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“Did you miss me, baby?” I nuzzle her neck, knowing it will fire her up more than anything else I can do.
She hates me for it, doubling her attempt to get away.
I hate that I like it so fucking much, hate that I want to just hold her like this, that I’m having thoughts of spending time in bed with her curled into my body.
I used to think of Lauren as a virus, something to eradicate like mice in the attic or invasive weeds in the yard.
It wasn’t until I accepted that I liked her brand of crazy that I was able to set my mind at ease.
She isn’t something to rid myself of. She’s my other half. She’s a requirement, a necessity, and as much as I hate it, I also love it. We’ll never be equals, but even knowing that, I’m well aware of the fact that without her, I can’t be me.
“I fucking hate you,” she rasps, her breathing becoming more difficult as I press more of my weight onto her.
She can’t even fool herself at this point when her legs fall open as I settle on her, my thick cock pressing against that needy cunt of hers.
When she turns her head, refusing to look at me, I know she wants to beg for it. If I weren’t so needy for her myself, I might make an effort to force her to do that, but I’ve been waiting too long for her return. I no longer have the restraint to make it last, but I mentally add it to my list of things to do later tonight or tomorrow morning.
“How wet are you, you sick twisted bitch?”
“Dry as a fucking bone,” she snaps, even knowing I’m going to prove her wrong.
I can feel the heat of her against me, the wetness that has to be pooling between her thighs.
The fucking jeans she’s wearing are going to be a problem, but I’ve overcome bigger hurdles in my life.
“I want my shit!”
“I’m going to give you everything you want and more,” I promise.
Her body jolts with the declaration, and I know it’s half thrill and half apprehension.
“You could’ve made this easier for me,” I complain as I reposition my hand so I can keep holding her down while I reach for her zipper.
“Never,” she hisses, once again struggling to get away from me.
“That’s my girl.”
Her head snaps up, her teeth locking on my shoulder.
I live in the pain for a few seconds, nearly blowing my load on her stomach when she moans at the taste of my blood on her tongue.
“So fucking dirty,” I praise when she pulls her head back. “My turn.”
I don’t go for her shoulder or pain, rather I lock my lips over her nipple through her shirt.
She whimpers, needy and ready for what I have to give her.
It’s enough of a distraction for her to drop the knife she still had clenched in her fist.
“You’re making this a little too easy for me, baby. Does that mean you want it?” I ask as I use my free hand to pick up the knife.
Her eyes track the movement of the knife, and I want to slap the shit out of her when she angles her neck, giving me more access when I trail it down her cheek.
“Is that what you really want?” I lean in close, my lips brushing hers as I speak.
It’s a dangerous move for me with her penchant for using her mouth to cause pain.
She blinks up at me, and even in the dim light I can see the battle in her eyes.
