Chapter 68
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
CASPER
She was backing herself into the corner. Like a mouse that needed that damn piece of cheese so bad it didn’t care if it had to risk its tail to get it. Bellatrix wasn’t afraid of getting trapped. She was afraid of enjoying being trapped. Of how much she enjoyed being here with me.
It was the same for every drug the first time you got hooked on it. Mourning the person you thought you were before accepting the person you actually are. The denial was always there. Somewhere in the back of your mind. The refusal to believe you’d fallen that far. But deep down, you knew you had.
It was easier to just not think about it.
I slammed my palms next to her head, leaving a bloody thumbprint behind while keeping my mouth a breath away from hers. Close enough that she could taste the chocolate I’d chewed up and swallowed a few moments ago if she inhaled quickly.
I glanced down at where her chest was heaving, her heart nearly pounding out of her skin. The excited kind of pounding. She didn’t care if I choked or fucked her right now. She just needed to feel something.
I reached over to the left and pulled open the top drawer of the dresser, the one where I kept a decent stack of spare cash. I assumed it would have been gone. It was all still there, which told me she hadn’t bothered to go looking for it.
“You want half the money?” I quirked a brow, the same hand I’d used to open the drawer swinging back around to slowly press down on the top of her head. “Work for it.”
“I already told you I’m not a whore, Casper.” She swatted my arm aside but I could see her eyes flicking towards the drawer. She was mad that she hadn’t thought to look for it.
I swiped up her chin, pressing it between my thumb and index finger. Forcing her to focus on me and not the cash. “No, you’re worse. You’re my girlfriend.” I dropped her chin and took a step back. “Girlfriends are much more expensive than whores.” I grinned at her.
“I’m not your girlfriend either.”
I let my eyes skim over her from head to toe. She cocked her hip and narrowed her glare at me.
“Looks like a girlfriend—”
“What the fuck does that even mean?” she huffed.
“Talks like a girlfriend.” I dropped to my knees, grabbing her by the hips and tugging her forward. Then I licked her pussy from bottom to top, through the thin fabric of the uniform pants. “Tastes like a girlfriend too,” I hummed.
She groaned, realized what she was doing, and shoved me back on my ass.
I kicked out and flipped onto my feet and threw myself onto the bed.
My legs dangling over the side and the rest of me propped up on my elbows.
I’d gotten rid of my pants and boxers while she was busy sulking in the bathroom, my shirt when she was staring at herself in the mirror and questioning her life choices.
I hadn’t seen her do it. But it was a decent guess for what she’d been doing in there for so long.
The knife barely scratched her, and my thumb had already stopped bleeding.
This wasn’t a real fight. It was foreplay.
I coaxed her forward with a finger. “Now stop pouting and come over here and fuck me like a girlfriend.”
“How do girlfriends fuck any different from whores?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure if she was honestly curious or just messing with me. I thought the answer was obvious. It was obvious for anyone who’d ever fucked a whore, and it was obvious for the whores too. “Girlfriends get to finish. Whores don’t. I’m guessing you wanna finish, myshka?”
If she said yes, she would be admitting to wanting to fuck me. And if she said no, she’d be lying. The best part was that she knew it. She knew I’d done what I set out to do in the beginning. I’d trapped her.
She yanked the uniform shirt over her head and crossed the room. My legs were already back up on the bed by the time she was tugging her pants down her legs, flinging her underwear on the floor, and climbing on top of me.
It was much easier to accept you were trapped when you were the one clicking the door shut and throwing away the key.
She took a breath and slammed down on my cock. One hand clamped over my grin and the other braced on my chest for leverage. I tried to grab on to her hips, and she slapped my hand away so I tucked my palms behind my head and let her enjoy the ride.
Her tits bounced up and down in her sports bra, her hair falling behind her and brushing against my balls when she threw her head back, her nostrils fluttering with each sharp breath, and her eyebrows creased in the middle.
She was grinding much harder than usual.
Punishingly hard, and I couldn’t quite figure out if it was me she was looking to punish or herself.
If it was me, she was doing a piss-poor job of it.
Because my cock never felt better. Neither had her pussy.
It was squeezing and flexing and sucking and gushing.
She gave up on trying to keep my hands off her, or she was just tired of doing all the work herself, and let me roll her over onto her back.
Her eyes closed and her mouth parted, and I thrust my cock deeper inside her.
Driving up and a little to the left. Hitting that spot that had her biting down on a lip to keep from screaming.
I pulled away and flipped her onto her stomach, pushing her face into the mattress as I continued to fuck her from behind.
Watching my cock pull almost all the way out, catch on the outer rim of her pussy, and drive back in again.
Over and over until she could feel me in her stomach, and I could feel her everywhere else.
My balls clapping her ass cheeks. My cock covered in her pussy juice.
My knees closed in by her legs. My hands digging into her waist to keep us both from falling forward.
But worst of all? My fucking head. I could feel this chick crawling around inside my head.
Poking at spots she wasn’t supposed to be. Spots no one was supposed to be.