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“Don’t.You say my name again, and it’ll be my cock in you. We know you don’t want that.” His tone is lethal as he mocks me. I close my eyes, trying to swallow. My mouth is like cotton, and I try to lick my lips, but I barely wet them.
“I can’t see him. Every time I try… You’re there.”
“You just have to try harder, baby girl.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“No? What would he call you? Something sweet I bet.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“Yeah. I know. Yell at me some more. Fuck I love when you do that. Gets me so fucking close.”
I sit up and open my eyes, staring at him while he fucks his hand. There’s a devilish grin on his face, and I have a suddenurge to slap it off him. I’ve never been violent in my entire life but fuck if this man doesn’t inspire every new feeling I’ve ever had. I get off the bed and cross the room until I’m standing over him, and he looks up at me nonplussed. The curl of his lips sharpens as his eyes fall over my body.
“Oh, fuckkkk…” he groans, his eyes drift closed for a moment, and I look down at his cock, a drop of precum already there. His eyes follow mine when he opens them again. His thumb slides over it and drags it down his length. “You think it’ll be big enough for her?”
“For who?”
“The new girl.” There’s a wicked smile—one the devil himself couldn’t pull it off. “Fuck, I hope she can suck cock as well as you do. That she gets as wet as you do for… what was his name again?”
“Quentin!” I growl, and like it’s a magic fucking word, he jumps out of the chair, rising to his full six-foot-four frame that towers over me when I’m barefoot like this.
“I warned you.” His hand wraps around the side of my throat, his thumb on the side of my jaw. He smears the precum over my cheek and presses his thumb into my mouth as his eyes bore into mine. My fingers wrap around his jeans and boxer briefs, and I start to pull them down.
“So do it.” It’s my turn to taunt him.
“Take them off me,” he orders, nodding down to the clothing I still have wrapped in my fists. I pull them down, and he steps out of them. Then he walks me backward until I hit the wall, and he tilts my head up, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Say it again.”
“Fuck me,” I say sharply. “Quentin.”
He grabs me and pins me up against the wall, his cock slamming inside me a second later. He fucks me rough, and I have one hand wrapped around his neck while he braces my other wrist against the wall as I slide up and down his cock. I’mbegging for him. Whimpering his name over and over again while he curses about how fucked up over me he is. I hate him for how good he is.
It doesn’t take long before he’s coming hard inside me, and I follow him within seconds, the feel of him filling me up is the thing I never knew I needed this badly. He fucks me through the last waves of my release and then carries me to the bed, setting me down gently. His brow is furrowed and his jaw is still tight. I’m surprised by how wound-up he is. My heart goes soft after the way I came apart; I assumed he would too.
His hand slips between my legs, gliding over the tops of my thighs where his come and mine have started to make my skin slick. He gathers it with his fingers and then pushes them back inside me. His lips are at my ear, and I brace for what he’s about to tell me.
“That was just the first time, Madness. I’m gonna fuck you all night. Fill this cunt up until you can’t even say another man’s name without thinking of me. And you’re gonna be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
I can’t breathe for a moment. The words have broken any ability I have to think, and I just stare at him until he kisses me, nipping at my lower lip as his fingers dig into the flesh of my hip, urging me to answer him.
“Yes,” I whisper.
There’s no other answer. Never has been. I’m his whether I want to be or not, and the sudden desire to please him the same way he works so hard for me wraps around my heart. “Whatever you want.”
“Perfect,” he breathes against my cheek before he kisses his way down my jaw, and his thumb circles over my clit, teasing me. I gasp at the contact, and he releases me. “Do you want me to draw you a bath or would you rather take a shower?”
30
Quentin
I hearthe shower running and occasionally the sound of her moving inside. I set up the water, towels, and washcloth for her, making sure she had everything she needed before I left her alone to process—fuck, givemyselfa chance to process—what I’ve just done.
I’ve managed to put myself halfway back together, and I’m sitting in the chair, staring out over the Sound through the window. I drag a hand over my face. I fucking snapped. The idea of losing her, the idea of her and some other guy together while I’m right here, broke the last bit of my self-control. I’ve always been good about being careful with her. Never pushing her. Never asking for too much. Making sure everything I did was well within her bounds, coloring so far inside the lines with her that I didn’t even have to worry. She had the reins. Shehad all the control. I even liked having her tie me up because it meant I couldn’t fuck up.
But now I have. I’m sure I’ve fucked it all up. If she couldn’t forgive me before, she won’t be able to now. The amount of time she’s spending in the shower should tell me all I need to know. I grab my jeans and start to get dressed again, looking for my belt and finding it just as I hear her getting out of the shower. I should make myself scarce so she doesn’t have to see me again tonight. She can tell me to go fuck myself in the morning. I’d get a plane back early, and she could go to the engagement dinner without me. It’d give me time to figure things out back at home with my uncle and the Chaos. Explain how I couldn’t handle losing her, so I treated her like she was mine to do what I wanted with.
Just as I reach for the handle, I hear her say my name. I turn around, and she’s standing there hair wet, her brow furrowed.
