Chapter 13 – 2
Oh, but Kara is a wicked, wicked girl and she whispers against his vicious mouth, “Oh, please don’t.” Her tone is scared and submissive, pretending to be virginal and nervous. “Don’t touch me there. Your fingers are too big, you’ll hurt me.” She stares into his eyes as she says it, watches the way his eyes nearly go black, his mouth going slack for a brief moment.
Something flashes in his gaze, like he’s mentally cursing her for knowing his game, for knowing what gets him going. Then, his hand is fully down the back of her leggings, delving past her thong. He lifts his hips up, grinding up against her just as his fingers find her center, touching her soft flesh.
Kara feels her back arch, lips opening wide and he’s watching her face. She can barely stand to look at him now. Too intimate, too close, doesn’t want him seeing her needing his touch like this. Responding to it. Wanting it .
…shouldn’t be wanting him, he’s a monster, shouldn’t, but…oh God yes….
His tropical eyes are dilated and Calais looks gobsmacked at finding her soaked through. He’s frozen, muscles tensed and ready, but something has him caught. That’s not part of the game , Kara thinks through her arousal. You’re not supposed to be this wet if you’re scared, after all.
“Come on, old man,” Kara goads before sinking her teeth into his neck viciously, hearing him grunt in pain, the muscle there convulsing under her teeth. “I thought you liked it rough?”
He curses, he actually swears and Kara nearly orgasms right there, because he’s always so proper with his words and she finds a certain delight in making him succumb to his baser desires. He’s not so perfect underneath it all, is he? He’s just like any other man, led by his cock.
Making a soft noise of impatience in her throat, she arches her back downward in an almost uncomfortable fashion, seeking to take his fingers into her as her hips lift. It’s her choice this time and she wants him inside of her, she wants to get hers .
He’s been stroking her folds gently, playing, not penetrating with his fingers. Keeping her on edge, keeping her guessing for when he’s going to give her a stretch to enjoy. The bastard moves so painfully slow, savoring her stifled gasps, the way she rubs and humps against him.
Which, is debasing, kinda, but Kara is too far gone to give a care. She can barely focus on anything besides chasing the final release, so close .
When he finally slips those digits inside, Kara digs her nails into his shoulders, because his two fingers are large, much larger than her own, and it’s certainly been some time since anything has been inside of her.
Calais looks slightly dazed, his hips jerking at the feeling of her, so wet around his digits. He makes a slow glide in and out, and the sounds that accompany it are gross, sloppy, sex noises that have his tongue darting out to lick his lower lip.
Kara flushes; she’s embarrassingly wet. Not an easy feat for her these days, nearing thirty. Her body just isn’t the same as it was when she was eighteen and wet all the fucking time . Like a goddamn leaky faucet. Oh, no, the past few years there’s been this whole thing about actually needing artificial lube and Kara’s body is like a clock ticking down time until menopause. Goddamn morbid!
Or, perhaps her last few boyfriends just didn’t turn her engine on. Who can say?
Her clit rubs against him just right and she’s a groaning mess, her mind narrowing back on track once more.
The slide of his digits into her swollen, heated flesh is surreal and she inhales hard just as he growls low in his throat, a sound that spirals her higher. It’s a satisfying stretch, she’s wet enough that there’s barely a burn of discomfort, and Kara undulates her hips against his cock again, rubbing herself the way she likes.
She’s pleased that he doesn’t do the typical instant finger fucking that so many guys do, the rough shove in raw. Kara loathes that act, the way it throws her off her arousal, off her game and straight into irritation. Instead, his fingers are almost still, precisely stroking her insides in an unfailing rhythm that doesn’t change. Fucking hell, yes . It’s like a teasing tickle, a massage of her inner walls, edging her to greater heights.
He lets her ride his hand however she pleases and damn if that doesn’t make Kara glad. Control is hers . She can rub her front against him at will without worrying that he’s going to throw her off with a rude jab; his touch is far too skilled and knowing for that.
Sometimes, she thinks this might be better than sex itself. It’s simple, it’s fast, she can cum just from the pressure of her body on another. She doesn’t even have to worry about the pleasure of the man, in fact, she doesn’t care and that makes her grin like a Cheshire cat.
And, she uses him the way she wants, regardless of the morality of it, regardless of if he’s getting any enjoyment from it. This. Is. For. Kara.
Does it make her just as bad as him? Perhaps. He’s used her before. This is only payback.
She buries her face in his neck, panting hard, her teeth pressing against his heated skin. Her tongue darts out and she can taste the salt of sweat. She tenses against him, chasing the edge that’s just in reach, sweat on the nape of her neck. She’s near forgotten him in her pursuit of her own interests.
Her belly aches, arousal screaming for completion. Kara can practically outline the bulbus head of his cock with her needy core, the way she presses against him, hard and ready. Once more, she finds herself thinking about them with no clothes on, how he’d slip inside, stretch her out, a nice strong fill before bottoming out.
She thinks about him pinning her down, grinding into her, like he’s trying to crawl inside her skin. Tries to imagine his cock being like his fingers, stroking her from the inside out, but bigger, oh God , a lot bigger.
Calais has his head tipped back against the chair, mouth open, eyes closed. His throat is exposed and Kara takes advantage of this once more, satisfying her urge to sink her teeth into something. The sounds he makes are deep and low in his body and Kara loves the sound, the way she can feel them against her belly.
More passing images of sexualization float into Kara’s mind. She wonders what it would be like to truly be fucked by a man like this, if he’d be the sort to plow her into submission, to quell her wildcat urges. At the mental image of him thrusting into her from behind, her hair twisted in his fist, Kara shatters deliriously around his fingers, clenching down tight on them as she grinds against him, keening loudly. Distantly, she hears him utter another curse under his breath, a strangled noise, the hand on her hip tightening painfully in an expression of his excitement. Kara ignores him, just enjoying the feel of his two fingers playing in her mess, stroking the walls of her insides as she comes down from her clitoral high.
She wonders if he can feel her heartbeat from inside.
Then, as desire slips away, rational thought returns with the force of a semi-truck. Did you forget who this man is?
Stiffening, Kara sits up from him in a fluid motion, brushing her hair out of her face as she does so, avoiding his gaze. With little elegance, she gets to her feet and takes a few steps away from him, absently picking up her upended chair, dusting it off with great interest.
Alright, so that just happened. Wonderful. How do I act like it didn’t? Get out of here before you do something worse. Ah, my legs are shaky, fabulous.
She can feel him watching her. Calais’s cheeks are flushed, but his eyes staring at her with a strange sort of cold calculation. His tone is hoarse as he asks her, “Was that fun?”
His cock is hard, Kara can easily see the outline of it in his sweats now. There’s a wet spot above it; from her or from him, it doesn’t matter. Suddenly, she’s nervous, because what is she supposed to do now? He’s still aroused, he got her off and she…she feels like running. This moved far too quickly and with a man that Kara has no business being near in this manner. Trying to shrug off her anxiety, she says, “Oh…it was something.” With another glance at him, her confidence is fast deflating. “I…ah…I should go. Get out of your hair and all. I didn’t mean…for…that was a stupid mistake.” She flushes.
There’s a crooked smile on his lips now, one she hasn’t quite seen before. His neck is flushed with arousal and his eyes are all consuming, predatory. “Oh.” He shakes his head and breathes out a cruel little laugh. “Is that really how you think this is going to go?”
An alarm bell goes off in Kara’s head and she takes a step backwards. She’s teased him and riled him up…Kara already has a sinking feeling about it as she starts to back up more, struggling to think of what to say. “…Yes…?”
Fast, like a cobra, he stands and whirls her around, pinning her down on the table face first, one hand on her neck, the other gripping her waist in a bruising fashion. “Careful,” he sneers, “You think you know what you’re playing with, but you don’t.”
Shrieking, Kara tries to push herself up off of the table, but she’s pinned like a bug. For a few seconds she struggles angrily, trying to elbow him, but to no avail. Kara even kicks out with her feet, but he’s too close for her strikes to cause any damage. He waits as she exerts her strength, watches as she tires herself trying to get out of his domineering grasp.
Oh, crap. Girl, this is what he really likes.
Huffing, her face against the table uncomfortably, Kara goes limp. “ Let me up . I’m serious. I don’t like this. It was stupid of me to tease you, I see that. Come on! You’re always saying I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed!”
None of it moves him.
He presses up behind her, the heat of his body a terrifying blanket. Kara is effectively cage, restrained, there’s no escape unless he wills it. A sliver of fear grows in her belly. He may not have harmed her last night, but now she’s in his domain and she willfully poked the bear.
Kara, you let yourself get run around by your thirst on this one, with very little intention of following through. Stupid, stupid girl. Not with a man with tastes like this.
He presses down harder on her and now Kara whines in pain. Her cheek is digging into the hard surface of the table and her breasts are pressed against it as well.
“Did you really think you could play your games with me, Kara?” His voice is rough, unpleasant on the ears. “I’m not one of your little boyfriends. I’m not interested in playing nice. I’m not interested in chocolate and flowers. I’m not interested in commitment or pretty words. I’m especially not interested in girls who play with my cock and don’t intend to finish what they start. Want to know what I am interested in?”
Kara grits her teeth, refusing to answer, livid, fire in her eyes. She clenches her fingers into the edges of the hard table, wishing she could snap it in half. If she clenches any harder, she might snap a few of her nails as she digs them into the stone, imagining blood.
“Go ahead,” he goads mockingly, “ Ask me .”
His hand tightens on her neck and Kara snarls, “ What do you want, motherfucker ?”
Calais lightens his grip on her slightly, gentling his hold as he leans closer to her. His free hand strokes her thigh and his nose is suddenly in the nape of her neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne covering her, as if the smell of him on her is a special thrill.
His lips tickle her skin as he speaks. “As fun as it is to watch you writhe on my lap like a bitch in heat, I’d rather fuck you until you cry,” he says crudely, so crudely that Kara shivers in his grasp. She’s never heard something like that fall from his lips. “And even then, I’m not going to stop. You’ll cum on my cock so many times that you’ll be begging for me to let up.”
“And you may think you’re experienced, but you’re not,” he rasps, that low tone that makes sick arousal coil in Kara’s belly, against all odds. “You’re young and I can feel that your sweet little cunt is tight.” His fingers are in her again and Kara gasps, shaking. He lifts her hips a bit, from the inside and she tries to get away, but he simply won’t budge. “Clearly, no one has broken you in yet. But, I would.”
He’s practically feeling her tailbone from the inside out. Kara can’t breathe, a rough whine slipping through her teeth.
“Then, I’d hold you down and fuck your throat until you choke.” His teeth are on the shell of her ear. “I’d call you a thousand awful things. And, I’ll like it when you do the same to me. You’ve got a filthy mouth that you never turn off, I’m sure you’ll come up with some terrible things to scream at me.”
He stops the hooking motion with his fingers from behind, instead, shifting his grip so he can make a gentle ‘come hither’ motion in the front of her core instead. The shift allows Kara to breathe again, shakily.
“Christ,” he mutters under his breath, “You’re so wet from this. You’re practically ready to be fucked. Right here, on my deck. On my table.”
The soft pad of his finger is stroking repeatedly against the front wall of her channel, against the hidden spot that some guys occasionally found and glanced over in the past. He rubs it with intent, like he knows exactly what it is, how it feels. Kara’s legs wobble and the sharp sting of unwanted pleasure rises, along with a strange feeling of needing to urinate. She sobs at the sensation.
“I’d let you fight me as hard as you want. You can hit, bite, scream. I’d encourage it with relish.” Another firm stroke of his fingers, tension building madly.
He’s so precise, patient, he’s going to drive Kara to the brink of insanity.
“St..stop,” she says suddenly, panicking. The feeling isn’t familiar, the practiced, precise movements of his fingers against that very spot. He needs to let up; it’s overwhelming. His words pour sick desire into her belly, against all reason.
He ignores her completely, continuing to sneer his filth in her ear. “I can teach you a lot about pleasing a man. I can teach you things about your body that would embarrass even you.” His teeth graze her neck and Kara shivers as he groans lowly. “I bet you’d be the tightest little piece I’ve ever had. And when I’m done, when you can barely walk, I’ll send you home, and we’ll both go back to work like it never happened. You’ll still feel me between your legs for days and then you’ll know why smart girls don’t play with fire.”
Calais presses his thumb against her swollen nub hard, all while the fingers inside of her continues their careful press and stroke against the same spot inside of her. Kara is seeing stars across her vision, her abdomen clenching, preparing for release. His thumb is precariously pushing up her clitoral hood, brushing at the exposed pearl underneath. The sensation is electric, extreme, more than Kara generally enjoys.
The press of his fingers from the inside against her sweet spot have her crying out, biting at her lips to try and hold the sound in. It’s like a hurricane, ready to blow her over. Kara tries to press up on her tip toes, contracting her muscles. He notices with a slight, aroused chuckle, saying, “Still having fun, sweetpea?”
“Fuck you,” she grits out, hating him, hating him, oh, fuck …
So close, so close, she can feel his cock pressed between her cheeks, rubbing himself there gently while pleasuring her on his fingers. When his free hand comes up her dress, finding her breasts loose of her bra, he grabs one of her nipples and pulls it gently, in a rhythm of pull and relax, like the act of a mouth sucking and releasing, and Kara can’t take it. Her point of being narrows down to her center and nipples, zinging with sensitivity.
With a desperate cry, she feels herself come undone again. Her insides convulse in crazed ecstasy that seems to go on and on, intense and strong. She feels a strange release that’s so utterly extreme, accompanied by liquid literally gushing from her onto his palm. Too much to be normal. He groans loudly as she soaks his hand, biting the words ‘God, yes’ under his breath.
Mortified, confused at her own body, vaguely disgusted, Kara thinks, Oh, God . I didn’t just…
She sags against the table, panting like a dog. Spent. Vaguely ashamed of herself for enjoying it so thoroughly. Her center is pounding with echoes of ecstasy, still .
He eases up on her, moving away from her body with no further molestation. For a moment, Kara doesn’t get up, body too sated. Then, slowly she moves. Mortification is written on her face as she spins to face him. Shakily, she clenches her legs together, humiliation in her dark eyes as she looks at him warily. “Asshole, what did you…I’ve never-...I didn’t mean to pis-…” She stops herself, unable to continue, her throat tight.
Standing over her, that hungry animal look in his gaze, pupils massively dilated, he gives an ugly laugh, partnered with a lopsided grin. Smug male pride at its worst. His hand is wet. “You squirted, sweetpea. You didn’t actually think that you-? You really haven’t-?”
He stops himself, likely seeing the vast embarrassment and shame on Kara’s face. She’s not a prude, but she never was the type to sleep with every guy she ever got down with. Sure, she fooled around with a lot of people, more heavy petting and handjobs than you can shake your fist at. College is a place to explore, but skill was never part of the general criteria.
Nothing like this.
She’s got a few gentlemen under her belt in the area of actual intercourse. Fun, interesting, some good ‘anger-banging’ in some cases. No real attachment on her end, just a way for her body to float away on the high of a hard-earned orgasm.
Her last boyfriend was nine months ago and he’d never responded well to her own brand of aggression in bed. He’d found it difficult to stay hard, he’d wanted flowers and chocolates and she’d wanted arguments and wrestling in the sheets.
Calais is nothing like anyone who’s come before and Kara never thought she’d come across someone who would actually make her feel terribly inexperienced.
Now she feels small, like a stupid girl in water well above her head. Calais is watching the different thoughts racing across her face as she rights her clothing. Nervously, ashamed of herself and her reaction to him, she crosses her arms across her chest protectively.
She must look like a sad, pathetic waif. The aggressive hunger in his eyes fades away, the lines of his face softening. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he says with a hoarse quality to his tone. He steps even further away from her, adjusting himself, likely hiding the tip of his cock under his waistband to contain it.
Even after all that snarling about not leaving a man unfulfilled, he still didn’t actually use her for his pleasure. Kara doesn’t understand.
Wiping her mouth, feeling overwhelmed, Kara gives a bitter laugh. Somehow, she feels dirty and ashamed of herself even though she brought this whole affair about. “You only did what I goaded you into. I bet you want me to be in awe of your sexual prowess, considering I appear to be the one lacking. Thanks for making that painfully obvious, Nick.”
His eyes widen as she uses his first name, nostrils flaring.
Kara feels numb; she’s always known that he’s not a good man and she tried to play games with him anyway. Kara, you know you can’t win games with a guy like this. You can’t play with this sort and get by unscathed. “It’s seems you’re a man of many talents.” She stretches idly, feeling sick at herself even as she tries to pretend this is all okay. The space between her thighs is a mess. “I thought I could use you the way you used me, but it appears I’m the rear end of that joke.” She sniffs, wiping her nose. Making a vague, dismissive gesture with one hand, she continues, “Love those fingers, by the way; most guys have little skill at it…” she trails off dully, trying to hide how upset she is.
To that note, she’s failing spectacularly.
It’s funny how the look in his eyes almost seems bothered by her words. Calais sighs angrily, looking away from her for a moment. The early sunlight is behind him, glowing warmly, coming over the cityscape. “You’re taking this the wrong way,” he says softly. “There’s no need to be embarrassed. I don’t care how experienced-” He cuts himself off, looking irritated.
He takes a few steps towards her again and Kara reacts the way she normally would in a situation out of her control.
She slaps him, or tries to. It’s more of a swat, considering the distance between them and his height. Her palm barley grazing his cheek, hitting his nose more than anything. “ Don’t touch me !” Kara backs away, back towards the inside of the penthouse, feeling trapped.
Escape is what she needs. Turning on her bare feet, she darts back inside the lovely penthouse, catching sight of her shoes neatly beside the entryway. Everything is modern and white, pristine, somewhat new age with all the plant décor, candles, and exotic art. Too clean and Kara feels dirty.
“Kara!” He calls after her, but she doesn’t listen.
She finds her shoes by the front door and slips them on, wiping at her nose absently. She knows he isn’t to blame here and that’s the problem. She enjoyed it all, she’s the one who practically assaulted him while he was drinking his morning coffee.
She came on to him .
“Kara,” he calls after her again, walking inside from the terrace with his arms wide in disbelief. “ I thought you wanted to use me .” He scowls at her. “You enjoyed it; I know you did.”
Kara doesn’t reply, exhaling hard, angry as she fumbles with the locks on his front door. She punches the wood in fury, cursing as she feels one of her knuckles pop under the pressure. Finally, she finagles the thing open and slips out, mind set on flight. Before running down the hall, she turns and looks at him one more time. “You’re right, I wanted to use you. But somehow I still feel like the one who’s been used.” She stifles an angry sob. “It’s not fair.”
Then, without another word, she’s halfway down the glamorous hallway when she realizes that she doesn’t have her purse. Cursing flagrantly, stomping her feet in a minor tantrum, she turns back with gritted teeth, storming to his penthouse once more.
Just as Kara is raising her fist to pound on his door, it opens, because he’s already there, holding her purse in his hand. His hand. The one that had been in her only minutes prior. Oh my God , she can smell herself on him. His face has adopted that blank, precise expression again. “Thought you might need this.” His face turns slightly pained, like what he’s about to say is excruciating. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you home?”
“ No way in hell am I getting in a car with you ever again !” Kara snarls, snatching her purse, eyes blazing, humiliation overwhelming her.
Purse in hand, she leaves, taking the elevator down.
Outside, the sun is starting to warm the air. Maybe sixty-five degrees already, nice for a spring day. Kara looks at her surroundings, trying to get her bearings. There are taxis lined up at a cab stand, so she tells one her address, hopping in.
She takes the moment to ignore the way the guy gives her the typical judging glance, the ‘oh, look, the walk of shame in the flesh’. Fuck you, sir. Her cell phone has virtually no battery left, but she opens it to take a peek at the map.
The neighborhood is lovely, with French architecture and lovely stone and brick mid-rises, many with built in gardens on their terraces. Her phone maps shows that she’s close to the lake, in the Upper Coast neighborhood.
Holy shit.
Kara twists in her seat, looking back at the building she’s just left. A penthouse in this area goes for over $1million on average. She scowls, imagining Calais relaxing once more on his stone terrace, sipping coffee and reading his newspaper like nothing happened.
Like he didn’t just make his sweetpea come undone twice on his fingers. Not only that, she squirted like some sort of pornstar. What does he think of her? That’s never even happened before! She covers her face and groans miserably. She messed that up, let herself be led forward by an absurd hint of attraction that she has for an awful, horrid man. Why can’t I focus on someone else?
Breathing deeply into her hands, Kara finally acknowledges with a certain dismay that she wants Nicholas Havenwood-Calais, despite all the reasons she shouldn’t. She can almost hear her psychiatrist lecturing her, wheedling with psychobabble, you want what he represents; a losing battle. The overpowering, overbearing aura that your father carries. Don’t let yourself fall into the sinkhole, Kara. You’re only hurting yourself.
They say love is blind. Kara may not believe in love, but the phrase is one that makes sense at the deepest center of her being. Her father, Charlie Hayes, is the sort of man that no one should love, yet she and her mother allowed their worlds to revolve around him. As terrifying, as terrible as he was, they scrambled for any scrap of affection he would deign to give them.
It was their choice to cover their eyes and forget the bad, if only they could experience the good with him just one more time .
A blindfold hides the whip, but it doesn’t hide the pain.
Don’t wear the blindfold, Kara. No matter how badly you want to.