15. Fucking Ruined
Fucking Ruined
Eamon
Holy fuck, that was hot.
Holy fuck , she's so hot.
Holy fuck, I'm so hard.
Just like I asked, my beautiful Isla soaked us both, drenching us in her gorgeous release.
I fear if she even touches my dick right now, I'll explode. But I'm still begging her to do so. It'll be over too quickly; the writhing she did on me with those perfect tits in my face already working me to the brink.
Her face is flushed bright red, the stunning color of her blood rising to the surface showing all the way down between her breasts where they rest against my chest. I can feel and hear her heart pounding.
With tentative hands, I gently run my fingers across the back of her arms,upover her shoulders, cradling her face in my hands and pulling her lips to mine again. I want her so badly, crave her so desperately it's making me a fucking sap. I want to taste every part of her, starting right now with her mouth.
She lets me explore with my tongue again, her hips moving of their own volition against me, her body begging me for more, and I'm gonna fucking give it to her, consequences be damned.
We can fuck once and be fine. I just need to soothe this ache in my cock, bury it between her legs one fucking time.
Her mouth leaves mine, sloppily moving across the stubble on my jaw, down my neck, sucking and teasing with her teeth with precision. My dick jumps as she continues lower, both pleading for and fearing if she's headed where she seems to be.
Scooting down my legs, her hot cunt leaves its home atop my dick, an aching need to escape the prison of my pants making me pant.
Her knees land between mine, spreading them slightly so she can settle between them. I swallow, trying to remain calm because if she wraps those perfect lips around me right now, I'm not sure how long I'll survive. She might actually kill me with that mouth.
Her tongue drags across my lower stomach, and my cock jumps again. Her ponytail falls against my hip, tickling me. Wrapping it around my fist so I can focus on her traveling mouth, I try to regain some semblance of control, but she bats my hand away.
My instincts push me to grab her hair again, to free myself from these stupid pants and fuck up into her mouth, use it, punish it and her for being so goddamn tempting.
But she wants to do this on her own terms, and who am I to turn down a fucking blowjob from the sexiest woman I've ever seen in all my 100ish years on this plane?
Her eyes meet mine, large and wholly unguarded, as she wraps her fingers around the waistband, worldlessly telling me to lift my hips so she can drag it down. Heeding her command, I'm rewarded with a small smile as she finally, finally lets me out, my painfully hard erection bobbing against my stomach, already leaking precum.
She wraps one perfect hand around the base, giving it a teasing, barely there pump, and a hiss escapes me. She sticks her tongue out, flattening it, and so fucking slowly eases her mouth so close to where I need it before bypassing completely, instead licking the small white trail of precum from my abdomen.
She quietly moans, enjoying herself almost as much as I am. She's a wicked, terrible temptress, and I'm a fucking sucker, waiting for her to cast a spell on me.
Her grip around me tightens, the perfect pressurewhileshe pumps again, squeezing the painfully red tip before easing back down my shaft again. My hips move, unable to stay still against her motions.
Gripping the base, she licks the beading white liquid from my tip, thatsmallstimulation enough to have me moaning desperately. I can't take my fucking eyes off her, the equal parts seductive and innocent look in her eyes as she takes the tip into her mouth, sucking while her hand moves up and down.
She's fucking sloppy and perfect, letting her saliva and my precum leak down my shaft and all over her hand. Her eyes slip closed with a moan, the vibration of that sound radiating down my cock and so deep into my fucking balls I swear to god I feel it in my soul.
Further and further, she moves her mouth down, the stretch of her lips around me obscene, so fucking good the red of my eyes takes over completely, bathing her in a sea of scarlet as she works me into a frenzy.
Between the wet, squelching sound of her hand pumping me and the feeling of her hot mouth, I'm almostcompletelyundone already, laying my head flat on the ground and closing my eyes to focus on my breathing.
Sharp nails scrape down my abs, making me shout, the pain and pleasure overwhelming.
I want to grip her fucking hair and abuse that mouth, fill her fucking throat with cum, bury myself so deep inside her that she can't breathe, and she fucking cries.But if I want her to keep going, which Ireally, really do, I need to let go and let her have control.
Her hand scratches down my stomach again before wrapping around the base of my cock. The other still works perfectly in tandem with her mouth.
"Isla," I warn before another deep, growling moan escapes my chest, "If you keep going, I'm gonna come in your—" her teeth scrape, a warning and the most delicious taste of violence, bringing me closer to the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna fill that mouth with cum, watch it leak down your chin and smear it all over those pretty tits."
The admission doesn't slow Isla down, doesn'tdeter her from her task at all, her mouth and hands moving with calculated precision like in everything else she does.
Another long moan vibrates my shaft, forcing me to bite back a pathetic whimper.
"Christ, you're so good at that, Isla— Fuck, please don't stop."
I don't think I've ever begged for anything , but ifit means she'll keep sucking me down, letting me hit the back of her throat and fighting through the gagging like she needs to drink me down, I'll say anything, do anything she wants me to.
I'm a fucking broken man, not a single intelligent thought attached to me any longer, nothing but feeling and need flowing through me.
"Isla," I warn again, my hands searching the ground around me for something, anything to grab besides her silky hair.
Words fail me as I get closer and closer to cumming inside the hot cavern wrapped around me, moans and groans and pathetic pants escaping in their place.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm gonna— yes, fuck, yes, I'm finally—
What the fuck?
In the split second before my orgasm rips me to shreds, Isla's ministrations stopcompletely, and I lose the heat of her mouth. Her moving hand stops, the other at my base squeezing hard enough to prevent me from releasing fully, just a few pathetic dribbles of cum leaking out the tip.
I try to reach for her, reach for my cock to pump myself and fix the orgasm she destroyed. But it's too late. The few seconds it took me to react long enough for it to becompletely, utterly fucking ruined.
She releases the base and looks at my painful erection impassively— like her swollen, saliva-soaked lips weren't just wrapped around it. Like she wasn't just writhing on it to orgasm.
Those cold, victorious green eyes look at my desperate face for a second before she wordlessly zips her tits back into her bodysuit, standing and leaving me on the floor with my aching dick in my hand like a fucking cuck. I stare at her as she walks out, not sparing me even a glance, her revenge dished outjust as sheplanned.
What the actual fuck just happened?
The stupid, useless appendage in my hand softens, my balls so full they fucking hurt.
Leave it to fucking Isla to even make a blowjob a form of torture.
I shouldn't even be mad at her. This really isn't any worse than the shit I've done to her. It's probably the least I deserve.
But between the humiliation and the physical agony, I can'tthink rationallyright now.If I'm being honest, I can neverthink rationally whenshe'sinvolved, but this is a whole new ballgame.
And I never fucking lose.
"So basically, this entire show got started because that girl slept with her bosses friends husband! And she has the fucking gall to play the victim."
A powerpoint.
No, several powerpoints.
Isla got so sick of me asking questions during our nightly reality show binge that she gave me two options.
Start from the very beginning of this fucking dramaverse, or let her give me a quick PowerPoint presentation. Quick being the word she apparently decided to disregard. I almost wonder if watching the entire decade of TV would have beenquicker.
But it definitely wouldn't have been nearly this entertaining.
Her hair is piled on top of her head, secured into place with a couple pens. The hot pink sweats I loathe hang low on her hips, giving me a sliver of the delicious line where her hips meet the soft curve of her stomach every time she raises her hand to point at something. The matching tank top and lacy black bra peeking out have to be on purpose, keeping my ass planted in my seat, paying rapt attention, and hoping the black strap falls again so I can watch her fix it.
I didn't think I would give a flying fuck about all these intrapersonal relationships and betrayals, but IthinkIsla's passion and explanations could make anythinginteresting. Her animated features, her insistence that none of it is staged even though it very clearly is, every second of this bullshit is endurable because of her love for it. Or maybe it's just because her tits are on display, and I could listen to her talk about anything if she looks like that.
"So wait," I interrupt, not ready for her presentation to be finished, "Where's the cokehead guy in all this?"
Her eye twitches, "They're all cokeheads. That's like... the whole fucking thing. This whole show is fueled by cocaine and mysoginy."
I knew that, but her anger when she thinks I'm not paying attention is hilarious.
She can pretend nothing is happening here between us, that she didn't give me simultaneously the best and worst blowjob to ever exist yesterday, but nomatter how many times I've fucked my fist since then, the overwhelming annoyance and tension hasn't abated one bit. And she knows it, the subtle twist of her lips every time I have to leave the room utterly salacious.
So, I'll do what I can to exact revenge in my ownsmallway until I think of something better.
"Okay, but the crazy cokehead. The one that's really bad at hiding it."
She nods, "The sociopath, yes."
She gave up on getting me to remember their names an hour ago, keeping it to nicknames.
"Where is that one during all this?"
"I mean probably doing coke, cheating on his wife, and trying desperately to stay relevant."
A chuckle shakes my chest as I watch her brush him off as if he isn't the most entertaining out of all of these absolutely insane bottom-feeders.
"So after all of this—" she gestures at the PowerPoint screen projecting against the wall, "Well, okay, wait, I'm not telling you that because you have to actually watch the season unfold in all its glory, but I think you've basically got all the information you need."
"Okay," I laugh again.
"Okay." She nods, walking to unplug her computer from the projector and returning it to her room. Her voice returns before she does, "The only thing you really need to know is that the blonde one is now having more success than any of the rest of them combined. She's fucking killing it."
"That's the one hosting that other show you're making me watch?" I ask, wishing I had a fucking drink in my hand to get through a whole new show about vapid, self-absorbed assholes.
"Yes!" she snaps, excitement lighting up her features. "We are almost there. We'll probably be able to start that one like next week if we keep up this aggressive watch rate."
A warmth blooms in my chest at her words.
For the first time since we got here, she's speaking of the future like it matters. Like she has something to look forward to.
If all goes to plan, we'llbe leavingin a couple weeks, heading to New York for acoupledays.
One of my East Coast guys, Trace, has been working around the clock to secure the hotel we're staying at. Hacking into their security system and finding all the weak points before filling them with our own cameras. He even went as far as getting a fucking part-time job as a bellhop to learn the layout and every possible way someone could get to Isla in the suite we'll be staying in.
Kyle has been too busy trying to track Silas back down after the absolute clusterfuck of the fire last week. He finally found him, staying in a condo on his insurance's dime, thanks to the police, whodefinitelycovered up what happened.
If they told him that they didn't find my body in the rubble, he'd be a hell of a lot more paranoid than he is, so I'm not too worried about him being suspicious.
"Are you listening to me?" Isla interrupts my wandering mind.
A grin lifts one side of my lips, the movement entirely involuntary, "Yes, Isla. I'm listening."
"What did I just say?" she quips, sounding like a school teacher reprimanding me. Instantly, my bodystarts to reactto the image planted in my head. Isla in a tiny little pencil skirt with nothing beneath it, the black bra she's wearing now with a sheer white button-up, the lace peeking through. Wire glasses and her hair piled up just like it is now.
Fuck, not again.
I fight the urge to palm myself, holding off for just a minute so I can escape to the bathroom a- fucking -gain. "You said the show we're going to start next week is the single best season of reality TV to ever exist. And that it's not an opinion, but a fact."
She raises a single brow, pushing my stupid little fantasy to insane levels. I stand abruptly, and she watches me with mirthful, false concern. "I'll be right back. Gotta go... check in with the mainland."
Her muffled laugh raises suspicion.
She'sdefinitelytoying with me, but there's something else, too.
I find myself wondering, not even for the first time today, if she's fucking with me somehow.
I can no longer tell if it's my own imagination conjuring images of her in decadent, sinful situations or if she's doing it, and I'm just picking it up.
Slammed into my bedroom, pacing the room like a manic animal, I try and fail to keep my mind clear of Isla. Try to keep my dick from jumping to attention like I'm a fucking teenager.
But again and again, images of us tangled together in the sheets break my mind, visions like hopeful premonitions cascading one after another in a sea of sordid bliss.
She's in my mind and my body like a fucking sickness. Something I would cut out at the root if I knew what was good for me, but I fucking don't. I like the poison, crave this illness like if I can just indulge it long enough, I'll become immune.
I have to get out of here.
I grab a pair of dark boots from my closet, along witha black jacket,before storming back to where Isla waits patiently.
The smell of popcorn wafts towards me, the screen paused just before the next episode of her stupid show starts. And there, popping up above the back of the brown leather, her hair pile sits, tendrilsof itunraveling like my resolve.
She turns halfway to me, her gorgeous silhouette lighting up, the straight slope of her nose, those fucking lips that she stretched around me lifting in a small smile.
"I need to go." The words leave my mouth, a bitter aftertaste to them as the joy in her face falls, and she turns to face me fully, her brows furrowing.
"Everything alright?" she asks, worry crossing her features.
"Yup," I pop the P farharderthan necessary, keeping it nonchalant. "Just need to check in with Kyle."
Confusion, disappointment, and finally dejection take turns twisting her face before she finally lands on acceptance. She knows I'm lying.KnowsI wouldn'tjustleave like this without notice unless I have a good reason.And I don't even have the decency tocome up witha good excuse. I can check in with Kyle without doing anything more than dialing his fucking phone number.
I'm leaving to get some space from her, and we both know it.
She just doesn't understand that I have to, for theexactopposite reason that she believes.If I don't get away from her right fucking now, she's going to be the next victim of my stupid sentimentality that's only ever served in getting people killed.
I don't date. I fuck , I had toldher, and now I'll plant that exact memory inhermind, letherthink I don't want to keep spending time withher. Let her anxious mind suspect I'm leaving to go sleep with someone.
Like a shutter closing, her expression turns blank, the dismissal evident in the impassive way she looks me up and down. "Have fun."
Then she turns, pressing play and watching our show without me.
My teeth grind, the need to sit with her, to fix the rift I've just created by playing with her mind an aching pull.
But if she hates me, it'll make it a lot easier when she can go back to her life. Eventually.
So I step backward, letting the Aether close around me,not ableto take my eyes off the back of her head until an entirely new surrounding engulfs me.