Billy laughed softly. “You’re just driving me home. Nothing else.” She emphasized her words and Billy put his hands up in defense as he turned back to the wheel and sped off.

His car smelt like cologne and cigarettes. It briefly reminded her of the bitter taste of nicotine on his tongue when she kissed him. And the smell of his cologne as her face was buried into his neck as he fucked her. It made her stomach clench. Fuck him.

“So, does princess not have a car?” Billy broke the silence. His eyes staying on the road, that smirk on his lips like a permanent tattoo she wanted to rip off.

“She does. Actually.” She spoke. Clipped. “It’s in the shop.”

“Daddy don’t have another he could just give to you?” Billy turned to her giving her a fake frown. “Pity.”

“This is coming from the guy who’s car looks like a junk yard special.”

Billy laughed. “Bitches love it. Sluts love it.” He spoke pointedly at her, his eyes scanning her body. Something he could visibly see made her squirm in her seat. That word. The same word he knew to call her that night. It had gotten her then and he was sure it would now. “Let me show you what it can do.” Billy smirked, not waiting for her to answer as he shifted, putting his foot harder on the peddle, speeding up. The wind blowing through the windows louder than the music booming through the stereo.

She was sure the engine alone was enough to wake up everyone in a twenty mile radius. Digging her nails into the leather seats, praying to herself that this fucking idiot didn’t kill her. But also feeling that clench in her stomach come back. As they whipped past corner after corner. It was fast. She gave him that.

And god she didn’t know if it was the vibration from the engine, the stereo, or the fumes that she was sure his car was giving off, but she found herself turning to stare at Billy. That annoying smirk still there, his eyes locked on the road, laughing slightly when he turned around a corner a little too quick and it had her holding onto the seat a little tighter, a small squeal coming from her lips.

They could literally die. At any second. Spin off and hit a tree or something. This was dangerous, but she found herself laughing with him.

“You’re ridiculous, Hargrove! You’re going to kill us!” She yelled over all of the noise.

Billy knew he had her. He didn’t miss the way her legs pressed closer together. The way she would squeeze them and unsqueeze. The way her nails duh into the seat even after he slowed down. Sluts loved his car. It was a simple fact.

He pretended he didn’t notice the way her eyes would flash over to look at him. Not for too long. Only to look at his chest for a few seconds. Or to smirk and roll of her eyes. And for the simple fact she still hadn’t told him her address yet. He didn’t know where she lived. He wasn’t a fucking mind reader. If she wanted to go home that bad she would of told him by now. But she hadn’t.

He had her.

And she knew it. Fuck. She knew it the minute she got into his shitty car. Billy Hargrove was a smug asshole. One that she doesn’t regret fucking no matter how annoying he is.

Only for the simple fact that she would fuck him again.

Maybe it’s not something she would admit to herself if she wasn’t around him. Behind closed doors she could guarantee she would deny it. Deny the burn. Or the memories of how good it was.

But here, in his presence, that smug smirk, that fucking chest he never covers up and the way his tongue annoyingly keeps running across his bottom lip. There was no doubt that she would let him fuck her again.

And it’s not like her parents were expecting her home anytime soon. They were asleep. No one was waiting up for her. She had time to kill. Her night had been shit. A boring work day. A shitty friend who flaked on her for dick. So why shouldn’t she get hers? There was no harm in it.

Plus, it wasn’t like Billy didn’t want the same thing. Why else did he stop? He wouldn’t of if he didn’t want that. They were on the same page now. Just like that night. Both wanting. Needing someone to fuck. For whatever reason.

Tonight’s reasoning being forgetting how shitty their nights were.

But that doesn’t mean she had to let Billy think he was in control. Like she was doing this because of his efforts. No. Fuck that. Fuck him.

“So where am I taking you, Princess?” Billy looked over at her, smirking, taunting. “Where is your castle?”

God she wanted to smack him.

“I’m sure you know plenty of good spots.” She spoke innocently, fake and overdone. “Unless, you’ve changed your mind and this was all really about taking me back to my castle.” She turned to him, returning his smirk as she let her manicured fingers splay above her knee, running them up her thighs slowly, her skirt hiking up as she did so.

She knew Billy loved watching a show. Almost as he loved putting on a show for himself. And he wasn’t going to be the one to tease her tonight. No.

Billy watched as her skirt pushed up her thighs higher and higher until the red of her undies were showing. They were silk. Silk and inviting.

She was in the mood for games. For teasing. Taunting. He knew it the moment he pulled up next to her. And fuck was he in the mood for it.

His shitty night was far behind him. The only thing on his mind right now being fucking the smirk off of her face, having her beg for him again.

Chapter Text

She hadn’t asked Billy where he was going.

Where he was going to drive them off to do this, thing. Neither had Billy vocalized anything as he drove off onto a dirt road, turning into a clearing within the forest, cutting the engine, leaving the keys in the ignition, the bump and vibration of whatever rock song was thumping through the stereo, the only noise besides the crickets outside.

The only thing illuminating the car being the dull car light above them and the moon peaking through the trees.

And if she was some sort of romantic she would think this was the perfect setting. The soft noises coming from outside, the music setting the mood, the moon giving that perfect sensual lighting, the dull orange light lighting Billy’s face perfectly. Seemingly showing off the best parts of his face. His jawline that was more defined than she cared to remember. His eyelashes that put any woman’s to shame. The glimmer in his light ocean eyes.

Yeah she could see why girls went crazy over this asshole.

“Get in the back, Hargrove.” She had told him and to her surprise he didn’t give her a snide protest. Instead he smirked, opened his door stepping out into the night air, slipping his leather jacket from his arms, tossing it in the front seat before he pushed the seat back and slid into the backseat.

He looked way to large for the seats. She had to bite her bottom lip to stop herself from laughing. His legs were spread as much as they could be, as he slouched a little so his head wouldn’t touch the rough.

As funny as he looked he also looked very inviting. His tight jeans hugging his legs perfectly. His shirt hung open, leaving only three buttons actually buttoned, the rest undone and showing off his chest. The peak and valleys of his muscles and abs on full display.

It was annoying how great he looked.

Her hands were itching to touch him. So instead of making a show of opening her door and slipping into the backseat gracefully, she pushed her figure across the middle console and into his lap. Showing a level of flexibility that had Billy’s brows raised and an amused look on his face. Her legs on either side of him as she straddled him.

She could tell Billy wasn’t used to this, someone having more control of positions than himself. He was the type to bark orders, get on top, turn around, put your ass up. He didn’t take orders.

But when she had ordered him to climb into the backseat that look of pure want in her eyes, the way she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, sizing him up like he was some kind of prey to her, the sight had made his dick ache. All of the snide comments he held behind his smirk. Not letting them slip out. Putting them on the back burner for another night. He could let her believe she was in control for one night.

Plus he really wanted to see what she was capable of. Wanted to see the slut come back out.

It didn’t take long for her to push her fingers through the opening in Billy’s shirt, her hands making contact with his warm skin. God he was warm. She has forgotten how his skin has felt against her fingers. Her his muscles felt as she ran her hands across his collar bone and chest area. Her mouth feeling dry. Too fucking dry as she let herself enjoy this moment of exploring every crevice of his top half.

“Like what you see?” Billy asked, a low laugh coming from deep within his chest that is vibrated against her finger tips.

“Shut up.” She sighed, rolling her eyes. Of course he had to ruin in with opening his mouth, and that fucking satisfying smirk. God she hated.

She pressed her lips to his wiping the smirk off of his face. Her hands working on the remaining buttons of his shirt as they kissed. Billy’s tongue soon slipping into her mouth, colliding with hers, dragging it along the wet muscle in a tantalizing way that had her shuddering against his chest, that she was now flush against as he placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him.

Once she had undid the last of the buttons her hands found his skin again, running her hands along the parts she hadn’t gotten to feel. Her fingertips running down his sides, maybe a little too harshly as she felt him jump slightly against her. As if trying to back away from her fingers involuntary, but having no room to move, only lifting her slightly from his lap. A low noise coming from his throat.

She pulled away looking at him, “are you okay?” She asked, a little more concerned than she probably should be. The last time they did this the two has marked up each other’s body, biting and scratching. Not caring about the whimpers of pleasure and pain falling from their lips.

But this was different. This wasn’t a whimper of pleasure. Nor did she hit a nerve that would have made him all but try and move away from her hands.

No. This was pain. Actual pain.

She wants to ask him what’s wrong. If she did something wrong. But the way he’s looking at her the slight anger that she can see bubbling up in his expression. The glint of embarrassment flashing across his eyes in a flash, and then he’s looking away from her, his hands going to fiddle with the zipper on the back of her skirt.

But she knows she didn’t do anything wrong. She knows that whatever is the reason he was in pain wasn’t because of her. And she knew he didn’t want to talk about it. He probably wouldn’t of even told her anything anyway, at least not the truth. It wasn’t none of her business.

And if it was making him act like this, cocky, over sexual Billy suddenly put on the back burner, then she really didn’t want to know anyway.

She didn’t need to worry about it. They—he didn’t need to worry about it. Not right now. They had other things to worry about.

Like the both of them getting their bottoms off so she could satisfy that ache down below.

Putting her hands on either side of his cheeks, she pulled his face up to hers, the two holding eye contact until she tore her eyes way from his to look at the deep red mark on his cheek that she somehow missed earlier. It didn’t matter she told herself. Whatever happened. It didn’t concern her.

Her eyes found his again, he hasn’t taken his away from her. He was waiting. Waiting for her to ask. Waiting for her to probe. Or for some bitchy comment to come out. He was anticipating it. It setting him on edge just a bit.

If she did ask he wouldn’t tell her the truth. “Yeah, my dad beat me like a little bitch”. He wanted to scoff. How pathetic. If he lost pussy because of his fucking father he swore he was going to go home and knock the lights out of Neil.

But she didn’t say anything. Nothing came from her lips. Only a smile. A soft smile that almost irritated him more than if she just fucking asked, but what even was that?

He didn’t have time to question it more before her lips were on his again, the kiss more needy than before. He could feel her hands dragging down from his cheeks, to his neck, to his chest, down to his abdomen.

He had successfully unzipped her skirt and now pushed it down her thighs, she leaned up a little awkwardly, as she kicked it to the side. Her legs coming back down to straddle him. Her lips pulling from his as she lifted her shirt over her head and tossed it in the seat beside them.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, nor was she hardly wearing underwear. A slim thong covering her cunt. The black cotton leaving nothing to the imagination.

“You always dress like a slut?” Billy smirked as he grabbed a handful of her ass, pulling her flesh against his chest in the process. Fuck she looked good. Hot. Her ass being the perfect amount of plump. The first time they did this he didn’t get a chance to see all of her. And fuck he really wished he had. Wish he had taken more of his time. Seen every part, touched every curve of her body. She had a nice one. Something he already knew, but having her perched on top of him like this, it was different.

Billy was one to look. To appreciate during sex. But never going this deep into it. He never cared to. It almost made him irritated at himself for doing it right now, and annoyed that she was taking her sweet little time. He wanted to fuck her. Not do all this sensual shit.

But he didn’t find himself telling her that. Or rushing.

“You always have your chest on display?” She smirked at him.

He laughed softly, “the—“

“Let me guess, the sluts love it?” She rolled her eyes.

Billy smirked wrapping a hand around her neck, pulling her lips inches from his, “you love it, don’t you?” His thumb and pointer finger pressed into her neck, feeling her pulse against the pads of his fingers. She let out a small whimper her mouth falling open. “You’ve been staring at me since you got in here. Your eyes showing everything your cunt was feeling.” His thumb trailed from her throat, up her chin, and to her bottom lip. “So yeah, sluts love it. You love it. Say it.” His thumb slipped into her mouth and without him even telling her, she finds herself wrapped her lips around the digit. The pad of his finger pressed to her tongue as she sucks on it.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to be the one in control. Not him having her a whimpering mess because of his filthy mouth, her hips moving on their own accord as she rubbed against the growing bulge in his jeans. No. She was supposed to be the one holding the reigns. Not him. Fuck him.

She pulls his finger from her mouth, swatting his hand away from her face, something that makes him laugh. And she hates it. Hates that fucking noise.

She wants to scowl at him, but she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he pissed her off because of the effect he has on her. She wouldn’t. Ever.

And if she really wanted to be in control. Win this game. She had to be just as much of a tease as he was. She can do that. She may be easy, but Billy’s just as easy.

“I may have been staring at you, but you’ve had it bad for me since you saw me walking down that road, haven’t you?” Her lips find the side of his neck, her tongue running over the spot she just kissed. Smirking against Billy’s warm skin as he moves his neck slightly to give her more room. “What was your first thought when you saw me? Were you thinking about how bad you wanted to fuck me? How much you love that I dress like a slut so you can look, stare.” She drags her tongue up the side of his neck to where his ear begins, her teeth grazing his lobe. The small metal ring there clinking against her teeth. Her hips are still moving against his and she can feel him push up ever so lightly. She can feel the grip on her hips become harder.

Because fuck. All he wanted to do right now was fuck her into the leather of his seat. To have her begging for his cock. Just like before. He could. He could easily over power her and switch the roles right now. But her tongue felt too good against his neck, making him wonder how good it wouldn’t feel somewhere else. Her teeth too good against his skin.

And she was right. When he saw her all he could think about was fucking her. Couldn’t pull his eyes from her legs, from her ass. Wanting nothing more than pull that skirt up and fuck her right there on the side of the road. Not just because he knew she would let him, or because he had a shitty night. But because he knew how good it would be.

It wasn’t like fucking random bitches or past bitches where he was the only reason why it was decently good.

She wasn’t like that. She knew how to fuck. And he loved it.

Her fingers find the button on his jeans, undoing them and pulling the zipper down. Billy lifting his ass up slightly so she can push them down enough to expose his hardness.

And fuck was he hard. Just as hard as their first night together, and she loved it. It made her head spin. Her cunt ache even more as she wrapped her hand around his dick. Feeling it throb against her fingers as she stroked it in slow motions. Pressing her hips up just a bit to aline his cock with her still clothed clit, rubbing the head of it against herself.

Taking not only Billy off guard with the new friction. But herself. Finding herself gripping at his shoulder as she doubled over in pleasure, a loud moan slipping from her lips.

God. Fuck. She was so needy. So wet already. Billy could feel it. The dampness on her panties soaking through and onto the head of his cock.

“Is this what you picture when you saw me? Did you picture fucking me like this?” She moans softly, her head tilted slightly back as she rolled her hips, continuing to rub herself against him. “Me on top, fucking you. Instead of the other way around.” She smirks and she knows it strikes a cord in him. Knows he’s holding back. She knows he could change the positions if he really wanted to. She had nothing on his strength. But he doesn’t. He only grips at her hips more. His own hips bucking slightly.

“Either fuck me, or I’m going to fuck you.” He speaks through gritted teeth. She can see the animalistic lust in his eyes.

She leans foreword, their lips inches apart once again. “Say please.” She smirks and almost wants to let out a devilish laugh when she hears Billy let out a frustrated ‘fuck’.

But the please she wants to hear never comes instead, Billy takes it upon himself to replace her hand with his own, pulls her panties to the side, presses the head of his cock flesh against her bud of nerves, massaging it nice and slow.

Ahh,” she moans out and finds her forehead coming to rest on his. Her hands gripping his shirt. It felt good before. But it feels even better now. The skin on skin contact. Her wetness coating his head. The jerk of his hips that add a new angle to way they’re rubbing against each other.

And she’s so close to just saying fuck it and having Billy take her. Do whatever he wants to her because now she’s aching and dripping even more. Wants it even more. Needs it even more.

But then she hears it. A low groan falling from his lips followed by a breathy “fuck me” and that’s all it takes.

She’s pulling her panties off in a frenzy. One hand on his shoulder, the other lining him up to her entrance, his hands gripping her hips as she slowly sinks down on him.

“Fuck,” she moans as she feels him fill her up, her stomach fluttering at the stretch, burn, its so good. She doesn’t move for what probably feels like forever. But Billy doesn’t seem to rush her. To care. Because when she looks at him she knows he’s feeling just as good as her.

Because finally.

Fucking finally.

And when she finally starts moving, her hips rolling, slow, deliberate, she can’t stop the noises coming from her lips. She can’t stop the way she leans in to him, or the way her hands find the back his head, her fingers weaving through his hair, pressing her lips to his in a hungry, rough kiss.

It’s sloppy and wet and moans filling mouths, teeth pressing into lips, tongues against the others. It’s filthy and she loves it. Billy loves it.

“Forgot how fucking good you feel.” Billy says against her lips. One of his hands coming to play with her tits. Pinching and rolling her nipple with his finger, making her pull back from his lips to whimper. “Feel so good. So fucking warm. So wet.”

She needs more. Needs to go faster. Feel him deeper. Because fuck.

She pushes herself up ever so slightly, giving herself more room to start a slow bounce on his cock. Something that makes a line of profanities fall from Billy’s swollen wet lips. His hand finding her hip again as he grips them, following the rhythm she sets as he pushes and pulls her hips down.

Her hand finds her clit, rubbing it in fast circles.

“So fucking hot.” Billy groans as he looks down to where they’re connected, to where she’s playing with herself. It’s really fucking hot. She’s using him. Using his cock to get off. Something that’s usually the other way around. Something he didn’t know he fucking loved until now.

So much so that he angles his hips up to meet her hips, making him slide deeper inside of her. Something that makes her head fall back a loud moan filling the suddenly too hot and foggy car.

“God, Billy, shit,” her hands are a mess of gripping and pulling in his shirt, she can feel sweat starting to gather on her ass and forehead but she doesn’t seem to care. Neither does Billy as he delivers a smack to one of her cheeks. The sting making her whimper.

“You’re such a slut for my cock.” Billy’s voice is ten octaves lower. More rough. More animalistic. More hungry. Just more. She feels the vibration in his chest. His heavy breath. The twitch of his cock. She feels it all. “Fucking, cock slut.” He curses, taking a handful of her hair, rough, and pulling her face to his smashing their lips together. “Come on my cock.” He groans against her lips. “Show me how good of a slut you are for me.”

And, god, she wanted this to last longer. She wanted to be slow, in control. To ride him nice and slow until he was begging for her to go faster. Begging for her to fuck him harder. But it’s too good and he’s too good. And with a sharp smack to her ass she’s lurching forward as she comes on his cock, feeling herself make a mess between the both of them, her thighs coated.

She wants to slow the pace because she’s so sensitive. So much in euphoria right now. So hot. But she can’t. She can feel him twitching inside of her. He’s slow. So so close.

And so she places her hands on either side of his neck, her forehead pressed against hers, her eyes locked on his as she starts to move faster. Bounce harder. The sound of her ass hitting his thighs filling the Camaro.

“Come for me, Billy.” She whines. Moans presses her lips to his real fast before she’s speaking again. “Please.”

Billy doesn’t really know what it is. If it’s how more slick and warm she feels, her cunt pulsating against his cock. Or the way she’s looking at him. Or the way she says please, all whiney and fucking needy for him. But it sends him over the edge and he’s spilling himself inside of her. His grip on her hips tight enough to leave bruises, his eyes clenched. “Fuck,” he groans, his body feeling less tense as he leans back in the seat, their foreheads still connected as they both pant.

Two for two.

Billy thinks. Laughs softly to himself.

Two amazing fucks.

He almost thinks about keeping this up for the summer. He knows she’d be down. She gets off on his cock more than she would ever care to admit, same as him with her cunt. But he couldn’t deny how fucking good it was.

But Billy Hargrove wasn’t someone to steadily fuck one girl. Life was too fucking short for that. There was too many bitches who wanted him.

And plenty of Billy to go around.

So he doesn’t say anything to her. He doesn’t bring up the thought that burns in the back of his mind. Even when they are sitting in her drive way, her giving him her signature eye roll and ‘later, Hargrove’ as she leaves his Camaro.

He ignores the thought all the way until he’s home and stripping down to nothing. Standing in front of his mirror smirking at the tiny marks she left on his neck.

Even when his eyes cast down to his side where there’s a dark purple bruises curtesy of Neil. Remembering how she looked at him when she ran her fingers over it. How she looked at his freshly slapped cheek. How she didn’t say anything. How she didn’t demand to know, like most bitches would. They were always so fucking curious.

But she wasn’t. It made him smile.

Three fucks couldn’t hurt, right?