Chapter 14 #3
You’d think I was the one who got the fuck slapped out of me.
But it still doesn’t faze Lochlan. His head tilts to the side at the brunt of the impact, then he’s turning his head back to face me. Dark amusement flickers in his gaze as he peers at me as if he’s told a joke I’m not in on.
“I have to admit. You’ve got more fight in you than I ever thought you would—some prissy, bratty girl like you—I figured you’d be easy to break,” he says. “But unfortunately for you, I like a challenge. I’ve realized I like a little bratty bitch who needs to be taught her place.”
I’m still heaving air into my lungs before I can process what he’s said.
He grabs hold of the front of my jumpsuit and shreds it easily with his bare hands. In a flash I’m going from fully clothed to the fabric ripping apart and my large, double F titties springing out.
I gasp on instinct alone, hands flying up to cover myself. Lochlan’s faster than me, his hands darting out to block mine. He smacks them away then shoves down the cups of my bra.
“Fucking Christ,” he grunts, his gaze dropping to my titties fully bared. His gaze glued to them as if he hasn’t already seen them twice before. “Has anybody ever told you you’ve got the most fucking amazing rack in existence? Look at these.”
Another gasp bursts out of me as his large hands grope at them.
He fills his palms up with my soft, heavy breasts and brushes his thumbs across the nipple.
He fondles them like he’s weighing fruit at the produce section of a grocery store, his touch so rough and warm I’m immediately lost in how good it feels.
I’ve always been a girl who’s loved breast play. Always the girl who wanted her titties sucked and tugged and slapped.
The heat intensifies as I meet his dark gaze and he rolls a nipple between his fingers.
I’ve forgotten about the torn jumpsuit that’s now dangling limply at my waist. I can’t even bring myself to give a damn about the fact that my bra’s been shoved aside so he can grope me, or the fact that he’s my psychopathic captor and probably shouldn’t be touching me at all!
There’s something about how unapologetically aggressive he is that turns me on.
…that makes me want to give in sooooo bad.
But I’m still Chantal Renée Banks. I’m still that classy girl that doesn’t sleep with any man without currying some advantages in my favor.
I push back at him, pulling away despite how he has me backed up against the wall. My hands connect with his broad shoulders to drive him back, and I let him know why.
“Don’t touch me!” I yell. “You think you’re getting all this for free? I can’t even get a decent bath in this place! The last thing I want is to fuck you!”
He answers my protests with another hard kiss. His lips seal over mine as he once again consumes me, and I’m left reeling.
I shove him away and slap him a second time only for him to grunt out a laugh and grab me by the waist. He picks me up off my feet—a startling experience as a thicker girl—and sets me down on the table next to us.
Before I’m even able to understand what’s happening, he braces his arms on either side of me, his expression sharp and mocking.
“Am I to understand you’re trying to negotiate terms?” he asks, cocking a brow. “Don’t know why that surprises me when you’re already such a fucking brat.”
I lift my chin, unabashedly challenging him. “So what if I am?”
His lips capture mine again for another fiery kiss that makes my heart pound inside my chest. He easily demonstrates how his kisses can send me into another orbit, his lips trapping mine while his tongue returns and massages me.
Fuckkk.
Who knew the Irish were such good kissers?!
…and if he’s this good kissing my lips, what else can he do with his mouth?
As he kisses the hell out of me, he’s also back to fondling me. He pinches at my now-erect nipples and then squeezes at my heavy, full double Fs as if he still can’t help himself.
Then he pulls back long enough to speak, mouth still hovering over mine. “You want access to my bathroom? I want access to these tits.”
My lips tug into a small smirk. “That can be arranged.”
We go at each other at the same time, crashing together in an urgent kiss. Our hands fly out, searching for any part of each other that we can reach.
That ranges from Lochlan’s forceful hands on my titties to me tugging at his hair and clawing at his chest.
The table wobbles under us as we quickly lose ourselves in the moment. Lochlan’s hand collars me by the throat as he shoves his tongue back into my mouth, and his other hand slides inside my ripped jumpsuit to fondle my pussy.
I’ve wrapped my thick thighs around his waist, holding him in place. Our heads move with the motion of our fervent kisses, an ongoing battle we’re both seeking to win.
Neither one wants to give in, yet we both do in the end.
As his fingers circle my pussy through my panties, I grab at his wrist and force my mouth away again.
“Pussy privileges are a whole other thing,” I purr. “You want the cookie, then I need cookie—as in better food than the slop you’ve been giving me.”
“You think you call the shots, brat? You think you get to demand things?” he growls at me, his temper rising up. His face tints slightly redder, almost enough to match his hair, as veins pulse in his throat and temple.
Yet even as he snaps at me, he still can’t keep his hands off me. His lips off me as he follows up with another deep, all-consuming kiss.
He fills his hands with my titties, and soon I’m rocking against him, making the table even more unstable.
“So is that a yes?” I gasp between our hard kisses. I’ve tilted my head back as he kisses up and down my throat, and I rifle my fingers through his reddish brown hair.
“More like you’re a fucking brat that I can’t stand,” he snarls back.
I reach between us, cupping his large, bulging erection. “Then why is your dick so hard? Be so fucking for real right now, Lochlan—”
“Shut up,” he snaps again.
I’m pulled from the table as we lock into another dance of wills. Back on my feet, he’s shoving me toward the sofa in the room, and I’m dodging him, trying to find escape. But I’m also taunting him, titties out and free, lust burning in my dark gaze.
I know what Lochlan Callahan wants from me, and I plan to fully use it to my advantage.
“If you want this pussy, you’re going to have to earn it,” I say boldly as he backs me up.
“That so?”
I hold his challenging gaze. “Did I stutter?”
He releases a thick chuckle, obviously either amused by my boldness or about to show me why I’m foolish for it.
Maybe a mix of both.
He follows up with his hand on my throat. I sputter as his fingers close around my esophagus and he’s choking the air out of me.
It dawns on me that it’s his trade off—a rough and tumble man like Lochlan Callahan isn’t the kind of man who makes sweet love to you among lit candles and rose petals.
…he’s the kind of guy who fucks you hard and fast and has you buzzing from pleasure and pain.
I’m not the freakiest girl, but I’ve dabbled enough to understand his kink as soon as he cuts off my airway and kisses me hard.
It’s the game we’re playing as he squeezes my throat and I grip his forearms and let my nails dig in.
“Is that a yes?” I breathe as soon as I’m able.
In between his deep kisses and hard bites.
He nips at my throat like an animal would, groping my titties and then pushing me backward. I stumble until I’m sinking over the arm of a sofa. He promptly falls over me, covering my curvy body with his.
“It’s a shut the fuck up and take this dick,” he growls.
I squirm as he wrenches off the rest of my jumpsuit.
Every move between us is so abrupt and rough it borders on violent. He yanks the torn jumpsuit past my hips and down my thighs and legs. I kick at him, hands pushing and shoving at his chest the more he tries to drop hot kisses on me.
But Lochlan loves the fight. He loves how I resist him; how I’m bold enough to outright defy him.
He wants the struggle and the drama.
He likes when I mouth off and even when I slap him. It adds to the challenge he enjoys. His chance to tame me.
That much is undeniable now.
We’re locked into a tug-of-war as he strips me of the jumpsuit and leaves me in my bra and panties, and I kick and claw at him enough that he needs to reciprocate.
He reaches up and pulls his black T-shirt over his head.
I halt the next breath in my lungs.
For a psychopath, Lochlan Callahan is fine as fuck.
Damn, prison really does do a body good.
He’s got broad shoulders—which I already knew—but his leaner build only highlights the muscle carved on his body. He’s got defined pecs and abs, both etched with the ink of dozens of tattoos. So much ink it’s almost disorienting.
The ink sprawls all the way down to the deep V-cut that’s his Adonis belt. As my gaze travels down to the area that’d give D’Angelo a run for his money, Lochlan ups the ante. He unashamedly shoves down his pants and reveals the large, veiny dick that’s pulsing with precum.
My jaw drops despite my ego and pride.
Keeping it one hundred, most of the men I date are older—as in, fifties and sixties—rich White men who aren’t packing much. Many of them make up for it in other ways, whether that’s their pussy-eating skills or the many gifts they compensate me with.
…but it’s been a minute since I’ve been with a man truly working with something.
His mouth cocks into half a grin. “See something you like, brat?”
I recover as best as I can, lifting my chin and narrowing my eyes. “I see a big-ass dick I’d like to fuck me—but only if it’s worth my while.”
“Alright… if all you want is a bath and some food. But understand that doesn’t change the terms of your captivity,” he explains.
He reaches out and grabs my face by the chin, peering intensely into my eyes.
“It means I own you in every fucking way—even more than I did before. Your pussy is mine for the taking. All of you is.”