This is a scene I’ll involuntarily replay in my head for the next few weeks, and not because I’m proud of it.
“Well, if you ask so nicely,” she says as she wraps her hand around me again.
No wonder she looks so happy now that she got exactly what she wanted. Me all pliant underneath her touch, fuckingbeggingfor it like a pathetic idiot. The sound that leaves me as she strokes me is something between a moan and a growl, and it’s not helping with hiding how much I want her right now.
“Pull up your shirt,” she says after a few minutes and I’m too far gone to argue with her. She stops stroking me and I needily buck up my hips, but then she pulls her hand away again and only puts it back where I need it as I finally pull my shirt up.
She leans closer, one hand on my cock while the other one rests on my bare chest.
“Good boy,” she whispers in my ear, even though I cut her words off as I grab her neck. She isn’t startled the slightest bit and I don’t know what I need to do for her to understand a few things about me.
“I could kill you in a matter of seconds,” I hiss, my grip on her tightening. “Could snap your neck like a fuckin’ twig.”
And, of course, Ruby moans in response. No sense of self-preservation at all. Unfortunately, that’s also all it takes for me to come.
“You like me too much to kill me,” she whispers, pulling softly on the chain of my dog tags. Thatshouldconcern me, but I’m busy with coming so hard that I lose my focus for a few seconds.
As soon as post-nut clarity hits me, I realize what a horrible mistake I made. She’s training my body to respond to her, like that guy with the dog and the bell, and I don’t like that I’m the one who's being conditioned right now. But herlittle experiment is already working. Has me connecting pleasure with her face, with her smell and her touch.
This devil tries to rewire my brain so that I get hard as soon as she’s close, and the worst thing is that it’s working.
Before I can start lecturing her about how unethical that is and how she needs to stop with this bullshit immediately, I feel her tongue on my body. She laps over my stomach as if my cum is the best fucking thing she ever tasted and I have to keep myself together to not get hard again. After she’s done, she scoots back to her corner of the couch. She looks at me all innocently while I yank my pants back up.
“Don’t get used to that, it was an exception. Next time you try shit like that, I’ll really throw you through the room.”
I want to call it a slip-up, but that would mean that I lost my self-control around her and I don’t want to give her that satisfaction.
“Usually people say something likethank youafter you make them come, but I know you have your difficulties with being polite.” The little prick laughs in my face and I hate her just a bit more.
“Anyway,” she says as she gets up from the couch and places a kiss on my cheek that feels as if her lips burn a hole right through my balaclava. “I’m tired. Thanks for the movie night. We should repeat that soon, there are 25 Bond movies, right?”
“Mhm,” I mumble while I don’t know if I should be frightened or aroused by the prospect of repeating this night in that form, or even worse, twenty-four times. On the other hand, I survived this evening without ending up buried balls deep inside her.
That’s a good thing. A success.
But I really need to get back at her for this.
I must have dozedoff on the couch. Either that or my brain finally left the orbit last night. This mission is more than bad for me. It messes with my tightly structured routine, not to mention Ruby, who is her own form of torture. The only habit I have kept so far is drinking too much. Funny, because that was one reason Rockwell told me that this would be good for me.
“A change of scenery, Sam.”
Now that I think about it, it kind of worked, but only because my usual demons are replaced by one made of flesh that is equally tormenting. I’m not sure if that was his intention.
My stomach growls, reminding me that the last things I ate were a protein shake and too much booze, if that even counts as food.
Eating is another problem in this house. It’s not that there’s nothing to eat here, because as soon as the first grocery delivery came, I took all things sweet and high in calories back to my room. But if I have to spend another day eating something prepackaged, cold, or unhealthy, I’m going to have a mental breakdown.
With a groan, I get up from the couch. This thing might be stylish, but it’s not made for sleeping on it. Maybe for people with Ruby’s size, but certainly not for people with mine. Bones that I didn’t know I have crack as I stand up and I’m just happy that Ruby is fast asleep in her bed because I can almost hear the chuckled “old man”that would have come from here if she witnessed this.
I decide on Greek yoghurt with cornflakes for breakfast. Initially, I wanted to turn off the TV and walk back upstairs to my room, but then I hear how the host of a morning show explains why his lasagna is the best one.
Lasagna.
I’m salivating at the thought alone and since it’s still earlyin the morning, according to Ruby, I decide to give the kitchen a second chance. Maybe the thing with the eggs a few days ago was really my fault.
Cooking the meat sauce goes well, not even a tiny fire, and I flop down on the couch with a proud grin after I put my beautiful lasagna in the oven.
I want to use the time the lasagna takes to cook wisely and fetch my laptop from my room to check what Mr. Barron is up to. His return two days ago almost ended in a tragedy, but it also allowed me to install spyware on his phones and put trackers on his car.
