34. Jenna
JENNA
T here’s something unsettling in his eyes.
“Do you think I’m dangerous?”
My thin tank top is pushed up as he bites and kisses his way down to my panties.
“You should. I’m fucking obsessed with you.”
I pull at my tank top, wanting to bank the heat coming off of him.
“I’m going to show you.” He grabs my hand, forcing my own fingers under the band of my lace panties. “I’m the one you should have been afraid of this whole time. Congratulations, Jenna.”
I whimper as my own fingers, guided by his, rub my clit.
“You win. You’ve made me crazy, taken over my whole life, ruined my mind, so the only thing I think of is you.”
“That sounds like a personal problem,” I croak, trying to will my hips not to grind against my hand .
He watches the way my lower body shudders.
My legs splay; my hips ache with need.
He forces my other hand into my panties, my nails catching on the fabric. Even when I was at my horniest, I’d never gotten myself off with two hands.
Hand on my neck, he pins me back against the couch, my knees in the air. When I try to untangle my hands, he grabs my jaw, shaking my head roughly.
“Keep going.”
My panties are soaked. The pink fabric of the shorts is dark burgundy at the crotch from the juices leaking out of my pussy.
McCarthy leans over me, one hand between my legs, guiding my fingers into my pussy. The other hand still on my jaw, he tips my head back. “You like fucking yourself? Like making yourself wet thinking about my cock there ?”
“Please.” I whimper. My jaw aches from where his fingers press against it.
“You begging me, Cupcake? You begging for my cock?”
“Uh-huh.” My hips jerk.
“Let me hear it.” He kisses me hard, his tongue forcing into my mouth. “Beg me for it. I told you the day you and those bucking heels and your needy fucking pussy stepped foot in my office that you’d beg me for it, didn’t I?”
I bite back the needy whimper, my fingers not enough. I hate myself for craving him.
“Stop fighting me.” The teeth at my earlobe are sharp.
My fingers work faster. If I just come, then I’ll stop craving him, stop the wanting, stop the avalanche of bad decisions, and no, McCarthy, it’s not you. It could be any man here talking to me filthy like this.
I’m finally close .
After this, I’m leaving. I’m going to the office, getting my things, and slinking home like a teenager debasing herself for some pimple-faced boy.
“Let me see you come,” McCarthy hisses in my ear. Then he literally stands back so he can watch me, mouth hanging open, hips jerking as I come all over my hand, performing some filthy private show just for him.
Panting, I blink my hair out of my eyes. I’m feeling a little more rational. Not completely, but enough to be embarrassed that I just got myself off with my client watching. I mean, new low, Jenna.
I push myself upright.
Large hands grab my wrists, forcing my hands to my face, spreading the wet pussy juices all over me. Then he leans in licks it off, mouths my jaw, flicks his tongue into my still-panting mouth.
“Fuck, you don’t know what you do to me.” The deep voice is rough. “I could chain you up, watch you finger fuck yourself for hours. I should have known someone who goes through fiancés like butter is a fucking slut.”
I slam my hand into his shoulder. It’s like hitting a brick wall.
I can’t even yell a curse at him because he’s kissing me.
“I knew the second you walked into my house you were the type of girl who’d do anything for cock, anything to get fucked, anything, anything for a man to tell her she’s the best goddam fuck he’s ever had.” His mouth crushes to mine.
“Asshole,” I try to spit around his tongue.
He releases me with a jerk of my head.
I’m trying to pull up my shorts as he presses heavy kisses under my jaw .
“What kind of filthy shit will you let me do to you, I wonder?”
I stand up on shaky knees.
“Nothing. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Right. You want a guy to propose marriage to you before you spread your legs for him.”
“I’m so sick of you.”
He swipes at me.
I dart away, my thighs twinging.
For a second, I think I’ll try for the door, but McCarthy’s there, and the lizard part of my brain doesn’t want to go anywhere near him.
“That’s not what you said when I had my tongue on your clit,” he taunts. “I think it was something along the lines of ‘I want your cock.’”
He doesn’t chase me when I sprint to the stairs, my still-filthy hand sliding up the polished mahogany banister and the wet fabric still uncomfortable between my legs.
My face is hot. McCarthy is laughing below me. Laughing like he just won.
He didn’t! We didn’t actually have sex.
His footsteps on the wooden stair treads are heavy, methodical. So why do I feel like I’m being chased by a wolf?
“I told you, Jenna, I’m not catering to your bullshit.” McCarthy’s deep voice booms up the double-height space. “And we’re not done.”
I dart down the hallway, chancing a look behind me.
In the dark, his eyes are a spooky gray.
My hand grasps a door handle, and I’m surrounded by the scent of him.
The lock turns under my thumb. I scuttle back in the dark, away from the door .
There’s a knock. “Open up, Jenna.”
“You’re just trying to scare me.” I wrap my arms around myself. “It’s not working.”
I hear him take two steps back, then I scream as he throws the huge bulk of his body against the door.
The doorframe cracks, then he’s in the room, his six-five frame blocking the dim light from the hallway. He’s impossibly fast as he crosses the carpet, unfastening the belt on his dress pants one-handed with a swift jerk.
For a second, I imagine that same strong, sure motion guiding my mouth to his cock.
“Showoff.”
“What is it about you that makes men so crazy? I’m ready to burn the whole world down for you, and you haven’t even sucked my cock.”
“Nothing.” My nipples are hard underneath the thin fabric of my tank top, pressing against the soft undersides of my arms.
“No?” His hand buries in my tangled hair, angling my head back so he can kiss me. “You don’t want to wrap those pretty lips around my cock?”
I’m wet again, leaking into the soaked fabric.
“That’s fine.” The hand tightens in my hair. “I don’t have to come in your mouth.”
Then I’m falling in the dark. My hands sting as they hit the carpet.
He’s behind me. His hands tear at my shorts. The lace of my wet panties scrapes my thighs as he wrenches them off.
I cry out as his hand is back in my hair.
“Not ready to put your ass in the air and beg me for it? What if I say I think I’m in love with you? That enough to get you good and ready for me? If I tell you I love you?” His nose bangs into my ass as he gives my pussy one long lick.
“I bet that’s it. That’s how you get Jenna to spread her legs for you.”
“Go to hell, McCarthy.” I try to crawl away from him.
My elbows burn as he pulls me back. He grabs my hips and lifts my ass in the air.
I hate the way my back arches, hate the way my hips splay for him. Just his breath panting against my pussy is enough to make me come. I’m craving his touch, going crazy because a man has told me he loves me, even if he’s just being cruel and doesn’t mean it.
He gives me another long lick.
“Give me your cock, if you’re so fucking proud of it.”
“I’m so fucking tired of your mouth.”
My salty wet panties are stuffed between my teeth.
My tank top’s dragged up around my armpits. His hands are rough on my tits, are grabbing my ass, are slapping my thighs apart as he spreads me.
There’s the rasp of a zipper then the crushing weight of his huge male form on me, ramming into me, as I strain underneath him, my pussy taking all of him at once, his balls slapping against my cunt.
I whine as he runs a hand down my back, forcing my pussy to get used to the huge length inside of me.
He pulls out and slams in again once, twice.
I moan against the panties in my mouth. I could reach up to take them out, but I’m afraid I’ll collapse on the floor if I do, and I really can’t have Bethany wanting to know why there’s a rug burn on my chin .
“You don’t know”—he’s hoarse—“how I fantasize about going down and dragging you out of that car, fucking this pussy then taking your ass.”
Shit, is that why he’s not wearing a condom?
The zipper scrapes the back of my thighs.
He shifts, then he’s fucking me into the carpet. My arms give out, stinging my elbows as they hit the plush carpet while he ruts into me, his huge cock filling my cunt.
“Fucking little slut. You want my come, don’t you?”
Yeah, I want his come.
“After all that—the running, the hiding, you fucking like this, don’t you? You do like my cock.”
I make a strangled noise as he fucks me. Then he suddenly grabs my hair, hikes me up, and thrusts in me one more time, making me groan.
My hands scrabble at the carpet as he pulls my head back, his fingers in my pussy, seeking my clit.
“I want you to come on my cock. You gonna do that for me? Hm?”
The hand tightens in my hair as he works my clit harder.
I try to move, but he jerks me back against him, his cock plunging deeper in me.
“Don’t try and get away. You’re coming on me.”
I’m pinned between the hand and his cock, my pussy clenched around the huge length piercing me. Suddenly I’m shuddering and moaning at an orgasm when he shifts his cock, twisting in my pussy.
He chuckles. “I wonder if you’ll do that when I’m in your ass too.”
I groan, half collapsed as he resumes the furious pace. He bites back a groan, then he stills.
I hear a glass bottle fall softly onto the carpet .
“Let’s see if your ass likes this as much as your pussy does,” he says as he spreads my ass.
Oil-slick fingers are against my hole, pressing against it, then in me, stretching me while I twitch, my pussy still impaled on his huge dick.
“You let those other guys do this, hm?” He breathes the words through his nose as his fingers work inside me, stretching me. “Little cock slut. Little porn princess. You like it when a man takes your ass, too, don’t you?”