Chapter 70
CHAPTER SEVENTY
BELLATRIX
Iliked this. This was good. This was quiet. Relaxing. Thigh-quivering.
I moved my hips back and forth again, riding Casper’s face and muffling whatever nonsense he was trying to toss in whenever he opened his mouth to do something other than lick up the mess he’d made.
I didn’t need any help from the peanut gallery.
I’d been getting myself off long before he came around.
Long before I’d even seen my first dick up close.
He was just the tool I was using to help me at the moment.
Like an electric toothbrush or a vibrator.
Or when I was really horny, the dryer set to heavy-duty tumble mode.
He tugged on his arms, which were stretched out to his sides and secured to the bedposts with the cuffs we’d swiped from that dead woman’s supply of sex toys we’d discovered holed up in her closet.
She’d been into some weird shit. Or I guess her married boyfriend—now equally-as-dead ex—had been into some weird shit.
We’d left the adult diapers and pacifiers behind for the cops to sort through. If they even bothered. Something told me they wouldn’t. And tucked the cuffs and a stack of cash into our bag before clearing the scene.
Usually I wasn’t a fan of taking hand-me-downs from a dead person, especially where used sex toys were involved, but cuffs seemed like a safe bet. People didn’t tend to fuck a pair of cuffs, just get fucked while wearing them. And I finally understood why.
It was nice not having someone grope you up in the wrong places.
Nicer to be able to do whatever you wanted to them without them being able to do anything about it.
Though Casper didn’t seem all that bothered by the situation or the fact I could easily reach across and grab the gun on the nightstand, jab it into his temple, and shoot him again.
The dumbass meant it when he said he wasn’t afraid of dying. It was almost as if he were daring it to happen.
I took a deep breath, grabbing on to the headboard with both hands, and lifted up on my knees. Grinding on his nose and dragging my pussy down to his lips while he licked and lapped and sucked. His tongue doing that thing where he flattened it out and then curled it up inside me.
I threw my head back, like I always did when I was at that point of no return.
The point where I might actually stab him if I didn’t come.
And squeezed his head with my thighs. Using the motion to bounce myself up and down on his face.
The extra friction of his wet lips and flicking tongue exactly what I needed to push me past that point and send me flying.
My toes curling behind me and sweat dripping down my forehead and getting lost in my hair.
I let out a loud laugh and then squealed when he started sucking on my clit. The overstimulation sending me scrambling off his shoulders and down to the foot of the bed.
“You’re an asshole,” I huffed. Mostly because my breathing still hadn’t returned to normal.
He grinned, my bodily fluids dripping down his chin and neck and catching the overhead light in a way that had him looking like a vampire. But it wasn’t blood he was sucking down; it was pussy juice.
“You weren’t thinking that a few seconds ago,” he countered.
“That was exactly what I was thinking, actually.”
“That I was an asshole while you were squirming all over my tongue?”
“Yup.” I smacked my lips together and crossed my arms over my chest. It was the only form of defiance I had at my disposal, considering I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“You know you’re fucked in the head, right?” He laughed and tossed his chin towards the ceiling, the sound bouncing around us like a piece of metal in a pinball machine.
When he was finally done with his theatrics, he glanced back down at me with that same smug grin on his face. Cocking one eyebrow the moment he realized I wasn’t planning on arguing with him.
I mean, he was right. I was fucked in the head.
But I never said I wasn’t and now he was the one squirming.
The bulge in his pants trying to poke through his zipper as he attempted to readjust himself against the sheets.
He couldn’t do more than flap his legs from side to side though, and I had a feeling that didn’t really alleviate his growing problem.
I leaned forward, climbing between his legs and flicking the bulge with the tip of my finger. Then I rolled off the bed, swiped up my underwear from where I’d slingshotted them onto the floor and made a beeline for the bathroom while tugging them up around my waist.
I didn’t make it more than a few steps before Casper was behind me. A cuff dangling from each arm and a crazed look on his face as he spun me around and backed me up against the side of the tub. If he pushed any harder, I’d be landing inside it. Ass-first.
He didn’t push. Instead, he kept my spine arched. One hand splayed out across my lower back, holding me upright, and the other gripped around the shower curtain rod. His feet spread wide and his dick poking against my stomach through his pants when he leaned forward.
“What do you want, Casper?” I hissed. Even though I already knew the answer.
“Mouth, pussy, ass—choose a hole, babe, before I choose one for you,” he grunted.
But he didn’t wait for me to answer. He was already flipping me around to face the shower wall, my hands braced against the tile to keep myself from falling forward as he ripped my underwear at the seams and let the fabric flutter to the ground.
I heard his pants hit the floor next, followed by the sound of him spitting on his hand and lubing himself up.