Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
Heat sears through my spine, and my throat burns.
“You think everything’s a goddamn game,” he says. “And I’m tired of it, Elise. I’m tired of you waltzing around?—”
His hips smack against my ass, and his chest presses into my back as he leans us further over the ledge. Oh god, no, no, no! My spine turns rigid.
“Acting like nothing fucking bothers you,” he grits out. “But it does, doesn’t it? You’re so caught up in that gorgeous head of yours, the only joy you manage to get is when you’re driving me up a fucking wall. Isn’t that right?” he asks, and I don’t have the good sense to disagree.
Blame it on the lack of oxygen to my brain right now, but as my knees start to wobble, I bloody nod my agreement .
Who does that?!
He lets out a disbelieving huff of air. “You like it, huh?” he asks, bringing his lips right above my ear. He readjusts his grip on my throat, sliding his middle and ring finger into my mouth, pulling down on my jaw, and sharp pain ripples through me. I yelp, but the sound gets caught in my throat.
The pain subsides, but he twists my nipple, then plucks at it like the string of a guitar before finally setting that hand on my hip and releasing his hold on my jaw entirely.
I let out a breath of relief, which was clearly the wrong thing to do, because now his hips are pistoning into me as he smacks the side of my ass relentlessly.
Shockwaves of pain ripple through me, and my traitorous clit pulses needlessly, begging for more.
“Oh, god,” I moan, falling even further forward.
My eyes bug out of my head as I take in the cars, nearly fifty storeys beneath us, crawling along the streets like tiny ants on the ground. I might faint.
“You’re such fucking trouble, Elise. Do you know that?” he asks, but for once, I have the sense not to answer his clearly rhetorical question. “Ever since I met you, you’ve got me doing and thinking things I shouldn’t be.” He tsks, his hot breath panting over the shell of my ear.
I arch into him, unable to stop my body's unfortunate reaction to this. I’m naked and very fucking afraid, and yet, here I am, seconds from an orgasm. I guess it’s not the worst outcome.
“For once, you’re going to listen to me, Elise.
You’re going to come around my cock,” he demands.
“I want you strangling my dick and begging for more by the end,” he says, his body going rigid as mine follows suit, my nipples peaked and screaming as I near my release.
“And if you ever defy me again, this ledge won’t be here to save you,” he whispers, his voice maddeningly low as my brain crawls to catch up to his threat.
My body is already on the way, though, knowing exactly what those words do to me.
“Ohh,” I moan, my fingers white-knuckling the stone as he pumps and rocks against me, his movements more erratic as they slow.
He all but collapses against my back, and my knees officially give out beneath me.
I fall forward, my tits pressing against the concrete ledge, scraping the delicate buds, and as fear strangles me, my eyes grow even wider at what’s beneath me.
I wait until his body has become lax, spinning around in his grip. I smack his shoulder as hard as I can muster, a newfound energy swelling inside me. “Are you fucking kidding me?!” I yell, my voice shrill.
He chuckles deeply, pulling me against his chest as he steps us away from the edge. “Did you really think I’d put your life in danger?” he asks, his brow quirked.
The real answer is no , no I did not. Which is precisely why I let that happen in the first place. “That doesn’t matter! You let me go on thinking that whole time that I was this close,” I say, holding my thumb and forefinger up, a centimetre apart, “to falling off the side of this damn building!”
“Well, clearly , that wouldn’t have happened,” he says, rolling his eyes playfully.
It’s adorable, and I hate it. Okay, fine, I don’t hate it, but I absolutely do hate that I don’t hate it.
Christ, even my internal monologue doesn’t make any damn sense.
I wish I would’ve known there was less than a foot drop off with another three-foot ledge just beneath me.
I definitely wouldn’t have been crawling over the side to test its limitations or anything, but maybe my heart wouldn’t have been in my throat the whole time.
“Just be glad you came because that won’t be happening again for a long time, jackass.
You’re on probation,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest, but I think better of it, grabbing my shorts and top to cover myself.
I don’t bother with the bra and thong. I doubt I’ll be able to hold out once he gets me back inside. What? At least I know my faults.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You liked it,” he says, rolling his eyes again, but a hint of a smile presses onto his lips, and I feel my heart constrict.
“Now come here,” he says, grabbing a blanket from a stack inside a cabinet by the lounge set.
He unfolds it, opening it up wide for me to step into.
It’s impossible to stay mad at him when he's this damn sweet with me.
I let him wrap me up in the blanket, and when I’m thoroughly rolled like a snug burrito, he lifts me up and carries me over to a lounge chair where he takes a seat and holds me against his chest.
It’s… It’s sort of nice. In a way I never would have expected given my general lack of desire for intimacy of any kind outside of sex.