“I bet you’re dripping wet, aren’t you?”
Her hooded gaze drops to my lips before she pulls back up. “Not a chance.” Her fingers are pushing against my chest, pulling at the uniform until one button pops off. She smirks a little, her pale skin illuminated by the moonlight.
I take the ruined leggings I’d ripped and straddle her, using my weight to keep her immobile. I grab each wrist, binding her together with the lycra. My erection pressing against my pants like it’s trying to join in on the fight.
“Better,” I murmur, my voice low.
I pull myself off her, picking her up and throwing her into the middle of the bed.
She grunts out a moan and tries to steady herself without the use of her hands. Her feet dig into the mattress as she tries to move up toward the pillows. There’s no headboard yet; no doubt it’s on her list once she’s decorated this room. I have a strong urge to prioritize this space for her. Build her something we can use to optimize our playtime, but it seems like a step too far. Is she even going to want to do this again? The look in her eyes tells me yes; she’s loving this so far. But maybe all she needs is one fuck to get it out of her system, then she can move on to someone else. Someone like Detective Biceps.
To hell with that guy and his dreamy face and his over-inflated muscles. I’m gonna make her come so many times she’s going to forget that prick's name.
I remove my shirt, button by button, takingmy time, allowing myself to take in every response she can’t hide. The thick swallow in her throat, the flutter of her lashes as she waits to see what I do next. I drop it on the floor, leaving my pants and boots on for now. I figure a true stalker probably wouldn’t get fully naked, but what the hell do I know?
As I crawl up the bed, she whimpers, shuffling back before I spread her thighs apart.
“What are you doing?”
“Shut up,” I bark.
“Not until you tell me what you’re going to do. I’ll scream.”
“That’s the plan, princess.”
I drop down to her panties, sucking at her clit through the lace as she attempts to buck away from me. Her wrists bound, she pushes both hands at my head, gripping my hair as if she’s trying to rip it out. Goddamn, it feels good to have some of her wrath put to good use. Years and years of snipes and jabs, and we should have been doing this.
I pull the soft fabric aside, swiping my tongue roughly over her lips.
I’m licking Katie Murphy’s pussy.
Katie. Fucking. Murphy.
Her sweet, tangy taste ignites a fire in me. I’m furious. Raging that this is the first time I’ve tasted her. The first time she’s let me anywhere near her soaked cunt, even though we’ve been dancing around this connection for years. I biteat the fabric, creating a small tear before ripping it away from her.
“Yesss!” she cries out.
Bare now, I have no control. My head is buried between her legs, and I’m lapping at her like I’ve been dying of thirst and she’s an ice-cold bottle of water. My fingers grip the back of her legs, and I push them up so her knees hit her chest. I’m gripping her so hard my fingers ache. I’m going to mark her. Going to make her remember this every time she sits down for a week.
“Oh my God, stop...stopppppppp.” The back of her head melts into the pillow as I continue the assault with my tongue. Her pathetic attempt to tug me away by pulling my hair is weak. The arousal coating my mouth and the little thrusts of her hips indicate she’s loving this, and the fact that she hasn’t uttered anything close to the wordred.
“Scream for me, scream for anyone to come and help you now, princess. They’ll see you soaking my chin with your pussy, begging me to fill you,” I hiss.
Pushing two fingers roughly inside her, her warmth coats me, and I curl the tips until I feel her muscles pulse around me. Her heels dig into my back, her hands pulling me down instead of away as I lap against her clit again, keeping a rough rhythm of licking, sucking, and grazing my teeth around her tight bundle of nerves.
“I don’t want this, I don’t want this,” she criesas she grinds against my face.
Her pussy clamps down on my fingers, pulsating against the foreign invasion, and she lets out a roar loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Her hands push me down. I’m teeth and tongue, my face soaked with her essence as my fingers continue to pump inside her. She’s groaning, weeping. I watch as tears fall onto her cheeks. Her bucking stops, and I pull out my fingers, licking them clean as I watch her. My smirk grows into an all-out grin.
“Catch your breath, because I’m not fucking done,” I spit out as her eyes widen.
“Wait, no . . . please. I can’t take any more.”
I undo my zipper, then pull off my undershirt.
She sucks in a breath, her legs squeezing together. We’ve scratched the surface of that ache inside her. By the end of the night, I want her begging me to stop. Her eyes track down my chest. My chest is broad, my shoulders are strong. I’ve had years of working out in the army. Physical training that pushes the body to the absolute limit of what it can achieve. She’s seen me without a shirt on before, but maybe she’s giving herself permission to look this time. Because now her eyes lick up and down me as if she wants to take a bite.
“Please...” she whimpers. “I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t hurt me.”
