9. CHAPTER NINE #2
I look down at the gun, back to Jude, then around the room. There's a suitcase on the floor by the bed, and nothing has been touched.
“It’s for my job,” he says, unfastening the harness across his chest. He then reaches across and places it on the room's desk. “It’s a comfort thing. I—”
“I get it… You know I do.”
The bow of his head screams of so much shame that I know he’s never admitted. “I wish I didn’t need it all the time.”
I slip my hands beneath the white t-shirt still covering him. “You don’t need it right now.” I crawl my fingers over his stomach, my eyes never leaving his until the shirt is on the floor.
His chest is broad, and his bronze skin is marked with the remains of bruises.
“What’s that?” I ask, touching his left side.
He smiles bashfully, reaching beneath his arm to run his own fingers over it. And as he twists his body, my eyes gape at his tattoo; a Stormtrooper mask.
“Why did you…” I start, my voice fading because my heart is in my throat.
“I don’t have any others. But…” His voice tapers too, and he leans back in to kiss me softly. “I just needed to get it.”
My arms are back around his neck in an instant, and I grind myself against his stomach. It’s one part lust, and the other part an intrinsic urge for us to no longer be two separate people.
“Fuck,” Jude moans into my mouth as he unbuckles my belt. Then he touches me.
His large palm and long fingers.
Gripping, groping.
He’s not gentle.
I let my head fall back against the wall as he presses harder. Then his touch is gone, and I bite my lip so I don’t complain.
I’m his now.
He can do with me what he wants.
Jude unbuttons my charcoal shirt until he reaches my trousers and undoes them as well.
His brow creases with immediate sadness at the sight of my littered skin, but he tears his eyes away in the hopes I didn’t see his pity.
Then his hands are back on me, separating the fabric of my shirt as they push up over my bare chest to hold my neck.
He wants to kiss me again, but I stare him down, waiting for him to notice.
Maybe it’s the feeling of the gold chain beneath his hands or perhaps the darkness of my tattoos where pale skin should be, but eventually, he looks—his eyes widening before his weight is pushing against my chest as he forces another kiss.
“Such a good boy,” he tells me, groping my ass.
“Do you like it?”
“I fucking love it.” His lips are on my neck, sucking, kissing, biting like he wants to eat me.
“I never forgot about you.”
He slides my body down the wall until I’m standing. “I thought about you every day.”
“Me too.”
“So why don't you show me how much you missed me?”
I can feel my eyes sparking like they only ever do right before I drag my knife across someone’s neck. It’s freeing, like nothing matters anymore. Not my childhood, or the people I’ve killed.
Without another thought, I drop to my knees.
My hands twist in his belt loops, yanking him closer as my mouth meets the rigid outline of him.
I glance up, locking eyes. His lids are heavy and his pupils blown wide.
Grabbing a fist full of my hair, he pulls my head back and unzips his pants.
I reach out and pull them and his underwear down.
Jude’s cock falls heavy against my chin. The scent of him is intoxicating, but I don’t dare break his gaze as he removes his pants completely.
“Be a good boy.”
My mouth opens wide and I stick out my tongue.
He gives a hoarse groan and pulls me closer to slap his dick against my lips before guiding me onto him. The weight is unfamiliar, but I wrap my mouth around him, my tongue sliding along the underside of his cock. He’s salty, warm, and a little bitter.
My head bobs as I try to take him deeper.
I choke around him, gripping his thighs as my gag reflex kicks in.
He moans out, “Ah, fuck,” at the contraction of my throat. He allows me to draw back, and I gasp for air before he forces me back onto him. “Show me how sorry you are.”
I try to nod, but now he’s holding me with both hands.
Then his hips start moving.
At first, I try to ignore the discomfort, but it only takes seconds before I accept that this is the atonement I’ve been yearning for.
Every time I gag, he pulls back, waits a second, then forces back into me.
Spit is leaking from my mouth, and tears are running down my cheeks.
The sick thrill of humiliation burns in my stomach, but I grin around him.
His grip is rough and his rhythm is relentless as he fucks my mouth, the taste of him growing stronger with each deep thrust.
He’s my tormenter, my judge, my executioner—his face beaming with pride as he watches me breaking over the sheer size of him.
“God, you’re perfect,” he strains between clenched teeth, and I smile through the tears as drool drips from my chin. “Such a good boy.”
“Does it feel good?” I ask between gasps for air.
“Good boys aren’t allowed to talk when they’re getting their faces fucked.” Dick back in his hand, he slaps my cheek, and I can feel droplets of my tears and spit splash against my chest and shoulders. “You want it back?” he asks, tracing my lips with the tip.
I hum, but when I try to lick it, he snickers and lifts it just out of reach.
“You should see how fucked out you already are… Your eyes are so red.” He swipes the head of his cock beneath my right eye, coating it with my tears.
“Your lips are so pretty and swollen.” Now it’s on my chin, collecting the thick saliva before any more of it drips.
“Open,” he says, and like all those women I’ve used in the past, I open wide. “Do we taste good together?”
I nod, consumed with how the salty taste of my tears breaks through everything else.
Jude forces my head against the wall so he doesn’t have to hold me in place.
He braces his arms above me, and I understand it now—why all those women stuck around when I treated them like shit.
The humiliation makes me want to prove myself.
It makes me want to suck him harder.
Open wider.
Drown in him.
Lose my fucking mind if that’s what he wants, as he keeps me pinned, using my mouth like this is the only thing it’s ever been good for.
A guttural sound rips from his throat and he slams harder into me. I choke around him, but the sound is muffled by how deep he is.
His cock starts twitching.
His pre-cum is bitter on my tongue.
His pace quickens.
Each breath is a chore, but the feeling of his cock sliding over my raw tongue has me stupid.
With trembling lips, I look up at him.
He’s on the edge.
His eyes shut.
His mouth slackens.
His breath comes out in short, shallow grunts
My head is spinning. I’m suffocating, but I don’t need air. Not when he’s this close.
Then suddenly, Jude pulls out—one hand back in my hair to stop me from diving back onto him.
I blink up at him.
Did I do something wrong?
His whole body is tense.
He bangs his fist against the wall.
My mouth is empty, and my chest is hollow.
I’m frozen.
Silent.
Waiting as patiently as I can for any kind of reaction.
Then he exhales so deeply it blows a loose wave hanging in my face. His head falls to the side, and with a cheeky grin, he says, “This is the best mouth I’ve ever had.” And slams my head back against the wall; my throat opening up as the tip of his cock rams against it.
I'm full again.
I don’t gag this time.
His pleasure is my purpose.
I let him slide deeper, my jaw aching from the width of him.
He pulls out, then thrusts back in.
His nails are like razors on my scalp as he scratches through my hair, as though he can’t decide whether to pull me closer or push me away.
I reach higher to grab near his hips.
He grunts louder. More urgent.
He's close… again.
I can tell by the way his hips jerk and the heat radiating from his body.
He’s burning up, and I’m the cause.
I feel filthy, and angelic.
Another drop of spit hits my chest.
I blink, and more tears fall.
“Uh—fuck! Don’t do that. It’s too fucking hot.”
“Sowy,” I splutter.
He pulls out suddenly, wraps one hand around my neck, and lifts me to my feet. With fire in his eyes, he holds me there, his body tensing just like it did before.
That’s twice now he’s stopped himself from coming.
“You’re not very good at following orders, are you?”
I shake my head. There’s hair stuck to my face and my lips feel bruised and swollen, but for the first time in my life, I feel sexy.
The right kind of object.
“You’re gonna be the death of me.”
“I hope not,” I taunt, slack-jawed, and suddenly I’m spun around; my chest smashed against the wall with Jude’s naked body pressed against me. I can feel the wetness of his dick against my lower back, with mine squashed uncomfortably against the room’s grey wallpaper.
I want to mark it with stains that never come out.
Jude steps back, and I don’t move. He grabs at the collar of my shirt and peels it down my arms.
His fingers trace over some words scratched into my skin. “Fuck, you’re pretty.”
He leans down and licks the back of my shoulder. My neck.
He bites my ear and guides my hips back from the wall until I’m leaning forward against it on my forearms.
He reaches around to unzip my trousers and force them off my legs. “What the hell is this?”
Now my eyes are shooting open.
I’ve been too complacent.
“Why the fuck do you have a knife strapped to your calf?”
My mind races, and I blurt out, “It’s… I told you I understood.”
There's only a few more seconds of hesitation before his mouth is back on my neck.
Thank fuck for his gun.
I hate cops. They’ve done nothing but screw me over at every turn, but at least it’s a reasonable excuse.
Jude wraps his hand around my cock.
My head falls back against his shoulder.
There’s another brief hesitation before his fingertips drag back and forth along the top of my shaft. And I know he's feeling out the five letters that spell my entire existence.
B.I.T.C.H.
One of my less thought out plans.
Completely impulsive and entirely stupid.
So much could have gone wrong.