Chapter 37 Her Pet
HER PET
KATIE
He shifted his weight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I was a virgin.”
“Is that why you came so quickly?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His ears turned bright red. “Probably.”
I set the cufflink down carefully, my voice softer than I expected. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He glanced at the trays of gemstones. “Because I didn’t want you to… find someone else. Someone who had more experience. Someone who could give you what you thought you wanted.”
“But I wouldn’t—”
“Yes, you fucking would.” His voice was sharp before softening as his eyes finally met mine.
“Katie, I saw it in your eyes that night. You were so determined. You wanted to hire a fucking professional—more like a professional in fucking. Anyway, I thought that if I admitted I didn’t know what the hell I was doing when it came to having sex—you know, penis in vagina, you would leave me and go look for someone else. ”
My pulse pounded in my ears. Because he was right. I would have thanked him for his time and hired someone else. But at the same time, I was glad I didn’t.
I was torn between anger and something… new and fresh that I’ve never felt before.
“So you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie,” he said, his voice small as he hesitantly stepped closer. “I just didn’t tell you the truth.”
I closed my eyes, trying to process his words. The ticking of the wall clock filled the room, making my skin prickle.
I turned around, running a hand through my hair, the same hair he had tenderly dried moments ago.
Then, suddenly, Dylan was on his knees on the worn rug at my feet, his arms wrapping around my waist. His cheek pressed against the thin fabric of my robe, his voice muffled but shaking.
“Please don’t leave me,” he whispered. “I mean it. Please. Don’t. I can’t—” His words faltered.
I stared down at him, my heart hammering between my ribs. My hands hovered before sinking into his hair, tugging him closer even though my brain wanted me to step back and introspect on the new information.
“Dylan…”
He didn’t budge.
I sighed and said, “Look at me, Dylan.”
“No,” he said as if he was whining. “I can’t look at you right now.”
“Look at me,” I repeated, and I knew he would oblige.
He finally tilted his head up, his eyes glassy. “What?” His pout deepened.
I pinched his cheek, ignoring the mock wince. “You could have told me the truth before…”
“Before I fucked you senseless?” He added.
I pinched harder, making him wince for real. I let go and stroked his pink cheek as he nuzzled my palm like a puppy. “Yes, before you fucked me senseless. You think I would have kicked you out of my house if you had not?”
He slowly shook his head, and I hummed. “Don’t hide things from me again. I hate it.”
His arms tightened around me as he said, “I’m sorry.”
I patted his cheek, accepting his apology. For a heartbeat, the room held nothing but the sound of our breaths.
And then, just like that, mischief flickered in his eyes, wicked and boyish. “You know,” he said with a smirk. “You look insanely hot when you’re mad at me. Can we do a hot teacher and student role-play? I’ll even bark if you want me to.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re so unserious—Dylan, wait!”
He stood up slowly, not backing off, and then he pounced. Grabbing me, and spun me toward the workbench, his mouth finding the hollow of my throat.
I squealed, laughter bursting out of me, feeling ticklish. “Dylan!”
“Don’t worry, darling,” he whispered against my skin, his voice dark with promise and a threat. “I’ll make it up to you.”
My laughter tangled with his kisses, dissolving my anger and confusion for the moment.
Even though his touch was gentle, his voice sincere when he kneeled between my thighs and ready to christen my home studio, a dark thought lingered in the back of my mind.
Does Dylan truly have feelings for me? Or… am I just a crush to him?
Dylan
Even when my tongue was buried inside her, tasting the sweet nectar dripping between her thighs, I could see the gears in her brain twisting and turning.
Her hips trembled with my onslaught, but those pretty brown eyes were distant.
They seemed calculating, like she was dissecting whatever I had said to her so far.
She was overthinking while I had my tongue deep inside her pretty cunt.
And I hated that. Hated myself for it. Even though I had expected it. Hell, I had predicted it. Like the time her one and only ex treated her like shit, then she pulled apart each and every word and lie he had told her until she had armored herself with suspicion.
But I wasn’t him. Or that fuckface boss.
I knew her better than she did. I knew once I wrung an orgasm out of her, she would need space and retreat from me. And like a good boy, I would give it to her and more. I would get out of her hair until she missed me at night.
I would disappear until her fingers couldn’t reach deep enough or hard enough. Until she needed me.
And the second she reached out, I would come running like her pet, her dog. Maybe it was obsession and it was unhealthy. Call it what you want because I would be anything she fucking wanted.
So when her moans reached high, my tongue latched on to her swollen clit, savoring the taste of her arousal. I groaned into her heat, the sound vibrating against her, and her hand slid into my hair. Fuck, the way she touched me, gentle and hesitant like I might break.
I wanted her rough. I wanted her to pull, to yank, to slap me when I pushed her too far. I wanted her to use me and punish me when I misbehaved and overstimulated her.
Fuck.
I slid a hand beneath the robe and stroked myself while grinding my tongue on her slicked folds. Her taste coated my lips, her moans filled the studio, and when I glanced up, the sight of her with her head thrown back, lips parted and robe falling open around her flushed skin made me feel feral.
I couldn’t take it.
I knew she was sore—but fuck.
I needed it. Needed her. Needed to bury myself in her until the line between us blurred further.
Standing, I gripped her thighs and shoved the robe aside. She didn’t stop me. Her hand only curled into my shoulder and tugged me closer.
I lined my cock against her soaked entrance and slid in with one slow thrust. Her breath hitched, and I didn’t give her a second to adjust before I fucked into her. Deep and hard.
“Katie,” I groaned into her mouth, swallowing her gasps as my tongue tangled with hers. I squeezed her breasts in my palms, kneading and pinching her nipples until she whimpered. The sound made me thrust harder.
Her workbench creaked beneath us, jars of gemstones rattling, metal tools clinking together. Fucking perfect. I wanted to ruin this space for her, her sanctuary. I wanted every ring, every necklace she made here to remind her of me.
I wanted her to sit at that bench tomorrow and remember my mouth between her thighs, how I had left hickies on them and how well I had split her open and made her scream.
Growling, I pulled out and spun her around, bending her against the wood. Her robe slipped off completely, pooling at her feet. Her ass arched as if she was waiting.
A sick, twisted part of me wanted to leave her there. Begging, aching and desperate.
“Need you so fucking bad,” I whispered, slamming into her from behind. Because I would always need her more than she did.
Her moan broke into a cry when I set a ruthless rhythm, gripping her wrists and pinning them at the small of her back. She was mine. Stretched tight around me and trembling with every thrust. The wet slap of our bodies filled the room. It was filthy and intoxicating.
“Dylan,” she gasped, her voice breaking.
I slid one hand down, rubbing her clit in tight circles while pounding into her. Her walls clenched, fluttered, and then she shattered, screaming my name and gushing all over my cock, soaking me as her body convulsed.
But I didn’t stop. I just fucking couldn’t.
Her orgasm milked me, dragged me closer, until my balls tightened and I emptied inside her with a guttural groan. My cum filled her, and it was hot and messy. I fucked through my orgasm, pushing it deeper and marking her.
Sweat dripped down my face as my chest heaved against her back. She collapsed against the workbench, trembling and her skin glowing with sweat.
I bent, kissing the curve of her spine, her shoulder and the nape of her neck. She hummed, enjoying the attention I gave her because it was the opposite of what I had just done.
Mine.
I stroked her hair, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear and making her laugh.
She didn’t know it, but she was mine, and I would do the unthinkable to make it happen until she fell in love with me.