“Do you want to come up?”
Chapter 21
Do you want to come up?
My body is tight with arousal. It was torture, pure fucking torture, having her sit behind me. Those long, lean legs straddling my bike, close to my waist.
And knowing her pussy was bare made me insane. When I glimpsed a flash of the dark strip of hair on her pussy from my side mirrors, it was hard not to react. Not to pull her astride me, pull her skirt up to her waist, and slide my fingers between those tender, wet folds. It took all my self-control not to take her back to my cabin and lay her out, taste those lips, and flick her clit with my knife until she begged me to stop.
Once I pulled up to her high-rise building that costs more than I could imagine, I sat on my bike, battling with myself.
She is asking me to fuck her.
To take her upstairs to her apartment and lay her on her sheets and fuck her raw and wild. To eat her pussy and asshole for hours.
To shove my dick inside her, hold my knife to her neck, pierce the space right above her pulse while she comes.
To leave my saliva and my cum all over her body.
To bruise and batter her body while she calls my name.
But I can’t, despite the temptation, despite the rabid needs, racking my body. Son of a bitch, am I tempted. Tempted to give exactly what she wants, as she stands there in that short ass red skirt and polka dot top that doesn’t hide how hard her nipples are. No fucking bra. She’s like a goddess standing there; windswept hair, pouty mouth, and eyes so big and round, waiting. Waiting for me to accept her invitation to fuck.
But the text that came in while I was waiting for her to climb aboard is what I remember now. As a result of that text, I desperately clutch at the last shred of decency in me, using it to destroy the savage desire searing through me.
JP: Lara said you’re making sure Camryn gets home safely. I appreciate it. She’s been getting weird feelings of someone following her. Thanks, man, I appreciate it.
Me. I’m the one following her. I’m the one giving her weird feelings.
It’s a reminder. A reminder that I’m not the kind of man who should mess around with someone like her. I’m not the type of man who shits on a friend who’s put his neck on the line for me and mine.
I can look, but I promised myself not to touch. I stare at her standing on the sidewalk, resolving to make my words harder, harsher than I want them to be. But I have no choice. She’s nervous, unsure, and I use it to my advantage. I have to be a bigger bastard than I already am. “Why? For what?” I want her to say it, I want to hear her ask for my cock.
I settle deeper in my seat, my cock is hard at her nerves. She would have been nervous tonight. I would have enjoyed tastingthose nerves, the tremors on her mouth as I held the knife against her throat. But it’s not to be.
“I just thought you know—we could hang out for a while.”
“Hang out?” Dragging another cigarette out of my back pocket, I light it, needing to do something with my hands because her request just made my body hot. Hot with lust to follow her up to the 30th floor, where she has a room. I know the layout. Riggs made sure I knew it. I know the apartment number. The price her friend paid for it, but I have no idea what the apartment looks like inside. Riggs’s camera can only go so far, but I want to know. I want to know what her bed looks like. I want to know it all, and I shouldn’t. In five hours, I’m going to be dressed in my fatigues, my face covered in camouflage paint, while I wait at the end of the highway for a caravan of sex trafficked women and children. She is so far beyond my life. She doesn’t belong there, and I don’t belong here. “I don’t hang out.”
“Oh.” Her sexy mouth forms a cute circle, and her eyebrows raise.
Sliding off my bike, I drop my unfinished cigarette on the ground and walk to her. I lean closer, making sure my lips feather the tip of her ear. The touch of her skin on my lip nearly brings me to my knees. “I fuck.”
The undulation in her throat makes me wonder how the shadowy hollow would feel against my tongue or with my dick in her throat.
“I just thought that we—that there was some chemistry between us. Tonight when you asked me to dance for…”
Something makes her stop short, and the rest of her statement dies. Wariness fills her expression. She’s right. I did ask her to dance for me. Murdering another man who dared to touch her made it impossible not to lean into my obsession a little more. She has no idea the amount of chemistry I feel when I’m around her. Nuclear. Catastrophic. “You want me to fuckyou, is that it?” I watch the wariness disappear, and in its place is pure lust.
She bites her lips and then lifts her chin. “Yes. I want you to fuck me and from what I’ve seen when you look at me, you want to fuck me too.”
Her bravado tightens the knot of desire inside me. The impertinent tilt of her chin is sexy as hell. “I don’t fuck innocents like you.”
“I’m not innocent.” She pouts, crossing her arms.
I laugh harshly. “What, because you’re not a virgin? I’m not talking about your pussy. I’m talking about your mind, your soul. You have no idea what fucking a man like me will mean. The moment I touch you, you’ll beg me to stop, and I won’t. I won’t give as shit about the tears that will drip down those pretty cheeks when I take what I want. And there will be tears. Tears of fear because of what I’ll require of you, what I’ll demand. I won’t give a fuck about your morals or your worries. I’ll take you over and over and enjoy your pain.”
Her eyes look shell-shocked, but I’ll give her credit, she doesn’t run the way I thought she would. Instead, she frowns, “You don’t know what I could handle, Stone.”
