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“Then maybe I won’t agree to give you any blood,” I whispered, the smile spreading on my face one that ran ear to ear. If I said I took glee in teasing Gareth, it’d be a lie. I took so much more than that from it. Poking the monster, egging on the beast… it only meant the sex was that much better.
“Oh, that’s how it’s going to be, huh? Maybe I’ll tie you down and take it from you, anyway.” Gareth lowered his nose against my neck, breathing me in. “Maybe I’ll give you something to make you sleep for a solid eight hours, drain you a bit, and then, once you’re unhooked, fuck you until you wake up.” He nipped at my earlobe. “I bet you’d like that.”
I bet I would too, and that was why I didn’t say anything to him.
Gareth rubbed his cheek against mine, smearing some of the paint onto me and making me giggle yet again. “Oh, yeah, you’d love it,” he murmured. “I bet you’re wet just thinking about it.”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess you’ll have to check and see.” Though I couldn’t move much, I could lean my face toward his—and that’s exactly what I did. I brought my mouth to his, but instead of kissing him, I licked his lips to tease him even more.
“Oh, you’re… you’re…” Gareth kept trailing off, like he didn’t know what to say. “You’re fucking unbelievable, Bri. Who knew my uncle was right in choosing you?” He was able to hold both wrists above my head with a single hand, and he took his free hand to my neck, squeezing gently, enough to make me inhale at the sudden pressure. “When you first came into this house, all I wanted to do was hurt you. Terrorize you. Kill you. But now, the only thing I can imagine doing to you is fucking your brains out.”
“Maybe you should,” I suggested, and before I could get any other words out, Gareth’s mouth found mine. His kisses were always hard and rough, a mirror of his personality. Even when he was being sweet, he wasn’t gentle. Everything about Gareth was rough and violent and vicious, and though he had a thousand and one red flags that should scare me off, I would never run.
Besides, red had become my favorite color lately.
His teeth nibbled at my lower lip and drew a moan from me, and I squeezed my thighs together, wishing I had something down there. A hand, a cock, a mouth, anything. Anything to help draw out the tension and pressure that had started to build inside me the moment Gareth had made me take off my clothes.
As he kissed me, as his tongue pushed past my lips to meet mine, his hand around my neck dropped. It trailed along my body slowly until it found its destination, and his fingers slipped between my clenched thighs to find my aching clit and rub it. He didn’t dip down further, not yet.
When he started to rub my clit, I moaned against his mouth, and he tore his lips off mine to whisper, “I fucking love the sounds you make. I could listen to them all day and all fucking night, Bri. Whether it’s my face between your legs or my cock, you always make the hottest sounds. Be loud for me. Be so fucking loud my uncle hears you in the main house.”
So I didn’t hold back. When he did something that felt good, I showed him through the sounds I made. I was like a damned porn star, moaning and crying out, and Gareth lapped it all up greedily.
He eventually released my wrists so he could retake my neck and drop his head to my chest. He sucked a nipple into his mouth as he squeezed my neck, filling my body with multiple sensations. My clit, my nipple, my neck; three separate places that, with the combined stimulation, made me lose it.
An orgasm hit me, the pleasure exploding inside me so hard my entire body trembled. The sound that left my lips right then blew all the others out of the water, loud and erotic. Gareth drew the orgasm out by dipping his fingers down, moving away from my clit and slipping them inside my core.
My nipple left his mouth with a pop, and he gave me a devilish smirk. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me, Bri. Are you ready to be fucked?” The intensity of his stare was diminished somewhat by all the paint on his face, but even so, he was just as handsome and delicious as always.
What else could I say besides a quick, feverish, “Yes.”
Gareth released my neck and crawled off me so he could frantically take off all of his clothes. His shirt was the first thing to go, then his pants. The last thing that came off was his boxers, and even before he pulled them down to his ankles and stepped out of them, his cock sprang free, rock hard and veiny, ready to pierce me.
He was back on the chaise lounge after that, moving my body down so that I lay with my back flat against the seat part. My legs hung off the edge a bit, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way he spread my legs and the look he gave me right before he positioned himself.
That look, oh, that look was sexy as sin. Gareth would eat me alive if I let him—and the thing was, I would. I would let this psychotic serial killer eat me up. I might have found a way into his heart, but he’d also found a way into mine.
And then he pushed inside, and it was over.
Well, not reallyoverover, but you know what I mean. Any logical thought flew out of the metaphorical window, and we both became a slave to our instincts. He brought his hand to my neck once more, squeezing hard enough to make me lightheaded but not enough to choke me as his hips jerked against me with a fast, unyielding rhythm. He took what he wanted, how he wanted it, and he’d only let up once he came inside me.
Gareth had to take off his glasses, because they were dangerously close to falling off his nose and hitting me in the face, and he did so by tearing them off and dropping them off the side of the chaise. Not once did his hips let up the pace. No, if anything, he fucked me harder once he couldn’t see me as well, like he had to make up for it by showing us both how wild he could be.
He grunted with every hard thrust, a wild animal above me. He lowered his face to mine, burying his nose against my cheek. His fucking was desperate, so hard the lounge chair beneath us rocked along with his pace.
Normally he would’ve dragged it out, but painting my naked body must’ve made him horny, because it wasn’t long before his jerks became faster, more erratic, less about fucking me and more about stimulation on his part. His whole body collapsed on mine when he came, a low groan escaping his lungs as he filled me with his cum.
“Goddamn it,” Gareth muttered with a frown. He let go of my neck and rolled off me, pulling his cock out of my core in the same movement. He lay on the seat beside me, and he draped an arm around my stomach. The paint had long since dried, and what hadn’t completely dried had rubbed off on him. Together, we were a mess.
Even messier when you took in the fact that his cum had started to ooze out of me.
He sighed. “I can’t believe you’re refusing to say you love me, all because you want old man dick.”
I shouldn’t laugh at that, but I did. Every time he mentioned Alistair’s and Rick’s dicks by calling them old men made me laugh. He was jealous. That’s what it was. Jealous and perhaps a bit upset that he had to continue to share me with them. “They’re not that old,” I told him, meeting his glare with a smile.
“They are. They so are,” he huffed. “I don’t know how it’s enjoyable for you at all. They must get tired after ten seconds. Pump, pump then done.”
“You’d be surprised.”
