Chapter 30 #2
He probably won’t even do it.
I can’t hear anything, no movement at all, and I’m equally relieved and disappointed.
Every time Cormac has had his hands, or mouth, or thigh on me, every barrier I’ve erected between us crumbles, and I don’t know how many more I have before I’m the one who begins to break.
So maybe it’s good that he’s not coming.
Waiting a few more minutes with bated breath, I bide my time by actually showering, stealing a bit of his soap to scrub myself clean, counting the minutes.
My stomach drops when I realize that he’s really not going to join me.
A slimy feeling winds its way into my stomach.
The rejection of it stings, even though I never actually offered him anything to reject.
Finally, once I’ve started to prune and feel slightly deflated, I leave the shower, wrapping myself in a fluffy towel.
Releasing my hair from the clip that kept it up, I shake my head, letting the mostly dry, starting to curl strands fall, and leave the bathroom to get my clothes from the dryer.
“What’s wrong, Bunny?” Cormac’s voice alerts me to his presence, and my gaze darts up to find him sitting casually at the foot of his bed. “You seem disappointed.”
My eyes narrow slightly, but I do my best to recover from being surprised. “Disappointed? No, the shower was great. This one’s even nicer than the one in the hallway.”
His replying smile is all feral smugness. “Yeah? That’s why you wanted to use the one in my room?”
“Yup.”
He hums in response, his eyes lazily flicking across my mostly bare skin, starting at my shoulders before dripping down where the towel barely covers the part of my body already reacting to his hungry gaze.
“Come here,” he says, tilting his head to watch me.
I shake my head, taking a step back instead, but that only makes his smile grow.
“If you make me chase you again,” he raises a brow in challenge, “when I catch you, I’m going to fuck you into the floor so hard your ass is red from rug-burn.”
Jesus Christ.
“And if I don’t?” I raise a single brow.
“I haven’t even considered that as a possibility.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “And do you know why?”
I swallow down my nerves and shake my head, completely lost in his starving, vicious stare as he slowly stands.
In only a few silent strides, he’s close enough to reach out and run his fingers along the top of the towel draped across my chest. “Why’d you use my shower, Brigit?”
“I don’t know,” the lie slips from my tongue easily.
“Did you want me to follow you, Bunny? To sneak in behind you, shove you against the wall and stuff you full of cock?”
My cheeks warm, and I’m stuck somewhere between saying duh and vehemently denying it.
Using a single finger beneath the towel, he tugs me forward, leaning in to murmur into my ear, “I know you’re still not ready to, so I won’t make you tell me that you left the door cracked for me, or that you left your soaked panties on the floor where I’d see them.
I won’t even make you tell me you faced away from the door the whole time so I could catch you by surprise. ”
His degrading words are so at odds with the tender tone he’s using and the gentle way his finger keeps drifting across my collarbone. It’s humiliating to be so transparent.
“You’re going to run,” he teases my ear with his teeth, and my whole body trembles. “And I’m going to chase you. Because you need me to. And I need to feel your hot, needy pussy finally wrapped around me.”
A small whimper slips through my lips, that tiny noise sealing my fate.
He groans quietly, burying his face into my neck, sucking the skin into his mouth with enough force to make me moan.
His finger drops to his side, “I’ll give you a 30 second headstart.”
“30 seconds?” That’s nothing.
“29. 28.”
Fuck.
“I don’t think I agreed to that,” I pant.
“I don’t think I asked.” He stands to his full height, looking down at me with victory and devastating lust. “25.”
I hesitate for one more second, thinking through my options.
He raises a single brow, “24.”
The reality of running out of time has me finally moving, gripping the towel tightly around myself as I rush past him, immediately darting to the right to go downstairs.
This is a terrible idea.
For a million reasons.
I shouldn’t let this man fuck me. Not only because he’s dangerous, but because I know no one else would ever compare afterwards.
Half running through the living room, I find myself on the far side, where I know there’s a half bathroom and the mudroom that leads to his garage. Maybe the bathroom is a good idea. Private.
What if someone sees me running in a towel through his house?
He’s stopped counting aloud, so I have no idea how much time I have, but I do notice that before he started this little game, he made sure every single window was closed.
He planned this out as soon as I went upstairs.
He’s not joking about fucking me on the floor wherever he catches me.
“9,” his voice comes from the top of the stairs.
Maybe I should let him catch me in the kitchen.
I don’t want to let him catch me at all.
If he’s going to, like he’s so sure, he should have no problem doing it. I don’t need to help him.
Pantry.
As quietly as I can, I slip into the little closet in the kitchen, holding my breath as he counts down, “3. 2. 1.”
Then nothing. Absolute silence.
I am so fucked.
I can’t move nearly as silently as he can.
I won’t even know I’m about to be caught until it’s too late and he’s got his hands on me.
I keep track in my head of how many seconds have passed, just trying to center myself and think somewhat clearly.
After 24 seconds of complete and utter silence, I dare to peek out of the pantry, catching a glimpse of him just as he disappears into the far hallway near the bathroom.
As quietly as I can, I slink out of the pantry, not daring to open the door any further than I absolutely have to to squeeze through.
With an awkward, quick tiptoe, I inch toward the stairs.
The creak of a floorboard beneath me leaves my blood cold.
Less than a second later, Cormac’s manic eyes meet mine across the living room, and I have to give up any hope of being quiet, choosing speed as I run towards the stairs.
But I’m no match for the silent killer everyone is afraid of.
He leaps over the fucking coffee table, bounds over a couch, and wraps an arm around my waist when he catches me two steps up the stairs.
Both of our bodies collide with the wall, his front against my back, his hard cock pressing against my ass, making me gasp.
With all the tenderness of a fucking mountain lion, he rips the towel from me, throwing it onto the floor with a growl.
“Oh, fuck,” I whine, feeling his hot body, the pounding of his heart against my bare back, and my tits pressed against the cold wall.
He groans, grinding his cock against me, sinking one hand roughly into my hair to jerk my head back. His other hand wastes no time, slipping between my thighs. His deft fingers spread me open, dragging one finger through my drenched center, pulling a pained whimper from my throat.
His hum of approval fills my ear, feral and panting, before he removes his fingers without giving me any relief at all.
“On your fucking back,” he bites, pulling me from the wall to shove me onto my knees.
I obey without hesitation, not a single thought in my head aside from how badly I need this.
As soon as I roll from my knees onto my back, Cormac steps between my legs, standing over me, looking every bit the crazed monster they make him out to be. “Spread your legs.”
Once again, I’m hopeless against him, opening my legs to the feral man towering over me.
His brows furrow, and a wild groan slips from his lips as he looks between my legs, ripping his shirt up and over his head sloppily, sinking to his knees between my legs, staring up the steps at me, taking in every inch of my body that’s bared to him.
Roughly shoving his sweats down, he frees his cock, and I get my first real look at it, long and thick, every vein running up it on display as it bobs against his stomach.
He releases a wicked laugh, stroking it and making my mouth water and my pussy ache. “Don’t worry, Bunny, I won’t make you admit how bad you want it. Your cunt crying all over the floor is all the fucking proof I need.”