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He was mine. Mine to find. Mine to destroy. Mine to watch bleed out into a puddle. Mine to beat until there was nothing left but a bloody carcass. Only then could I breathe again. Only then could I scribble out my sins in my journal and find what a crooked saint such as myself considered to be peace.
And right now, I needed to drown. Needed to forget about the rage teasing the lock on my inner monster. So, it was a good thing a very distracting Blondie decided to walk into the kitchen with that bloody fucking robe on. A robe I would have no problem ripping to shreds.
With my teeth.
Parting her robe for the second time in a span of five minutes, I watch it bare her once more to my undeserving eyes. Her perfect tits are revealed along with that pink, pink swollen slit I would gladly spend the rest of my days buried between and I can't help the groan that escapes deep in my throat.
To her surprise, I grab Blondie's hand and guide it to her wet flesh,
“Touch yourself for me,” I ask, looking up into her eyes. Her blue irises are like a pick chucked in my frozen heart. Stabbing through the layers of ice to the warm muscle most would refer to as a heart, I on the other hand liked to call it my time bomb. After all, it was only a matter of time before I exploded. With a temper like mine, the fuse tended to be a bit shorter than the average basic Starbucks-consuming joe. For some fucked up reason I’ll bookmark for a future therapy session, the demons hanging out in my head pressed pause when I was around the blonde creature before me.
And I needed her. Her body. I needed her distraction. Her golden touch. After the bomb he exploded on me yesterday, I needed anything that could turn the memory of his words off.
Surprisingly Blondie isn't a complete bore and doesn't hesitate placing her fingers right where I want them between her thighs. She moans and I lose myself. Pumping my hands up and down my shaft like it was my fucking job to make myself come. Her back arches and it's only by an act of sheer will that I don't lose it then and there. I watch her, my eyes stolen from those of a man starving as she adds a second finger to her parted flesh.
“No one said you could add a second finger.” I scowl my voice deep with pleasure. She ignores me too lost in her own pleasure as she moves her fingers deeper inside of herself before teasing the top of her sex, circling her clit, her black robe mere curtains showcasing the view.
“I- I’m so close.” She stutters as her thighs begin to shake. Her whimpers fill the space and I’m filled with renewed vigor as I grip myself between my hands, the pressure in my spine building with every thrust into my palm. I was close. The sounds Blondie’s making going straight to my dick. She was like a shock to my system, burning me back to life and shattering me with each thrust of her hips into her palm. She was a fucking vixen and I was powerless to watch as she pleasured herself for me.
Who knew little Blondie could be so good at taking orders?
The revelation brings a smile to my face. Plans unfolding behind my eyes at this little revelation.
Oh, and did I have plans.
Visions of bending Blondie over the kitchen counter, taking her from behind until she screamed my name. Eating her out while she rode my tongue, her ass between my hands as I sucked her juices between my lips. Her full lips taking me as I fucked her mouth like I wanted her to do that night back in the red room. That night I pretended it was her wrapped around me.
It's that last thought that nearly sends me tumbling. That and seeing Rose before me, her fingers so deep inside herself, her cheeks flush with pleasure. Her eyes roll back in her head and I know she's nearly gone.
“That's right. Touch yourself for me. Plunge your fingers into yourself.” She whimpers at my words and does just that. Moving her palm up and down herself at double her previous speed and I say the words I know will be her undoing,
“Come for me. Come for me Blondie.” She cries out, my words doing the trick, and I watch as her back arches against her hand, her release overcoming her,
“Kaleb!” she yells as her orgasm peaks, her hips lifting off the counter and I find myself coming at the sight. The sound of my name across her lips, the final straw and I expend myself into my hand. My cum stains the kitchen tiles and permanently marks my presence in her home.
Fuck.
We’re both panting. Our chests move up and down in rapid succession in the aftermath of what we’d just done.
She had touched herself for me.
The thought shouldn't make me so pleased but I can't help the spot of warmth that sneaks into my chest at the thought that she would trust me enough to be vulnerable like that with me. And fuck if Blondie touching herself wasn't the hottest sight I’d seen in a while. Her bruises were even more beautiful when she let go. She was like a warrior that wouldn't let the knives cut apart who she was inside. She was stronger than I gave her credit for.
And I’d make sure she stayed strong. Starting by posting my men outside her door. No one would be getting in. I’d make this damn crap Chinese food smelling apartment into a fucking fortress if that what it took. And it just so happened I had the desire to make sure no one fucked with what was mine. And seeing as how little Rose here was in possession of my journal, I say she was wrapped around my finger like a red string. There to remind me to protect what was mine.
And Blondie was mine.
Mine until I had my journal. No scratch that mine until I fucking said so.
Stealing the Fruit Loops from the counter I finished off the bowl. Leaving the lone spoon to clink against the empty porcelain.
I reach over and tie Blondie's robe shut, the sight of her naked body sending me into a tailspin and distracting me to a point of, well, distraction.
Reaching into the fridge I go to grab some ice before shoving it into a plastic bag and wrapping the dang thing with one of Blondie’s disgustingly girly hand towels. The girl probably single-handedly supported Home Goods GDP with the amount of over-commercialized crap in this apartment. Slowly, I press the cool bundle to Rose's side, keeping enough pressure on the spot to hold it in place. I feel her eyes on me but I don't look up. It was just some ice for crying out loud it wasn’t like I was giving her my fucking kidney.
“Thank you.” She whispers. I didn't know what she was thanking me for, the ice or the orgasm but I don't bother clarifying as I looked up her way and guided her hands until they were holding the makeshift ice pack in place.
A million thoughts run through my mind as I take in her eyes once more. A million different things I could say to her. All of them wrong. All of them not what I could only guess she would want to hear.
