Chapter 11 #3
“Yes, but you were with me, not by yourself.”
His left hand goes back down my leg to my inner thigh. “I like you like this. Your legs are already open for me,” he growls.
I once again shift mindlessly.
“Do you know your inner thighs are wet?”
I nod, trying to remind myself I am asking him something. “So, why do you hurt yourself?”
I feel his fingers slide between my legs, moving up to touch my wet lips. I shiver as my mouth parts on a moan.
“Because I deserve it,” he tells me.
I look down to see his right hand tracing the strings, almost as reverently as he’s stroking me between my thighs.
“Why?” I ask, wanting to part my legs further for him. “Why would you think that? You didn’t—”
“Shh. Give me this.”
I let go of Diva. He accepts it and leaves me abruptly.
I take the moment to stand and face him.
I’m completely naked and quivering with need as he places Diva in her case.
As he turns, my eyes fall to below his waist. He’s as aroused as I am, and I can feel the tension in the room like it’s a live wire.
“Tell me what happened this afternoon.”
He completely catches me off guard. Shaking my head, I refuse. Instead of answering, I take my hand and press it down between my legs, trying to ease the ache.
“This portrait for Chantel and me was about regaining trust and finding strength, yet you still hold yourself back from me, Gemma,” he says, stalking toward me.
I step back as he moves forward, and my naked back bumps up against cool, rough bricks. I have nowhere to go, and he’s a solid, unmovable force in front of me. I’m achingly aroused, and at the same time, I find myself fighting the instinct to take flight and run.
“You want me to trust you and tell you why I do something, yet you won’t tell me what happened to you this afternoon,” he continues.
I open my mouth to lie, but I find his index finger up against my lips.
“Don’t tell me it was nothing, because I don’t believe you.”
Blinking up at him, I remain pinned to the burnt-copper bricks, like a trapped butterfly. Removing his finger from my mouth, he opens his palm and places it on my chest at the base of my throat. My pulse beats nervously against his fingertips.
“Do you trust me, Gemma?”
I have no idea. I want to. I don’t have any reason not to, but find I can’t answer him.
My needy body is responding to every word he’s saying while my mind is screaming at me to get out of here. It’s telling me over and over that he’s playing with me, yet my weeping sex is yelling at me to shut the hell up and let him have me.
He grips my shoulder, gently pulling me forward an inch, and turns me so I’m facing the wall.
“Stay? Or run?” he asks, mirroring the thoughts in my head. “Trust me or trust them?”
Trust them? Who? The public? The people outside of the world I now find myself immersed in?
I really want to ask him, but I don’t have the chance because he’s urging me closer to the wall. “Put your hands up on the brick.”
Thoroughly confused and shaking, I raise my hands, placing them flat against the wall. It feels as though I have no choice but to obey him, and then he’s all up on me.
His hands smooth up my naked back on both sides of my spine to my shoulders, which he squeezes for a moment, right before twisting his fingers into my hair, tightly gripping it. I gasp at the unexpected bite of pain.
“You don’t know if you should trust me, do you?” He crowds in against me, pushing his hard cock through his pants against my ass. “That’s probably smart. You’re trembling.”
He’s right. I am.
“You’re trying to scare me,” I whisper.
“I’m trying to warn you,” he admits.
If it’s possible, his voice dips lower, so low that I can feel it stroke between my thighs.
“I’m not what you want, Gemma. You seem to be confused and struggling to understand who I am, but shouldn’t you be questioning yourself? Why would you want someone like me?”
I squirm against him and try to fight against the grip in my hair.
“Let me go,” I tell him. I want to leave and get away from him and the words coming from his mouth. He is hitting too close to home.
“I would…” He pauses for a moment, and I hear a belt unbuckling. I know what he’s about to do. My body wants it, but my head is telling me to get the fuck out. “But I don’t want to,” he whispers.
Swallowing, I try as hard as I can to push back off the wall.
In my mind, I imagine telling him I don’t want this. That he needs to let me go. But I find I can’t say a word, and his hand loosens my hair.
His whole body is flush up against me, and I move slightly. My breasts are pressed against the chilled wall while his hands trap mine at my sides. It’s like he’s trying to crawl inside of me.
“Tell me you don’t want this,” he rasps into my ear.
His voice is edgy and almost sinister in its frustration, but what frightens me the most is that I can’t explain why it makes my body clench so hard that I almost come.
Releasing my arms, he slides his hands around both sides of my hips to cover my mound. Pressing my hot cheek against the wall, I start to pant as I try to sound believable, needing to convince him and myself. “I don’t want it.”
But I moan as his hand slides down between my thighs and I feel his hard cock throbbing insistently against my ass crack.
“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to admit it. Don’t lie to me, Gemma. Tell me the truth. Tell me you want me.”
As he voices one of my biggest fears, I feel two of his fingers slide down over my distended clit through my soaking-wet lips. I can’t stop the words that come out of my mouth then.
“I want you.” But instinctively I shift a little, bringing my legs together and I feel his mouth on my shoulder.
“No. Keep them apart so I can get inside of you.”
Biting my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming, I leave them where they are, but still, his fingers start to push into me.
He groans. “Absolutely drenched.”
I find myself finally giving in, embarrassed by the way my traitorous body is responding to this man—a man I don’t want to need right this minute.
He moves back and pulls my hips away from the wall, tilting my ass up toward him. In a voice I hardly recognize, he tells me, “Your body is begging for me to fuck it, Gemma, and I think your mind is too.”
I can’t help myself from responding, “I think you’re already doing that.”
“What?”
“Fucking with my mind.”
I feel him dip his legs a little. His cock begins sliding through my folds from behind, pushing through to meet where his hand is stroking my clit.
I wish I could see down between my legs, because I know he is also touching the tip of his own cock as it slides back and forth, teasing my entrance with the promise of a good, hard fuck.
“Hmm, your ass is perfect,” he says, running a warm palm across my cheeks. The tips of his fingers are on my crack, and they grip tight, gently pulling my cheeks apart. “So fucking perfect.”
My breathing is out of control now as my hands support me against the wall. My breasts are swaying with each torturous slide of his cock between my needy pussy lips, and all I can think about is what he’s looking at. Closing my eyes on a moan of my own, I wait for his next move.
“All I am telling you, Gemma, is that maybe you should heed what the stories have told you. Maybe you should run. Run far away from me.”
I’m about to respond when his cock suddenly penetrates me with a long, hard thrust. I gasp and bite my lip as he growls and lets go of my ass to grip my hip.
“But for right now, it’s too fucking late,” he adds, punctuating each word with a hard thrust.
His left hand moves to my ass, and his finger strokes over the dark pucker he’s looking at.
“Right now, you’re mine, just like she was mine. I’m going to pull you under and drown you in me until you can’t forget.”
His words are darkly disturbing. They’re too close to everything I have read. It’s too close to everything I have heard or been told about.
He flexes his hips, and his cock strokes deep inside of me. All I can do for the immediate moment is brace myself and hold on for the storm. After all, if I am going to drown, this isn’t such a bad way to go.
Isn’t that the biggest mindfuck of all?