Page 39

A wardrobe, Sawyer, really? For fuck’s sake. I grip my hand over my mouth and sink as far back as I can, as slowly as I can. Waiting. Just waiting. I can barely hear his footsteps. I can’t tell where he is. I could pee. My heart stops as the floorboard creaks, I desperately try to align my pupil to the marginal gap in the doors.

I hear a slow, deep, maniacal chuckle manifest from the depths of his abdomen.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

I swallow so hard I nearly choke myself. Unsuccessfully willing stillness to every fibre of my being. I close my eyes and try not to imagine him. I try to not remember how it felt to be pinned down. How he felt in my throat, how his hands felt on my back.

The footsteps edge closer. A raging swirl of desire, fear, and preparedness to engage fills me, my heart stills and my teeth clench. The light invades through the gap.

“I’ve got you, little doe” he teases, but he doesn’t see what happens next. I spear myself through the double doors from his knee height, meeting his stomach with my shoulders nudging him backwards. Certainly not launching him like I expected. My burst of aggression and intent is simply not enough.

The air is loudly and violently forced from my abdomen by the forearms crushing my navel to my spine. Suddenly inverted, my legs hanging in front of me he holds me upside down. I yelp as he bites my ass cheek through my leggings. I kick and thrash as hard as I can. Now I’m a helpless, bite-marked captive. Oh no, whatever will I do? He swings me up high before slamming me onto my bed on my back.

I’m not done fighting yet, I kick out and catch his shoulder, rolling over and trying to scramble away. Thinking I’ve gained some kind of momentum I look back just in time to see his grin, as he pulls me by my ankle back to him. His hands reach the waistband of my leggings, pulling them down exposing my thighs to the cool breeze and reminding me I’m not just trying to escape with feral ferocity, but fuck with that same ferocity. I’m just intent on being feisty and fighting a bit first.

As I claw my way back up the bed, I make a choice. I’m not going to say it was the best, but it was a choice. My hand finds the glass candle on the night stand, and this time I’m not three feet from him. I miss because he moved.

It buys me time, I fall from the bed and scatter to the door, scrabbling with every piece of skittish momentum I can muster. All to the soundtrack of his ominous and foreboding laughter. My shoulder slams into the wall at the bottom of the stairs at the speed I try to turn the corner. His heavy steps on each step and the needlessly dramatic sound of the barrel of his gun clinking on every bannister support.

I decide to play the only card I have left. And I commit to the bit.

“Alexa! Play Ghostface by Drayce Music”

I grab a dining chair and spin it round, sitting on it backwards with a leg either side. Watching him prowl in to the intro is pitch perfect. I make a deliberate show of pulling my top over my head and unclasping my bra, slipping the straps off my arms.

Spotlit by his torch, I give the dining chair the best lap dance it’s ever had, eventually stepping up onto the chair itself, and onto the table where I continue with unusual confidence. His spotlight never falters, following every step, every movement. On the table I finish the job he started. Facing away from him, my silhouette shows my figure as I bend perfectly at the waist, removing my red lace underwear.

Moving one leg at a time, weaving my hips for my invisible admirer I run my hands from my hips down either leg, a hand on each ankle, I look to the light from between them. Flipping him off as I slide my middle finger from the back to the front, excited by being watched and empowered by how long he’s watched me for.

The spotlight gets closer. The shadow I cast grows. I hear the torch land on the worktop with a heavy metallic thud.

“You’re playing a dangerous game” eventually comes the ominous voice

“Don’t die, comply” I tease, on all fours now, facing away from him “I’ll do… whatever… you tell me to…” with as much commitment, and helpless seduction in my voice as possible. Those tree trunk forearms loop around me again, but this time he’s not slamming me anywhere. He loops them between my thighs and waist, lifting me upside down. I wrap my arms around his torso as much to get close to him as to hold myself steady in this terrifying inversion.

I swoon as his kisses land on my inner thigh, and groan as they turn to bites. In unpredictable patterns and areas, keeping me guessing. Pleasure or pain? Both. Constantly both, he brings me up higher, landing his face where we both want it. Pinning me in, my hair flowing weightlessly. I feel his abs through his shirt, as I brace my face to him, and his tongue meets my centre. With deliberate restraint, he holds me tight as his tongue caresses every part of me except where I need it most. Because why wouldn’t he make me wait and work for it? For the love of all that is unholy, get that tongue on my clit, I’m literally soaked for you. Making me writhe and grind before rewarding me, burying his face and opening me with it. Dancing his tongue all over me, he circles my clit before flicking his tongue against me. He builds me up, hearing everything my reactions tell him, teasing me so close to the edge before putting me on the table. I catch sight of his bulge in the shadow before he sits me up, my legs in front of me and my back to his chest.

A sharp slap on my inner thigh has me open my legs for him instinctively, his hand finding its way. His middle two fingers continuing what his tongue started, a groan nearly escapes as his hand cups firmly over my mouth - silencing me. It drives me crazy in all the right ways, gyrating to the rhythm of the dirties playlist, his hands, and my stifled ability to communicate with anything except my body. I close my eyes to the dark and let the pleasure take over.

I start to shake, holding my climax for as long as possible as his teeth find my neck. Biting down and sucking hard, I can’t tell him, but I know he’s marking me. Claiming me. Showing the world I’m his. It excites me enough to bring me over the edge, my hips buck away as my body shivers and tenses.

“There’s my girl” he tells me, moving his hand from my mouth to my throat, gripping hard enough to threaten my breath without stealing it. The threat ignites me more, his fingers torture my overstimulated clit as he motions me to turn around, and pushes me down onto my back, my legs hanging off the table until he puts them on his shoulders.

My fingers find the edges of the table and grip, with as much strength as I can muster as I feel his heat, feel him lining up. Silently I urge him and try to nudge closer. He knows what he’s doing and it drives me wild and fills me with feral fuck-starved rage at the same time.

“Use your words” he teases, hot frustration sweeps across me. I’m not doing it. A harsh spank across my ass cheeks makes me second guess my choice, but I bite my lips. I’m not doing it. My body betrays me, still trying to wiggle closer, pulled by his magnetism. His soft, stubborn snort, precedes the finger and thumb teasing my hyper-sensitive nipples. I can’t help myself but moan, I need him so bad, but I’m not giving him the satisfaction.

“Have it your way…” and he backs away… no please don’t leave. Fuck. He parts my legs, I breathe in deeply waiting for it. Excited, tortured, desperate for him inside me. The slap that lands on my already overstimulated clit does it. Sending me into a spasm I can’t help myself, the words rip from my mouth before my hands can stop them.

“Please…”

“Please, what…?”

“Fuck me… please… I need you… I need you so fucking bad…” panting, almost sobbing

“Good girl”

Damn those words hit so differently. I have a praise kink now, apparently. I don’t get to ruminate in them though as he slams into me without warning or tenderness, just red hot lustful passion and animal desire. My legs thrown to the side, and a simple instruction - which I instinctively follow - “cross your ankles” and he positions me with my knees closer to my chest, my smooth thighs running along the table.