Chapter 18 #3
“Bridger.” With a gasp, I rubbed and rubbed, eyes wide open and chest heaving and that feeling building the more he looked at me.
“I can’t believe you still sleep in this fucking bed with him,” he said.
“The guy’s been shooting blanks and you still put up with it.
I bet you thought of me every time he touched you.
Bet you laid there, eyes on the ceiling, counting down the seconds until that old cunt got tired and rolled off you. ”
He was right, I thought, my finger still firm on my clit. That was the worst part. I hated it when he was right.
“Don’t forget your tits,” he instructed, nodding at my breasts. “Pinch one of those pretty fucking nipples for me. You used to love it when I did that. Remember, baby? When you’d ride my cock and I’d suck on one and you’d lose it so much faster?”
I gasped sharply, his words instantly creating that vivid memory there in my head.
My free hand found my left breast, cupping myself there slowly before I did as he said and pinched at my already hardened nipple.
It took everything in me not to let my eyes flutter shut as I rubbed at my clit with my other hand, wishing it was Bridger.
His hand. Or mouth. Or tongue. Or cock. Anything of his.
“Look at you,” Bridger said, head tilted. “Look at that wet fuckin’ pussy. You’re fuckin’ dripping for me. You get this wet for him? I bet you don’t. You know why? Because it belongs to me. I took it first. Made it mine. Claimed it. Does he think he was your first?”
I was panting now, right on the brink of hitting my peak as I nodded. “Y-yes. Yes, Bridger, yes.”
“So fucking pathetic.” He laughed, all deep and mean and rough, the sound a mixture of vindication and pure entertainment. “He thinks he was the first one inside you? He thinks he was the one who popped your sweet little cherry?”
A moan escaped me. Loud, unladylike, everything I was supposed to be the opposite of as my finger rubbed harder, faster, chasing that feeling of pure lust I hadn’t felt in so long.
“You remember that night, right, princess?” His voice lowered.
Gravelly, quiet. Those eyes locked to mine.
“Me in your bedroom. Had to sneak in. Had to climb the fucking walls. Had you in that big ass bed, those expensive silk sheets, you pressed right to me as I made you mine, and fuck, you took it so good. Every fucking inch as I held your hand and told you I loved you. Bled all over my cock too. You fucking marked me. Then I marked you. Remember?”
My hips bucked, the movement involuntary, my brain soaring with those memories, those visions.
Bridger in my room. Lips crashing together, hands everywhere.
He had moved slow, though. I had bled, had soaked his length with that sharp red when he pulled out of me, but Bridger hadn’t been brutal.
Not like he was being right now. That night he had been slow, sweet, soft.
Gentle kisses to my cheek and forehead and lips.
His rough voice whispering out the most romantic of words.
Tell me if it’s too much, I love you, just wanna make this special for you.
“You marked my cock with your blood,” he continued, “and then I came inside you for the first time. Emptied myself right then and there. Thank God for those handy little pills, huh? Or I would have done what your husband’s been trying to do for half a fucking decade.
Right then, right there. I would have fucking bred you. ”
“Bridger—”
He inched forward. Just a little. Dark eyes moved from my face down to my center where I was toying with my clit, where I wanted him to be touching me.
He reached out, long fingers landing on my ankle.
I felt that spark. That fire. Something flickered in his eyes.
It looked like darkness, like I was about to be devoured.
Those fingers moved to my calf, then over my knee, just barely ghosting across my thigh.
His touch was so soft, so featherlight, but it still had me whimpering for him, my finger pressing up against my clit harder.
“I could fucking breed you right now,” he said. “Look at how wet that pussy is. I can hear it from here. I could push my cock right into you, couldn’t I?”
“Please,” I let out. Please do it, was all I could think. Please, please, please.
“It’d take a little work,” he muttered. “You’re not used to a real cock.
Not like you used to be. But I’d stretch you out.
Take my time with you like I always did.
Just the tip, then a little more. Then some more.
Then one more inch, and you’d feel so fucking full, so fucking stuffed with cock that you’d think you had all of me, but that sweet pussy would only have half. ”
A gasp escaped my lips. Too sharp, too raw, my center exactly as he had described. So, so wet. “Br… Bridger,” I let out. “Mm, Bridger, please.”
“There’d still be more for you to take. And you’d take it, wouldn’t you?”
Our eyes stayed locked, and I needed him to move his hand up further.
I wanted his fingers on my clit instead of mine so bad that I spread my legs wider.
I was dripping wet. I could feel it. Hear it too.
And then Bridger moved his hand up more, pressing into my inner thigh, his long fingers just barely an inch or two away from my center.
“You’d take it, and I’d give you all of me,” he said, voice low.
“Push in so fucking deep. Stay there. You used to love that. Just laying there buried with my cock. Me not even moving. Fuck, you’d come like that half the fucking time.
I’d be nice to you. Let you come, feel you clench around my cock.
And then what about me? Hm? Would you let me come inside you?
Would you let me do what your weak little bitch of a husband can’t? ”
I nodded. Too fast and too eagerly, and that had him giving me a crooked little grin.
I couldn’t even bring myself to feel shame at that point.
All I could do was whine and whimper, circling faster as he leaned in closer, that cigarette hanging loosely from his lips like we were having the most casual conversation in the world.
“Yeah, you fucking would,” he muttered. “You’d let me come. Let me drain myself inside of you. Let me empty my fucking balls. And I’d give you so much too. So much you’d feel it in your fucking throat.”
“Bridger.” I was so close. So close, in every which way. I was aching, so needy and eager to hit my peak.
“Do you wanna be bred, princess?” he asked.
I nodded. As long as he was the one doing it, then yes, that was all I wanted.
“Say it,” he said, slow and casual as he kneeled on the bed.
“Bridger.”
“Say it.”
“Y-yes. Yes, Bridger, yes.”
“That’s not the answer I wanna hear.”
“Bridger,” I whined.
“Say it. Say the words I wanna hear.”
“Bridger, please, I—”
“Say it, Juliette.”
“I want you to breed me, Bridger.”
Then I felt it. His thumb, there at my entrance, pressing up against me, my center so wet that pushing inside of me would take little to no resistance.
A cry left my lips as he touched me, his eyes fused to my center and darkening even more.
My own finger moved away from my clit, and then Bridger moved his thumb up with one easy swipe, not stopping until he found the bud I had been so desperately playing with.
His thumb was on my clit, giving me the slowest of rubs, and then it was it for me.
Control left me. So did my pride. I was a panting, writhing mess as he rubbed my clit, my back arching as that pure filthy pleasure took over my whole body.
“Bridger,” I whined, eyes shutting tightly. “Bridger, Bridger, Bridger. Bridger, oh my God, please, yes.”
It was pulsing through me. My orgasm. The first one I had felt in years. God, since Bridger. My toes curled, hands and legs and everything shaking as I tried to breathe steady again. Even my lips trembled as I whimpered out his name.
Then I felt it. His thumb leaving me.
My eyes opened, watching him as he watched me. Deep, dark eyes. So blue. His jaw was tight, his breathing heavy, his finger hovering over my center instead of touching me like he was earlier.
He said nothing as he stood up, pulled the smoke from between his lips with one hand and pressed his thumb to his tongue with the other. The one that had been on me just seconds ago. I was almost certain I saw his eyes darken even more.
My legs were still spread wide, my slit dripping wet as he leaned over me, his scent filling my nose.
Deep, strong, masculine, addictive. I wanted to reach up and grab him by his shirt and yank him in closer so I could get more of him.
Instead, he hovered his hand above my mouth, pressing his wet thumb to my bottom lip before pushing it inside.
I whined and sucked, my eyes fluttering shut as I tasted myself on him. I heard him hiss before he pushed his thumb in deeper. My tongue ran along the underside of his thumb, loving the deep hum that escaped him.
It was wrong and dirty and bad. All the things Bridger were.
All the things that drew me to him. I sucked and sucked, but soon he was pulling his thumb out of my mouth.
He didn’t move, my slit still on show, his eyes glued to that spot, looking at what used to be his.
At the spot he used to fill up and take again and again.
He sucked at that thumb that had been in my mouth for a quick second. “Nothing like rich girl pussy, huh?” he said.
My heart stopped. Breathing stopped. Everything stopped, and then the whole room started to spin.
My skin was suddenly hot for a different reason.
Bad. This was bad. This was stupid and pathetic and embarrassing.
Bridger eyed me once, turned around, and left the room without a second thought. Cool, casual, unconcerned.
And there I was. Naked and panting and begging.
Him touching me for a second or two. Me giving in.
Telling him to take me, have me, breed me.
Like he hadn’t broken my heart five years ago and then forced his way back into my life only to put his filthy hands all over my only escape.
The one I had been saving up for, cent by cent.
I waited for his footsteps to fade to let the tears well in my eyes, and now I was scolding myself for being so dumb that I let Bridger Underwood see me in a way he didn’t deserve, in a way he hadn’t seen in years.
He hadn’t earned a damn thing and there I was just throwing it at him. After he took my pain and pocketed it.
The post orgasm bliss was over, like having freezing cold water splashed on my face. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He made me stupid and now I felt stupid and now I wanted him to feel just as bad and stupid as he made me feel.
My eyes closed, his scent still there in the air. He wouldn’t get to see me like that again. No. Never again.