Chapter 5 #2
“You might be a dirty animal, but I prefer not to live in a mess, nor will I tolerate dirty boots on the coffee table.” I refuse to live in an unclean house, even if it is this small, quirky apartment.
Her jaw drops, and she lowers the peas to her side. “This is my apartment. You haven’t even been here for a night.”
I remove the first boot and freeze when it reveals a long sock with colorful llamas all over it. Is she a child or something? I’ve never seen so much fucking color on one sock. I don’t comment, moving on to the next boot.
“This is my apartment now, too, sweetheart, so you better get used to it.”
She scoffs and stubbornly looks away with her nose pointed a little higher in the air. “I doubt you’ll last here too long.”
I find it amusing the way she speaks to me. I wonder if she would be so bold if she knew what I was capable of.
“I do like a challenge,” I purr as I remove my own shoes and jacket, studying her as I do.
She wears thick-winged eyeliner to frame her light-brown eyes. The style suits her prickly personality, which swats away anyone who tries to get close. Or maybe that cruel intention is only directed at me, which makes my cock twitch with excitement.
“Let’s be clear on some things. We’re not going to become friends. The less I see you, the better. And stop texting me,” she says as she raises one perfectly manicured fingernail at a time, listing off rules. Then she raises her pinkie. “I also don’t trust you. You’ve got fucking weirdo vibes.”
My eyebrows rise, and I can’t help but smile. Of all the ways women have reacted to me, I’ve never once received such adamant disgust. I’ve never met anyone like her.
“Are you always this hospitable?” I ask, genuinely curious if this is what she’s always been like or if it's only because of the "recent events," whatever those might be, that I overheard Ara and Lily discussing.
“Are you always this condescending?” she snaps.
“I prefer to be referred to as a shit-stirrer, and if we’re being honest, I fucking love it.”
Her gaze narrows. “I really don’t like you.”
“You seemed to like me enough to ride my cock.” Fuck, she’s beautiful, tempting even. Especially the way she glares at me with spite. My inner menace wants to drive her to craziness, and it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge.
Whatever this little vixen has gone through, it’s broken her.
But this is the part I love to see the most in people—what they’re truly made of inside.
Their inner animal screaming out in pain, wounded and vicious, trying to defend itself.
That’s what she reminds me of. Because at its core, this is the ugly version of themselves no one wants to face.
“You’re so sure of yourself,” she bites, but I can see the lust in her gaze.
That familiar tension from the night at my brother's party runs through me again. It’s as magnetic now as it was then.
I’ve fucked many women, but I’ve never been so attracted to, or wanted, someone like Romi, who acts on her desires without hesitation.
This is all part of a plan to get closer to my brother's world, but I’m a selfish asshole who is certainly going to enjoy the perks.
She drops the peas on the couch cushion and smoothly comes to straddle me, as if it’s her right. Her knees fall to either side of my thighs, and she hooks her arms around my neck. She’s using me; I know this, and I’m happy to be the distraction.
I still don’t like the fucking mark on her face, though, even if a woman did it, even if she feels like she deserved it. It mars the beautiful, messy creature she is.
She lowers herself against me, her hungry little cunt slowly grinding against my cock and bringing it to full attention.
“You know, I kind of wish I were the one who punched you in the face.” Her words are poison, but her tone is seductive.
I press her hips farther down for friction against my pants. “You can do whatever you want to me, sweetheart. I don’t have any boundaries.”
“Hmm,” she purrs as she grabs my hair and tugs it back harshly, jarring my neck. Her other hand begins to efficiently undo my shirt buttons. When her fingers stop moving, I look down and realize she’s staring at my tattoos.
“I wasn't expecting these,” she says quietly, taking a moment to study the ink.
“I thought you didn’t want to get to know me?”
She tugs my hair again, pulling me upright, my cock twitching in pleasure at the pain that tears at my skull.
“I don’t, but I also didn’t get off tonight. Do you think you’re up for the challenge?”
I hook my finger around the zipper at the front of her dress and pull it down. The material parts to either side of her, revealing that she is bare beneath it. Just those stupid fucking socks that I have no interest in taking off.
She’s so fucking gorgeous—perfect in size with bountiful tits and perky, pink pierced nipples. I couldn’t see her clearly last time since it was dark, but now that I can appreciate her in the light, a guttural noise escapes me.
I lean in, but she stops me with her finger on my lips. “No kissing.”
I smirk behind her finger. “Scared you’re going to fall for me, sweetheart?”
Her eyebrows furrow. “No, your breath is foul, and I only care about your dick. And before we do this, you need to take Borris out of the room. It’s weird if he watches.” She says the last part as she climbs off me and stands.
“So demanding.” But I follow her command. And I certainly know my breath isn’t fucking foul.
Borris looks up at me with big, brown eyes.
“Sorry, buddy, but I’m putting myself first in this,” I say as I pick him up and place him in her room, closing him inside.
When I turn, she’s removed her dress, and she huffs impatiently as I walk over to the sink to wash my hands.
Because of her impatience, I purposely take my time, torturing myself in the process.
She raises a sharp eyebrow, as if to say, Two can play at that game, and sashays over to the kitchen island, where she begins to forage through her purse. She fishes out a condom, throwing it onto the coffee table, then takes a seat in the chair in the corner of the room.
Then she spreads her legs, hitching both of her feet onto the arms of the chair, and begins to rub her clit.
Fuck me, this woman is dangerous.
I watch her, fascinated, as I scrub my hands furiously while she begins to enjoy herself. It's a glorious sight, and as I walk over to her, my hands still dripping wet, I begin to remove my own shirt and pants, I can’t help but smugly say, “I thought you said sex was off the table.”
“You can always leave,” she challenges. “Just don’t get attached. I need a release. Either you can help with that, or you can’t.”
When I pull my pants down, and my cock springs free, she swallows heavily, staring at it. I take pride in how she seems to appreciate the view. I pick up the condom, smirking at how organized she is—if only in this.
I fist my cock as I watch her, mesmerized. “Should I be offended you went elsewhere to try and find this release tonight?”
She casually shrugs, her gaze locked on where I'm working my cock. “You didn’t leave a lasting impression last time.”
I chuckle, knowing that’s a fucking lie. “Tell you what, sweetheart. I’ll help you with your release as much as you want. Just don’t bring strangers home.”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she’s quick to say. “It’s a privilege you get to fuck me. Don’t forget that.”
I arch an eyebrow, unable to stop smiling as I roll the condom over my cock and then hook her foot over my shoulder. I’m coming to learn that my new roommate is quite flexible. I lower myself over her, lining up my cock with her cunt.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?”
Her hand grabs around my throat, and those nails dig in, creating a hum through my body. “Stop talking.”
“Just make sure you squeeze harder,” I tell her as I stuff her cunt with my cock, stretching out her leg over my shoulder.
Her eyes roll into the back of her head as she moans, her grip on my throat tightening just as I requested. Fuck me, she’s tight, wet, and so ready for me.
Her other hand works on her clit, circling as she rides her own high, and I begin to pound into her. The hand around my throat tightens further, and I relish in the pinpricks of her nails, excited by the idea that they might draw blood.
I lean into her, avoiding her lips as I bite down on her throat, and she groans. I jerk into her, pounding her into oblivion as I lose myself in her, like the very first time we met. Except this time, I have a name for the ravenous little whore.
She groans, her hips arching into me, legs bending farther as I hook the other one over my shoulder, forcing her to cling to the chair for dear life with one hand and my throat with the other as I thrust into her.
She cries out when I twist one of her pierced tits, and her nails dig deeper into my throat, the other hand grabbing my shoulder and then clawing down and into my pec, as if that might give her better traction.
Her nails scratch down my chest as she pants and screams. Fuck, this woman does something to me. No other woman has challenged me head-on like this, treating me like I’m the one being used, and I fucking love it.
Her body begins to shake, and she bucks beneath me, cursing. Her pussy tightens around me, and I slow down, letting her ride her bliss, before slamming into her again.
“Oh fuck.” Her large, brown eyes stare at my pierced cock as it pounds into her, her legs still shaking around my shoulders.
She squirts around my cock, a beautiful fucking mess that only encourages me.
Her hand loosens around my throat, so I take that as my cue to lift her and flip us so I’m beneath her.
I impale her back onto my cock, and she jerks while readjusting to the intrusion.
She doesn't move her hips otherwise. Instead, her nails drag down my chest, and I enjoy the painful red marks she leaves.
“You like pain,” she notes, curiously and slowly.
I lick my lips. “Yes.”
“That’s cute,” she says as she climbs off me. “But I’ve already gotten off now. Thanks, roommate.”
I snatch her hand before she’s out of reach. “What do you think you’re doing, Cattivella?”
She shoots me a wicked smile. “Going to bed now that I’ve gotten what I wanted. Thanks for your enthusiasm.” She glances at my straining cock. “You can deal with that yourself, can’t you?”
She slips out of my grip, her ass swaying from side to side as she walks down the hall. I sit back, stunned. Frustrated. And excited.
I’ve never had a woman deny me. Ever.
The cruelty in it does something to me; it leaves me hanging on for more—excited to fuck her all over again. I almost want to beg her to finish me off, but now that I’m living with her, I’m sure I’ll have another chance.
I look at my hard, angry, unsatisfied cock.
I could get myself off. But, like the masochist I am, I deny myself.
Promising myself that the next time I fuck her into oblivion, I’ll stuff her cunt with my cum.
She's a blank canvas I want to ruin, already a perfect fucking mess, and only one more fracture away from breaking into a million pieces.
And I can’t wait to be the sledgehammer.
She just made this personal.