"Please, Dawson. Please."
He pauses—not what I was hoping for—before his tongue licks along his full bottom lip.
"Please what, baby girl?" A smirk pulls at one side of his lips as he waits for my response.
"Please... break me," I taunt, narrowing my eyes at him.
"Fuck."
His large palms spread my thighs as wide as they'll go before his face lowers and he sucks my clit into his mouth.
I thrash about beneath him, but I'm hardly able to move with my hands bound and my hips pinned to the bed.
He releases me, his tongue taking over. He circles my clit before dropping lower and spearing it inside me. My muscles contract around him, desperate to pull him deeper inside.
Every single one of his movements is controlled, planned, and executed with perfection. It's like he's got a fucking road map to my body, because everything he does hits the exact spot he wants it to and drives me higher and closer to a mind-blowing release that I know is coming.
"Fuuuuck," I cry out when one of his fingertips circles my entrance.
"Greedy, baby girl. Look at you, trying to suck me inside your body. You think you deserve the release?"
"I don't care, Dawson.” My voice is rough, and the words come out between heaving breaths.
It's only as he says those words that I realise he hasn’t been keeping me on the edge for pleasure. He's torturing me. Hurting me. Breaking me. Just like I asked for.
"You're an arsehole, you know that?"
"Oh, baby girl. You don't know the half of it."
He sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes roam over my body, burning a trail wherever he goes.
One second I'm lying there with my chest heaving and him between my thighs, and the next he's got my hips in his hands and he's flipping me over.
"Arse up," he barks before his palm connects with my skin with a loud crack.
I groan through the pain, pushing my arse into him in the hope he finally gives me what I need.
The seconds feel like minutes without his touch. I'm about to start begging when he pushes the head of his cock through my folds, teasing my swollen clit.
My head hangs as I bite down on the inside of my cheeks.
"You won't come. Not until I say you can."
"Fuck you," I seethe, but all he does is chuckle before surging forward.
His hand grips my hip just in time to stop me flying headfirst into the headboard. The pinching pain of his fingertips digging into my skin only heightens the sensation of his length inside me.
He pulls almost all the way out before his palm lands on my arse again. It's the same place as last time and it burns even more than before as a rush of heat floods my core.
"Fuck, baby girl. You like that, huh?"
"Dawson."
His hand skims up my spine, his touch almost too gentle compared to his grip and the slap. It makes me shudder before his fingers sink into my hair and he pulls my head back.
He turns my head so I have no choice but to look over my shoulder at him, and I'm so fucking glad he does, because the sight of his inked bare chest and abs pulled tight and his groin hidden by my bare arse is something I'll never forget.
"Watch,” he demands, thrusting back in with such force that white spots appear in my vision.
His grip on my hair tightens until it starts to pinch, but I barely feel it as he continues to slam inside me. My body jolts forward with every thrust of his powerful hips.
My lips part, but I can't find any words. I'm too lost to the sensations, too lost to him.
"Don't you dare come," he warns, his low, gravelly voice only pushing me closer to the release I'm not allowed.
"Fuck. You," I spit, forcing every ounce of anger I possess into my tone.
"Oh, baby girl, I am. You need it harder?"
My brows pull together as he leans over me and, in one quick move, releases my bindings. My arms ache as they move, but I soon forget about it.
"Dawson," I cry out as he pulls my body up by my hair and laces an arm around my waist. My head falls back against his shoulder and my eyes slam shut as the angle change makes everything so much more intense. His touch, the feeling of his skin against mine makes everything just so much more.
Reaching behind me, I slide my fingers into his hair.
"Did I say you could touch?" he grates out.
"You didn't say I couldn't." Twisting my head, I find the soft skin of his neck.
He tenses beneath me as my tongue laves right above his pulse point. It thunders beneath, almost as erratically as mine, before I sink my teeth in.
"Bitch," he grunts, but he does nothing to pull away, and I'm sure his cock only gets harder inside me as the sting of pain hits him.
His hand skims down my stomach, stopping when his fingers connect with my clit.
"Oh fuck," I shriek.
There's nothing soft or gentle about his touch. In fact, it's utterly brutal as he rubs at me, sending my world spinning out of control. The second he pinches my clit, I lose any control I had over doing what I was told and I fall headfirst into the most mind-blowing release.
Not even a second later, Dawson's cock jerks inside me, filling me with hot jets of his cum and ensuring my release goes on for excruciatingly blissful long minutes.
"Never could do as you were told, huh, baby girl?" He pulls out of me and I'm pushed down to the bed.
I flip over, just in time for him to cage me in, his hands on either side of my head. My legs wrap around his waist, ensuring his semi teases me.
"You know I have a thing for rebels."
His eyes search mine as if he's finally trying to discover the truth about what happened before they drop down to my lips.
"Go on," I taunt. "Kiss me."
His dark, intense stare comes back to mine.
"Why? Because you want me to?"
"No, because you want to. You can't lie to me, Dawson, I can see it. You still want me, no matter how much you might hate me." Honestly, I have no idea if those words are true. The boy whose thoughts I used to be able to read as if they were my own is now so closed off with walls built so high I fear that I have no chance of being allowed back inside again.
"You got one part of that statement right." With one more quick glance at my lips, he pushes off me and stalks across my room to the bathroom door.
I want to snap at him, but I damn near forget words exist as I watch his arse tense and flex as he moves.
It's the first time I've seen him naked in years, and damn, it's one fine sight. Those years sure have been good to him.
The second he disappears into my small bathroom, I glance down at myself. I try to keep myself in some kind of shape, but honestly, I prefer lifting a glass of wine than I do weights. Dawson, on the other hand, looks like a real gym bunny.
The sound of my shower starting forces me to swing my legs off the edge of the bed and pad over. The evidence of what happened in here only moments ago slips down my thighs.
I never allow guys inside me unwrapped. Ever. Yet he crashes back into my life and every rule I live by seems to fly straight out the window.
I know I shouldn't, but I trust him. Actually, I trust him with my life, which in itself is ironic because he could very well be the one to end it when he gets fed up with this little... whatever this is.
I come to a grinding halt when I get to the doorway, because the sight of Dawson standing behind my glass shower screen with bubbles running all over him renders me speechless.
"Make yourself at home, why don't you?" I sass, resting my hip against the frame to shamelessly continue watching him. I have no idea how long he's going to allow this to continue, so I need to get my fill while I can. He could turn me over to his father at any moment, and any pleasure he's given me will be long forgotten.
"I couldn't walk out of here smelling like you." His words cut. I wasn't really expecting him to pull me into his arms and drift off to sleep together, but hearing that he's already regret
ting it makes my chest ache.
I'm treading on thin ice here. But as much as I can tell myself that I shouldn't have allowed him back into my life and that I'm going to be the one broken and bleeding out when it's all over, I can't stop. Not that he's really given me a chance to say no. He's barrelled his way in and planted himself firmly in the middle of my life, whether I want it or not. It's why it's going to hurt that much more when it's over.
"Silly me," I mutter, ripping my stupid tear-filled eyes from his delicious body and walking to the toilet before dropping down.
I'm not really a fan of peeing in front of the guy I'm seeing, but right now, I don’t have a lot of fucks to give about the situation. I have a feeling that Dawson is going to see me in a worse position than sitting on a damn toilet in the near future.
"Love Hearts. Really, Piper?" he asks, dragging my eyes up from the tiled floor, to where he's holding my bottle of shower gel with a raised brow. "Feeling nostalgic?"
"Don't flatter yourself. It was on offer."
"Sure it was." He squeezes another generous amount on to the pink puff in his hand and begins rubbing it over himself once more.
"You really want me off you, huh?" I comment bitterly.
"You have no idea."
"So that's it, is it? You fuck me into oblivion, wash me off and what, walk out of here like it never happened?"
"Yep, that's pretty much the long and short of it. Why? Did you want to cuddle?"
"You know, you've turned into a right arsehole, Dawson."
Standing, I press the flush with more effort than is necessary. I'm back in the bedroom and pulling my robe on when he calls out.
"Fucking bitch."
A wicked smile pulls at my lips. I know all too well how hot that shower runs when the cold is pulled away from it.
"You're welcome, arsehole," I shoot over my shoulder, heading for the kitchen for a drink.
I want alcohol, but I've already had enough of that, and look where it led me.
That had nothing to do with the drink.
I shake the thought from my head and grab a mug from the cupboard.
My coffee is almost done when he joins me in the room.
Sucking in a steeling breath, I turn around.
As expected, I find him fully dressed and ready to leave.
"Well, thanks. I guess."
"Don't think that me walking out right now means we're done."
"Wouldn't dream of it. I want to say it was fun but..."
He chuckles, and the sound washes over me like melted chocolate.
Our eyes hold and something crackles between us. The tether that was always pulling us together is back with a vengeance, making me desperate to step up to him.
My eyes drop to his lips and my tongue sneaks out to wet my bottom one. I want him to kiss me so fucking bad.
With a simple nod of his head, he spins away from me and walks out.
The second he's gone, a violent shiver rushes through me, and I can't help but wonder if I imagined the whole thing.
I spin to collect my mug, and my muscles pull, evidence that it was all very real.
He worked me over in a way that was so needed, but now I've had it, I know I'm only going to crave more.
He gave me everything I needed and more. I blow out a breath, suddenly feeling exhausted. I dump the mug in the sink and go back to my bedroom.
His scent hits me almost immediately, and the loneliness I've become all too used to over the years slams back into me, making tears burn my eyes.
Just for those few stolen minutes, I felt like I belonged once again.
11
Dawson
The second the main door to the building closes behind me, I fall back against the wall and pull my phone from my pocket.
I've got a stream of messages from the guys talking about their night out and inviting me to join them if I'm not otherwise engaged—or, in Titch's words, balls deep in pussy. The temptation to agree, call an Uber and join them is strong. Although not as strong as my desire to head back upstairs and take Piper again.
"Fuck," I growl, the image of her spreadeagled on her bed not so long ago burned into my brain. There were only one or two things that were missing from that scene. Things I plan to do to her at my first possible opportunity.
My fingers twitch to get her in my chair in the studio and set to work on her.
She's a virgin, a blank canvas. My fucking kryptonite. Especially when she needs a permanent reminder of who she belongs to. Seems like the perfect way to ensure she remembers.
Closing down their messages, I pull up the Uber app and call a car to take me home instead.
It would be so easy to spend my Friday night out getting drunk and pulling an easy woman or two like I used to, but my life is different now.
I've heard nothing from Emmie, so I can only assume that's because she's fine at home. She hasn’t really gone out much since she moved in with me. I was worried about her leaving friends behind and completely starting over. I was expecting her to want them to come around, to be forced to endure nights of girls sleepovers. But as of yet, I haven’t even learned any of their names, let alone met them.
It makes me wonder what her life really was like with her mother.
She always puts on a brave face whenever we've spent time together, which admittedly, isn't as much as we should have thanks to her vindictive mother. I gave up everything to be the father Emmie deserved, but even then she threw it in my face. It’s why I couldn't really argue when Emmie decided to call it quits on her mother and move in. I just still can't believe she allowed it.
My eyes are heavy by the time the car pulls up in front of my place. The lights in the living room are still on, and when I walk inside, I find Emmie exactly where I left her: under a blanket, surrounded by snacks, and watching something on the TV.
"Hey, good night?" she asks without taking her eyes from the screen.
Something twists in my chest at her question.
"Uh, yeah, it was okay," I lie. In truth, it was fucking incredible, and I wish it was still continuing.
The way Piper's eyes burned into me while I was in her shower, I knew all I had to do was call her over and she'd have joined me in a heartbeat. I could have had her against the wall and been inside her again in seconds.
But I couldn't.
I've been with her twice in a week, and already I crave her more than any other woman I've spent time with in the past seventeen years.
I didn't understand the connection we had when we were kids, and I sure as fuck don't understand it now.
I put it down to us being young and in lust back then. I was a horny teenage boy who finally had a girl all to himself. I was in my element, because she was as insatiable as I was.
It seems that may have been one thing that's not changed.
I slam down thoughts of what she's been doing for the past few years. I don't need images of her with other guys in my head or I'll likely end up locking her up in my bedroom to stop it ever happening again.
It's bad enough that she's out there where my father, Cruz, or any other guys could recognise her. I don't need to be worrying about other men too.
I think back to the posh guy she was dancing with earlier. The two of us are like night and day. He looked like a snooty private school toff, and I'm… well, me.
"You good? I'm gonna head up."
"Yeah, yeah," she waves me off.
"You know this has to change come Sunday night, right? I'm not having you staying up late and turning up to school exhausted."
"Sure thing," she agrees, but I don't think for a second that she heard a single word that just came out of my mouth.
We've lived together pretty seamlessly over the past few weeks, but I fear that could all be about to change when I start expecting her to actually do something and be responsible.
I scrub my hand across my face as I walk from the room and climb the stairs. Piper's lingering scent along with the fucking Love Hearts
fill my nose and sends me back a few years.
"Love Hearts, really?" I ask as she snatches them from the shelf.
"Yeah, I love them."
"But we're at the cinema. You have popcorn."
"You might. I have Love Hearts."
"You're weird," I say lightly, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her into my body.
"You're weirder," she whispers, staring up at me, her violet eyes sparkling with lust and excitement.
We don't get to spend much time together out in public for fear of being spotted. We should be mortal enemies due to our surnames, not devouring each other at any chance we get. But I wanted to treat her right, like any girl deserves. So we'd both made up some bullshit story to our parents about spending the weekend with friends, hopped on my bike, and got the hell out of the city.
Thankfully, Justin, my best friend’s parents are never home, so hopefully there will be no reason for my parents to suspect anything or for anyone to tell them differently.
I couldn't even remember the name of the place I'd booked, but I didn't care. I was too excited to spend the entire weekend with my girl without constantly looking over our shoulders. We both knew what the consequence would be if we were caught; it was a constant weight pressing down on our shoulders. But being away together without that pressure? It was everything.
Together we'd handed our ticket over to the guy at the stand, her clutching her Love Hearts and me, my giant tub of popcorn, and we found ourselves seats at the very back of the movie theatre in the shadows and got comfortable.
Sadly, it was a little too full to do any of the wicked things I wanted to do to her in my head, so I was forced to be satisfied with resting my hand on her upper thigh and watching the film she'd chosen.
It was okay, I guess. But nowhere near as fun as getting between her legs while she tried to keep quiet like I was desperate to do.
"Here," she says without looking over at me.
Glancing down to her hand, I find a Love Heart sitting in her palm. Reaching out, I lift her hand closer to my face so I can see what it says.
Be mine?
Glancing over at her, I find a sly smile playing on her lips. We hadn’t talked about us being anything serious since it started. We both knew we were playing with fire, but in that moment, I knew that I'd deal with anything either of our fathers could throw at us if it meant we could be together.
Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4) Page 8
