Chapter 28
You asked for it
Scarlett
Endo Macarley is the most unpredictable man I’ve ever met. For a morally compromised person, he still has some redeeming qualities. Such as forgoing sleep so that I can be more comfortable, even though I’m his captive.
As far as he’s concerned, I’m just leverage to get his brother back. Yet, I’m not in the dungeons, and I’m free to move around town and interact with people who have known him their whole lives.
Now he wants to eat me out.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were attracted to me.”
“You do know better.”
Every brain cell warns me of his touch. My nerve endings send shivers up my spine when Endo stands at the foot of the bed. He lifts the comforter and wraps his calloused hand around my ankle.
Without further ado, Endo slides under the covers and between my legs.
Heart hammering, I stare at the ceiling. Good thing hymens can’t regrow. If a hymen could reappear, mine certainly would. Come to think of it, right now, in this situation, right now with Endo’s face between my legs, I regret celibacy very much.
I’m sure he’s experienced beyond my imagination. I’m sure he’s satisfied his needs plenty. What are his needs?
Is he kinky? Does he want to spank me? Maybe he’s a sweet lover who would ask permission to penetrate me, and once he did, maybe he’d ask me if I was okay. As in, if I survived the penetration.
“Are you thinking about me?” he asks while under the covers with his head between my legs. He’s breathing on my clit.
“No.” Deny or die.
Endo kisses my bare thigh and scrapes the thin skin there with his trimmed beard.
My legs fall open, spread wide.
He can have it. All of it. Come on his tongue? Yes, please. I hope I can last a minute. Is that even a thing women pray for? I have no idea, but I’m doing it. I’m going to hold off coming for as long as I can. Delay gratification.
I hope he’s not very good at oral sex.
I hope he sucks.
No. that’s counterproductive.
Teeth graze my thigh, then bite.
I’m hot. Burning. My channel pulses with need. My hands are on my breasts, and I squeeze them. Nipples harden under my palms.
Endo swipes a finger over my panties. “You’re wet.”
“I am not.”
Ha! As if he can’t tell. But again, deny or die of shame for being wet for my enemy.
“You talk so much smack, but your pussy doesn’t lie. She’s sopping wet for me.” He pinches my clit, and I yelp.
“Ouch.”
He smacks it.
“Ouch?” I don’t know why I formed the pain response into a question or why my hips lift as if I’m seeking more. I can’t possibly want him to slap me down there. Do I?
“Yes, you did like that. Here it is again.” He smacks my clit. My panties should be dry, yet they’re anything but. My body should stop burning for him. For my captor.
Am I turned on because he’s wrong for me?
“For a woman who’s done everything right in her life, you wet easily for the wrong man.” A finger sneaks under my panties and moves them aside.
Endo is in my head.
I anticipate the feel of his mouth. The feel of his trimmed beard scraping all the right places while his smooth tongue soothes by licking everything his stubble scraped. My body is ready. When he doesn’t lick me, I lift my hips.
That earns me another slap.
Oh no. I like this too much. If I were nineteen, I could claim cluelessness with plausible deniability of what I like and dislike, but I’m thirty and I know (I fucking know) he’s stroking every desire I’ve worked to suppress.
The hidden, dirty ones I’m afraid that, when I’m with this man, will come forward.
“I might tie you up and use my belt on your ass cheeks.”
“You would do that?”
For fuck’s sake.
It’s obvious I haven’t explored sex with a dominant man.
I’m unsure what I’m getting myself into.
Judging by my reactions, I’m into whatever Endo is doing.
Maybe I like some pain. Not too much, I hypothesize.
But by nature, I’m curious, so I’d like to find out.
I find things out by actually doing them, not just by thinking about them.
Endo presses his tongue against my opening and licks me like he’s tasting a scoop of vanilla ice cream from a cone. My thoughts die. All of what I am is now between my legs. My muscles tingle in anticipation of another lick.
He indulges me, swiping his tongue once, twice, three times, again like he’s eating ice cream.
“You are as sweet as I thought you would be.”
The bed moves, and I look down to see Endo’s elbow. I think he’s touching himself. I don’t know why that turns me on more, but it does. He pulls my clit into his mouth and sucks.
I moan, closing my eyes as I imagine his fist pumping his length. I bet Endo is big, wide, smooth, and hard. At least I hope what he’s doing to me makes him hard. I’d like to think he’s turned on by me as much as I’m turned on by what he’s doing to me.
Sadly, he’s not bad at oral.
Not at all.
Other men have eaten me out before, but not like this. Most of them used their fingers. Endo doesn’t. He presses his stubbled jaw against my opening and moves his head in a way that makes his face rub against my pussy. Folds, opening, clit, everything. Endo uses his entire face.
I bite my arm and try to hold off my orgasm for as long as I can, but Endo laps at me, sucks, rubs relentlessly. He rips a scream out of me as my body releases an orgasm. It’s a forceful one, and I’m sure it will drip on his tongue. Served just the way he ordered it.
Aftershocks rock me.
My legs shake as Endo laps me up.
“Please, no more,” I say.
Endo bites my thigh.
Bastard.
He puts my underwear back on and closes my legs, then crawls up my body. He straddles my waist and grips the headboard with one hand to hover over me. It’s dark, but I know he’s watching me as he jerks off.
“Did you like that?” he asks, his voice cracking.
I nod.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes, I liked it.”
His pace increases, and with him being so bold and unabashed, I feel at liberty to lower my top and expose my breasts.
“You’re beautiful. All of you. Head to toe.” Endo ejaculates. The stream hits my chest, left breast, chin, and the corner of my mouth. Quickly, before he can catch me doing it, I swipe his cum with my tongue. Taste him.
He tastes…toxic. Like drugs. There are ones we shouldn’t use, but then there are ones that are actually medicine. Good for us in certain doses and under certain circumstances.
I wonder if Endo is a recreational drug or medicine? If medicine, what part of me needs a cure? Which raises the question, what’s my illness?
Insanity? No.
Loneliness? Maybe.
Endo leaves the bed, and when I think he might depart now that we’re finished, he offers me his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you washed.”
Can’t argue with that. We exit the room.
Endo stops in the hallway, and I run into him.
“What are you doing here?” he barks. His tone makes me want to crawl under my bed. Jesus. He was just using that mouth to make me feel all cozy and warm, and now I think he might bite someone’s ear off.
I peer from behind him and see one of the twins standing guard. I think it might be Declan because of the way he dresses. He wears dress pants, whereas Connor likes jeans.
“Probably not the same thing you’re doing,” the man says.
“Sure hope not.” Endo walks by the man.
I could probably get pregnant from the amount of semen my skin is absorbing, so I keep my head down and try not to draw attention.
When we get to the baths, Endo steps back and bites his knuckles. Dark eyes blaze with need. “You don’t want to get into the bath with me.”
“No?” It shouldn’t have sounded like a question. It should’ve sounded like a firm negative with a follow-up affirmation.
Endo stalks off. “I’ll shower.”
He doesn’t adjust the water, just yanks on the lever. Once the forceful stream hits him, he hisses. I assume he’s taking a cold one. He never took off his pajama pants, but no amount of cold water could deflate that massive erection I see outlined.
I take off my nightgown and get into the spa with a smile. Endo thinks about me too.