He growls and whispers in my ear, wrapping one hand in my hair, tilting my head back. “That’s it, baby. Fucking beautiful. I love all that hostility. All that prissy indignation. Don’t hold back.”
His voice hypnotizes me, urging me to bite harder, to tilt my hips against him harder, to rub my clit while he shoves his dick inside me. At last, I let go, lean into my orgasms, and cry out with his tendon between my teeth. I whimper, letting him fuck me, not giving a shit about anything except the thrust and drag of his cock. He pounds into me, unrelenting and aggressive.
Seconds later, his fingers find purchase in my ass cheek, holding my hips still as he roars into my neck, a deep rumble exits his chest. He pumps inside me, filling me with his cum, and I savor it. Loving the sticky feel of it inside me.
Stone rests on my body. Both our lungs are hungry for oxygen. I remove my hand and drape it across his other shoulder, tucking my head into his sweaty neck and breathing in his fresh, verdant aroma. Smoke, fruit, and pine.
I feel inebriated, drunk on the aftereffects of the intense orgasm that just circulates through my limbs.
“Why was he here?”
Lifting my head from his warm chest, I stare down at Stone. “Who?”
He pushes me onto my back and crawls over me, settling his heavy weight over my body.
“Skater boy.”
A giggle bursts from my lips. “Skater boy? You mean Julian?”
He frowns and slides his hand down my ribcage, past my hip until he reaches the curve of my ass, squeezing. One thick eyebrow lifts, and he pinches harder. “Answer me.”
I lift my chin. “Why do you care?”
“He wants more than a show.”
“How do you know that?”
“I know, Countess. Just remember this, while you’re fucking me, no one else gets inside you. No one. No one touches you here,” he says, touching my pussy. “Not here.” A finger slides between my ass cheeks, tunneling into my ass, grazing my anus. “Or here.” His other hand touches my mouth. “And not here.” He taps my temple, “I’m the only one on your mind. Your thoughts and needs are mine. ”
“Hmmm.” I stare up into his face, touching the piercing in his eyebrow and then down to the two hoops in his bottom lip. “That sounds a lot like exclusivity, Stone. You told me we don’t have tomorrows, remember?”
He grits his teeth and then he growls, avoiding my question. “Do you fucking understand, Countess? I’m not in the mood for your mouth right now.”
I look him in the eyes, unafraid. Moaning, I bite my lip and bring my hand down to his cock and squeeze. He grunts above me, his eyes glittering. “Yes, I understand. But just like I can’t fuck anyone else, neither can you or I’m done.”
He stills. “I don’t do ultimatums, Countess.”
I remove my hand and shrug, looking away. “Then go find someone else, and I’ll find someone else.” He pinches my chin, bringing my face back around. His free hand slides up to my throat, encircling. There’s a moment of fear, knowing how strong he is, but I won’t let him see it.
“And he’ll die. You want that on your conscience, Countess? You let another man get anywhere near you, and I’ll kill him. I’ll leave his body to rot between the trees.”
Knowing what I know about him, I don’t doubt it. I’ve seen those decaying bodies and smelled the horror of it. Instead of answering him, I stare into his black eyes. “So you get to fuck around and I don’t? Is that it?”
He laughs cruelly, mockingly amused, adding more pressure as he bites my chin. “The only pussy I want happens to be yours.” He says it against my lips, and the tension I was holding in my shoulders dissipates. “Every other woman can fuck off.”
“Good,” I say back, biting his lip, feeling his dick still pulsating inside me.
My legs unhook from his hips, and he pushes me back, pulling his cock out of me. I look down at him, still somewhat erect, shiny with me and him. A gush of cum escapes from between my legs, dripping down my thigh. I brace one hand on the wall, wobbly and shocked over what I just did. I feel wrung out.
He stuffs his dick back in his pants and bends, picking up my shorts. I’m mute, moving sluggishly as he helps me dress, lifting each foot before guiding it into my shorts. He fastens them, and I feel the stickiness coating the seat. Next comes my shirt. He slides it over my head, sans my bra, while I watch him stuff it into his back pocket.
He lifts me into his arms and walks through my gallery and takes the back stairs, climbing quickly. I recognize his apartment from the last time I spent the night in his bed. Without stopping, he heads to his bathroom, turning on the water. “What are you doing?” I utter, still drained from the sex and the showdown with my father. He undresses me and lifts me into the shower.
“I need to lock up,” I mutter, shivering a bit at the cool temps in his apartment and the warm water cascading down my back.
“Stay under the water.”
He turns his back and walks out, leaving me to stare at his retreating back.
