This is bad, Salem. You can’t revel in these things.
“You can’t do that. You can’t beat him up, Arrow,” I blurt out, my heart jumping up to my throat and pounding against his palm. “Your team won’t like that, you beating someone else up in a bar, in front of everyone.”
It’s like he doesn’t even hear me as he whispers, “And this time, they won’t be able to pull me off him until I finish the job.”
I have to clench my teeth in order to tamp down the electric thrill his words fill my belly with and something really stupid and dangerous slips out of my mouth, but I stop myself at the last second. “Have you…”
“Have I what?”
I don’t know what I hope to accomplish by asking this question but I can’t help it. I have to know. Because God, he looks so angry and wild and so crazy possessive.
“Have you always been like this? B-before.”
Stupid, stupid question.
Stupid, stupid Salem.
What would this accomplish anyway? Why do I care how he was before, when he was with my sister?
But the thing is, I don’t think he was like this. I don’t think he was this crazy dominating and crazy possessive. Sarah would have hated that.
Because Jesus Christ, I love every inch of this.
I love every fucking inch of his deep-seated need to control me.
When understanding breaks over his face like dawn, I fall in love with him even more. Because it only manages to darken his features. It only manages to make him wilder, more possessive, more… mine.
He leans forward, his grip on me still absolute. “No, I wasn’t.” His thumb digs into my fluttering pulse. “Maybe it’s you. Maybe you bring out the worst in me. And you wanted me, didn’t you? You wanted my fire. My heat. My fury.”
I jerk out a nod.
He throws out a mean, tight smile. “Well, you got me. Every broken, cut-open piece of me.”
Good.
I want him, however he comes. I want him to burn me, cut me, slice me open.
I don’t care.
I’ll still smile at him. I’ll still love him. I’ll still dive into the ocean and jump off an airplane for him.
He’s my Arrow.
My darling Arrow.
I swallow, feeling as crazy as him, feeling as submissive and feminine as he feels dominating and masculine. “I just wanted to be… perfect. For you. I wanted him to take that piece of me away that made me unfit so you’d –”
He cuts off my words when he steps into me even more.
On top of that, he pushes my neck back, so I look him directly in the eyes.
“You wanted to be perfect for me,” he rasps.
“Yes.”
A harsh look ripples over his face, and I don’t know if he wants to kiss me or kill me.
“Do you know what I’ve been doing all week? Ever since you started leaving your sexy fucking notes in my mailbox?”
“What?”
“I’ve been jerking off,” he says with clenched teeth. “I’ve been jerking off like a goddamn teenager, here, in my room. At the school, in my fucking office. I’ve had to stop myself three times – three fucking times – from sending for you so I could see.”
“See what?”
“Your virgin pussy,” he rumbles. “So I could see if you’re really not wearing any panties under those schoolgirl skirts of yours. If you’re really walking around the school hallways with that tight piece between your legs, all bare and unprotected. So I could see if your pussy is really as swollen and pouty as I think it is.”
Finally, I let go of the wall and clutch his t-shirt, my mouth all open and panting, my eyes all glazed over with lust.
But he’s not done yet.
He delivers his final line as he almost kisses my lips. “If you got any more perfect for me than you already are, I’d fucking lose my mind. I’d bend you over and fuck you in front of the whole school while they watch and gasp and talk about rule-breaking.”
Perfect.
He called me perfect for him.
Oh my God.
I don’t… I don’t know what to do. This is all I’ve ever wanted. To be perfect for him.
I don’t know what to say except, “Arrow, I –”
But he cuts me off again, his lips pressing into mine so hard, his teeth digging into my plump flesh. “Do you remember the rules?”
I arch my spine, trying to get closer to him. “What rules?”
He watches my struggle but doesn’t help me. He simply states, “My rules. Rules of being my fuck doll. You remember what I told you?”
I think about it. My mind is so foggy and drowning in lust and happiness at being called perfect for him that I have to really focus.
A second later, it comes to me. “Yeah, I do.”
“What are they?”
I swallow as a stinging needle pierces my bubbling happiness. “Y-you fuck them and forget them.”
His jaw clenches and something passes over his features, a shadow I don’t have the brain power right now to understand.
“There’s another rule,” he clips, pushing our mouths together, and I peek out my tongue and lick his lips to get his taste.
Tangy and fiery.
“What is it?” I whisper, promising to follow all his rules even though it will hurt me.
His blue eyes catch fire at my question.
His entire body catches fire when he replies, his voice and words bathed in violence. “That absolutely no one, no one at all, gets to touch what’s mine. Because I don’t share, remember? You don’t let anyone put their hands on you. You don’t dance with strange men. You don’t talk to them. You don’t look at them. You don’t think about them. Is that clear?”
That’s the easiest rule anyone has ever laid down for me.
The easiest rule in the whole world and I nod without hesitation. “Yes. I won’t. I don’t want anyone else.”
A dark satisfaction washes over his face, his body, and I can’t stop myself.
I don’t stop myself from kissing him.
I bite into his lip and tug at it and kiss him the way I’ve been thinking about for the past week. And he picks me up off the floor probably in the way that he’s been thinking about for the past week too.
As soon as my thighs cinch around his waist and my core rubs against his hard stomach, I let out a moan. He swallows it down with a grunt of his own.
“Where’d you get the skirt?” he asks, breaking the kiss, his palms kneading my ass in tight, sharp squeezes.
“My friends.”
He delivers a stinging slap to it, even as his voice is amused. “The ones who made your exit dramatic?”
I writhe in his arms. “Yeah.”
“Tell them I like them too. For looking out for you.”
I kiss his jaw, all happy. “Okay.”
“And tell them not to give you any more fucking skirts.” Another punishing slap that makes me whimper. “Because you won’t be wearing them after tonight.”
I clutch at his hair. “Not even with you?”
“No. Because you won’t be wearing much of anything when you’re with me.”
Before I can finish squeezing my thighs around him at his sexy words, I’m on his bed.
His kisses were so drugging and hot that I didn’t even realize that he was walking, taking me somewhere.
Now I’m on my back and he’s leaning over me, his silver chain dangling and hitting my chin.
But he moves away too soon.
With his cheeks flushed dark and mouth wet and parted, he stands at the foot of the bed, looking down at me while I clutch his sheets. They’re cool and smooth under my burning body.
“Show it to me,” he orders, his chest heaving.
Just like that, I know what he means.
I know.
His command flows inside my veins and fills me with so much lust and love and purpose that I can’t bel
ieve I haven’t exploded yet.
That I haven’t broken apart in a million pieces.
But it’s a good thing. Because I have to show him.
I have to show him my bare pussy and even though I didn’t think I’d have it in me, the strength, I still scramble up to my knees and shed his jacket in under two seconds.
I see him swallowing, his eyes narrowed and focused on my skirt, right where my pulsing core is.
Like they were back in that hallway when I gave him my first note.
“I’ve been…” I whisper, tugging at the hem of my skirt, and his eyes snap up to mine. “I’ve been wanting to come to your office too. To show you. My pussy.”
It’s true.
I’ve been dying to lift up my school skirt and show it to him.
For some reason, just pulling up the skirt instead of taking it off altogether makes everything more erotic. More illicit. More of a rule-breaking kind of thing.
Like I’m not supposed to do it. I shouldn’t want to show him that place between my thighs but I’m doing it anyway. I’m giving him a quick peek of what lies under my skirt because he makes me so horny and I can’t stop myself.
He clamps his jaw, his eyes glittering. “Do it then. Be my bad girl. Flash me that pussy and make me go crazy for it.”
If you got any more perfect for me, I’d lose my mind…
With his wonderful words echoing in my love-filled heart, I lift the fabric.
It goes up and up my trembling thighs, until it reaches my hips where I hold it. I move them, my hips, shifting on my knees, and at last, showing him the secret part of me.
I’ve got no panties on and he can see it all.
He can see the shape and the make of my core, all wet and naked for him. And he makes a sound.
He even jerks slightly at the sight of it.
Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he says, “She’s bare.”
I move again, undulating my hips, watching my sun turn dark and darker in front of my eyes. “I-I like how it feels.”
I do. So I shave it and keep it all smooth and bare.
He looks me in the eyes then. “Free, yeah?”
My fists tremble, holding the skirt up. “Yeah.”
He exhales a harsh breath at my answer before reaching back and snagging his t-shirt, pulling it up and off his body. His silver chain swings and comes to land between his muscular pecs with a slight thump.
God, he’s so sexy. So fucking masculine and athletic.
I don’t know where to look first.
I start at his collar bones, so beautiful and jutting, giving way to his tightly arched chest. The harsh planes dip down to build a corrugated stomach.
All tanned and smooth. So sleek and powerful.
Body of a sun-struck god.
I wanna go down further. I wanna follow the V of his pelvis and look at the bulge in his jeans but as soon as my eyes hit his belly button, he’s upon me.
One of his knees is on the bed and his hand has clasped the back of my neck, making me look up and into his eyes.
“I was going to go easy on you,” he tells me, his fingers squeezing my neck. “Because this is your first time. But you flashed me this cunt.” His other hand comes to grab it and I jerk at the first contact of his fingers with my most intimate flesh.
With my most intimate and horny flesh.
“And I thought I could handle it. I thought I could handle looking at your pussy that pouts for me but I was wrong. I can’t.” He squeezes my neck again as he dips his finger in the center of my slit, making me bite back a moan. “I can’t handle how ripe this feels.” He stops at ‘this’ and slathers his palm with my wetness. “You feel that? You feel how juicy you are, Salem? So fucking hot and swollen, ready for me to take a bite.” He bares his teeth at that and his thumb hits my clit as if pointing out where he’ll bite me.
“And I’m going to, you understand? I’m going to eat that peach between your legs in a second. But I want you to know that I’m not myself. I’m not… sane. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I was going to go easy but I can’t now. Now,” he says, clenching his teeth, “I’m going to destroy your pussy. I’m going to fucking trash it and hurt her so good and in so many ways that you can’t even begin to imagine. So if you want to back out, this is your last chance.”
Is he crazy?
I’m not backing out. There’s no way that I’ll ever back out. In fact, I let go of my skirt and grab his naked shoulders, feminine pride bursting in me.
So, so much pride and love and lust.
“I don’t wanna. Just…” I whisper.
“What?”
“Will you kiss me when you hurt my pussy?”
He grinds his jaw in response before he captures my mouth.
That’s when I lose myself too. That’s when I become insane like him.
That’s when I lose my heart and my soul and I become his fuck doll.
So when he breaks off the kiss to take off my t-shirt, I simply raise my arms and let him. When he pushes me on the bed, I spread my legs to accommodate him, the girth of his shoulders. When he moves down my body, I fist his sun-struck hair and arch my back.
And when he licks me right at the center of my pussy, I moan.
I moan and moan as if I’ve been electrocuted.
By his hot, scorching tongue and his hands that hold my legs open for him.
For him to eat me.
To eat the pouty lips of my pussy, and that virgin hole that’s never known anything other than my own fingers.
But now I know his tongue.
I know that his lips can suck on my flesh until I’m dying, and his tongue can circle the hole over and over until I’m screaming and writhing for him. I know that when he does all of that, he makes a sound.
A slurping sound.
A gulp as if he’s drinking something delicious.
He’s drinking me and he moves his head when he does it. He groans too as if I’m the tastiest thing he’s ever swallowed, and he follows that groan with a lash on my clit.
He taps on it with his tongue and he bites it lightly with his teeth.
The bite is what does it.
That is what makes me break. A tiny little prick of his teeth on my clit and everything tight, tight, tight inside of me unravels.
The fist that was beginning to form in my lower belly opens up and I jerk and arch, coming into his mouth. My ass comes off the bed and he grabs my cheeks and tips me up.
He tilts up my pelvis and when I open my eyes, I find him drinking at my cunt.
I find him slurping and groaning, his dirty blond head buried and bent over my core, his hands plumping up my ass.
Just when I think I’ll lose my mind even more at the erotic, hungry picture he makes, he lifts his head and I see that his jaw is covered in my cum and his eyes are bright with lust.
Licking his lips, he settles me down and I almost dissolve on the rumpled white sheets.
Especially when he climbs off the bed and begins to unbutton his jeans.
He does it all with tight, jerky movements, as if he’s at the end of his rope and he hates everything that’s keeping him away from me.
Even his jeans.
I can totally believe that. I can totally believe that he hates his jeans right now because God, the thing that they were confining was his dick.
And his dick is so. Fucking. Big.
And thick and dark-looking with a vein running on the underside of it. It curves slightly too, his shaft, at the end, the head fatter than the trunk.
Also, can I just say that it’s so pretty? Like, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything prettier than his dick and I wonder if anything this big and capable of doing real damage can look pretty.
It does to me though and I go to tell him that.
I go to tell him that the way his thing curves and the way it’s standing up straight, reaching his belly button, is
so beautiful but the sound of crinkling distracts me.
He has a condom in his hands that I somehow missed, and now he’s snapping it on his length. When he’s done, he stands there, naked and gorgeous, staring at me, and my feet slide up and down his messy bed.
He looks at my hair that must be spilled all around his pillow, followed by my cheeks. He stays a beat longer on my nose, which he’s always been so curious about, before going to my parted and painted lips. Then he looks at my heaving, flushed breasts and my trembling stomach. I still have my plaid skirt around my waist and my soccer cleats on, which I didn’t realize that I hadn’t taken off.
His eyes make me restless and I squirm on his bed, wanting him close. “Arrow.”
He looks up then, and as soon as our eyes clash, I raise my arms up, calling him to me, beckoning him.
A tightness comes over his features, his body, for a second before he moves and comes to me. Into my arms and over my body, his hips settling between my thighs, his heavy cock rubbing against my lower stomach.
When his chain swings and grazes my lips, I suck it into my mouth and his eyes narrow with lust.
Pushing the metal out with my tongue, I tell him, “I love your chain. It makes you look sexy.”
His latex-covered cock throbs on my stomach, his hands fisting the pillow on either side of me. “You mean, like my glares.”
“Yeah, like that.”
“You’re a pain in my ass, you know that, don’t you?”
He says it with such exasperation mixed in with a little bit of tenderness that I can’t help but smile. “I know. But I think you like me anyway.”
He hums, his lips twitching. “I think you shouldn’t push your luck.”
I grin and ask him something I’ve always wanted to ask. “Why do you always stare at my nose?”
He glances at it for a second before whispering, “Because you’ve got freckles on it. Thirteen, to be exact. And seven under your eyes.”
Something about that makes a lump in my throat.
A big, huge, emotional lump and I swallow once, twice, and bury my fingers in his thick, rich hair.
“You’ve counted the freckles on my face?”
“They’re a little hard to miss with how pale your skin is.”
My Darling Arrow Page 22
