Jesus Christ,Prue does not play fair. Never has, probably never will. At least with me, that is.
I’m not sure what the version of her was like before Charles hurt her, but I never want to meet that doe eyed creature. I’ll take this evil version of her any day.
She grinds her cunt over my growing erection. Our pants keeping our flesh from touching, but the friction is still overwhelming. My resolve to just go to sleep is melting by each flex of her hips.
My plan did involve sex, at least a little. I wanted a goodbye fuck before getting sent to prison for the rest of my life. Then she had to bring up a certain name I didn’t like to think about and force a confession from my lips. Telling her I love her was something I was trying to save. I wanted it to be the last thing I said to her, but it should’ve been apparent.
Maybe my lack of experience in that department and her messed up history with relationships made her miss the signs,but it should’ve been clear as fucking day that I’m madly in love with her.
It's also not lost on me that she didn’t exactly say it back. Saying she wanted me is enough to let me know she cares, but the words I love you have yet to fall from her lips. I’m not an idiot. I know there is a good chance she doesn’t love me. She needs and wants me, but loving me is different.
I don’t need her to love me, though. I want to, sure, but I’m going to save her regardless of her feelings for me. I love her too much not to.
That’s why I can’t fuck her right now. If we have sex, I won’t be able to leave her. Sadly, that’s the only option we have. No matter what happens from here on out. If Charles doesn’t die, he’ll be out for blood. I couldn’t care less if he killed me, but I don’t think he stops with just me. My plan has to go right or else she is still in danger.
Prue reaches under her shirt, undoing her bra and pulling it out of her sleeve. She tosses it on the other bed with a wicked grin on her face. Peeling off her shirt, my eyes watch as her tits are revealed. My hand on her hip squeezes, as my self-control is dying by the second.
Grabbing my other hand, she brings it up to her chest. She wraps it around her tit, holding it against her flesh as her hips continue to grind into my throbbing cock.
“Ben. Please fuck me.” Her voice is all breathy and full of desire. I’m going to go insane. “I want to feel my pussy stretch around your fat cock again. One time is not enough.”
“Yeah? Will two times be enough, baby?” I thrust my hips forward and she groans.
“No.” She shakes her head. Short caramel strands of hair swish in the air. “It will never be enough.”
“Too bad,” I say and gently push her off me. She lands on her back beside me.
“What the fuck is your problem?” she huffs, sitting up. “Does falling in love make your dick limp?”
“Think we both know that’s not the case.”
She crawls off the bed, yanking her shirt off the second bed and pulling it over her head.
“I’m leaving. And you’re an asshole.”
“You are not leaving,” I say, standing up.
“What are you going to do if I try?” She glares at me. “Make this an actual kidnapping?”
“Technically, it always has been.” I shrug, walking to my backpack. Sadly, for her, I came prepared for her fight-or-flight instincts, pulling out a set of handcuffs I hold them in the air for her to see.
“You wouldn’t,” she states as her eyes widen.
“I beat the shit out of your ex, stabbed myself in front of your father, agreed to not cum, spent the weekend in jail, kidnapped you and confessed my love for you. Do you really think I won’t handcuff you to the bed?”
“If you handcuff me to the bed, I’ll never forgive you.”
“Just like I don’t need your love, baby, I don’t need your forgiveness.” I take a step toward her, and she takes a step to the side. “I’ve accepted my role as your punching bag and martyr. Now it’s time for you to accept your role as damsel in distress.”
“I never asked you to save me.” She takes another step toward the door. She is going to have to find a way past me if she plans on getting to it. That’s not going to be easy. “And I’m not a damsel in a distress.”
“Oh baby. You did and you are.”
“When did I ask you to save me?”
“You called me that night.”
“You called me first.”
