Had Daddy paid? Or had something else happened?
I couldn’t even think about that right then. All I could think about was the pulsing and tingling between my thighs. The throbbing ache to be filled, to come. I reached down, spreading my lips, and pushed a finger inside myself while my thumb pressed against my clit, and then I was bringing myself to orgasm for the second time, knowing it was nowhere near what it should have been because my touch wasn’t his. My slender fingers weren’t his thick rough ones. And his mouth wasn’t latched on to my clit, his hot breath all over me.
I shuddered as I came hard, pleasure zinging through me, but all I wanted to do was cry.
I lay there sweaty and panting for the second time, confused and angry, wondering why I was so sad about leaving. So sad about the possibility of never having his hands or his mouth on me again.
What was happening to me?
~ 15 ~
Fighter
I stared at her on the screen, her slender fingers between her thighs and her head thrown back as she came again. My cock throbbed painfully in my jeans, blocking out all the other aches and pains in my body because the only thing that hurt right then was the fact that I couldn’t have her.
She covered herself up and turned on her side, and it occurred to me that I hadn’t cuffed her hands to the bed, nor had I locked the bedroom door after I’d walked away. I flicked the screen off, not wanting to look at her any more or I’d lose control, and I never lost control.
Not even sure how I’d managed to walk away when all I’d wanted to do was fuck her until she was raw and calling my name. I’d never taken a woman that didn’t want me to, but I was dangerously close to doing that with her. Because I wanted in her like I’d never wanted in a woman before.
Wasn’t sure how I continued to walk away from her, leaving her wanting and desperate for my touch. Torture…Bitch didn’t have a fuckin’ clue what torture was. I was only just scratching the surface with her, yet it felt like it was hard on both of us. With every lap of my tongue I wanted her more and more. With every suck on that little clit of hers, my cocked throbbed, begging to plunge inside her. Her taste on my tongue was sweeter than the finest wine. The headiness she gave me when I was fucking her with my tongue was better than any weed I’d ever had. She was the drug and my supplier in one.
I’d walked away to punish her, yet I felt like I was the one being punished.
I walked back across the hallway toward her room and readied the key to lock the door. I leaned one hand on the wood, my gaze on the key, and swallowed, wondering what the fuck had gotten into me. The sooner I got rid of that woman, the better. She was getting under my skin, and all she’d done was almost come on my tongue and tell me she hated me.
What kind of fucked-upness was that?
I wondered what she was doing in there now. Was she sleeping? Or waiting for me? Was she reaching between her thighs and wishing her hand was my tongue? Could she still feel me? My hot breath against her swollen pussy, my teeth nipping at her thighs?
I slammed my hand on the door in frustration.
I wanted her.
I wanted to fuck her body and defile her in ways she couldn’t even begin to imagine.
The urge was primal and dark, not fucking hearts and rainbows. That feisty mouth of hers, those narrowed wolf eyes staring daggers into my soul…Fuck, I wanted to own her with my cock and show her who her master was. I slammed my hand against the door again before shaking my head and storming off toward the shower.
If she fucking left, then she fucking left.
At least I wouldn’t have to hurt her like Hardy was ordering me to.
I turned the shower on and stripped out of my bloody jeans and tore off the stupid goddamn mask I’d been wearing, taking in the many cuts and bruises forming on my already scar-riddled skin. Grazes and gashes, broken ribs, and a swollen shoulder from the dislocation.
At least I wasn’t dead. No doubt it was what I deserved to be after the life I’d lead.
It hadn’t always been like this though. I hadn’t always been like this. Once upon a time I’d been as innocent as she was. But that was a real long time ago, and that boy was long since dead.
I climbed in under the icy water, letting it beat down against the back of my neck and soothe the throbbing headache I had forming. The water stung like a motherfucker as it got into every cut, and with every sting of pain my dick got harder and harder until I fisted my cock and began pumping it slowly. The water was like cold shards on my skin, biting into the muscles and flesh and cutting me. I leaned against the shower wall, one hand on my cock as I thought about her beautiful pussy and how it had tasted. The way it had glistened as I lapped at it. The way her hips had bucked, desperate for more as I’d fucked her with my tongue. God, I’d wanted nothing more than to have her come around my mouth. To feel her body pulsing against my tongue and her juices flooding me. I pumped my cock harder and groaned as the freezing water sluiced over me, making my balls draw up and my nipples hard.
A noise had my eyes opening, and my gaze found its way to her standing there in the doorway, wearing my old Metallica T-shirt and boxer shorts and looking fucking beautiful. Her hair was wild around her shoulders and her skin was pale like milk. She looked innocent and beautiful. Her gaze moved to my hand on my cock, her tongue darting out to wet her parted lips, and I pumped myself harder.
She took a hesitant step toward me and I grunted in need for her. “Get over here,” I growled out.
She should have run.
She could have, and I wouldn’t have chased her.
She should have left the house—and me—behind, because I would bring her nothing but pain.
