Chapter 9 Dread #3
In her thrashing, I can only grab her jacket first, but she’s a scared dog and wiggles out of it before I can get a good hold on her.
Chuckling, I toss the jacket to the side and surge forward.
My hand clamps on the back of her neck before I spin her back around into my chest. She thumps against me with a gasp.
Then, she lets out a frustrated screech and wedges her hands between us, pushing at my stomach with all her strength. She might as well have toothpicks for arms, because she accomplishes absolutely nothing.
“Let me out of here! Let me out, let me out.”
She’s like a fucking worm on the hook, panicking in a way I’ve never seen before.
It’s enough to cut through the dark shroud encasing my brain, and for the first time, I feel a pinch of concern.
“Calm the fuck down, Rev,” I growl, keeping my hold on her nape with one hand while circling my other arm around her waist tightly. “You’re not fucking drowning. We’re in four goddamn feet of water.”
“Let me out, Dread!” she screams, damn near bursting my eardrums. She slams a balled fist into my chest when she fails to push me away once again. Her entire body is shaking as violently as she did when she was chained to the flagpole, and terror rounds her eyes to the size of moons.
She’s acting like she's petrified of water, which is brand-new information to me.
And now, I must know why.
“Let me go!” she shouts again, but I refuse.
There might be something foreign floating around in my consciousness, but it’s not enough for me to let her go.
Her bangs are pushed back from her forehead, revealing her entire face.
Droplets sluice down her ruddy cheeks and over her trembling pink lips, clinging to the gold hoops in her nostril and septum and those long brown eyelashes.
Her tears mixed with the chlorinated water only enhance how beautiful she looks when she thinks she’s dying.
It’s a look I could get used to.
“I fucking hate you,” she sobs, still wiggling and pushing against me.
That little drop of concern vanishes, replaced by the need to teach her a fucking lesson.
“Give it time, baby,” I snarl in her face. “I think I can make you hate me a lot more.”
Her chest heaves too fast, and though her struggling wanes, her panic certainly doesn’t. In fact, the vibrations in her muscles only seem to increase as her frantic gaze darts around us, likely searching for an escape route.
“Breathe in, breathe out,” she mumbles to herself, her body stiff as a board.
I arch a brow, almost amused, as I watch her talk herself down. She repeats the same mantra over and over, her eyes sightlessly boring into my chest.
I’m kind enough to let her, but only because her having a panic attack would be incredibly inconvenient right now. I’ll grill her about this little phobia of hers later, when she’s not submerged in it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun, either.
“The only way out is under,” I say quietly, prompting her eyes to fly back to mine. They’re dilated enough to make the copper in her eyes thin.
However, it’s her parted lips that snag my attention, plump and bleached of their normal pink. Not five minutes ago, she had them locked with another man’s, his filthy fucking tongue in her mouth.
That slimy, burning feeling returns with a vengeance, eating at my insides like acid.
Fuck, I don’t want to punish only her. I want to find Bryan and twist his neck until his head fucking pops off. He thought he could touch what’s mine, and I’m so very excited to remind him his ability to breathe is purely fucking optional. It will be up to me to choose if he will continue to do so.
The violence stirring in my chest has my hand clenching her nape harder, evoking a low whine from her throat.
“You made your point,” she bites out through chattering teeth, likely from her terror. The water isn’t the warmest, but it’s not cold, either. “Let me out of here.”
“Did I? What point have I made?” I challenge.
“You mean besides being a fucking psychopath?” she snaps, her cheeks now flushed red.
Fuck, I love when she’s full of fire. It’s the only thing capable of melting the ice in my veins.
“That you think you control me. That you’re a jealous child who can’t stand seeing someone else play with a toy that is not yours. ”
I tsk, unimpressed. “Somewhere along the way, I’ve seemed to have given you the wrong impression,” I say. “You are not a toy, darling. You’re my favorite instrument. My little violin. Toys are disposable and forgettable. You set them down and never pick them up again.”
I risk removing my arm from around her waist, though I maintain my firm grip on the back of her neck. Then, I softly brush my knuckles across her cheek, my voice dropping into a whisper.
“But when I play with you, the way you scream for me is fucking music to my ears,” I whisper. “I could never tire of you.”
Her chest heaves and her bottom lip trembles. If reality hadn’t already set in for her, it sure as fuck has now.
My awareness sharpens, and her soaked body molded perfectly into mine feels like two spinning gears connecting in perfect synchrony.
My cock swells as I become more aware of every inch of her, and I don’t possess an ounce of shame as my length presses into her stomach.
The world around us ceases to exist, and the surrounding air shifts, a different sort of tension pressing in around us.
It’s suffocating, heady, and fucking thrilling.
My stomach clenches, and my hands tingle with an overpowering need to both strangle her and bring her closer.
“You think I’d let anyone play with my little violin?” I ask, nearly snarling the words, though my voice is hushed. “You think I’d let anyone make you sing the way I do?”
Her brows pinch, revulsion twisting her face, but her eyes tell a different story.
Anger and fear flicker, threatening to extinguish beneath the heavy blanket of electric heat that’s settled around us.
Despite herself, they dip down to my lips, lingering for a second too long before she forces them up again.
There isn’t a goddamn hint of disgust within them, even if she tries to make herself feel it.
My fingers drift down her chin, only to close around her throat, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. I have one hand on the back of her neck, one over the front.
It would be so fucking easy to snap it. Most times, I want to.
But just like an instrument, she would be beyond repair, and I would mourn the loss of my favorite music.
My stare drops to her lips again, my mind conjuring stains over the soft surface left behind by Bryan’s filthy mouth. In this moment, I need nothing more than to wipe them clean.
“You’ve let someone else touch you—stain you,” I rasp, shaking her ever so slightly.
Her breath rushes out of her faster, and though fury still fills her dilated eyes, the derision that once twisted her face has melted into carnality.
“I can’t play with you when you’re covered in the remnants of someone else,” I murmur.
She struggles to swallow beneath my palm, prompting me to tighten my grip.
I’m so fucking tired of her breathing when it feels like I never can.
Her stare dips to my mouth again, and the crease between her brows deepens before her eyes lift back up to mine. There’s a hint of confusion there now, maybe even disbelief.
“Then put me away,” she whispers.
I shake my head, the movement slight. “I think I’d rather rid you of him.”
Her gaze drops once more, a breath shuddering out of her, and I can't take it anymore. I swallow it as I crush my lips against hers, tasting her impurities before licking them away.
A low whimper clashes with my teeth, heightening the electric tension to a level that feels too powerful.
Then, she's ripping herself away with a gasp, and her palm whips across my cheek, a mixture of outrage, bewilderment, and lust polluting each breath out of her heaving chest.
The sharp burn only darkens my vision, sending me spiraling deeper into disarray. With a growl, my hand on her nape rises to fist her hair while the other squeezes her throat tighter as I jerk her back into me.
She resists, her hands pushing at my chest. Except she doesn't put an ounce of strength behind it, even as she breathlessly whines, “Kellan, stop.”
The effect of hearing my real name on her tongue is visceral. My balls draw up tight as a powerful surge of bliss shoots straight down my cock. It weakens my knees, and I come so fucking close to coming right there, enough to feel a large bead of pre-cum leak from the tip.
A whimper releases from my throat, and I have no choice but to taste my name. I need to know if it's as divine as it sounds.
I dive my tongue past her teeth again, and she lashes hers at me, as if to flick mine away. Still, she feeds me a small moan, and, combined with the sweet, fruit taste of a name she's forbidden to speak, euphoria shoots straight down my dick again.
I'm too close to erupting, and we've barely kissed.
This time, it's me who tears my mouth away with a tortured groan, but only an inch, our foreheads remaining pressed together.
I clench my jaw, needing her to be the one to retreat again. Except she doesn't, and my attempt to gather myself is fucking hopeless.
My brow furrows and my upper lip curls as I fight to remind myself who she is, but then our parted mouths brush, logic and reason become as tangible as air, and I’m no longer able to grasp it.
I don’t know if it’s her or me who shudders, but the proximity becomes too irresistible. A battle ensues, the two of us trading back and forth as the one who chases and the one who retreats, opposing forces fighting to stop ourselves yet incapable of parting completely.
I bare my teeth, another low growl rumbling in my chest. Desperately, I try to contain the ravenous urge to devour her, to consume her, to drink her in until I’m swallowing her very soul.
It coils around my bones and holds them hostage, commanding my body like a puppet.
I’m a prisoner to it—helpless to resist. Another helpless whimper releases from my throat, and I physically can’t restrain myself anymore.
Relenting, I crash into her again, diving my tongue between her sweet lips once more.
Her hands fist my drenched shirt, though with the way she drifts between pushing and pulling, she can’t seem to decide which to do. She’s as conflicted as I am, yet any rationality seeps into the water surrounding us, there to float, just out of reach.
My hand around her throat moves to slide along the side of her jaw, granting me more control as I ravage her mouth.
Any lingering hesitation dissipates, and I’m enraptured by her sweet taste, a fruity mint flavor, as if she was chewing gum recently, and a hint of salt from the chlorine. It’s fucking exquisite, like nectar harvested from a god’s kingdom, and I’m instantly addicted.
Nails rake against either side of my neck, sharp pinpricks strumming against my nerves. Like plucking a string at the perfect tune, it sends rhapsodic vibrations down my spine.
She uses her grip to climb my body, prompting me to release the side of her jaw and circle my arm around her back, lifting her against me until her legs wrap around my hips.
The added height allows me to explore her deeper, using my hold on her hair to direct the angle of her head. She obeys without resistance, her muscles soft and pliable as she sinks into me and lets me dominate her.
But rather than the depth of her sweet mouth satiating the desire pumping through my bloodstream, it only antagonizes it, prods at it like a fire poker until it takes on a form of its own and shapes into a beast.
I can’t get enough, and with each passing second, I only grow hungrier.
She mewls when I nip at her bottom lip, dragging it between my teeth and sucking harshly.
The sound shoots straight to my cock, and fuck, it is so much sexier than I imagined.
She retaliates by digging her nails deeper into my skin and rolling her hips, her jean-clad pussy riding the length of my dick and evoking breathtaking pleasure.
A growl vibrates my throat as I release her lip, only to moan around her tongue when they collide at the same moment she grinds against me again, my knees weakening from the potency.
I need more. So much fucking more.
I’m seconds away from tearing at her clothes when the sound of a door bursting open rips her lips away instead.
The sound is explosive and sends her flying out of my arms like a frightened cat.
Partially dazed and partially pissed the fuck off, I peer over my shoulder as a group of students filters in. They send inquisitive glances our way, and it’s obvious they’re tuned in and paying close attention.
Snarling, I refocus on Rev, only to find her already at the other end of the pool, pulling herself out of the water, her jacket in hand.
I quickly turn and make my way out as well, but by the time I’m shoving my feet back in my shoes, she’s slipping out the door and bolting.
Fuck!
I bite on a fist, an array of emotions lashing through me, but at the forefront is frustration.
Growling, I turn back toward the pool, noticing a small black square at the bottom of it. I squint, realizing after a beat that it’s Reverie’s phone.
Quickly, I toe off my shoes again, hop back in, grab it, then climb out, angrily shoving my feet back in them and snatching up my coat.
“Is that how you got so good? Swimming in your clothes?” a guy calls out, giving me an eager look like he’s considering trying it himself.
I had already forgotten they were here, but the three of them just stand there and stare at me.
I turn and walk toward the door, not sparing them another glance.
Reverie knows running from me is useless, but I don’t mind following the music. I’m not even fucking close to being finished playing with her.