Chapter 19
Tracy
The mattress dips beside me, and my eyes snap open to complete darkness.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I open my mouth to scream when I see a dark figure sitting on the bed beside me.
A hand comes up to cover my mouth, muffling my scream and blocking my air. A body presses into me, its heavy weight pushing me into the mattress. I feel a knee between my legs, forcing them apart as the person on top of me settles into the cradle of my thighs.
I panic, breathing heavily through my nose.
My eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark of the room and the figure above me is nothing but a black shadow.
My hands come up to push at their chest, but they don’t budge.
Forcing myself to focus, I take a steadying breath and let my eyes adjust. I freeze when my gaze lands on his face.
“Did you really think you’d get away with that stunt you pulled in my office today, sunshine?”
“Get off me,” I mumble under his hand, but it comes out as muffled, unintelligible words.
“What was that?” Blake asks, bringing his face close to mine. “Did you have something to say, sweetheart?”
I nod the best I can with his hand pressing into my face.
“I’m half tempted to tape this mouth shut,” he growls. “Since nothing good ever comes out of it.”
Slowly, he pulls his hand from my mouth, and I take my shot. “Funny, when I was moaning your name earlier, you had no problem with my mouth.”
His hand immediately comes back up, only this time he’s not fast enough, and I bite his palm. Hard.
“Fuck!” he shouts, jerking his hand back. He kneels between my legs and glares down at me.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I’m about to tell him exactly what I think of him, when he reaches beside me on the bed and grabs… Oh god.
“Blake, wait.” I scramble, trying to turn away from him so I can get off the bed. He grabs my hips, pinning me to the mattress as he climbs over me and straddles me, holding me in place.
“I think I’ll enjoy your mouth more when it’s occupied,” he says, holding up a roll of duct tape.
I squirm beneath him, my sleep tank riding up in the process and exposing my stomach. The fabric of his jeans rubs against my overheated skin. Adrenaline courses through me, and my stomach flutters to life.
Am I angry? Scared? Turned on?
Honestly, probably all three right now.
But mostly, I want him off me.
I buck my hips, causing him to lean forward and plant a hand by my head. Leaning down, he murmurs in my ear, “Behave and I’ll consider letting you come tonight.”
His lips meet mine, but I close my mouth. He prods at it with his tongue, urging me to let him in.
Fuck. Him.
He doesn’t get to break into my apartment, force himself on me, and get away with it. Not to mention, he’s been nothing but a complete ass to me since the day I first walked into his office.
I bite his lower lip, the taste of copper flooding my mouth.
He pulls back and wipes at his bloody lip with his thumb. A laugh rumbles out of him, deep and throaty, as he looks down at the blood, then brings his thumb to my mouth, smearing it across my lips.
“So pretty painted with my blood,” he says, leaning back again to admire me. “I bet you’ll be even prettier painted with my cum.”
“Fuck you, Blake,” I hiss at him. “Now get off me before I scream.”
The look he gives me has me pausing. The hairs on my arms stand on end as he stares down at me with a wicked grin on his face. “It’ll be hard to scream when you’re choking on my dick.”
He grabs me and flips me so I’m on my stomach, my face landing in my pillow. I try to push up on my arms, but he’s too heavy to budge, his body solid muscle and honed to keep me captive, apparently.
As worry starts to creep in, I force myself to remember that he wouldn’t seriously hurt me. That I know him. That if nothing else, Whitney would fucking castrate him if he did anything to upset me.
It calms me, and I stop fighting, hoping he’ll get off me if he sees that I’m cooperating.
But then he grabs my arms, pulling them behind me and bending them at the elbows.
He stacks my forearms on top of each other at my back, and I squirm beneath him as he holds them in place with one hand and works the tape around them with the other, the adhesive pulling at the little hairs on my arms.
“You fucking psycho!” I yell, my calm evaporating as he manhandles me. Turning my head to the side to try to see him, I spit out, “Get off me!”
He wraps the tape tighter in response, and I whimper, the edges biting into my flesh.
“Tell me you were wrong,” he says. “Admit that you need me and apologize.”
“Never.” I wiggle some more, but it’s hopeless. He has me completely immobile beneath him. The psychotic, jealous bastard.
“Never, huh?” His hands leave my arms and he gets off me, rolling me onto my back before straddling my stomach. The weight of him presses me into my mattress, my arms trapped beneath me, taking the brunt of it. “If you think playing hard to get is going to win you any favors, you’re dead wrong.”
I stop trying to wiggle under him and study his face. His lips are tipped up in the corner, his eyes predatory, and I realize that he knows the game I was trying to play earlier.
And the fact that he knows now has me actually scared.
Shit.
I close my eyes and let out a long breath through my nose, willing my stomach to stop churning at the dread that has seeped in.
This is payback.
Opening my eyes, I try to keep my voice level as I ask, “What do you want from me, Blake?”
“Your mouth, to start.” He gets off me, turns me so I’m laying sideways across my bed, then yanks me toward the edge of the mattress until my head is hanging off the side.
I lift my head, my neck straining, as he gazes down at me. I try to wiggle back, to get some support under my neck, but he fists my hair, holding me in place.
“Don’t move.” He doesn’t leave any room for argument.
Trying to relax, I let my head drop again, and stare up at him from my upside down position.
He smirks down at me, then undoes the button and zipper on his jeans. When he pulls out his dick, my eyes go wide.
Holy fuck. He’s hard, a thick vein running along the bottom of his shaft. He has a slight curve, impressive length, but what really has me openly gaping at this point is how thick he is. Like, put my favorite dildo to shame thick.
If he thinks that thing is going in my mouth, he’s fucking crazy. I’ll suffocate. My throat already hurts just looking at it.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No way. Get the hell away from me.”
“Shhh.” He runs a hand down the side of my face. “You can take it.”
“No fucking way,” I all but spit at him. “Blake, please. I’m sorry. I was wrong. I was lying. I don’t want to leave. I need you.”
“Uh uh,” he tsks. “You lost your opportunity to apologize.”
He grabs my face with both hands, holding my head still as he brings his dick up to my lips.
“Blake, please,” I beg as my eyes start to mist.
“Tell you what, Trace. You take my dick down your throat and we’ll call ourselves even. How about that?” His hands slide down my neck, to my chest, then grab my breasts. He pinches my nipples through my tank, and I arch off the bed, the sting sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
“No,” I say again, then immediately snap my mouth shut when his dick brushes against my lips.
His fingers continue to work my nipples, pinching and tweaking them until they become hard peaks. All the while, his dick rests right at my lips, and I’ve got a clear view of his balls hanging in front of my face.
When one of his hands sinks lower, a shiver runs down my spine.
He trails his fingers along the waistband of my panties, back and forth, teasing, before finally moving further down and cupping my pussy.
“This,” he says, gripping me over my underwear. “This cunt belongs to me now, understand?”
What? Why is he saying this?
When I don’t say anything, he slaps my pussy.
“Ouch! What the fuck, Blake?” But even as I complain, my clit throbs, moisture pooling in my panties.
Fuck him for making me enjoy this.
He slips his fingers into my underwear, running them down the length of me and exploring every inch. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he groans, gathering the moisture on his fingers, then coming back up to my clit.
He rubs small circles around it, and I roll my hips, my body seeking more as tension starts to pool in my core.
“Tell me to stop.” His voice is strained as his fingers continue to drive me closer to the edge. “Tell me to leave right now, and I will.”
I should tell him to fuck off and never talk to me again. I should demand that he leave and never step foot in my apartment again. I should do a million different things, but instead, I beg. “Blake…” His name comes out breathless. “Please. Let me come.”
His fingers continue working me, alternating between rubbing my clit and sliding through my slick folds. My back arches, my hips shamelessly grinding against his hand as my body coils tighter and tighter.
When he flicks my clit, I moan, and he takes advantage.
Blake shoves his dick in my mouth, hitting the back of my throat, and I gag, my legs snapping closed around his hand in my panties in the process. It doesn’t stop him, though, his fingers rubbing my clit as he holds his dick there. I gag around him as tears start to run down my face.
When my breathing gets rough, he pulls back, still holding himself in my mouth.
“Suck,” he orders, and I do.
I fucking do. Because even though this is wrong, and I shouldn’t be enjoying it, I am.
He’s got me so turned on right now, one hand teasing my clit while the other palms my breast, that I can’t help the orgasm that’s building. Being bound here before him, completely at his mercy, has my pussy aching to be filled.
I run my tongue over Blake’s dick the best I can with my mouth full, and suck like my life depends on it. Like my orgasm depends on it. Because it probably does.
“Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” His hand leaves my breast, and he runs a finger over my bottom lip. “These lips wrapped around my cock is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”