Just a hard swallow, as her palms land on my chest.
Got it. Found the ‘tame me’ button.
Driving my fingers inside her, while my teeth sink into the skin of her neck, I know I’ve found the ‘sing for me’ button, for her moans are just that—the sweetest song for my ears. I’m on the verge of losing it, kissing and biting her skin while squeezing her ass hard enough to bruise, not hard enough to ever be enough. Lowering myself, I bite on a nipple, while pinching the other, and her walls instantly cinch around my fingers, tight enough to make me stop. One hand of hers tugs softly on my hair, prompting me to go on, while the other caresses the back of my neck, and my brain short-circuits, burning all the wiring up there. My pulse in my ears, my dick painfully hard for her, my mouth craving her taste and my hands the touch of her skin. What’s stopping me from taking what I want? She’s in my room, enjoying herself... No. She’ll probably push back if I go for more. I do owe her a set of blue balls, but that’s not the endgame for tonight. I want her to submit, consciously, willingly, to give me what I want, all the while I have my fun.
One more finger inside her and my thumb on her clit leave her melting in my arms. I pull back, staring at her beautiful face—eyes closed, cheeks flushed in crimson red, and those luscious lips partly open, inviting thoughts of all the ways I want to fuck her mouth.
I savor the scenery of her every ragged inhale and exhale,every little sound or not-so-subtle moan, echoing in my head. Every tremble. Every nibble of those succulent lips, designed to contain delightful notes, but failing. And that scarlet flush going down her neck, reaching the spot where another bite mark of mine proudly shows. I’ve never seen a more erotic sight in my life, nor a more gorgeous creature in my arms.
Right when her walls are fluttering, and she’s teetering on the edge without falling over, I slide my fingers out. Her desperate look is absolutely ambrosial, just as intoxicating as her scent, sweet and laced with arousal.
“Simply returning the favor, baby,” I taunt, and for the first time, her face holds a ready-to-beg expression for a single second before the rage monster takes over again.
Licking the sweetness off my fingers brings back desire in her eyes, which is probably the single thing stopping her from wrapping her hands around my throat in another attempt to strangle me.
“I have something for you.” I take a cautious step back. Then another one. Summer’s not going to run away from my room only in her panties. I think. I hope. With her, I can never be certain of anything.
“A gun so I can shoot you?” she retorts.
“Have you ever shot anyone?” I ask, while heading for my desk.
The complete silence makes me stop in my tracks, checking over my shoulder if Summer hasn’t already snuck out. Her head tilts down, posture betraying a genuine struggle over whether to answer.
“I have,” she admits in a low voice.
“Really?”
She nods. Isn’t she full of surprises?!
I turn my whole body to face her when I ask my next question.
“Killed?”
Her eyes ensnare mine when she gives me another nod. But there’s an even more important question to ask.
“Guilt?”
A shake of her head, and no hesitation, nor fluctuation in hertone when she answers.
“None.”
Look at that! We’re like two peas in amurderouspod.
There’s much more to this rabbit hole. I’ll ask, and she’ll tell me everything, but not now. Now, we’ll play a different game.
With a lopsided grin, I deviate from my desk, heading for the safe near my bed. I punch in the code I’ve been planning to change for the longest time, for it’s the most predictable thing in the world—my brother’s birthday, and I reach to take my 9mm Beretta, before I halt and decide on the smaller Glock. I don’t want to scare her, though a smaller gun is still a gun, but hell, size always matters.
As I stand, my first thought is to check the look on her face when she sees the weapon.
Will she flinch or let fear rearrange her features?
Not a shred of panic dares to touch her. She doesn’t move from her spot, and her body doesn’t tense when she sees me coming her way with the Glock. Passing by my desk, I take along the pink box I was initially headed for, while Summer is closely following my every move.
“I believe you. But I also believe you wouldn’t kill me,” I state with utmost conviction, holding onto the barrel of the gun as an offer.
Summer’s hand doesn’t tremble when she takes it, nor does she hesitate. And she doesn’t simply hold the weapon, wondering what to do with it. Her first reaction is to take out the magazine, checking if it’s full, before putting it back in. Loading the gun, safety off, the muzzle pushes against my temple before I can blink. I’d lie if I said the way she handles herself with a weapon doesn’t turn me on beyond reason. I might die any minute now if she decides to pull the trigger, but I’m sure when the cops find me, I’d still have a hard-on. Maybe they’ll bury me with my dick pointing at the sky. That’d be a sight.
“You think I won’t kill you because we’re at a party and I’m the last one seen with you?”
