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I don't open. My jaw hurts. My mouth is tired. I'm still trying to calm my ragged breathing.
"Do not make me tell you again."
I open my mouth some, but it's enough for him to push his thumb in, putting it on my tongue. I lick at it and his eyes alight with renewed lust. Will he fuck me again? Put his cock back in my mouth? Because no matter how much my jaw aches, I'd suck it. It doesn't matter that my pussy is throbbing, I would bend over that couch again. Not if he asked, but if he commanded me to.
He slides him thumb out of my mouth and pushes me away. I fall to the side, barely finding time to prevent myself from colliding into the floor.
"Stay on the floor and count to a hundred. I'll know if you don't. And I'll come back for you." A shuddering breath leaves me, and he grins. "Maybe you want me to."
His eyes stay on mine while he leans forward, his hand ghosting over my shirt. It feels like there’s nothing between us at all, though, as his fingers go across my collarbone, between my breasts, down my stomach. It clenches at his touch, before he moves on to my naked inner thigh, then back to my pussy. I hiss as he swipes his finger through my wetness, from my opening to my much too sensitive clit. My eyes widen as I watch him bring that finger to his mouth. He wraps his lips around the digit, closing his eyes as he hums.
"Yeah, I think I'll come back." He comes closer, until his face is just a few inches from mine. "I think you'll come on my cock next time too."
I shake my head, and he laughs. It sharply cuts off as he grabs my hair, jerking my head back so I'm looking into his eyes ashe spits, "It doesn't matter what you want, bitch. I'd just take it again."
He pushes my face away, like I'm something he's used and gotten enough of and begins walking toward the door. "Stay on the floor. Count to one hundred."
He opens the door, walks through it, and closes it behind him without a single look back.
Then I'm alone. A shaky breath leaves me. It feels like it's the first one I've truly taken since the moment Jackson put his hand over my mouth. I reach up to my hair and try to massage the sting out of the roots, but it only makes me notice how badly my hands are trembling. How badly all of me is trembling.
As I look around me, at my heels in the entryway, at my wadded-up panties on the floor beside the couch I was just bent over, I know my shaking is from the realization of what just happened here setting in. Jackson was waiting in my home, put his hand around my mouth, forced me to the couch, ripped my panties and fucked me like I was his. He brought me to my knees and made my mouth stretch in ways it’s never had to until he came and then made me swallow it.
He… he brought my dreams and my fantasy to life. He did it.
“Oh my God,” I sigh, falling backwards to the floor.
I stare up at the ceiling, reliving every moment, each touch, our one kiss, the feeling of him inside of me, the way his hands held me down, and held me to him. Finally, when exhaustion catches up to me, I sit up, then stand. My body hurts, in the best possible way. It still seems like I can feel him everywhere.
I walk, slowly, to the entryway table and pick up my phone. As I begin to head to my bedroom, I strip out of my clothes, chuckling at the thought that after everything that just occurred, I still haveto undress. I should take a shower, but I’m too damn tired. And if I’m being honest with myself, I don’t want to wash Jackson off yet. Not his scent, not the feeling of his body against mine.
Once I’m in my bedroom, I put my phone on my nightstand and climb into my bed, under my covers, sure that tonight… there won’t be any dreams. There’s no need for one.
I open my eyes to darkness at the sound of my phone ringing out. Instantly, Jackson comes to my mind, and disappointment fills me. Was it all just another dream? But then I feel the aching between my thighs, the pain of the bite marks on my neck, the sting of my scalp. It was real. It actually happened. Jackson was here. Jackson was inside of me, my pussy, my mouth.
I close my eyes and sigh, stretching despite the hurt that comes when I do. I love it and know I will for days to come. Which makes my mind go to when this will happen again? Or… was this a one-time thing? Was this meant to fulfill my fantasy just this one time and scratch an itch for Jackson? Or will he come to me again, maybe even before the marks of us being together last night have faded?
Remembering what woke me, I reach over to get my phone. Squinting at the brightness, I unlock my screen. I jolt upright when I see I have a text from Jackson.
Jackson:Anything you would have wanted to be different?
Although I love that he’s asking, did my body leave him with any doubts?
Me:Not a single thing.
Jackson:Good. See you soon.
I bite down on my lip and smile at his reply.
Chapter 4
I blink awake, trying to figure out what sound woke me. Lazily turning my head to the left, I glance at my window, then to the right, at my closed door. I find nothing and straighten my head, letting it sink into my pillow again. I sigh and close my eyes, beginning to drift off to sleep again, but then I hear something. The same sound that woke me up. A... creaking, coming from...
Fear rising in me, I pick up my head to look down at the end of my bed. Terror. It's pure terror filling me now as my eyes widen in disbelief at the shape of a man standing there, almost blending in with the darkness. I can only just make him out, tall, some type of skull cap on his head and something over his face, a hoodie covering his broad shoulders, hands hanging at his sides, curling into fists. And that's the sound I heard. The leather gloves creaking as his hands flex while he watches me, preparing to... I need to get the hell out of here.
I take a deep breath, bracing myself to run for the bathroom, lock the door behind me, to get some type of barrier between me and him. I clench my stomach and shoot to sitting up, but as soon as I twist my upper body to get out of bed, he moves. Lightning quick, he scrambles up my body, hands grabbing at my legs to keep me from succeeding in my attempt to crawl off the bed.
"No!" I scream. "Get the fuck off of me."
