Chapter 12
Ihaven’t had to count to twenty whilst thinking about doing my laundry since I was a raging hormonal teen, and this woman gives me a fucking hard on in only a shirt.
I was dying to hear her say my name, to moan it in that sensual way I imagine her doing, but like a fucking idiot, I said we should get some rest. Things could easily become complicated with her working for me as well as Ezra, and it could turn sour after we sleep together.
But maybe you just need to get it out of your system?
“No, shut up,” I whisper to myself.
We could slip into the bed beside her and slide into her while she sleeps.
The thought has me rock hard again, and I muffle a groan in my hands.
“What about her?”
Her? She might not even remember that you exist. You went to prison for her, and she hasn’t tried to find you all these years later.
My mind and my heart start their ping pong tournament, and I’m left to spectate.
Forget about her.
“I can’t,” I murmur, resting my head on the sofa.
You fill the hole in your chest with bodies of women you barely know, in search of the one mark you think you’ll find, but you won’t.
She doesn’t have it. I saw the large snake tattoo on her hip down to her thigh. It wasn’t there. What if I am crazy? What if I never find her?
Panic persists with its torment again.
What if it’s all been for nothing?
“Malik.” Her soft voice travels through the void in the living space, and I look up at her shadowy figure atop the stairs. She went to bed an hour ago, and I still haven’t slept. Looks like neither has she. “Are you still awake?”
I get to my feet and make my way up the steps. “What’s wrong?”
She looks agitated again, and I want to take the pain away from her, but I don’t know how.
“I can’t sleep.”
“Is it the headaches?” I ask, and she nods, squeezing her eyes shut as she pinches the bridge of her nose.
“Here,” I say, clasping her soft hand in mine and directing her to the bathroom.
“I can’t see,” she whimpers, stumbling like she has two left feet. “My head…”
The water hits the bottom of the bath, and I give it a minute to heat up as she rests her head on my chest. No one has ever affected me like she does. No one since her.
She lifts her arms on instinct as I grab the ends of the shirt, removing it from her body. The swell of her breasts on my skin makes my cock throb for attention, but I ignore it and focus on her.
I take my time, hooking my fingers into her thong and sliding it down her luscious curves.
She’s naked before me, and although I want to look, I also want to respect her, but I lose the battle. I’m weak when it comes to her, like a piece of fucking paper in the wind.
I take her all in as I help her lie in the bathtub, her beautifully inked skin perfectly representing who she is, until I spot her medusa tattoo. It’s hard to miss, centred on her stomach, the snakes weaving their way around her breasts and up toward her chest.
I wouldn’t be furious if I didn’t know what this tattoo meant, but I am. I make a note to ask her about it and find out exactly what happened, then erase them from this world permanently.
“Focus on breathing through it,” I say, threading my hand through her raven hair and grasping the strands at the top. I pull and she moans, sending more blood rushing to my cock.
“That feels good,” she breathes, gripping the edge of the bathtub for support. “More,” she pleads, and I palm my cock over my trousers, willing it to behave.
I pull harder, and she moans louder. I know it’s from the relief of tension in her head, but I want to imagine it’s because I’m touching her. She opens her hazel eyes, and they lock onto mine. Suddenly, I’m not imagining it anymore.
Her fingers trace the inside of her thigh in my periphery, but I don’t dare take my eyes off hers.
“Go ahead, Isla.” I give her the permission she seeks from me, and her mouth falls into an O. I tug on her hair harder, which spurs her on more, while my cock painfully protests beneath my trousers.
I know she wants a release. She’s been stressed and looking to lose her inhibitions, but if I touch her, I won’t be able to stop. I’m already so far into my obsession that, although Ezra called, telling me to let her go, I didn’t.
Because I want to keep her.
Even if it’s selfish and wrong.
I want her.
I’m obsessed with her and I can’t explain why.
“Touch me,” she whispers, and I clench my jaw. I’m about to let go when her hand guides mine into the warm water, caressing her plump breast, down to her navel. I want to take over, to grab her and show her how a man should treat her, but I let her have her moment.
She leads me between her thighs and stops, giving me permission to continue.
My fingers lightly tease her labia on either side, small ripples forming on top of the water as she gently moves her hips.
Gripping her hair tightly, I pull again, the seductive sound of my name on her lips like a guiding light.
I ignore the throbbing in my trousers, the need to feel her warmth around my cock, as I circle her clit, and she bucks, almost as if she hasn’t been touched in a long time.
Her nipples peak, bobbing in the water as her fingers cling to the edge of the bath.
Flattening my hand over her pussy, she whimpers, rocking her hips a little faster over my hand, and I enjoy the way she is right now.
Needy.
So fucking needy.
It makes me wonder if she has a praise or degradation kink.
I’m about to find out.
She knows I’m teasing her, and she’s begging me to bring her to the edge. What if she falls, and I’m the one to push her?
“Should I let you come, Miss Knight?”
She struggles to speak as she nods, staring into my eyes, her teeth biting into her bottom lip.
“But I’ve barely touched you,” I whisper as I slip two fingers in, and she mewls. “That’s it, Little Nycto, relax for me.”
She exhales, and I push in further, my fingers buried knuckle deep. Hooking them, I begin to move in and out as she pants harder.
“Fuck,” she whispers, and the curse word on her lips sounds nothing short of the hottest level of seduction. “Harder,” she orders, and I yank my hand out, the water sloshing as she whines in protest.
Her eyes widen as I grip her face tightly with my wet hand. “You don’t make demands.” I suck her full lips into my mouth and bite upon release. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” she gasps out, and I glide my fingers into her mouth. She gags as they hit the back of her throat.
“Wider,” I say, and she obeys, granting me deeper access as she loosens her jaw. “That’s it. Such a good little plaything, aren’t you?”
She’s panting now, desperate for a release. I can see the pleading in her eyes.
“Show me that throat.”
The throat I’ll be fucking.
She sucks in a breath when I remove my hand, the thick string of saliva disappearing into the water with my hand.
Her warmth coats my fingers again, but this time, I release her hair and clasp my hand around her throat. I watch her for a reaction, for even the slightest indication that she doesn’t enjoy it, but she moans as I tighten my grip, solidifying my thoughts.
She likes to be degraded while being praised.
“You want to be fucked like a dirty, usable little fucktoy don’t you?” I whisper, leaning into her space. “You enjoy knowing these hands are tainted with blood.”
She moans, rolling her hips as I fuck her with my fingers, and the water swishes, splashing over the sides of the bathtub. I chuckle, watching the way she writhes, so desperate to get off on my fingers.
“You want to come on my blood-stained fingers, don’t you, Isla?” I murmur, placing my forehead onto hers, and she nods eagerly.
“I bet you look so pretty when you come.”
Her mewls are like music to me, my precum leaking out into my fucking boxer briefs at the sight of her like this. I thrust my fingers faster, her pussy tightening as she nears her release.
“Tell me you want to come on my fingers,” I say, loosening my grip on her neck a touch.
“I want to come on your fingers, Malik, please,” she begs, and I can’t wait to have her begging for my cock like this. “Please let me come on your fingers.”
“Such a good Little Nycto, begging for release,” I rasp, teasing her just a little more, edging her so she can feel even the slightest bit of what I feel every time I look at her. “Soak my fingers, Isla.”
Her guttural sounds of release echo in the tiled room as her body shakes, her pussy clenching around my fingers over and over again. Her eyes roll back as I guide my fingers out of her and smile at her spent form.
“Definitely pretty when you come, Little Nycto.”
Her eyes close, and before she can sink below the water, I scoop her into my arms and carry her out, laying her on my bed. I dry her as much as I can and remove my clothes to slip into bed beside her.
I groan at the thought of her soft, feminine hand around me, and my cock twitches as if to agree. I know I’ll have her. She’s the only one in my sight now, and once I’ve had her, my obsession will wane.
I know it’s not true, though, because my last obsession has carried on through my childhood into adulthood, and I’m no closer to curbing the thirst for her.
When I have Isla, it’ll be completely.
I won’t stop until she’s been in my veins, and I’ve been in hers. It won’t just be her hand around me, it’ll be her warm, soaking wet pussy.