He bucks his hips as if to urge me on, a reminder that he’s waiting below me. I slowly remove one strap from a shaking shoulder. He twirls his fing...r in the air, a sign that I should continue. I remove the other strap and leave them hanging at my side. But as the breasts are still covered by the lace, he puts his hands on my breasts and gently squeezes. As he moves his hands down, he grabs hold of the bottom of my bra and pulls it down toward my waist. My breasts are now free and in full view. Fucking prick. I hated Marcus. I dealt with him enough throughout high school. It was senior year, and I was still dealing with him! He was one pompous asshole. Black and lean with firm, hard muscles and muscular thighs, Marcus was a multisport all-state athlete, played defensive back in football, and he was lauded for it. He liked to call himself ‘Primetime’ after some old football player by the name of Dion Sanders or somebody. Pardon my French, but it was so fucking annoying to walk around. It was feint, and ever so slow now. To anyone not knowing whatto expect, the girl would appear to be dead. Still after a full daywhen those outside began to enquire through the door if everything wasalright, she sat with Poppy's head in her lap caressing her hair. Shecontinued to read and reread the parts dealing with the change throughthe bite. Assuring herself again and again that all was well, and happythat Poppy had been the only non-blood drinking Draconian in theestate.She heard the. She was a part-time writer at the suburban newspaper where I worked back then. I had noticed her but we hadn’t met. She was thin, with brown hair so long it brushed the delicious curve of her ass. Not beautiful, she was plain but nice looking, although I didn't like something about her nose. I think it was the shape. Her eyes, though. They were special. Blue, blue eyes. Double blue. Eyes so truly blue they're impossible to find when you're looking for them, even if you don't know you're.