Chapter 35
Stone doesn’t rush, working the vibrator, pausing every so often to lean forward and lick at me. I can’t believe what’s happening, inconceivable that his mouth is on my bare pussy. He’s everywhere. His fingers. His tongue. Each one explores me in the most delicious ways.
His groans are unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
The hungry way he’s playing. The way he’s pressing on my tummy with one hand and positioning my leg with the other.
His forearm is covered in tattoos, the veins and muscles bunching as he grips me, holding me down.
He watches me, his eyes trained on me while I bite my lip and try not to call his name.
I shouldn’t be letting him do this, not after his bullshit, but my mind and body do not believe in teamwork right now.
My hips are lifting into his mouth, wanting this tongue deeper.
The curl of his fingers makes me gasp, and I cry out, unable to stop myself.
It feels too good. Pleasure coils like a spring ready to explode.
I claw at his wrist, pleading. “Too much.”
If anything, he holds me down harder, flicking my clit back and forth while his fingers work their magic.
Arching my back, I hold onto the back of his chair, the armrest, anything to give me purchase against the onslaught of feelings barreling through me.
The pure euphoria. My orgasm hits, and I can’t think.
I call his name and beg him to keep going, my hands find their way into his short hair, holding him tightly.
I plead with him to keep doing what he’s doing.
“Yes. Please don’t stop.” I never want it to end.
Collapsing in the seat, the pleasure ebbs slowly.
I descend and blink at the harsh lights in the room.
Stone’s tongue is still stroking me softly, but now his eyes are closed, and he looks like he’s in heaven until he’s not.
His face raises, whipping it around, staring at the closed door.
My consciousness sharpens, and I realize there’s noise at the door.
It feels far away, but then I hear Stone’s name being called.
The rapid raps on the door make their way past my fog. Someone is knocking on the door.
“Jace is outside looking for his sister,” a deep voice vibrates through the door.
Stone grips my thighs so hard I know there will be a bruise.
He detangles my fingers from his head and pulls away.
When he stands, his cock is tented under his pants.
His mouth, cheeks, and chin are wet. His hair disheveled from my fingers.
I sit up, disoriented, my orgasm still pumping through me.
I look down at the clear patch over my new tattoo.
My panties are hanging off my leg, cut to shreds.
He grabs a paper towel, cursing as he steps back from me. He wipes his face and tosses the used towel in the garbage. His face fills with disgust, and the pleasure I just basked in quickly evaporates. I come to my senses and close my legs.
“Get up.” He tosses me my skirt. I feel so disoriented, I don’t catch it, and it falls to the floor. He walks out, slamming the door, and I jump. The lightning-fast switch-up has my head spinning.
Angrily, I slide off the table, swaying.
I step out of my cut panties and pull up my skirt, embarrassed and angry with myself.
When will I learn? What did I expect? That he would drop to his knees and confess his undying love.
Walk out with my hand in his and tell my brother that I was his?
Stupid. He offered me an orgasm, and I greedily took him up on his offer. I shouldn’t be mad.
I walk out of his back room, thankful that I don’t see anyone. I don’t think I could face Onyx. He must know what we were doing, and I’m sure my face is beet red. I wasn’t exactly quiet.
Walking to the back door, I step out to see Stone leaning against the brick wall, smoking a cigarette. My brother is thankfully not with him.
I fidget awkwardly until I remember my promise to myself not to let him make me feel bad. Stone looks at me before he pulls on the cigarette deeply. He blows the smoke to the sky and stares at me. “Where’s Jace?”
“He left.”
“Did he say anything?”
“You mean did he know I was eating his precious baby sister’s pussy a few minutes before he showed up?” I’m too shocked to respond before he continues. “No. He doesn’t know.” He stubs the cigarette out beneath his black army boot. “You got what you wanted.”
“And what was that?” I bark, hating him all over again. He’s so rude and cruel.
“You’ve been trying to get me in your pants for almost a year.”
“Stop acting like you didn’t enjoy it!” I shout back, needing to inflict my own damage.
“Free pussy is always enjoyable. I didn’t have to work for it.”
My slap comes as a shock to even me. My palm and fingers sting from the blow I just delivered to his cheek.
Even with his stubble, I can see the redness on his jaw.
When I drop my hand, it burns like fire.
Stone doesn’t move, but the look in his eye is deadly, and I step back.
Two streams of white smoke exit his nostrils.
It reminds me of a bull I used to see in cartoons.
I would laugh if he weren’t moving toward me, something evil in his expression.
Stone pushes me against the wall and picks up my hand, the same hand I just assaulted him with, and licks the redness on my palm.
I shudder as arousal rips through me again.
And I hate it. I hate that the feel of his tongue on my burning skin feels good, just like when he slapped my pussy and then licked at the pain.
“Did it feel good to hit me, Countess?”
“Yes. You fucking deserved it!” I curl my fingers into my palm to stop the tingles both from his tongue and the slap.
“Hmmm.” His other hand moves down to one breast, squeezing.
Involuntarily, my back arches, my stupid body betrays me by pushing into his hard palm.
My nipple beads and I roll my lips inward, but I refuse to release the moan that wants to escape.
But as much as I don’t want him to know how good he feels, I don’t stop him.
His hand continues down to my hip, gripping it.
“I do deserve it, Countess, because I’m not who you think I am. ”
I suck in another breath when his fingers push under my hem and over my thigh.
His palm is sticky, wet, from my earlier arousal and his saliva.
“I’m a man who won’t care about you just because you opened your legs.
” He cups my pussy, pressing in. I’m soaked.
I can feel his rings. His callouses. His heat.
There’s also the faint burn from the slaps he delivered earlier.
“Don’t touch me,” I pant, straining against his hold. I grab his wrist and try to drag it away from under my skirt, but it’s no use. I can’t think when he’s touching me.
He leans closer, pressing into me, imprisoning his hand between us.
His lips touch my ear, and I try to lean away, even when I want to turn my face and meet his lips.
The gruff voice whispers into the curve of my ear is erotic.
“Too late, Countess. My mouth and fingers have had your pussy.” He slides his fingers inside me, swirling them between my lips, up and down, caressing me.
“And you liked it.” I can’t deny his words because even now, I want him to do it again, even when I want to gouge his eyes out.
Suddenly, he slaps my pussy, hard, and this time I do cry out.
God, the sharp stinging pain feels good, so fucking good, and I hate that I get wetter.
“Don’t ever hit me again. Do you understand? ”
I don’t agree because I’m not sure I can resist. Hitting Stone felt good. Felt freeing to assert some control over him.
Another slap lands, and I pant, breathing through the pain.
Pleasure follows, and I hold in the need to ask him to do it again, but this time I want his finger to push inside me again, curl, and make me feel the way I felt earlier.
I want him to push his dick inside while the stings pulse through me.
I’m shaking with the effort to stay quiet.
I grit my teeth. Don’t let him do it again, Camryn.
It’s a game to him. “Or what, you fucking asshole? You’ll be a cruel piece of shit?
Too late!” I spit the words in his face and glare at him.
Those dark eyes meet mine. A standoff. I stare up into his face, noting everything about him.
He looks at my lips and lowers his eyelids.
He slides his hands out from between my legs and cradles my neck, squeezing slightly.
His threat is there. The threat to hurt me.
I feel slightly dizzy with the way my breath is hampered and I close my eyes because I feel the wetness, my wetness.
“All the more reason to stay away from me, Countess.”
With that, he releases my wrist and neck and pushes away from me.
I open my eyes and sag against the brick wall, my body in utter chaos.
My pussy is throbbing. The moisture on my neck is cooling, and I can still smell his smoky, delicious scent.
Shakily, I brace against the wall, using it to stand more upright.
I lift my chin. “Don’t worry about that.
Let’s pretend like it never happened.” I walk away, refusing to run, refusing to let the tears drop.
I walk right through the door and up the stairs.
When I reach into my pocket for my keys.
My fingers feel numb, cold. It takes me three tries before I can get the key in straight.
I open the door and slam it, leaning against the surface, finally letting the tears of frustration and embarrassment leak down my face.
“Fuck him,” I whisper, trying to push the tightness in my chest away.
I drop my keys on the table and take off my shoes.
When I start to move, I feel the slipperiness between my legs, and immediately, I want a shower. I need to get his saliva off me.
Ripping my clothes, I drop my skirt and shirt as I go, unsnap my bra, and climb into my shower, turning the water to hot, withstanding as much heat as possible.
A form of self-flagellation for being an idiot.
I pick up the soap and washcloth, furiously rubbing my neck and then my breasts, trying to wash away the feel of him squeezing my breasts, flicking my nipples.
I open my legs and pause, looking at my tattoo covered in the bandage.
I didn’t even ask about it, too busy letting him do what he wanted to me.
There are faint bruises that look suspiciously like fingertips starting to form around the tattoo, from where he held my thighs open.
There’s another rounder shape further up on my inner thigh, right before my pussy. His hickey.
I close my eyes and remember his words. “My tattoo is already on you permanently. But this one? This is for me.”