Chapter 28
“G ood job,” he says instead of the “good girl” he was handing out freely before.
“Now, how do I reverse wrist control?”
“You got a free hand. Use it to grab one of my wrists.”
He immediately pulls his free hand out of my reach, so I grab the wrist of the hand holding mine.
“Why is this so important?”
“Wrist control is huge. It makes whoever has it feel in control, which gives a mental edge. It helps set up other moves, takedowns. It can prevent a takedown. Anything your opponent tries to do while you have their wrists, you’ll be able to feel and react to quicker.”
“I have one of your wrists, can I take you down?”
“From what I saw earlier, no.”
“You didn’t take me down either.”
“Do you want me to?”
His skin on mine burns as he pulls me closer. He’s been holding my wrist since he got me on my stomach, but it’s more noticeable now that we’re gazing at each other.
Is that why he insists on eye contact? Does it make it more personal?
All I can do is whisper out a “No. I want you…”
Crue’s own voice comes out hushed with, “How?”
“On all fours. Now.”
That smile returns, making him unfairly handsome. He’s sweaty. He’s an asshole. He’s being paid to clam-jam me. And still, every bit of my body is attracted to every bit of his, especially those eight or nine inches I’ve had the pleasure of feeling pressed against me but haven’t seen in person…yet.
My lips stretch apart so much so they hurt. I usually only smile this big during performances, except this is no performance. Not on my part anyway.
“Since you asked so nicely…”
Finally, he releases my wrist, but I decide to keep his a little longer.
“I ‘asked’ the same way you did.”
“Tit for tat,” he tsks.
I shrug and let go so he can get down on all fours.
Talking me through what he did to me, I weave an arm under Crue’s armpit, then up and over his neck before rolling him on to his back, with me topping him perpendicularly.
“Congratulations, you just got a pin. You win,” he tells me.
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. In a real match, it wouldn’t be this easy. Your opponent would be countering your moves the entire time.”
I sit back on my heels to look down at Crue. He brings his hands up under his head, his elbows out and raised a few inches off the mat.
“What if someone’s between your legs?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is only one position, right? You can get pinned in other ways?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what if someone’s trying to pin you and they’re between your legs?”
“Between your legs how?”
Walking on my knees over to his bent legs, I spread them wide.
Crue automatically cups his package. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you what I mean.”
He doesn’t remove his hands, but I lower my top half between his thighs to demonstrate.
Pressing my palms on the floor next to his ribs, I hold myself suspended above him so none of me is technically touching any of him.
“Like this.”
Guys have looked down at me from this position but I’ve never done it to them. I’ve been on top, but not between their legs like this. It feels more powerful somehow, maybe because the person on bottom is vulnerable. I couldn’t imagine imposing my power on someone like this. To be between someone else’s legs who doesn’t want you there and still proceed to fulfill your own wishes, all for your own pleasure, that’s despicable.
“Yeah… This doesn’t really happen in wrestling,” Crue drawls.
“In the history of wrestling, I’m sure there has been at least one time where someone ended up between another person’s legs.”
“If it did happen, the person on the bottom was fucked and probably lost.”
“But what if…they hadn’t lost yet? What if there was still time?”
“Time?”
“Like on the clock,” I rush out, then look away. “Or whatever.”
Maybe I am fucked.
I start to sit back until Crue’s knees clamp on my sides, trapping me.
“Where are you going? We’re not done.”
“Why not? It’s not like you even wanted to teach me how to wrestle anyway.”
“You didn’t want to teach me how to stunt but you did.”
“Tit for tat,” I accuse right back.
“You want to know how I’d get out of this?”
“Yes.”
“You give me permission to wrestle you?”
Pressing forward, Crue’s knees loosen to let me lean down until I’m only a few inches from his face. My eyes alternating between his…that are alternating between mine and my lips, I say, “I give you permission to do anything you want to me.”
I’d take his begrudging handouts like a pigeon takes crumbs—ravenously. But that doesn’t make it right. Because he doesn’t actually want me. He only fingered me out of his delusional sense of duty.
Crue lifts his head, almost capturing my lips, forcing me to jerk back.
“Except for that.”
“God-fucking-damn it!” he roars before fisting the front of my shirt, pulling me back down.
I start to panic, my hands scrambling against the floor to keep him from closing the distance completely. Suddenly, one of them gets trapped against his ribs, then we’re rolling, reversing positions.
One second, I’m hovering over him, the next, he’s straddling my stomach, his definitely-bigger-than-four-inches cock digging into me because he’s hard. Very hard. Is that what he was hiding under those hands?
“I want to kiss you.”
He does? Like actually?
“Too bad,” I make myself say. “I said no. Not. That.”
“Tell me why?”
“Tell me what you did to get out of that first?”
“In that position, you gotta squirm, flop, anything to get out.”
I snort out a laugh of disbelief. “Flop?”
“We literally call the person on bottom a fish. Then you straighten your legs, trap whatever hands you can against your sides, and roll until you’re back in control. Now, why the fuck can’t I kiss you? No one will ever know you kissed the help.”
It has nothing to do with who you are, Crue, and everything to do with who I am!
“I didn’t say you couldn’t kiss me.”
He’s instantly lowering, and I have to whip my head to the side to finish, “I said you can’t kiss my mouth .”
Does he want to kiss me like that ?
“But only if you want to…”
Please want to.
“Only if I want to?” he questions against my cheek, his full lips dragging over my skin, turning that pulse in my pussy into an ache.
All I can do is pant, the sound loud and honestly kind of embarrassing. Why is this so hot? This is nothing special. For the last five months, I’ve had guy after guy stuck to my neck like suckerfish cleaning a tank. But something about Crue doing it feels different internally.
Crue kisses down the side of my throat, asking at my collarbone, “Does it feel like I want to?” Jamming one knee between mine, he spreads them apart to settle himself between my thighs, then rolls his hips into me, his solid cock grinding against my pussy.
Barely over my heavy breathing, I hear him say, “For you? The stuck-up, spoiled little brat that hates the mere sight of me?”
One hand gripping the back of his head to keep him in place, I wrap my legs around his back, hooking my ankles and bringing him in even harder.
“I thought we already established it’s not the sight of you I hate, Major.”
“You mean how your pussy cries for me?”
“Weeps,” I correct with a hip roll of my own.
Crue groans into my neck.
“Because you want my cock to fill you up?”
For answer, I reach between our bodies, grazing the cock in question. My eyes close on a moan I feel reverberate down to my toes.
I cannot believe he said four inches.
Crue thrusts into my hand, but says, “You know what I need from you first.”
“Condom?” I pretend to guess. “I don’t have one on me but we can—”
“Your eyes. That’s what I need from you. Just look at me and I’ll fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before.”
“But I…”
The back of my knuckles graze against my clit with each pump from Crue, bringing that wave of euphoria closer…
“I…”
And closer…
“I…”
And…
Both our movements frenzied intention, we work together to send the wave crashing over me, dowsing my entire body in a frothy warm haze.
“Jesus, that was…” Crue French-kisses my chest between praises about how hot that was, how good it felt even though only one of our shorts is soaking wet right now. Mine .
When I catch my breath, I finally finish my thought, telling him, “I have been fucked face to face. Maybe we could try another position, one I haven’t been fucked in, so at least when I’m not looking at you, it’s because I can’t.”
Crue’s lower half halts all movement while his forehead drills into my jaw, almost painfully.
“How are you always so fucking infuriating?”
“It’s a talent.” An underrated one at that. You have to have zero shame, incredible restraint, and be able to calculate better than a mathematician.
“Are you on birth control?”
Eyes still shut, I nod.
“Can I nut in you?”
He insists on gazing into my eyes during sex but says things like “Can I nut in you?” One of those things is nothing like the other, and I just…
Men are so, so confusing.
“Is that what you want, Major?”
His lips come up to tease my ear, and at first his voice is a soft caress, a stroke straight to the flame that is my core. “I want you walking around in your fifteen-hundred-dollar outfits, the perfect image of Daddy’s little princess…”
But then his tone hardens, a bite without the soothing kiss afterward as he spits, “Knowing the cum leaking out of your cunt is from your destitute personal protection agent.”
See, I could leave it here and let him have the last word. He’s obviously been holding on to this grudge since I called him that in my father’s office. But I’m way too petty, horny, and yeah, infuriating to be the bigger person.
So I correct him with one…whispered…word. “Bodyguard.”
It’s both the wrong and right thing to say. Right because the growl he unleashes is feral and sends a thrill through me.
Wrong because before I know it, he’s scooting back, forcing my ankles to unlock as my shaky legs fall away.
No, don’t go.
Thankfully, he seems to stop with some part of his body still between my thighs.
Without my sight, I have no idea what’s coming next, giving this an additional layer of exhilaration.
I feel eight fingers curl into my waistband, then he’s dragging my shorts and underwear down.
He’s staying.
It’s silent for a while, and my cheeks heat imagining Crue looking me over.
“What are these from?”
Assuming he’s talking about my underwear, I say, “My stylist, like everything else I wear.”
“No. These bruises.” His hands grasp the sides of my hips, making me jolt off the floor.
Crue catches my ass, keeping it suspended in the air.
Opening my eyes, I right my head to see Crue between my thighs, sitting on his heels as he watches me carefully.
I shake my head. “Nothing.”
“There’s too many to be nothing. How’d you get them?”
“You did stunts with me. You saw for yourself how physical they can be. Probably just from that. I’ve never really noticed them to be honest.”
Crue’s stare doesn’t let up.
He doesn’t believe me.
I shrug one shoulder as if I couldn’t care less whether he does or not.
“Who did this to you?”
“I just told you they’re from cheer.”
“I cheered with you and I didn’t leave these kinds of marks. So who did?”
“You did a few stunts. You didn’t cheer with me. There’s a lot more momentum in a routine.”
“I don’t like ’em.”
“Don’t look at them.”
“I want to look at all of you.” Finally, he lowers his gaze…while lifting my ass a few more inches. Twisting my hips to the side, he lays a kiss on each of the dozens of bruises there, then does the same to the other.
My nostrils flare from the effort it takes not to cry. I should’ve kept my eyes closed.
“Now…”
He fits my legs over his shoulders, raising my ass even higher, my own shoulder blades almost off the floor. When our eyes collide over my pussy, I immediately relocate mine to the ceiling.
So awkward.
“Do you want to see how good I can really kiss?”
“Personally, I’d rather feel it.”
“When I get done, you’re gonna be begging me to kiss you on the mouth.”
“Dreams only come true if they’re possible. Stay realistic.”
“Begging,” he repeats thickly, confidently.
That’s all the warning I get before he kisses my clit, his whole mouth sucking the nub like it’s the tip of an ice cream cone on a hot summer day.
A strangled moan leaves me as I lift my shirt off my stomach, then chest, the heat too much. While circling my nipples through my sports bra, I start rolling my hips to meet Crue’s mouth, gliding my slippery pussy along his tongue and lips.
On a groan, he cradles my ass cheeks, making it easier for me to ride his face from this angle.
After every rotation up, his tongue dips between my walls with one long lick inside so he can suck my clit before I lower back down. The pace is good. It feels amazing. Crue is a phenomenal kisser.
But it’s not enough to remove my gravity and send me into orbit.
I dig my heels into his back, grinding my pussy against his face even harder with each figure eight motion.
“It’s right there. It’s right there. It’s right there,” I chant, my voice a desperate squeal as I greedily chase my second orgasm.
All at once Crue’s face disappears from my pussy and my lower half is lowered to the floor.
The next second, his breath feathers my chin.
“Beg me.”
“What?”
“Fucking beg me.”
“No.” Shaking my head, I turn it away. “Never.”
I hear a zipper, then Crue’s fist is brushing my pussy lips.
He’s gonna do it. He’s gonna fuck me.
Goddess, yes.
Except this time when I reach between us, he jerks away.
“You’ll get this when you look at me.”
“Then what…”
“Fuuuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Heat spreads up my stomach, and now I do open my eyes because how is this happening again?
Looking down, I spot Crue’s hard cock caught in his still pumping fist, drops of cum dripping off the tip into the puddle on my stomach.
“You just… You didn’t even…”
I get to my elbows and turn my angry eyes on him. I’m surprised to find his just as turbulent.
“Crue, what the hell?”
Staying in my face, he releases his dick and proceeds to sweep his cum down to the top of my pussy before pushing a big dollop of it inside me with his fingers.
I gasp at the intrusion, my bottom lip jutting out.
He switches his attention from it to my eyes, then looks down between us to watch himself pump his cum into me literally by hand.
“Crue.” It’s meant to come out outraged, except my hips are already lifting, wanting more. Wanting it all.
“I told you I was gonna ruin your fucking rich-girl aesthetic. At dinner, I’ll be sitting across from you, smiling at the fact my cum’s pooling in your designer panties.”
He groans like he’s in pain.
“But…” My head falls back between my shoulders. “Why…”
His mouth closes over my throat, sucking right where I swallow and making me lose my train of thought.
“Crue,” I pant, my hips bucking faster and faster. “More.”
“God, you’re a fucking brat,” he says, but adds a third finger, filling my pussy so good. “All you had to do was look at me and I would’ve pumped you with my cum correctly. Now look. I gotta do it this way.”
Crue uses the rest of the cum to circle my clit with his palm.
“I’m gonna…”
My hips buck wildly, my rolls only making it halfway through completion.
“Show me how good you’re gonna come on my cock next time we do this and you give me what I want.”
My walls seize up around those fingers as a small scream tears from my throat.
“It’s…” I fall to my back, my chest rapidly rising and falling as I return to earth. “That was…”
“Yeah? Imagine how much better it would’ve been if you’d listened like a good girl,” Crue rasps, somehow sounding just as breathless.
I push at him. “Get off me.” I’m still naked and wet and fucking mad. I should be mad. That was rude. Yes, he eventually finished me off but it’s the principle of it. He stopped right at the best part. And he didn’t even fuck me. Again.
“What’s your problem? I just—”
“You. You’re…” What was that word Kota used to describe her stepbrother? Vexing? No, vexing has an air of thrill to it. Nothing about Crue right now is thrilling. He was a second ago, more than thrilling, but now, he’s purely… “Annoying.”
“ Me ? I’m annoying?”
“All these stipulations.” I start ticking my fingers. “I can’t fuck anyone else. I can only fuck you. But I can only fuck you if I maintain eye contact the whole time like a fucking serial killer!” My voice hitches on the last three words. “You want me to kiss you. You want me to beg.” Forgetting what number I’m on, I throw my hands up. “What’s the matter with you? Who cares if I prefer to close my eyes?”
“I care! Having your head turned away and your eyes squeezed shut doesn’t seem like you want it.”
“You want to know what I want? I want to fuck whoever I choose to, not just who I’m told to!”
Shit. I shouldn’t have said that.
The door is closed and nobody ever comes down here, but still, I shouldn’t have said it, not even to Crue. Especially not to Crue.
“If I tell you I want something, that should be enough,” I add much quieter.
“It’s not. There’s a difference between consent and enthusiastic consent. I prefer the latter.”
“You’re lucky you have any of my consent at all.”
“Because I’m ‘the help’?” he sneers as he tucks himself back in his pants and zips up.
“No, because I hate you. I hate everything you stand for.”
“The feeling is mutual, little bat.”
I think he meant to say brat, but… Whatever.
“Great,” I say.
He shrugs. “Good.”
“Good.”
“I already said that.”
“I’m leaving.”
“Not until you’re fully dressed.”
I rip my shorts and underwear out of his hold. “I wasn’t planning on it.”
“Good.”
“You said that already!” I snap, feeling the last shred of my control slip away, probably gone forever.
This is what he’s made me.
“You’re such a bitch, you know that?”
Yes, in fact, I do.
Ignoring Crue, I get dressed again.
As usual, my shadow tries following me.
“Don’t follow me right now.”
“I don’t have a choice. It’s my job.”
“I’m going to the atrium.”
“I’ll wait outside for you.”
“You can go get fucked.” Not by anyone else, just…himself. He knows that, right?
“And waste my cum on someone more deserving? Nah.”
“Joke’s on you. I’m gonna douche it all out of me.”
“Wait, what’s a douche?”
I finally open the door, saying, “You,” before walking out.