Chapter Sixteen
Jonesy
The room descends into complete darkness, the mood shifting as I sit up straight on the couch.
Am I going to do this? I mean, I know my answer.
Unequivocally yes. Katie Murphy, my dream girl, my nightmare girl, wrapped into one delicious prey-sized snack where I have full permission to bite.
Hard. Of course I’m not going to say no.
I just hope I can make it upstairs without blowing my load just from thinking about getting her off.
I’ve had a fifteen-year hard-on for this girl.
Fifteen years of just imagining what she’d be like when I finally take her.
I know the responsibility that I have. We should have discussed it more, but we’re past that now. Now I need to give her what she needs because she trusts me. And I’m not going to betray that trust. The fact that I even have the opportunity to provide this for her has pride swelling in my chest.
Her light steps patter quickly up the stairs.
And as I count to ten, I rise up, looking for my boots so she’ll hear me coming.
I put them on slowly, taking my time to let her anticipation build.
I’m not quiet. I make my presence known.
The stairs aren’t carpeted. Just bare floorboards still in the process of being renovated, which makes it easier to make my steps loud, letting the thud of my heel echo up the stairwell.
As I reach the landing, I move slowly, opening doors to the spare rooms and bathroom, taking cautionary steps in case Katie has a change of heart and uses this situation to get her ultimate revenge and kill me off with a defense of bedroom-play gone wrong.
When I reach her bedroom door, I push the door open with such force that it bounces off the wall.
I hear a whimpered gasp come from under the bed, low breaths as she tries to control the noise she makes.
It won’t be long, and she’ll be whimpering in my ear, begging me to fuck her hard, just the way she likes.
I make a point of checking the closet, pulling out clothes and throwing them to the floor. I know that will piss her off. And that’s what I want. Her scratching, biting, putting up a damn good fight until I make her melt into the mattress.
I let out a low growl, the heavy tread of my boot making its way slowly around her bed.
I let my foot drag a few inches across the floor as I reach her bedside table.
I open up the drawer, rummaging between chargers and an old book until I find what I’m looking for.
Bright pink and veiny, I throw the toy onto the bed.
I plan on getting Katie off repeatedly. From the sound of it, she’s been having difficulty getting off since her darker fantasies came to light.
Maybe it’s through shame, or inexperience, or maybe even guilt.
The therapist in me wants to explore that with her until she’s fully comfortable, but that’s not why I’m here.
I steel myself. This is it. We didn’t agree on any safe words, which was goddamn reckless.
I bend down, reaching under the bed, and feel the soft skin of her ankle, her tight leggings smooth against my palm. I drag her out, and she lets out a yelp of surprise.
“Hello, princess,” I growl, dragging her across the floor. I hope to God there aren’t any nails sticking out of the floorboards. Her fingernails bite into my arm as she attempts to claw me off her.
“Please don’t, I’ll do anything,” she whimpers as I stretch my arm around her middle, lifting her from the bed and throwing her on top of her bedspread. It’s still dark in here. I didn’t turn on the lights, but the curtain is open, the moonlight flooding the room and Katie in a cool blue tint.
Her eyes are wide, pupils blown out in dark, hazy pools. All shades of green are invisible now. Just pure lust remains, pumping around her body like she was born to do this with me.
She leans back on her elbows, scrambling backward until I snatch at her ankle, yanking her back down to me, so that when I’m between her legs, I can get a hold of her scratching talons, disabling her until she’s mewling like a cornered kitten.
“Look at you,” I sneer, grabbing at the waistline of her leggings and yanking them down an inch so I can see her panties.
Pink lace.
Jesus.
My nightmare girl in sweet-as-strawberries pink lace panties.
I’m going to tear them off her and keep them as a souvenir.
“Fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?”
“Never. Get off me.” She bucks her hips, but it only serves to brush her sex against my cock, her legs spread wide. If she weren’t wearing anything, I could slip right into her.
Keeping a grip on her wrists, I lower myself so my face is between her legs.
I inhale deeply, making a show of smelling her.
She whimpers, bucking her hips slower this time, and I run my nose along the seam of her leggings.
I know I’ve grazed her clit when she groans, her head thrown back as she wriggles her wrists.
Wanting to give her a chance to fight me, I let her wrists go, snap my hand to the waistband of her leggings, and rip them down the middle, revealing her perfect pink lacy panties.
“You ass, those were Lululemon!” She kicks me in the stomach, winding me as I try not to double over. Yep, the leggings might have been a step too far.
I launch myself on top of her writhing body, crushing my weight on top of her until her breathing is as labored as mine from her cheap shot.
“That was free, princess. Next time I won’t be so fucking nice.”
“What are you going to do to me?” she whimpers.
I bend down so my lips graze her ear. “If you want to stop, just say red,” I whisper. “If you say no, or stop, I’m not gonna stop, okay?” I feel her nod against me. “What will you tell me if you want to stop, Katie?”
“Red.”
“Good girl.”
I push back off her, pinching her cheeks between my fingers and thumb. Her lips pop open, so pouty and pink. I lean forward, taking her bottom lip between my teeth, pulling it back before it pops back into place.
“Your question shouldn’t be what I’m going to do to you. It should be what am I going to make you do for me. Because you’re begging for it, aren’t you? Look at you.”
“No.”
“Desperate.”
“No!” she snaps.
“I bet you’re dripping wet, aren’t you?”
Her hooded gaze drops to my lips before she pulls back up. “Not a chance.” Her fingers are pushing against my chest, pulling at the uniform until one button pops off. She smirks a little, her pale skin illuminated by the moonlight.
I take the ruined leggings I’d ripped and straddle her, using my weight to keep her immobile. I grab each wrist, binding her together with the lycra. My erection pressing against my pants like it’s trying to join in on the fight.
“Better,” I murmur, my voice low.
I pull myself off her, picking her up and throwing her into the middle of the bed.
She grunts out a moan and tries to steady herself without the use of her hands.
Her feet dig into the mattress as she tries to move up toward the pillows.
There’s no headboard yet; no doubt it’s on her list once she’s decorated this room.
I have a strong urge to prioritize this space for her.
Build her something we can use to optimize our playtime, but it seems like a step too far.
Is she even going to want to do this again?
The look in her eyes tells me yes; she’s loving this so far.
But maybe all she needs is one fuck to get it out of her system, then she can move on to someone else. Someone like Detective Biceps.
To hell with that guy and his dreamy face and his over-inflated muscles. I’m gonna make her come so many times she’s going to forget that prick's name.
I remove my shirt, button by button, taking my time, allowing myself to take in every response she can’t hide.
The thick swallow in her throat, the flutter of her lashes as she waits to see what I do next.
I drop it on the floor, leaving my pants and boots on for now.
I figure a true stalker probably wouldn’t get fully naked, but what the hell do I know?
As I crawl up the bed, she whimpers, shuffling back before I spread her thighs apart.
“What are you doing?”
“Shut up,” I bark.
“Not until you tell me what you’re going to do. I’ll scream.”
“That’s the plan, princess.”
I drop down to her panties, sucking at her clit through the lace as she attempts to buck away from me.
Her wrists bound, she pushes both hands at my head, gripping my hair as if she’s trying to rip it out.
Goddamn, it feels good to have some of her wrath put to good use.
Years and years of snipes and jabs, and we should have been doing this.
I pull the soft fabric aside, swiping my tongue roughly over her lips.
I’m licking Katie Murphy’s pussy.
Katie. Fucking. Murphy.
Her sweet, tangy taste ignites a fire in me.
I’m furious. Raging that this is the first time I’ve tasted her.
The first time she’s let me anywhere near her soaked cunt, even though we’ve been dancing around this connection for years.
I bite at the fabric, creating a small tear before ripping it away from her.
“Yesss!” she cries out.
Bare now, I have no control. My head is buried between her legs, and I’m lapping at her like I’ve been dying of thirst and she’s an ice-cold bottle of water.
My fingers grip the back of her legs, and I push them up so her knees hit her chest. I’m gripping her so hard my fingers ache.
I’m going to mark her. Going to make her remember this every time she sits down for a week.
“Oh my God, stop . . . stopppppppp.” The back of her head melts into the pillow as I continue the assault with my tongue.
Her pathetic attempt to tug me away by pulling my hair is weak.
The arousal coating my mouth and the little thrusts of her hips indicate she’s loving this, and the fact that she hasn’t uttered anything close to the word red.