Chapter 14 #2
His eyes dip to my sunshine-yellow t-shirt and stay there. As if he can see. As if he can see my naked breasts and my hard nipples through the fabric.
“You’re not,” he rasps as he rubs his open palm on me, over the nipple.
Once. Just once.
And I jerk in his arms. “Yes. I never wear one. I… it makes me feel free and…”
He swipes his hand over my nipple again, still watching it, watching his fingers over my breast. “And what?”
“And no one has ever touched me there. Before.”
All of it is true.
I don’t wear a bra because mostly I’ve got my sweater on so I don’t need it. Besides, my breasts are average B cups anyway. And yes, no one has ever touched me there before.
Finally, he raises his eyes, his fingers still insistent and still squeezing. “What about panties? Are you wearing any panties?”
“I am,” I whisper, suddenly feeling how sticky they are, how wet and hot. “But it’s only a little thong.”
“Yeah? Why’s that?”
“I-I like them. I have tons.”
“Because I bet that feels free too, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And no one has touched you there either, have they?”
“No. No one.”
At this, his fingers don’t show any mercy on my breast.
He plumps it up and squeezes it and molds it however he wants. He even uses it to pull me closer, like this virgin piece of flesh belongs to him.
Even though he clearly doesn’t want it. He clearly has aggression dripping out of his eyes and anger radiating off his fingers.
“So you put my hand on your tit and you tell me you’re not wearing a bra,” he growls, plucking at my nipple now.
“You tell me you never wear one. And then you have the audacity to tell me that you love wearing a flimsy, useless string between your legs because it makes you feel free and no one has ever touched you there before. That no one has played with your nipples or squeezed your tits like this. No one has fingered that tight thing between your legs. Is that correct?”
That tight thing between my legs spasms at his rough, vibrating words.
“Yeah. No one.”
“Is this your attempt at seducing me?” he asks me with another squeeze of my breast.
When he asks the question like this, with almost a mocking tone, my cheeks burn with embarrassment. They flush scarlet with my inexperience and how young I might seem to him.
The little sister.
But I have done it now, haven’t I?
I have put his hand on my breast and I’ve told him all about my na?veté so even though every part of me is trembling, I raise my chin. “Yes.”
He circles his eyes over my face, watches the shaking of my lips and notices my nervous swallow.
When he brings his eyes back up to me, he licks his lips. “It’s tight, isn’t it? Your virgin pussy.”
“I-I think so.”
His chest shudders with a tight, humorless chuckle. “Yeah, I bet it is. Girls like you always have a tight fucking pussy. A pussy that men fight over. Kill each other over.”
Goosebumps break over my skin and I rock my hips again. “Girls like me?”
I ask the same question that I’ve asked several times before and he answers me on a raspy, choppy breath. “Yeah, girls like you. Bad girls. Bratty and spoiled. Girls who pout their lips when they don’t get their way. You know there’s a name for it.”
“Name for what?”
“For the kind of pussy you have.”
“What?”
He pulls at my nipple, making it all sore and achy. “Pouty pussy.”
I feel it down there. That pull. That vicious pull of his fingers. The vicious whisper of his words.
I feel it in my pussy.
“What?” I whisper.
“Yeah. That’s what they call it. Pouty and juicy. Bad girl pussy. And yours is going to be the juiciest. She pouts the hardest, doesn’t she? She’s the tightest too. Because you’re worse. You’re worse than bad, aren’t you?”
Yes, I am.
I don’t even care if I’m bad or desperate or whatever. I just want him closer. I want him to fix this ache in my belly, this current in my thighs.
This spasm in my bad girl pussy.
“Arrow, please…”
“But that’s your downfall, Salem,” he whispers, leaning his face closer and bumping our noses together. “Your bratty, pouty pussy. Because the more she pouts, the more she whines, the tinier she becomes. Tinier and smaller and you can’t give her the very thing she wants.”
“W-what does she want?” I ask, as if I don’t know.
As if I’m so innocent that I don’t know what he’s talking about. But the thing is that I’m so far gone that I’ve got no brain power left.
I want him to tell things to me. I want him to do things to me too.
All the things. Bad and dirty and wonderful and glorious.
And he knows it – how can he not? I’m practically attacking him with my nails on his wrist and fisting his t-shirt with my other hand while I shift and rock against his stomach.
Arrow knows my predicament and he smirks. “A big fat cock. That’s what you want, don’t you? You want me to fuck you with it.”
Oh God.
Yes.
I nod eagerly. “Yes.”
He shifts his pelvis again and I don’t know how he knows where my spot is but he hits it, and I twist between him and the wall, my eyes clenching shut.
“But you can’t have it. You can’t have the very thing that you want. Because your pussy is so tight and small that she can’t handle it.”
“Oh God, please,” I sob, almost breaking his skin with my nails.
Almost making him bleed because I want him so much.
He squeezes my breast, pinching my nipple between his knuckles, making everything ache and ache.
“Nah, you ruined your own chance. You should’ve thought of that before you pouted at me, Salem.
Before you taunted me. You won’t be able to handle my dick now.
Because they don’t make them any bigger than mine. ”
God, if he doesn’t do something soon, I’ll explode.
“You’re such a –”
His laugh is both amused and pained as he cuts me off and does do something.
He leans over and kisses the corner of my mouth and I freeze.
My eyes go wide when he flicks his tongue out and licks that corner too before whispering, “Tell you what. You waited for me, didn’t you? You worried over me. Not to mention, you’re my friend. So maybe I can give you a little something.”
“Something like what?”
He kisses the corner of my mouth again, a small, soft, soothing kiss.
“Your first kiss,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning over my mouth. “I told you I wouldn’t but maybe I can break my own rule.”
"You can?”
“Uh-huh. For you.”
“For me?”
“Yeah. Just to be nice.”
Oh God.
Thank God.
And I open my mouth to say that to him, to thank him but he doesn’t give me a chance because he’s doing what he said he would.
After torturing me for ages, he’s being nice to me.
With his mouth.
He closes his lips over mine and he gives me my first kiss – the kiss that I’ve waited for for eight years – and heat explodes in every part of my body.
Heat and lust and all the love that I have for him.
Which is good because I’ve been in the cold too long. I’ve been living in the harsh winter and finally, I’ve been touched by the sun.
More than touched, actually.
I’ve been consumed by him.
My sun has swallowed me and drunk me down before I can even draw a breath. Before I can comprehend anything, learn the texture of him and study the softness of his lips and the sharpness of his teeth in detail, he has put both his hands on my face and splayed them wide.
He has grasped my cheeks and grabbed my neck and he’s arranged me in a way that will make him go deeper into my mouth.
That will make him eat at it and plunder it and violate it in the best, most glorious way possible. And he’s doing all of that.
He’s sucking on my mouth, tugging at the meaty flesh, biting at it, like he’s been waiting to bite me for a long time now.
Like he’s been so hot for me and his fire has burned so deep and so high and now he’s purging it all.
Transferring it to me, and I take it happily.
I take it with gusto.
I even open my mouth so he can pour it inside me, push his tongue in. The tongue that’s been driving me fucking crazy these past weeks. Because it makes his mouth so shiny and seductive when he does his lip-lick thing.
And tonight, I get to kiss that mouth.
I get to kiss my Arrow. I get to tug at his hair and pull him down on me. I get to moan inside his mouth and taste him with my tongue.
He tastes like fire, hot and tangy. Spicy.
I get to play with the silver chain around his neck and thrust my tits in his hard, hard chest. I get to rub them against his arched pecs and I get to rock against his stomach as well.
I get to hump it and that only drives him crazier.
That only causes his thumbs to dig on the pulse at my neck and his fingers to fist my hair and his mouth to turn up the intensity and the heat.
And before I know it, I’m moaning and rocking against him.
I’m taking something else from him too. Something more.
I’m so bad and greedy and spoiled that I’m taking an orgasm from him, as well. And it’s not as if he minds it. No, not at all. In fact, he drives me to it. He urges me on with his teeth and his growls, and when that’s not enough I feel him shift.
I feel him bending his knees slightly and still kissing me, I feel him letting go of my face and making for my ass.
He grabs the cheeks of my butt in his large, possessive hands and in a move that is so fucking sexy and arousing, he seats me on his powerful thigh. As soon as that place between my legs – that wet, hot and pulsing place – connects with his muscular limb, we both groan.
His chest shudders and so does his stomach. As if he can feel my wetness seeping through my pants and my measly thong and he likes that.
He likes making a throne for me to sit on. A throne for my bratty, bad girl pussy that pouts for him.
He also likes when I move on the throne he made for me.
I move and rock and shift. I drag my core up and down, chasing the delicious friction. I dance my hips in a figure eight while I knead his shoulders.
While he kisses me and kisses me, his mouth all wet and hot and soft, the complete opposite of his fingers on my ass.
They’re tight and furious as they jiggle my flesh and flex it. He even delivers a tight slap to it, sharp and stinging, as he moves me like I’m his puppet, his fuck doll.
His fuck doll drowning in vintage leather.
As soon as I think that, I’m there.
He’s taken me there. He’s given me my first orgasm with him.
My sun. My Arrow.
The moan I let out is so, so loud and thick that Arrow takes a bite out of that too. He presses our mouths together hard and fast and eats it up. I even feel him gulp it down, his Adam’s apple jerking with the swallow.
But I can’t be sure because I’m breaking into a million pieces, twisting and writhing in his arms, all restless and sweaty and slippery, and he’s still kissing me.
Although his kisses are softer now. They are sleepy and lazy and misty.
Drowsy.
Just like I am, and I would’ve lost my balance and fallen to the ground at his feet if he wasn’t holding me.
If he wasn’t clutching me tight to his heaving chest while winding my thighs around his hips again, making me hold on to him like a spider monkey.
I burrow my nose in his sweet smelling, sun-struck hair. “Thank you.”
He rubs his chin on the top of my head, remaining silent.
“For breaking your rule for me,” I continue.
He hums. “Maybe you’re rubbing off on me.”
I kiss his shoulder. “So I’m your rebound girl now?”
He flexes his grip and almost smashes me to his chest and I love that.
I love him.
“No.” Before I can protest, he continues, “I’m not going to use you to get over your sister. Even I’m not that much of an asshole. Besides, you don’t have what I’m looking for in a rebound girl anyway.”