by Hazel Grace
But she doesn’t, not when Mills finds her hips, and she abrades her ass against his body.
Her lips move to the words of Harley Quinn by Princess Nokia. The bass gives her confidence, and so does the several drinks Mills ordered for her, and God knows what else they’ve consumed.
She’s fucking stunning in this lighting, and I can’t help but just gawk at her. I’m not able to move because I’m rock hard and I’ll do something extremely stupid. Fucking my ex-prisoner isn’t on the to-do list, especially in a strip club.
And she warrants more than that.
Mills’ palms land on her upper thighs and pulls so that his cock and her pussy are perfectly aligned. Her eyes flutter, and I know he’s hard right now, and dare I say, so is she? She doesn’t quit, her body twerking in his lap, the way Mills’ fingers just spread and are traveling down to her center has my whole demeanor about to break.
In five, four, three, two...
Stormi bites down on her lower lip, confirming the fact what I just feared. She wants to come...and she either doesn’t care if it’s Mills or maybe that’s what she’s wanted since day one.
And who the hell am I to take that from her?
If she’s having a great time, I’m just the asshole that keeps taking shit from her. She deserves every moment, no matter if I want them to particularly play out that way or not.
Mills must make her feel good. And apparently, he’s doing a really good job right in front of my face—Stormi seems to forget I’m here. Her eyes are semi-closed, and she seems to be enjoying how she’s feeling right now.
Yeah, I’m fucking done with this shit.
My hand is already clutching her arm, yanking her off Mills within seconds of me getting to my official breaking point. Her chest crashes into mine, and I’m backing myself and her to where I was previously just sitting. My ass hits the couch, and I drag her into my lap, letting her full weight fall on top of me.
She peers down at me, eyes glossed over in a pretty blue haze of pink drinks and jello shots.
“Sweetheart,” I growl in her face. “You are definitely not going to fucking finish on my buddy’s lap in front of my face.”
“Finish what?” Her lips heave in a flirtatious smirk as her hands trail down my chest from my shoulders. “That was rude.”
“Fuck you,” I snap through pinched brows. “Do you think that shit was funny?”
“Watching you stomp over to me like a petulant child—” Her lips curl into a smile.”—yeah, it was.”
“Remember what I said.” I’m going to make sure that no one, not even you, is going to get fucked under my roof. “I’m not playing with you, Stormi.”
“I’m not under your roof.” She angles her neck to get the hair away from her face, but it only opens up what I’ve wanted to sink my teeth into since the first time I noticed how beautiful she was.
My eyes tighten. “You finally ready for the consequences I had in mind?” Stormi erases space, thrusting her ass out for Mills and whatever other fucker to view.
Me, on the other hand, I’m trying to keep a steady breath. I’m attempting not to take advantage of her while she’s had way too much to drink.
The consequences I had in mind were slapping her ass and telling her that we’re going home. If she were sober, I’d be balls deep inside her, but I’m not that much of a fucking dumbass to know that sober Stormi wouldn’t want me fucking her to Pluto and back.
“What were those again?” she presses, her blues scanning my face incoherently. Her fingers begin to pick at my shirt, tempting me more than anything in my life.
“You want to come, sweetheart? Is that what you were trying to do?” Her cheeks pinken.
There she is.
Liquid courage is a real thing, folks.
“I was just feeling the music,” she replies.
“And Mills’ cock rubbing up against your ass or your clit.” Her eyes drop down to my body, and what’s not so amusing is how self-conscious she is when I’m around her when she’s perfectly placated around Mills and Bishop.
Serves me right, I was the only one who caused mental and physical discomfort. However, it doesn’t stop me from wanting to change it.
“Was his hardness rubbing against you?” I lift her by her ass so that her pussy is now lined up with my hard as hell cock. “You’re too fuckable when you’re moving around like that, sweetheart.”
Her blues flick back up to my hazels, meeting my stare. “Why do you keep complimenting me?”
“Because it’s true.” Her head starts to move back and forth, but I grasp the sides of it with my palms. “You can thank me for being so honest instead of arguing and show me.”
“Show you?”
This woman...
I loom in, smelling the tequila on her breath and the sweetness of whatever they mixed it with. “Are you going to dance for me, sweetheart. I haven’t gotten one yet.”
“You don’t deserve one.” Her forehead presses into mine. “But, I’m sure Claire will offer you one if I ask.”
I knead her ass once for no other reason than I wish to. And that I need her to know that I crave her like a bad habit.
“I only want you,” I volunteer. “Haven’t you figured that out already?”
“I think it’s safe to say—” She shifts her face to my ear, sending a thrill of excitement through my body. “—you’re a man that’ll take anything that’s readily there. And I’m here...with you.”
She pulls herself away to my dismay, making me feel the loss of her immediately. But she grinds her pussy against my dick, and I groan outwardly.
I bring my hands around, letting them lightly graze her sides, and it seems to give her some sort of assurance because Stormi—the woman I stabbed, cut, flipped over and half-drowned—was giving me a lap dance. The thin material of her leggings leaves nothing to the imagination of how good it would feel.
I watch her eyes shut on their own accord, which only has me wanting to thrust upward.
When she rotates her hips again, she grips my shoulders, and a whole other scenario begins to play out in my head of us naked, her bare tits in my face, and me buried inside her.
And what kind of man would I be if I didn’t share?
“Damn,” I mutter, letting my hands rest around under her hips. I want to erase Mills’s touch like a selfish fuck and keep mine there. “You’re like this...”
She looms closer. “Like what?”
“I want to make you come, Stormi. Right in the middle of this club, when you are worthy of so much more. When maybe you won’t remember for just a split second that you’ll regret it afterward.”
“Here?”
“Fucking here.”
“How...would you do that?”
I arch my back, giving her the whole length of my cock and not just some of it. “Torture me, baby. This will be the best way you’ll ever get to do it.”
That gets her full attention.
A little more than I thought it would because I guess I expected her to just let bygones be bygones and let me off the hook.
Forgiveness was something I may have been naive about in some way, but Stormi is a better person than me. She may never forget, but I don’t think she’d hold a gun to my head either.
Granted, there is no gun. Just my rigid cock and the fact that I have one of the most alluring females I have ever seen in my lap right now to give me blue balls for the rest of my life.
“Emric,” she whispers, nearing in closer to me. “What does all this entail?”
“Torturers choice,” I reply. “You’re the boss.”
Her lips heave in a wide grin. “The boss.”
Yeah, I said it.
I reach for my Coors Light that’s lukewarm and begin chugging the contents down until Stormi’s hand lands on mine. She plucks it out of my palm and brings it to her lips that I would love wrapped around me.
She tips it back and swallows in one gulp. I lick my bottom lip, savoring the barley taste of my
salvation to get me through this. Stormi’s eyes follow my tongue, and my dick twitches in response.
Everything next is some sort of blurred dream that I can feel, smell, and taste. Stormi’s lips find mine, mildly brushing, and learning.
So, the first time she was half fucking out of it after I held her underwater for too long. Second time, it was to keep her from screaming with a load full of kids in a van next to us. Now she’s drunk, and I’m tipsy off her mixed with the jealousy that was clogging my brain. I guess I can’t be too picky with how this shit works.
Half of me feels a twinge of regret—again.
The other half is chiding at me to shut the fuck up and take it how it comes.
Stormi’s chest presses into mine as she adjusts herself in my lap. Then she begins the slow and hot process of grinding, rubbing, and humping my dick.
I feel like a teenager getting to fuck for the first time. I’m anxious, hot, and exceedingly turned on right now. So much so that I’m about to start panting in the next few seconds like a virgin touched for the very first time.
“I think the deal was,” Stormi utters between my lips. “That you were going to make me finish.”
My whole body laxes and crumples at her words, submitting to whatever she asks or tells me to do.
Fuck, that’s new.
Nevertheless, I’d do anything right now to hear her fragment and fall apart in my arms.
My hand finds the area between her legs, and I begin to circle her clit through the thin material of her leggings. The other is kneading her ass as I slip my tongue inside her mouth.
Sweet and gentle time is over. I’m going to devour her with my lips and fingers and pray to God it’s not the last time before she leaves me.
Her breath hitches, leaving enough space for my hand between us but still wanting to keep our lips meshed and exploring. I want to feel how wet she is, taste her on my tongue, but we’re in public, it looks like we’re just making out and getting off on each other in a somewhat innocent way.
But innocent hasn’t always been my way.
Both of my hands clamp onto the thin fabric between her legs, and I tear at the seam, making one small hole for my finger to slip into. Stormi gasps, and I smile into her mouth.
“You’re the boss, baby,” I assert. “Do you wanna stop?”
“No.” Her answer is a mixture of both of our breathing. “I know what I’m doing.”
My own eyelids snap shut at the gravelly sound of her voice over the obnoxious bass of the music. The need to have her is overwhelming, to say the least, and I’m getting to a breaking point of taking her to a dark hallway, bathroom, the truck, anywhere without prying eyes.
I let my index and middle finger slip inside the small opening I created and find her panties soaked at the touch.
“Fuck,” I growl as Stormi’s next exhale is shuttered.
Yep, fuck. That’s exactly what I am and want to do.
“Ride my fingers, baby,” I stress. “Imagine it’s my cock wanting to slide in and fuck you until you can’t breathe or see right.” I press a kiss to her lips. “You’re fucking killing me right now.”
My dick painfully strains against my jeans as Stormi turns into someone I’ve never seen yet before—sexually craved. She begins to propel and demand her high as I find her clit, executing circles around the fabric of her panties.
It’s definitely the liquor.
But having this, regardless of how isn’t going to help my self-control moving forward.
I’ll want her all the time.
She’ll go back to wanting to go home.
This was fucked even before it started.
Stormi’s body rises and falls, driving herself into my touch. Her lips search for mine, and I gladly oblige, meeting her tongue almost immediately. I increase my speed, craving for her to break apart because of me, and what I can do to her.
Her hot exhales mix with mine. Her teeth sink into my bottom lip, and I groan like an animal. She was my prey, now she’s my karma—my tormentor. Because I don’t think I’ll find anything as sweet and beautiful as Stormi is right now.
“God, Emric,” she sighs. “I’m going to come.”
“Yes, sweetheart, take what you want.” I tuck my head into her neck, licking a trail up the column and into her ear, I whisper, “Use me, baby. Fuck me.”
She crashes, squeezing my shoulders until her nails are piercing into my flesh. I continue to stroke her, feeling a violent shiver leave her body as I relish in this moment for just another second.
Her jaw drops invitingly as she drifts downward, and I’m still rock-hard until I can jerk off on my own.
Removing my digits, I bring them to my lips, opening my mouth to finally savor how sweet she is, but her hand locks around my wrist.
Bending closer, her lips enclose over the two digits that I just used to send her crashing over, stealing away the one thing I was looking forward to this whole time. Her glossy blues stare at me as she sucks herself off me, and she did it.
She tormented and exploited myself and cock from having some sort of relief in the best possible way ever.
And unfortunately, Stormi may have just become something I’ll never recover from.
May God have some sort of mercy on my soul.
Two gunshots startle me from my sleep, whipping my body upright, and my eyes sprinting through the room for an intruder or Emric changing his mind and killing me.
Dresser, small desk, chair, and the window that is covered by white meshed curtains, it’s only me here.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I whisk the sound away as the beginning of a pounding headache starts to form in my temples. The house remains eerily quiet like it always is besides the chirping of the birds outside and the soft breeze.
I was fully aware last night that this may happen.
Each jello shot and pink drink that Mills swiped and I ordered was going to take its toll on me. That my body wasn’t accustomed for such amounts and I’d do things that I—
Oh crap.
My eyes expand as visions of straddling Emric’s lap and his fingers stroking my pussy plow through the forefront of my head and the annoying ticking of the aftermath of too much liquor.
I want to make you come, Stormi. Right in the middle of this club, when you are worthy of so much more. When maybe you won’t remember for just a split second that you’ll regret it afterward.
I wait for it, pulling up my white comforter to my chest and somewhat ready to face the consequences. For them to slap me across the face and scold me for being so stupid and careless. For not thinking clearly and using my buzzed state to do things that are unacceptable in my circumstance.
But it doesn’t come.
Another crack of a gunshot ricochets off my bedroom walls, and I jolt out of bed.
“Emric!” My hands immediately cover my mouth at my bad decision.
If there are bad guys in this house, I just gave away my position.
Shit.
I listen for a noise, voices, a creak along the hardwood floors in the hallway outside my bedroom door, but nothing greets me back.
Slowly, I make my way to my door, finding it empty and Emric’s bedroom door open.
Another crack of gunfire rouses my body, and I jump in response, snapping my neck to the sound of it being outside. My anatomy buzzes with anxiety as I peer out at the familiar woods that surround the house. The beautiful country-side scenery when my gaze falls on Emric shoving a magazine in a gun.
He’s alone, peering over his shoulder at one of the three blacked-out silhouette targets and rolls his wide shoulders. Dressed in a baby blue tee that makes the black tattoos of his sleeve pop out, I study him taking a sip of his coffee, lost in his own world of thought.
I’m misplaced in mine, going through uncharted terrain, and the way that feelings of being terrified of him are replaced with a sense of normalcy.
This isn’t natural.
It’s not a typical reaction to someone who kid
napped you, tortured and interrogated, then flipped his switch and treats you like a human being.
Torture me, baby. This will be the best way you’ll ever get to do it.
My body buzzes, hitting my core with just the replay of how his eyes blazed with lust. I’ve seen how Emric looks at me but, last night, he was everywhere—jealous, overbearing, and aroused. I wanted him to do more than strum me with his fingers and taunt me with dirty words. I craved his lips all over my hot skin, his tongue to dance over my neck, and tell me everything he wanted to do in that moment.
Except there was Bishop and Mills behind us.
Behind us.
My face blazes in embarrassment at what they probably think of me. I literally threw myself at Emric and did something very private in a public place. I humped Emric like a horny dog and could’ve put on a show for the patrons of the club with the amount of grinding I did. I could’ve easily used Emric as my pole.
Pride slithers into my unease—I was spontaneous and fearless. I kissed a man that would never in a million years look in my direction, and I did it in front of literally anyone who looked in our way.
Thanks to the tequila, but still, I was aware of what I was doing. I comprehended what I was getting into when I let Emric touch me, and I don’t have much remorse other than the fact that Emric might be regretting it right about now.
Last night wasn’t awkward afterward. We left the club shortly after, and when we got home, he walked me to my bedroom.
That was it.
Throwing on some gray sweats and a white tee, I make my way downstairs and out the backdoor.
The sun warms my skin, blazing down on Emric as he aims and unloads his gun into the cream paper that is being held up by a tree. He lowers his weapon and stares long and hard at it, focused and composed.
It’s oddly fascinating and terrifying that this man can calculate a kill so easily. That he could flip said switch at any moment and take or protect a life. How dangerous and exhilarating that life must be.
“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he calls out, still studying his target. “You can come over here if you want to.” Pushing off the wooden siding, I walk to him as he takes that moment to glance over his shoulder.
