Chapter 7 Sealing the Deal
SEALING THE DEAL
CASSIDY
He’s testing me.
Again.
I can’t say I’m necessarily surprised, but I am a bit thrown off that he’s testing me so soon, and in such a public manner.
What does surprise me is that I’m not completely against the idea. Typically, if a man had tried to test me in such a way I would’ve put a stop to it immediately. But not this time. Nope. This time my insides clench, my heart rate accelerates, and my pussy thrums to life.
It’s not my fault this man is completely loathsome and also entirely hot. Which makes me want to hate him even more because if I’m going to hate someone, I prefer my hatred not to be confused by the constant urge to mount him.
He’s staring at me openly, his smug expression gleeful. Part of me wants to tell him to go fuck himself, but the competitive part of me wants to show him that I’m not scared to meet him head-on.
Slowly, I rise from the chair, pushing it back as I stand. Resting my hands on the table, I lean forward, grateful I wore a low-cut blouse that will allow him a good look at my cleavage.
“So, that’s it then?” I ask, wanting to have a clear understanding of what it is he wants from me before deciding on exactly how I want to proceed. “You wanna fuck me right here?”
His head turns side-to-side, slowly, his smirk growing as he responds, “No.”
“No?” I parrot, confusion in my tone, and he shakes his head again, so I add, “Then what the hell do you want?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
My eyes widen, my breath catches in my throat, my legs squeeze together as the throbbing between my legs intensifies. He cocks his head at me, eyebrows raised as he waits for me to make a decision.
Sighing, I contemplate my next move, knowing this may set the tone for the entirety of our agreement. Not wanting to give myself any room to chicken out, I lean closer, raising a knee and boosting myself onto the table, a thrill rushing over me as some of that smugness leaves his face.
I crawl across the short expanse, my eyes locked with his as I scoot around, sitting on the edge of the table. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately sliding his chair close so he’s inserted himself between the splay of my legs.
His hands come up, hovering on the outside of my thighs, his expression questioning until I scoot closer. Taking my movement for the green light it clearly is, he moves his hands beneath my skirt, the upward slide of his hands on my skin moving the skirt up and out of the way.
My hands slide lazily up his arms, my fingertips digging into his muscular shoulders. My head falls forward, and I don’t bother pretending I’m not scenting him, wanting the moment to completely overwhelm me.
“What’s it gonna be, Cass,” he drawls lazily. “You gonna give me a taste of that pure unadulterated animalistic fucking,” he pauses, his thumbs caressing the bare skin of my hips, his lips just brushing against my earlobe. “Or are you gonna say red?”
That motherfucker.
Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank, a thrill running down my spine as his head comes back with a grunt of pain. Once again, I lock eyes with him, then lean forward, my tongue and lips nibbling a trail across his cheek to his ear. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
His body shudders, but he doesn’t say anything. I pull back, watching his face for a moment as I come to a decision on what I want to do.
Give as good as I get.
Take as good as I give.
Shoving him away, I press my palms on the table behind me, a foot lifting to rest on the arm of the chair beside him.
For a moment he remains frozen, my sudden change of position obviously throwing him off.
Then his gaze flits from my face to my crotch and back to my face, his head cocked to the side, nostrils flaring.
Smiling saucily, I whisper, “I’ll fuck you after you get me good and wet for you.”
The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s yanking me forward.
Losing my balance, I fall back onto my elbows, the sudden stretch of my thighs only adding to the sexual tension brewing inside me.
Ren places one hand on my inner thigh, his other hand yanking my underwear to the side, making room for his hot, wet tongue and seeking lips.
Giving up any semblance of playing hard to get, I sprawl onto my back, my hands moving to his hair, my head lifting as I urge him to mouth fuck me into oblivion. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Right there. Don’t stop.”
His hand on my underwear twists, his finger plunging inside me, first one, then two, scissoring in short pulses as his tongue and teeth and lips work my clit savagely.
His other hand moves from my thigh, and I feel the shake of his lower body as he works to free his dick from his pants while pushing me toward orgasm. He strokes himself, his groan of pleasure a sweet vibration on my heated flesh that has me moaning loudly.
I release his head, place my hands behind my knees, then spread myself wide-open for him. My body tightens, the tension in my lower belly from my awkward position intensifying the coalescing sensations from his mouth and fingers.
My breath catches in my throat, white-hot pleasure tingling through me, but then, he pulls back, moves his fingers from my pussy to my clit as he stands. Cursing in frustration I reach for him, grip his sides, and attempt to pull him closer.
He guides his dick between my legs, pressing the thick head into me, a slow slide that leaves me desperate for more. I pull harder and he falls forward, just managing to stop his forward momentum by bracing his hand on the table beside me.
Rocking backward, he bends his knees slightly for leverage, then cups my ass in both his hands, pulling me into the rut of his cock, plunging so deeply, pleasure borders on pain.
My back arches off the table and one of his hands squeezes before sliding around, dipping along the crack of my ass until I feel the blunt tip of his finger at my back hole.
I freeze for a moment, torn between the slight feeling of depravity while also not wanting him to stop. Unable to find words I mutter, “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”
“I knew you were a dirty girl,” he responds, his finger pressing against my asshole rhythmically. “I can’t wait to fuck all your holes.”
Pressing my heels into the back of his thighs, my hips buck up, grinding my clit against the base of his cock.
He doubles his efforts, grinding into me forcefully, his finger pressing against my asshole, a constant pressure while not truly penetrating, but it’s more than enough sensation for me. I’m too far gone.
My orgasm crashes over me, my breath a broken wheeze in my throat as I fight my urge to curse and thrash violently, not giving one single fuck of where we are in this moment.
He jerks against me roughly, his rhythm now gone, and he half crawls into the table in an effort to continue to fuck me senseless. His upper body falls over me, his lips crashing into mine, and then we’re feeding each other our moans and grunts, our breathless curses of rapture.
Slowly, he stops moving inside me, his hands moving from my ass so he’s braced on his forearms on either side me, preventing him from crushing me completely.
Sweat glistens on his brow, and he swallows repeatedly, obviously working to catch his breath as he straightens his elbows, giving me a tad more space to breathe.
“Thought I was supposed to fuck you,” I ask breathlessly, looking up at him where he’s still braced over me.
A choked laugh falls from his lips, and the gaze he turns on me is warm amusement. “Well, let’s just say you brought out the animal in one of us.”
We manage a few moments of quiet camaraderie, but then he pulls away and a different kind of shiver runs over me. He helps me off the table, his hands firm on my hips as he gives me a moment to steady myself before releasing me and stepping back.
“I have one more addendum to our agreement,” he says as he rights his clothing. “Do I need to have it added officially, or can we make it a verbal agreement?”
Frowning, I stand rather jerkily, annoyed I allowed any sense of warmth to worm its way in when it comes to this asshole. Facing him, I lift a brow, refusing to respond otherwise, and after a moment he adds, “Skirts and dresses for you. And no underwear.”
“What?” I exclaim, even though I’m not nearly as outraged as I likely appear. Adjusting my underwear, I then smooth my skirt down my legs, making sure my expression is petulant as I continue, “You’ve got to be kidding.”
He gives me an assessing look then closes the short distance between us, his hand coming up between my legs, so he’s cupping my pussy. His middle finger digs in, pressing into the mess he just left there. “I would never joke about my seed running down your thighs.”
Legitimately shocked, I gape at him, but I don’t get time to come up with a clever response before he gives my pussy one last squeeze then turns and walks out.
Leaving me to manage my soaked underwear all on my own.