Chapter 11 #3
He groaned and thrust his bulge further into my hand. My drunk self obliged to this. I knew that sober Amelia wouldn’t be too fond of this, but she could fuck off.
I wrapped my hand around his bulge through his boxers. It was thick, not monster size, not small. I knew it could fill me up if I let him.
I imagined myself being pinned against the wall while Caiden fucked me. Deep. Hard. Fast. I imagined his cock sliding in and out, hitting that pleasurable spot.
I stroked his bulge faster. He groaned deeper.
“Fuck, just like Amelia, that feels so fucking good.” He kept thrusting into my hand, and I took every inch of it. My other hand rested on his shoulder. My head pressed into the wall. His hand rubbing me so fucking slowly.
He knew I wanted to come, the bastard fucking knew it.
“Please…Caiden,” I squirmed and groaned, trying to gain momentum with his hand.
He chuckled. “You’ve been a bad fucking girl, Amelia. You want to come so easily? Too bad.”
I whined again, breathless, and stopped rubbing his cock. He immediately grabbed my jaw and made me look at him. His hand paused on my clit.
“I didn’t say to fucking stop.” He yanked his hand away from my pulsating core and shoved me down to my knees.
“I want you to watch me while you suck my cock. Eyes on me, Amelia, don’t you fucking dare think about stopping.” He unzipped his pants and shoved them down.
I thought about the others. The music blasted still. And the storm continued to pour. We were in the dark, in hiding, but the possibility that somebody could walk in the hallway and find me sucking Caiden’s cock excited me.
He shoved my mouth down, breath coming harsh and wild. The cold tile bit my knees, but I barely felt it. I looked up at him through wet lashes, my lips already parted, desperate. His cock is heavy and flushed in my hand.
He didn’t wait. He rammed it in, barely giving me time to breathe, his hands tangled in my hair, holding me hostage. My vision blurred. I wanted to bite him, to mark him, to eat him alive.
“Yeah, just like that,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Fuck, Amelia. Open wider. Take it.”
I gagged, spit dripping down my chin, and I loved it, craved it, needed to be ruined.
My mother’s face flickered behind my eyes, sprawled in dim light with a man’s hands all over her, numb and lost, and for a second, I hated myself.
I was her, wasn’t I? Mouth full of someone else’s need, crawling for oblivion.
But I didn’t stop. I rolled my tongue, hollowing my cheeks, desperate for every filthy sound I could rip out of him. His hand gripped my skull, savage, bruising.
I let him use me. I wanted it, the rawness, the violence.
He fucked my face hard, recklessly, like he hated me. Like he owned me. My mascara smeared, my throat raw. It was perfect. I was nothing, I was everything.
All I could taste was him. All I could think of was him. The storm outside pressed closer, thunder climbing the walls. Every time he dragged my mouth over his cock, I felt the ache between my legs spike and blossom, bright and unreal.
I moaned around him, my own need flooding over. My panties were soaked, my skin tingling with want. I’d do anything if he just kept touching me.
He hissed, his hips flexing, the length of him unforgiving against my tongue. “Fuck, fuck, you’re made for this. You’re made for me.”
I was choking on him and the words, both. I wanted him to break me. I wanted him to remember this. I wanted it burned into his soul.
“Look at me,” he growled. “Don’t fucking close your eyes. I want you to see who owns you like this.”
I met his gaze. It was violence and hunger and ruin. I wanted to keep falling. I wanted to hit the bottom.
I rubbed my tongue on the underside of his cock while I gagged on him. My lips never halt the momentum. If young Amelia could see me now, she would be so disgusted.
I didn’t care, not right now. I was somebody else. A phantom in the dark. A disgusting and shameless thing.
He trembled, a beat from the edge, sweat shining on his jaw. I felt the pulse of him throb against my lips, brutal. He shuddered.
In another room, someone shrieked with laughter.
He wrenched me away, suddenly, so fast my head snapped back. I choked for air, dazed, dizzy with loss.
We stared at each other, panting. His cock was wet from my mouth, but he was wild and unsatisfied.
He hauled me up and pinned me to the wall again. Breathing me in, forehead pressed to mine, needing me, hating me, wanting me more.
But then, like a knife through water, I remembered myself through the confused haze of vodka.
I twisted, breathless, breaking the spell. His grip loosened just enough for me to slip away, my heart pounding, my mouth swollen, my body still aching for him.
I left him in the dark, his eyes burning holes in my back, jealousy and longing and something close to ruin.
I stumbled down the hall, lost, half wanting to collapse in his arms, half desperate to escape before I lost myself completely.
The storm swallowed me as I returned to the living room, the ache of him a bruise under my skin I knew I’d never outrun.