Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Armando
And just like defib paddles applied to my chest, a jolt of energy surges through me.
The lights come on. My body comes back to life.
It’s been almost five years since I’ve tasted a woman, and there’s suddenly so much lost time to make up for.
I’m on her in a second, kissing the fuck out of that lush mouth, sliding one hand up her shirt.
I just killed a guy and hid the body in Flower’s freezer.
That’s what I should be dealing with. But the moment she kissed me, color bled back into my world.
I need to explore it like I need my next breath.
She’s in a short skirt, and I’m suddenly way up it with my other hand, cupping her pussy.
The soft silky fabric of her panties is damp.
That’s all the information my brain needs to go full steam ahead. I’m an animal, incapable of pulling back. Raw instinct propels my actions more than any coherent thought.
I shove her shirt up and lower my head to feast on her nipple, her gasps filling my ears. “Tell me, Flowers.” I slide my fingers under the gusset of her panties to drag through her damp folds. “What got you so wet?” I screw one finger into her, and she gasps and goes up on her toes.
My body is on fire, my need so sharp I can taste it. I’m going to take her right here, until all the darkness inside of me has been driven out. Until I can breathe again.
Her head falls back as I thrust my finger deeper, stealing a moan from her parted lips. Whether she wants to or not, she grinds her hips, pushing down onto my hand. I’m buried so deep inside of her, I’m touching her core.
“Please,” she whispers.
Is she begging for me to continue, or for me to free her and walk out that door? The line between right and wrong is too blurred for me to know.
My heart pounds in my ears, and my cock feels like steel. Our mouths crash together in a desperate kiss, exploring, tasting, teasing. My free hand curls around her body as I tease her lips with my tongue. I feel her tremble beneath me as I press another finger into her pussy.
Her fervent whimpers drive me on until I’m so hard, so ready to devour every inch of her that I’m trembling like a weak man. My hand snakes up to cup the back of her neck as we breathe each other in. The heat from our bodies entwining is almost too much for me to take.
If she begged and pleaded for me to stop, there’d be no way I could.
I know she can’t be comfortable pressed up against the wall with her hands bound behind her back, but I can’t seem to dial back my attention.
Yes, there is a dead man in her cooler, and I have her here as my captive.
But the world around us seems to disappear, leaving only us two enclosed by sexual heat and frenzied desire. Nothing else matters except this moment when she is all mine.
And that’s what she is. Mine .
As adrenaline from my fight flows through my body, I can’t control the demon from coming out and claiming her fully.
I scissor my fingers, spreading her tight little hole, driving them inside harder and faster, pounding into her with an intensity that has her gasping for air as her body quivers beneath me. I don’t stop until I feel her muscles clenching around me as she cries out in pleasure.
“You like being tied up? Or was it your spanking?” I ask.
She stares at me with gold-flecked brown eyes.
Her wild mane of curls tumble all around her head like a halo, falling over her right eye.
She’s gorgeous—pure femininity embodied in a small, curvy, dark-skinned package.
I haven’t been with a Black woman before, but after living with guys of every color in prison, the racism I grew up around has long since disappeared from my thoughts.
But even more importantly, I've never been with a more beautiful woman. Breathtaking would be an understatement. A true goddess who can’t be matched by another.
“Or was it—” I frown, remembering the shit show I’m in. “Was it the violence—what you saw out there? What had you moaning out my name, Flowers? What has this pussy so wet? Does death turn you on?”
“I-I don’t know.”
For a moment, my rational brain tries to break in. Slow my roll. Remind me that this isn’t the time or the place. But her pussy clenching around my fingers and the flush in her cheeks brings me back to the only thing I care about—seeing this thing through.
“You need me to alleviate the ache down here?”
I stop moving, waiting for her consent. We’re both breathing hard, our faces just an inch apart. She holds my gaze and gives a tiny nod, just before she attacks me with another kiss.
I go nuts on her.
I’ve never had a female as the aggressor before, and it fucking drives me wild. I shove my fingers deep inside her again and squeeze her ass with my other hand. She moans and whimpers her pleasure, squirming against me, her lips still pulling on mine, tongue lashing into my mouth.
I screw a third finger inside her, prepping her for what’s to come. I don’t mean to be so raw and dirty, but my body moves of its own accord. My other hand strokes between her ass cheeks, seeking the tight bud of her anus.
She cries out in surprise when I find it, contracting and falling against me.
I push her back against the wall and finger-fuck her with my left hand while my right alternates between rubbing her anus and squeezing her plump asscheeks.
Her pink Converse shuffle and dance beneath her.
My dick isn’t even out, but I experience her pleasure as my own.
It’s been a long time, but I don’t remember ever having a girl go off like this.
Not so easy. Not so fast. Never so welcoming.
The mixture of eroticism and tension between us makes it seem like my life depends on getting her off.
But maybe that’s the adrenaline from almost getting killed.
From—
But I’m not thinking about that now. Right now, I’m watching Hannah, the beautiful young florist, fly over the crest of her orgasm.
She screams when it hits hard, and I smother her mouth with mine, swallowing her cries.
I keep my body pressed against hers and slow-pump my fingers until her channel stops milking them.
“Fuck, Flowers.” I ease my fingers out, then hold her gaze with heavy lids as I put them in my mouth.
“Tastes like heaven.” My voice sounds guttural and rough.
“I could spend all night eating your pussy.”
She blinks at me, her eyes unfocused and glassy, her cheeks flushed with color.
I remembered her as gorgeous, but she was so young when I went away. Barely out of high school. Now she’s all grown up. She pierced her nose. Grew her hair out into wild, golden-tipped ringlets that fall nearly to her ass. She’s gloriously beautiful.
I can’t help myself. I need more. Like I’m going to fucking die on this spot if I don’t get my dick wet right now .
“I want to be inside you,” I find myself saying out loud. It’s wrong. So wrong. I have the girl tied up with florist tape, for fuck’s sake. But something about the way she looks at me makes me think I have a chance. “You gonna let me bend you over that counter and fuck that sweet pussy hard?”
Christ. I’m so fucking depraved. What girl would say yes to that?
But unbelievably, she wets her lips and says, “Do you have a condom?”
Fuck, yeah, I have a condom. I may not have had the urge to use one until now, but I sure as hell prepared for the opportunity in case I did.
I have her bent over in said position in about two seconds flat. I shove her short skirt up and slap her ass cheeks again several times, then yank down her panties. I love the pink blush on her ass, my handprints starting to show.
I find the condom. The pistol I’d stowed in my waistband falls to the floor when I release my cock, but I ignore it, too blinded with desire to even think straight.
Somehow, I get the condom on.
Drag my cock through her juices.
She’s still wonderfully wet. Gloriously, miraculously wet. I sink into her heat, and my entire body shudders with pleasure.
“Fuck. You feel so good.” I’m not chatty, but one touch from this girl, and I’m babbling like a brook.
I have her face pressed down on the workbench, her glorious dark brown and honey-colored curls spread in a wild curtain.
I push it back from her face, then gather a fistful at the back of her head. “You like having your hair pulled?”
She makes a little whimpering sound like, “Uhn.” Might be a no, but her pussy gushes with fresh lubricant, so I take it as a yes.
I take a firmer grip on her hair and begin to thrust in time with her pants of pleasure.
I can feel every twitch and spasm of her pussy as I push my way deeper into her depths.
Her body shakes as if electric currents are coursing through her.
I quicken my pace, driving harder into her with each thrust.
I reach down to caress her breasts, kneading and massaging them as I continue to drive relentlessly into her.
Her moans become more intense as I reach around to stroke and tease her clit.
I feel her tightening around me, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
As she shudders and cries out in pleasure, I thrust as deep as I can.
And then I lose all control. I fuck her fast and hard. Fireworks dance before my eyes. My body explodes into pleasure. Heat spikes at the base of my spine. My blood sizzles.
I’ve been dead for years. Who knew all I needed was a good fuck to come back to life? And it is the best of fucks.
Nothing compares. Every stroke I take inside her makes me jerk with pleasure. I’m riding her too hard, but I can’t dial it back. My loins slap against her ass. Her bound wrists bounce on her lower back.
“My hips,” she gasps. “It hurts.”
Oh shit. I’m banging them against the hard wooden workbench.
I wrap my arm around the front of her to provide padding, and then keep slamming the hell out of her.
I don’t give a shit that I’m bruising my arm.
In fact, I sort of relish the sensation.
Pleasure and pain mingle together into a symphony of sensory feedback.
Her scent gets up in my nostrils, along with the smell of roses and lilies and whatever other flowers she has in the place.
She gasps as I drive hard and deeper, feeling the pressure inside her building to an unbearable degree.
Her hips begin to quiver in response, begging for more.
I reach down and slide one hand between us, my fingers finding her clit and rubbing in circles.
She moans as she arches her back and grinds against me, her body shaking and writhing.
My thrusts become faster and more powerful as I drive toward the edge.
I’m too far gone to wait for her to come, definitely too lost to figure out how to make her orgasm. I mutter a curse and shove deep, pulling her head and torso back up against the front of me as I finish.
I bite her ear, flick it with my tongue. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” I murmur against the soft skin of her jaw.
She whimpers slightly, and a pang of regret wavers through me.
Funny.
I just ended a guy on her floor and felt nothing.
I was the Terminator doing a job. Now I suddenly have a conscience.
And I should be sorry. I just fucked a girl I trussed like a chicken and took as my prisoner.
And her asking if I had a condom probably did not constitute consent.
It was a plea for some measure of safety.
Fuck. What kind of stronzo am I?