Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
J USTIN
I always knew where she lived. Always. I found out the moment she moved her trailer here.
When she asked me how I knew the other day—I completely froze.
Yeah, how do you tell a woman that you followed her home when she was nineteen?
Never mind that the real reason was that I needed to see where she lived so I could check on her.
She was alone, and it didn’t sit well with my nature.
I couldn’t say any of that, so I just ignored her question, hoping she would forget that she never got an answer.
And now, I’m sitting in my truck in front of her trailer, waiting for her to finally arrive home. Why is it taking so long? The drive from the Dancing Pony to here is twenty minutes; she should be fuckin’ here by now unless they are doing some… extra activities .
At the thought of her in his hands, I squeeze the wheel so hard it lets out a squeaking sound, and I let go.
Fuck, it’s been forty minutes, and she’s still not here.
They’re fucking for sure. I’m gonna break his fucking fingers for touching her.
All evening he tortured me with those little touches.
Every time he touched her, he watched my reaction and just chuckled.
Oh, the fuckface knew what he was doing, all right, even if she was oblivious.
I start the engine and am about to drive to the bed and breakfast where the asshole is supposedly staying when the Jeep shows up, and I kill the lights on my truck.
I left her usual parking spot empty. She slows down when she sees me, I assume, and finally parks her car. When she gets out, I get out too and walk to her.
I don’t talk, I don’t say anything, I just stalk her like a predator. She looks a little dazed and a lot scared and moves backward. But I don’t care. Not anymore.
I grab her hand and lead her to the trailer. She doesn’t resist as we reach the door, where she silently unlocks it, and we step inside. Once she closes the door, I lock it from the inside. I’m not ready for interruptions of any sort today. Not until I’m done.
She’s standing with her arms crossed over her chest in the middle of her kitchen. I lean on the door and wait, making her sweat while questioning what I’m going to do.
And I’m going to do everything .
She’s carefully watching my face, looking for clues. But you won’t find any here, baby, no.
“Did you fuck him?” I growl finally.
“What?” Her eyes widen at my question.
I push away from the door and begin slowly moving toward her as she moves backward.
“Did. You. Fuck. Him,” I repeat, accentuating every word. My voice descends lower .
Once her ass hits the counter, she stops moving, and I step closer to her. My feet are touching hers.
I notice her swallow nervously, the vine tattoo on her collarbone moving with the movement as if alive. I’m mesmerized by it, and for a moment, I forget what I’m doing.
“Why?” she asks as she clears her throat.
“I’m the one asking questions here. Did you fuck him,” I lean in toward her lips but don’t touch them, “Kayla?”
She is silent, her breathing is labored, and a drop of sweat runs down her pulsing temple.
“No,” she says on an exhale.
“Good girl,” I say, taking in how happy that makes me feel.
“Not today,” she adds, and a wave of fury rises up my throat, threatening to suffocate me in pure rage.
“What?” My hand shoots up and grabs her by her throat on its own accord.
Her eyes are trained on mine, not blinking.
Challenging. “When did you fuck him, Kayla?” I hiss into her face, squeezing my hand tighter but still controlling it.
Barely. She has a way of snapping my willpower.
“When?” I demand, but she keeps quiet. Her nostrils flare, and both her hands snake around my wrist. I think she’s scared and wants me to let go, but just as I’m about to, she plants her hands over mine and pushes harder.
A fire starts in my stomach, heaving my balls and shooting up my spine. She’s kinky, just as I predicted. Hoped.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she hisses. Her face is slightly red, and I loosen my grip on her neck. Just a little. Her normal color returns, and she takes a deep, open-mouthed breath.
“Little witch” is all I say before I slam my mouth to hers in a punishing kiss. Her ring tingles my lips, and I get the full feel of it under my tongue. I’ve been wanting to play with it for a long time.
I keep my hand on her throat and snake the other behind her lower back, pulling her onto me. But she’s not close enough, so I lift her up on the table and spread her legs, pushing her thighs apart. As I nestle myself between them, I return my grip to her neck and pull her into me by her ass.
Her arms come around me, digging into my back.
I used to love the pang of sharp pain from long claws, but now I’m enjoying a different sort of pain as her short, blunt nails dig into my skin through my shirt.
I want the barrier gone. I want her hands on me.
I pull away for a second, take my shirt off, and throw it on the floor.
I then grab her shirt and do the same. She’s left in a sexy lace corset, like lingerie, and high-waisted tight jeans.
She dressed like that for him, and I’m furious.
She was planning to undress later. If I find matching panties, I’ll kill him.
Suddenly, all I want to know is if she put those matching panties on, so I pull her from the counter and begin unbuttoning her pants.
I’m too focused on my task to notice her calling my name. Just as I’m about to pull her pants down, her nervous “Justin” finally gets to me.
“Justin,” she calls again, and I look at her face.
“You dressed like that for him? This sexy as fuck set is for him?” I grab her by her throat and pull her to my face. She’s short and has to stand on her tippy-toes. “You were planning on having fun tonight, huh.”
“No, Justin, I just?—”
I slam my mouth onto hers, quickly shutting her little lies down. She wraps her hands around my shoulder and tries to angle my face the way she wants. And I let her. I’ll let her have this ounce of control just for a moment before I take it back.
I grab her ass with both hands and lift her up, sliding her up and down along my length through my jeans. I hear her gasp, and I press her harder into me until she begins whimpering and moving along with me.
I’m so fucking mad that I can’t even talk, and I’m usually vocal in bed.
When I can feel her wetness through my jeans, I plant her back on the table and begin my assault on her neck.
She is sweet. She smells like strawberries and tastes like a candy I’ve craved for so long but couldn’t have.
It was just too bad for me. But now, after I got it in my hands, I’m getting my fill.
She digs her nails into my biceps and tries to bite my neck, but she can’t, because I bite her first, causing her head to fall backward, exposing her sweet little throat to me.
I bite and kiss and lick until she begins shamelessly pressing her pussy onto me, trying to erase the pain.
Her strong legs wrap around my back, pulling me into her.
We are one at this point. We’ll only be closer when I’m inside her. And I desperately need to be.
My dick is so fucking hard, I can cut diamonds with it. The wetness on my jeans is not only from her but from my precum shooting like there’s no tomorrow.
I move my hand onto her corset, freeing her magnificent tits.
I admire them and lick my lips. They are better than I could have imagined.
Small, tight, and so fucking perky. Like they are challenging me to take them on, and I do.
I lower my mouth and suck one sharp nipple in, circling it with my tongue, until she moans.
And I bite. She lets out a soft cry before moaning louder as I soothe the pain with a lick.
Then I move to the other. Doing the same until she wiggles in my arms.
While playing with her tits, I move my hand lower, inside the hem of her panties. Fucking matching ones. I dip my finger in and begin circling her clit, while returning my mouth to her lips.
At this point, she is a wriggling mess, and I’m so sweaty, barely able to contain myself and not spill in my jeans.
When I feel she is close, I pull my hand away, and she begins whimpering as if in pain.
“Wait, baby, you’re gonna come only around my cock. Only then. Do you hear me?”
“Yes.” She licks her lips. “Justin, I?—”
“No.” I can’t hear a word she says, and I shut her with a kiss. A deep, angry, punishing kiss. She meets every stroke with increasing anger. We are a good match.
While I’m kissing her—or she’s kissing me—I unbutton my jeans and free my rock-hard dick. Giving it a couple strokes, I spread the precum over its head. It feels so fucking good, but being inside her will feel even better.
Still locked in a kiss, I find her entrance and push her panties to the side.
I feel her, and she’s so fucking wet I almost burst on the spot.
I put a finger in and then add another, giving it a few lazy, shallow pumps, stretching her entrance and preparing her for my girth.
Then I grab my cock, spreading her juices over me.
I bring my dick closer to her center, and she chooses this exact moment to deepen the kiss.
Little vixen. I’m out of breath and quite frankly out of willpower, so I nudge myself inside, but she is tight.
Fuck. I align myself with her entrance again and push some more.
The same result. My body begins to shake with anticipation, my willpower snapping.
I can’t take it anymore. I enter her with one rough shove.
She pulls away from the kiss and cries out as she digs her nails into my shoulders. That didn’t sound like a cry of pleasure. I watch her face in horror. She is in fucking pain. Fuck!
I pull away and glance down and then back at her face.
Did I just see that?