I’m about to look down and confirm my suspicion when an even crazier realization hits me: I’m hard, too. My dick that was stubbornly refusing to play along just a little bit agohas suddenly woken up and wants in on this… whatever this psychological head trip is.
I still have to double-check. “Are you OK with that? And are you OK with our first time fucking being like —like this?”
The smirk on Errol’s face answers before he does. “Yeah, Stud, that’s good.” He traces his fingers down the side of my neck as his expression softens. “We’ll have a safeword, OK? If either one of us feels like things get weird, or too intense or we just don’t want to do it anymore, we can stop. Alright?”
“A safeword?” I repeat. “Instead of just, like, stop or whatever?”
“Yeah — a random word that neither of us would ever in a million years say when we were fucking thatmeansstop. Emergency brake. Eject. Scene over.”
A million things are going through my mind right now, and not a single one of them is a word I could imagine myself saying if I was having sex that got bad or painful or out of control. “Will you come up with one?” I nearly plead.
“How about tangerine?”
“Tangerine.” I roll it over my tongue. “Yeah, OK.”
Errol looks satisfied. He grinds his ass against me again. “So. You got something you wanted to say?” He arches a brow as his expression flips to something unsettling — something that’s notnota sneer.
And —oh, God —it throws a switch inside of me.
18
AARYN
Inarrow my eyes at Errol an instant before I push him off of me. At the same time, I bolt to my feet like the place is on fire. Caught by surprise, he catches himself from taking a hard tumble but still winds up on the floor.
“Yeah, I do have something I want to say. Let’s start withwhat the actual fuckwere you doing with that douchebag?” I’m standing over Errol, looking down at him.
He does that eyelash flutter that he does. It sent butterflies into my belly when he did it earlier, but now it feels like a taunt. “Maybe I just wanted to have fun,” he says with a smirk.
The tips of my fingers tingle an instant before I break. “You lyingbitch!” I grab Errol by the shoulders and pull him to his feet. “Where do you get off sneaking around behind my back with Tyler? You were supposed to be withme— not that slimy piece of shit!”
My voice sounds so upset. I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t think this would feel so raw, so… real. With my fingers digging into the meat of his shoulder, I haul Errol over to the easy chair in the corner of the bedroom. I sit with my legs spread wide.
When I grab him by the hair and pull his head into my crotch, he lets out a little whimper. That should stop me —or at least slow me down. But I’m so focused on Errol as Eliza, the sound just inflames me.
“Get over here.” My voice is rough. “I don’t want to fucking hear your whining. You’re going to suck this cock and you’re going to make me feel good. You pulled the rug out from under my life —I’m taking what I want from you tonight!” I shout.
Improbably and unmistakably, I’m rock-hard. I grab the base of my cock and tighten my grip on Errol’s hair. “I’m not letting you up until you’re choking on this cock, whore. Director of marketing, my ass.” Errol looks up at me, eyes watering from the force of my grip.
“Should’ve just let you crawl under my desk and gag yourself on my cock,” I growl. “That’s all your mouth is really good for, isn’t it?” When he opens his mouth as he nods, I shove my cock in it.
I don’t hold back. Thrusting my hips forward, I force my entire length down his throat until I hit the back of it. I hold him down, hungry to feel the constriction as he fights his gag reflex. “Fuck, that’s hot,” I mutter.
By the time I pull Errol off my dick, his face is a mess — drool dripping off his chin and tears streaming down his cheeks. He lets out a ragged gasp and pants for breath. “That all you have to say for yourself?” I snarl. A dark impulse strikes me. I let go of his hair and slap him across the face.
Errol lets out a yelp, sending a jolt of guilt through me. I blanch.What the fuck am I doing?I must look as rattled as I feel. Because when he catches my eye, a frown darts across his face an instant before he locks eyes with me.
He challenges me with a glare, smirking as he spits the words at me: “Is that the best you can do?”
Fuck. He really wants me to see this through.
I grab him. He outweighs me, but he puts up no resistance as I wrestle him onto his belly on the floor. “You’re going to be sorry you said that when it’s my dick pounding you instead of just my hand on your face,” I snap.
“Oh, you think so?” he shoots back. My hand swings down onto his bare ass. His hips jerk in response to the impact and he lets out a half-stifled moan.What just happened? Did he like that?
The urgency of the moment crowds the rest of my thoughts. “I’m gonna make sure you know whose fucking ass this is —who you belong to,” I snap, punctuating my words with slaps until the pale skin goes pink underneath my hand.
“How long?” I pant. “How fucking long were you banging him under my nose before I caught you? Huh?” Even though the normal, rational part of my mind realizes this is just an insane charade, there’s still a vestigial, violent, lizard-brain impulse to tear apart everything within reach in search of an answer.
