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The front door opens and my heart skips a beat when I smell metal and pine. “Lorand.” I’m practically jumping up and down with excitement to see him. It’s silly and school girlish, but I can’t help myself.
“I thought I told you stay at home today, Jude. Someone likes to disobey. Hmm?” He pushed me down on the couch. Desperately, I wanted this. I knew I overstepped my bounds, but I can’t help wanting him. Besides, being bad seems to have worked out well for me so far.
“You won’t hurt me.” Of this, I am absolutely certain as he pushed me down over the armrest. He’s rough but gentle letting me know who is in charge. I crawled up along the leather seat which was underneath my legs now, hands clutching the back of the couch. He was pulling my dress up, standing behind me and grabbing my hair, the pressure of pulling the thick bundle of strands stings, but doesn’t actually hurt and I followed his lead.
“Define hurting you, Jude. I’ve done a lot of things to hurt you and will likely to continue to do so.” Harshly whispered against my cheek, my face flamed hotly, as he forced me awkwardly over the side, arms reaching out for the wall. My palms splayed out as he flipped the back of my dress up exposing me. Stubble from his chin rubs against my back and lower still until his tongue sweeps down tasting my skin.
“If this is hurting, you’re nothing but a pussy cat, Lorand.” I’m taunting him by attacking his manhood setting him off. He might be one hundred percent alpha but he’s putty in my hands. A jerk of his hand released my hair to push me over flat on the leather couch, my face rested against it. His lips kissed just above the crease in my cheeks; his teeth bite the lace and ripped my panties clear off my ass.
“There’s only one pussy in this room, it’s yours and it belongs to me, Judith Mae.” Set and match, Lorand fights back using my given name pulling me to the end of the couch wrapping an arm around my middle, the leather rubbing abrasively against my hyper sensitive skin. He must be kneeling behind me when he uses his hands to part my ass wide open, my slit pulses, flooded with wet desire. I wondered what torture he planned to do next when a finger teases my clit pressing down and moving in a deliciously slow figure eight pattern.
“Oh god.”
“You better be coming with my name on your lips.” His fingers bite into skin parting my legs wide exposing my core to him from behind. His breath heats me as his tongue touches without hesitation. Long and wide, his wet flat tongue strokes over me, my juices dragged up toward my forbidden star. Each touch makes me flinch, the puckered skin contracts and I hear him laugh. “We’re not ready for that yet.” He kisses my ass with a loud smack and pulls me up, his arm around my middle again as he turned my hips and made me face him.
“Lorand.” For a fleeting moment, I’m not sure I want him to have any part of me like this, slightly mad and rough no matter how feverish with desire and drenched I feel.
“Oh, I think so.” Still kneeling at the end of the couch, one hand holds mine over my head and his body keeps my legs open to his view. “Look at how you try so hard to keep me out when you so badly want me in. Your honey is pouring out for me and your center clenches waiting for me to fill it.” To make his point, Lorand leans over me and kisses between my thighs, licking and sucking my lips as if he were kissing my face, open mouthed. It’s the filthiest kiss imaginable as he tongue fucks me, lapping my juices up. His free hand begins to play and part my lips gently opening them wider for his mouth to fit against me. A blunt fingertip circled the center but doesn’t penetrate me, merely knowing that he could spear me, deeply plunging inside makes me contract with wanting and all because he denies me the very thing I crave.
“Lorand, please.” His nose moves up and down against my clit, his wide chin lightly peppered with stubble grazes my thighs. I’m dizzy and drunk on just Lorand. He has reduced me to shameless begging and nothing else mattered except fulfilling the need to have him over me and inside me pounding away.
“Perhaps another time, love.” Abruptly, he pulled away and shoved my legs closed holding them together. The warm stickiness cooled quickly leaving me desolate from denial. Leaning up on my elbows, my dress still shoved above my hips and exposed, I squinted watching him with blurred lines of color wipe away my juices from his face. I didn’t think I would like punishments like this, but my body continues to hum and pulse with desire for him.
“I thought we were done leaving things unfinished?” I pushed my dress down covering my vulnerability.
“I’m sorry, Jude. I’m mad you left the house, but I’m angry with myself more. I feel like we should be taking things slowly, getting to know each other, but it’s a whole lot of fucked up between us and I don’t know that we have the time to wait.” His words are cryptic as usual since he gave up being the silent type.
“It’s only fucked up because you let it be.”
“Mouthy, you are.”
I counter with a saucy retort. “Too silent you’ve been.” Our breaths are unsteady yet matched as our body heave against each other finding a new rhythm.
“Your eyes are so beautiful.” He turned to me and cupped my face in his hands obviously looking at me close up. It feels unsettling and disarming, intimately exposing me more so than a stupidly rumpled dress.
“These broken things?” We’ve been down this road before.
“Stop it Jude. I wish you could for one moment see what I see when I look at you. Your eyes are a focal point, yes, but they are not what define you. They are darkest shade of brown I’ve ever seen.” He pushes out a ragged breath continuing. “My mother had a jacket she wore often when I was a child. It was velvet. Soft and rich, so much like your eyes and even though you can’t see clearly, they reflect every emotion that crosses your face. If you played poker, your eyes would be your tell.
“Yeah, a real shitty one.” I tried to get him to let me go but he held on tight and I gave up.
“Take a compliment would you. Otherwise, we can go back to orgasm denial if you like.” He’s teasing me, but he’s serious and I shivered thinking about what else we might do. Instead, I decided to use the moment to get more details from him. I knew a rare opportunity when I felt one.
“What happened to your mother?” I asked touching him, connecting us as much as I could. His silence denoted he was pulling away from me and I couldn’t let that happen. “No, tell me, please.” I grabbed for him and his hands wrapped cruelly around my wrists, thick manacles keeping me still.
“She died heartbroken when my sister’s missing person’s case was closed.”
“Your sister?” I pushed up against him until he released me and I gathered him close to me, his head resting against my breast. I soothed him by rubbing the tension from his neck and pressing my fingers into his softly shaven head. I vaguely remember her missing, but I was young and overheard my parents saying she hooked up with some guy and ran off after the spring semester from school.
“Yes. She’s–Ah god she’s the reason I’m in your life.”
“How?”
“I had been looking for the men responsible, the ones who took her and it led me full circle back to you.”
“Me?”
“The man I was meeting at the club is my mentor. I owe him several debts which I hope to repay.”
