Seven. His driveway. The jeans.
Knox opened before I knocked. He pulled me in by the belt loop and had the denim at my knees in the hall, not the couch. My back hit the wall beside the coats. He was already hard. He dragged through me once — I had been wet since lunch — and pushed into the cunt he had broken on Saturday.
The angle was mean. Standing. My jeans trapped my thighs together so I was tighter. I bit his shoulder. He f****d me in short slams that knocked the hook behind my head. The wet sound was ugly and honest.
“This is what you wore to school,” he said against my ear. “This is what I came on. Now it’s around your knees in my hallway because you can’t sit through a day without leaking for your stepbrother.”
I came on the third minute, clenching, jeans a hobble, his name a br
