Chapter Twenty-Seven #2
I drive into her harder, wishing I could fuck how serious I am about her into her brain via her pussy.
Wishing I could use orgasms to show her I’m more hers than I’ve ever been anything in my entire life.
I’ll fuck both of us into a coma if that’s what it takes to prove it.
At this rate, that may happen. She isn’t tapping out.
Not even when I withdraw and flip her roughly, caging her head with my forearms so I can watch her face.
“Look at me while I’m fucking you.” It’s harsh, almost cruel. Her eyes fly open and the flare of defiance I see in them almost does me in again.
“Don’t tell me what to do,” she gasps.
“You wanted mask play; I’m giving it to you.”
Her eyes may burn me alive. “I love it. You could be anybody.”
I take the bait, swallowing it whole. “Could anybody fuck you like this?”
She cries out as I hook one of her legs over my shoulder. Arms still stretched above her head, she’s mine, a sacrifice on my altar. Angling my hips, I hit her G-spot exactly how she likes it, smirking as her eyelashes flutter, pretty eyes rolling. Her pussy begins to clench.
Margot’s beyond words. I answer for her, punctuating each word with a thrust. “No. They. Fucking. Couldn’t.”
Dropping my face to hers, deliriously close to the edge, I rasp, “So I will tell you what to do, and your body will fucking listen, won’t it?
” Slipping a hand back between us, I work her clit.
She’s tightening, tightening, tightening.
A sound somewhere between a snarl and a shriek slips between her teeth.
“Come, killer,” I growl, rolling her clit between my forefinger and thumb, forcing her into the climax she’s resisting.
With a sound that’s equal parts pleasure and rage, she does.
She’s coming too hard, gripping too tight—there’s no avoiding it, I’m going with her.
Releasing deep inside her, I lose control.
I’m clinging to her tighter than I should, fucking her until the last possible moment, when my body finally calls it.
Then I collapse, shirt soaked with sweat, muscles screaming, but feeling abso-fucking-lutely incredible.
Pressing up on one hand, I rip off the mask.
Has my heart rate ever been this high? Hands jumpy from exertion and endorphins, I unbind Margot’s wrists, relieved to see she didn’t strain against the leash. Now that I’m out of my arousal haze, I realize what an amateur move that was—too much potential for injury.
Hair knotted, face glistening, with mascara smudged down her cheeks, she is breathtaking. Beyond wrecked, she’s a rag doll, limp except for her heaving chest.
“What do you say?” I prompt.
She can’t even muster the energy for an eye roll. “Thank you.”
Pride fills me. I fucking did that. It’s impossible not to feel like a badass when she looks so thoroughly satisfied. Margot grins. Her smile and those orgasm-drunk eyes melt me.
Climbing to my feet, I ease her up, steadying her as she sways. Once she’s found her balance, I crouch. She eyeballs me. “You good?”
“Get on my back, brat.” I gesture. “Told you I was going to carry you back.”
She laughs, but she does it. Looping her arms around my neck, mask in one hand, she sighs in my ear. “You know, as far as apologies go, that one was pretty decent.”
I groan, pushing open the doors.
· · ·
“You’re turning me into an aftercare slut,” Margot whines, leaning into my touch.
“No such thing.” I’m massaging her scalp as she stands beneath the shower spray, rinsing conditioner from her hair.
We’re in the same shower in the dressing room as last time, but today I’m prepared and brought the necessary supplies for a proper cleanup and come down.
As far as shower setups go, this one is about the level of a YMCA locker room, but it’s clean, and beats waiting till we get home.
Margot doesn’t seem to mind; if anything, she looked impressed when I pulled out the duffel bag with toiletries and towels.
“Switch.” She’s moving before the announcement is fully out of her mouth, scooching from beneath the spray and nudging me in. Drizzling far too much shampoo on my hair, she begins to scrub. Suds fly everywhere.
“I ravished you,” I grumble, bending my knees so she can reach better. Her nails feel as good massaging my scalp as they do digging into my back. “That’s why I wash your hair.”
“Aftercare goes both ways, asshole. I thought you were the sex pro here.” Margot’s manipulating my hair; the movements feel suspicious.
“What are you doing?”
The answer comes too quickly. “Nothing.”
“Give you the railing of your life and this is how you treat me.” I’m forced to close my mouth or drown as she tilts my head back, rubbing and rinsing away the shampoo and hopefully whatever hairstyle she created.
Under her breath, she says, “I thought you’d make a cute troll doll.”
“Privileges revoked.” I spin, catching her upper arms and tugging her body to mine.
We meet with a splat, wet bodies colliding.
Water runs down her face, dripping off the end of her nose.
Lips I’m obsessed with part in a laugh, not the polite chuckle or soft giggle she usually does in public.
Her laugh. The one that shows her teeth and gives her the cutest wrinkle on her nose.
My favorite sound in the world. I want to hear it for the rest of my life.
It’s instinct that makes me cup her face.
She doesn’t pull back; she closes her eyes.
I’m going to kiss her. Fuck the bet, fuck everything.
She’s mine, and I’m going to have her now. I lean in.
Margot slips from my arms.
What.
Warm water turns icy, making me sputter.
The.
She’s still laughing, the sound farther away.