chapter nine #2
She lunges, swinging the chair in a wide arc, aiming for my head. Any sympathy I have for her vanishes, knowing as well as she does she could kill me if it hits its mark.
Snatching the chair, I flip it, driving it hard against her until she’s trapped between it and the hidden door.
Impassively, I watch her exhaust herself, struggling against the jail she’s created for herself. She tries to slump and slip through the bottom, but the legs dig into her tits. Wincing, she wiggles, doing her best to find freedom.
Her panicked gaze meets mine. I smile slow and menacing shaking my head at her futile antics.
Tossing her head back and forth trying her damnedest the wriggle free, she makes little prickles of sweat break out on her forehead.
“Stop before you hurt yourself.” I grit out, not liking the way she’s struggling for some unnameable reason.
“Fuck. You. Bitch.” She grunts, still struggling like a bunny caught in a trap.
“I never figured you to be so simple, ti de?od.” I growl, my ire rising with every twist. She doesn’t stop. The fabric of the sheet is caught between the secret door and the chair pressing into her curves.
It starts to slip, but her arms are pinned, keeping her from stopping the slow descent of the material sliding to the floor.
I can’t tear my gaze from each curve as they are revealed in the slow, torturous slide down her body.
Thick umber curves emerge. Diamond-hard nipples poke out, beckoning me to suck them.
Her waist nips in a deep classic hourglass just enough to accentuate the soft roundness of her belly. Just below is a luscious thatch of dense curls covering the mound of her pussy. My gaze drills in on the sight — curls drenched with her cream.
“Huh.” I bite my lip. My gaze sliding back up the curves until I meet her turbulent stare.
“Fighting gets your pussy wet.” It’s a statement. The evidence is in my face, not to mention seductively scenting the air, making my dick push against my jeans.
Grip tightening for the briefest second, I fling the chair, not bothering to turn when I hear it splintering against the wall.
Before she can react, I manacle her neck, shoving her hard against the door.
“Don’t try shit.” I kick her legs open wider, stepping between them, erasing the space between us.
Our size difference is more pronounced standing this close. Yet, I feel every curve I come in contact with melting into my body. She hates me. Hell, the feeling is more than mutual, but our bodies don’t care, and I couldn’t give a damn right now either.
Looking down at the cluster of locs piled high on the top of her head, I’m captured not for the first time by the intricate pattern of her tresses. Reaching for the knot, I tug, fascinated, watching the soft strands unravel and cascade down her body.
I catch the scent of the vanilla-rose, curious about how she managed to procure the scent. Closing my eyes, I inhale, savoring the bouquet mixed with the essence that is uniquely hers.
Absently, I register her little fists pushing and battering my sides.
“Get off.” She demands, squirming against me in a fruitless attempt to move me. “Ki te'm yon repo.”
“Nah, lil’mama, I’m never leaving you alone. We’re way past that. It’s obvious you need a good fucking. What kind of man would I be if I let you go without your needs being met?” I whisper down into the bounty of locs hiding her face from me.
“Call Oz.” She dares.
“Sure, and after I cut his fucking head off, I’ll fuck you while his body twitches, bleeding out on the floor beside us.” Tightening my grip, I tilt her head up so that she’s forced to meet my gaze.
I regret it the moment I look down into the bruised brown orbs. Hurt and disappointment spiral in her gaze.
Looking away from her condemnation, my jaw ticks, anger flaring harder and higher than ever before.
“You can’t beat him. If you could, he would be dead.” She scoffs, all emotion wiped away except the newfound hate she has for me. “Unlike you, he doesn’t need to force anyone.” She smirks with fake pity.
“Oh, yeah?” My eyebrow lifts as I accept her challenge.
Slipping my hand between our bodies, letting my palm slide down the sweat-slickened plushness of her belly. I watch her eyes flare. “You think I have to take what’s already mine?”
Spearing my fingers into the soft curls drenched for me, I ask, hearing the guttural rasp in my voice. “What’s always been mine?”
Gaze never leaving hers, I stroke through the thick curls, keeping my touch gentle as I graze her plump lips.
“Damn this motherfucker’s fat, mi vida.” Groaning, I’m captivated by the way she worries her bottom lip between her teeth.
The frantic dart of her eyes makes emotion kick in my chest. It’s nothing soft.
Her reaction, like she’s never been touched before, ignites a lust inside that takes everything in me to reign in.
She’s soaked for me. “Yeah, you hate me touching you,” I mutter, easing two fingers between her pussy lips, capturing her turgid clit that’s already hard and ready for my attention.
“You really hate a trafficking pendego touching this pretty ass pussy, huh?” Hearing the need in my voice makes the cruelty of my words almost laughable, but my reaction to this little troublemaker ain’t fucking funny.
“Fuck you.” Moaning the words and canting her nips into my hand does little to deter me. I honestly don’t know if I’ll stop — if I can. This has gone too far.
Playing with her pussy becomes my mission. Making her cry out in pleasure with my touch is my ministry, and like any good saint, I take my work seriously.
“Fuck my fingers, Saban,’’ I demand, trapping the little hardness between my fingers. She’s slippery and wet, coating my fingers beautifully.
“Non.” Making a liar out of herself, pumping her hips in time with my fingers as she comes. Trapping her bottom lip between her teeth, she tries so hard to keep quiet as the orgasm I’m giving her makes her pussy slicker, wetter and ready for me.
I tighten the grip I have on her neck, tsking. “Such a fucking liar.”
Shaking my head at her in mock disappointment. “Thought I raised you better,” I snarl, watching as her expression crumbles in defeat.
I feel the biting fire on the same cheek she scratched earlier, not noticing she’s worked her hand free to smack me.
Snatching her up before she gets anymore bright ideas, I hoist her over my shoulder, smacking her ass hard a quick succession of slaps as I pivot, striding over to the bed.
Tossing her onto it, I watch as she bounces thrice before climbing over her, caging her in. Wedging my body between legs spread from the force of the impact, I become her prison.
The breath is still knocked out of her when I cover one large globe of a breast with my mouth, covering the other with my hand.
It remains that way, as I tongue and lave one diamond-hard peak before turning to the other.
Dancing the hard nubbin on my tongue, I squeeze the other with gentle pressure.
I feel her squirm, not knowing if it’s to get closer or away.
In that moment, I don’t give a fuck. I’ve finally found where I should have been for more than a year.
Nothing can drag me away now that I’ve found my home.
I fully expect her to dig her nails into my face again to make me stop.
Instead, they pierce my scalp, holding me steady as I suck them together, letting them pop free only to suck them together again.
I watch how they glisten like two overripe berries in the hot Alabama sun.
I wet them again and again only to lick up my mess.
Her back arches, begging for more attention. “Oz must have been a poor-ass teacher if I can tie you in knots like this, sweetness.” Giving her no time to let the dig register, I turn back to tormenting her pretty titties.
Tonguing, biting, sucking, I leave my marks all over her bountiful breasts. My dick thrums like it has a heartbeat of its own. It’s almost painful as it lengthens, seeking relief only she can give.
Moving down, I lick a path of fire, dipping my tongue into the indentation of her navel. Tasting her sweat and the vanilla-rose body butter nearly makes me come right then, and I haven’t even gotten between those thick thighs yet.
Lower, I press kisses until I get to the prize that’s beckoned me for the last two years. The prize that’s promised to me for the months I’ve hunted her.
Curls slick with desire welcome me. Inhaling her, I bury my face in her curls, rubbing my face into the crush of springy softness. She is all woman, and no matter who came before, she’s all mine now, I think, reveling in the dense lushness.
I open her to me. Seeing the way her clit pokes out has me salivating. Beneath the hot pink of her opening is lush with need. Her essence glistens in welcome.
Unable to hold back, I bury my tongue in her honied hole, lapping and savoring the deliciousness of her.
“Damn, girl, your pussy is good,” I groan, tugging one fat lip, sucking only to dip back in before moving to suck the other.
“Too much,” she squirms when I start flicking her with my tongue.
Looking up, I see the truth of her discomfort. Oz was mediocre at best if she still can’t take the full force of a tongue.
“Is she still sensitive, little one? I’ll be gentle.” Her thighs tremble when I make my promise against her flesh.
Swirling my tongue around her clit with ease and deliberation, I tease her softness, dipping deep into the heat of her pussy, catching every drop that dares escape.
I savor her flavor dancing on my tongue.
Licking up to the tip and down back where the little organ thickens to meet her plush lips.
Her thighs squeeze tightly around my head, muffling the cries she emits.
My reward for attentiveness is when she arches into my mouth as I suck her clit into my mouth. Her juicy ass trembles in my cupped palms as I feast while she fucks my face.