by Gwen Allen
When I don't enter her, her eyes burn into me accusingly then they soften and fill with lust as I grope her breasts. She lets out a shaky breath and moves her lips without actually making any words or sounds. The shiver of her body passes through me.
The way her hardened nipples feel against the palms of my hands, the way my cock aches to fill her, I can't take any more. I push in, take her hard and clamp a hand over her mouth so the whole house doesn't hear her scream. Rooted deep inside her, fitting my body on top of hers, I can feel every breath she takes and every shudder.
"You're mine," I tell her then I pull back. "You need to remember whose whore you are." I sink in again, hard. I want to be in her up to my balls.
She's all softness and warmth as she bites her lower lip and looks up at me, her eyes big, face blushing bright red, moaning. I don't need her. I just need to be inside her.
I hold her writs and pin them crossed above her head. That's it. I watch her writhe, pinned to the floor by my cock. Seeing her mouth open in a moan, I dive in for a kiss. I'm going to fuck the life out of her.
Like this I can do whatever I want to her. It's a good feeling. I can't remember enjoying the power I have over a woman quite this much, not ever. Julie does bring out the worst in me, or is it the best? Whatever it is, she's certainly enjoying it.
But she isn't supposed to. I want to make her suffer, but she only calls my name, begs for more. Her back arches off the floor. Her breathing is too fast, her words broken.
"Don't you dare come!" I warn her too late.
She's coming then she laughs. "Keep it up and I might do it again," she says. Her voice shakes from how hard I'm pounding her.
For a delicate looking thing, she can take more than I would give her credit for. She quivers against me and around me with hot, little aftershocks. I can't take it. I'm coming deep inside her, but I still don’t feel that I truly own her.
I need more. I came but I'm still hard and I keep pumping. But I can tell it's too much for her. She puts up her hand, her palm on my chest. I know she means stop, enough. And I can't move. I can't thrust into her even one more time. It’s like I've been frozen in place.
Fuck! How does she do that? Bitch is yanking my leash and I heel like I'm her fucking dog. I breathe hard and look down at her, hating her more than ever. And what the hell does she do? She looks up at me and smiles.
She rises up toward me, clutching fistfuls of my shirt. Her soft lips grazed my stubble and a groan rumbles through my chest. When she makes me feel like this, I can't think. I grab her by the hair and pull her head back, making her back arch, her breasts rise.
She looks at me with those impossibly pretty eyes of hers. I hate her eyes. I hate her lips. I hate kissing her, sliding my tongue in her mouth, tasting her, feeling her moan. I'm clutching her to me, losing myself in her.
Damn she feels good, too good. She makes me lose my head.
No. This is all wrong. She didn't get my point at all, so I stop kissing her and spell it out to her. "I don't share," I growl in her face.
"Share what?" she asks, sitting up and frowning at me.
"You!" She is so fucking infuriating. "If you weren't so busy coming, you might have gotten the point. That was a punishment," I tell her.
She looks dismayed and pulls the sheet down from her bed. "If that was a punishment, then you did it wrong." She wraps herself in the sheet and stands up. "Next time, try not using your dick for a purpose it was not intended for." She looks down at me as she says it, and I get off the floor so I can loom over her.
"You want me to put you over my knee and spank your naked ass?" I ask her.
She blushes and looks mad. "What is this about? Is this because I was out with Henry?"
"Is that his name? What did his sob story get him?" I ask her.
"Story?!" she looks really mad now. "Don't you have any compassion for anyone? His sister has cancer, the same thing my dad died from. That's why he's turning to me because we're friends, not to get into my pants, you insensitive jerk." She shoves at my chest, but I don't budge an inch.
I grab hold of the sheet she wrapped around herself and use it to pull her against me. "You belong to me until I am done with you. Don't cross me," I warn her.
She tries to wrench herself free, but I don't let her. Putting my arms around her, I left her up. She kicks a little but then goes still. Her pretty eyes move from my eyes to my mouth. I lift her higher and she leans down for a kiss. Her hair fans around me.
I carry her to the bed and let her fall into it. I want to get on top of her, but I stop myself. I feel like I could fuck her all over again, but then I might be tempted to spend the whole night with her. And then what? Another night and the one after?
That can't happen. I turn and leave her, shutting the door on the temptation of her whole being. I should have never started this, but I couldn't have known how much I would like making her mine.
Chapter 17
~
Julie
Damn it, why? I lie on my bed and ask myself that. Why did he leave? Why is he so crazy? Why couldn't he stay and fuck me again?
He called me his and I loved it. But I'm not. His voice was rough, sexy and raw, making me shake inside, making me believe it. It's a lie. I know it as I sit up in bed all alone. If I was his, he would be here.
He doesn't own me just because he fucked me, even if it feels like he does. I unwrap the sheet and look around for the clothes he ripped. Asshole.
I didn't care at the time. I thought it was hot. Getting into my pajamas, I curl up in bed. Before I know it, I'm fast asleep, wishing Vince was here with me.
The next morning, I'm still mad. After a shower, I look in the mirror. Grabbing the hair dryer, I remember how Vince told me not to cut my hair. I set the hair dryer aside.
He has no right to tell me what to do, and I'll prove it. It should be simple enough. I go through the drawer in the bathroom and find a pair of scissors. They'll do the trick, and then I'll have a hairdresser fix whatever mess I'm about to make.
I have the scissors in my hand. I open them. I reach for a strand of my hair. Then I take some more in my hand. No point being a wuss about it.
I have a big chunk of hair right between the scissor blades, but I just can't cut it off. And it isn't because I love my hair so damn much. It's because of him. If Vince likes my hair long, then I want my hair to be long.
Cursing myself, I put down the scissors. What the hell is this feeling? It's been coming to me in pieces ever since I met him. I love the pounding of his body against mine. I love his hardness and the way his anger turns into bliss. I love his frightening strength and his cruel eyes.
It can't be.
It can't be true.
I don't love him.
I get ready like a sleepwalker. I don't remember where I'm supposed to be today until I look at my schedule. When Mom sees me, she checks my forehead. She's sure I have a fever.
She's relieved that I don't, but I wish I did. I want this to be sickness I can get over. I'm so scared. What if this feeling doesn't go away? What if I can't get over him?
I can't eat so I just have coffee and go on a walk through the grounds. Walking toward the pool, I'm shocked to see Vince pushing himself out of the water, climbing out of the pool and dripping everywhere. As he goes to get a towel, I try to make my escape.
"Sneaking around?" Vince says and I stop.
"Just taking a walk. Thinking about how short to cut my hair," I tell him.
Now Vince's eyes get threatening and he stalks over to me.
I stand my ground, but his chest is naked, with droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His legs and arms are perfectly muscled and I want to touch him everywhere. Seeing him up close, in just his swim trunks, I suppress a shiver, but I can't do anything about the blush that colors my cheeks. Damn him.
Vince reaches for my hair and tangles his fingers through it. "This hair? I think I told you never to cut it." His blue eyes flash, the look he gives me st
eely and commanding.
"The next time I get my hands on a pair of scissors, this hair is history," I tell him.
He grabbed hold of it and tugs me close, not hard enough to hurt, just hard enough to make me hope he'll kiss me. I can feel my face heating up and my legs starting to shake as he glares at me. I don't want to feel how completely I belong to him, but I'm melting into his arms.
With his lips against my ear, he lays down the law. "You don't cut your hair. You're mine. Get that through your head."
I want to tell him he doesn't own me and I'll do whatever I fucking want with my own hair, but his stubble grazes my cheek and then his lips follow. As his lips inch closer to mine, I'm losing my head. But then I hear the gate to the pool squeak and I jump, ready to pull away. Vince doesn't let me. His eyes lock on my parted lips and he shakes his head.
Looking over his shoulder, I see that the guys who clean the pool have arrived. As long as they don't leave the area around the pool, they can't see us where we are behind the tall, perfectly trimmed bushes that make up the hedge. But what if they come closer? I'm ready to put an end to this, but that's when Vince's lips glide over mine, feathery and teasing.
If he hurried it up, he could get this kiss over with before we're seen, but his lips only graze mine. He's in control and all I can do is breathe him in and claw at his naked back. While he holds me by the hair, I can't even deepen the kiss.
As he kisses me with cruel and deliberate slowness, I can hear low voices as the pool guys talk just on the other side of the hedge. If they come this way, they'll see the torturous, slow kiss Vince is giving me as he holds me by my hair.
I hear footsteps and barely manage to speak up. "Someone is coming," I say in a breathy whisper, but Vince doesn't let go.
His lips ghost over mine and then his tongue slides inside. Now he deepens the kiss, and I moan around his tongue. If the pool guys are still there, I don't know and I don't care. I'm giving myself over to Vince. My consciousness dissolves into that kiss. He tastes like everything wrong and bad and everything I want.
Chapter 18
~
Julie
Vince has been gone for weeks. Taking his father's place, he's out of town on business and he'll be back in two days. I wish I could say that I spent my time wisely while he has been gone, getting over him, maybe dating other guys, or at least going out there to try and meet someone.
Not even close. I miss him and all I've been doing is moping around. Sitting on a bench in the garden, I have a book on my lap but I haven't read a word. I thought being away from Vince would help me come to my senses, but I'm worse, not better. Now that he's gone, I feel crazy for him, like I would do anything to have him inside me again.
When we're together, it's like we share the same soul. Then he turns away and walks out, leaving me confused and pining for him. Do I really adore him so much? Am I so deluded that I convinced myself that he feels something for me? He's so cold and uncaring, and I'm an idiot.
As I stare down at the unopened book on my knees, I see Mom coming my way. She's smiling, but there's a funny look in her eyes. When she takes a seat next to me, I ask her, "What's going on? Is everything Ok?"
Mom nods but she seems choked up.
"Mom?" I prompt her and take her hand.
"I have some news," she says, her voice hashed. "It's nothing bad. Curtis and I were going to wait and tell both you and Vince together, but then we decided to let you know first." She takes a deep breath. "I'm pregnant." She tears up and takes another shaky breath just as I take her in my arms.
"Oh, Mom. You're going to make me a big sister," I tell her, tearing up too.
"And a babysitter too," she tells me as she pulls back and blinks away tears.
"Are you worried?" I ask her. My Mom had two miscarriages after I was born.
"I am, but the doctor is keeping a close eye on me. But there is Vincent—I mean Vince—to deal with." She sighs. "Curtis is worried about how he'll react."
"Me too," I say under my breath. Speaking louder, I assure her, "I'm sure it will be Ok." I don't want her to worry about that. The way I see it, Vince is my problem. I'll deal with him.
"I want this to be happy news to everyone who hears it," Mom says.
"It will be. Vince isn't heartless. His mother's death is still haunting him. That's why he's so difficult to deal with, but he has his moments," I tell her and hope I'm not giving away too much.
"I guess you two have talked," Mom says.
"A few times," I admit.
"Sweetie, you know you don't have to force yourself to spend time with him just because he's your stepbrother," Mom tells me. "Sometimes you can be too nice."
I smile weakly. I don't know what to say. If only she knew, but I'm horrified when I think that she might find out about us. For now, all I care about is that Vince doesn't blow up when he hears the news about the baby.
Late last night, Vince came back from his business trip. This morning I'm on my way to his apartment to see him. His flight arrived after 10:00PM, and I consider that a stroke of luck. He won't get a chance to talk to his dad before I can get a crack at him.
To make sure of that, I thought about picking him up at the airport last night. Then I decided it was better to let him get a good night's sleep. As I arrive at his place early in the morning, I hope I won't be waking him. It can't be helped if I do. I have to talk to him before he goes over to the house and talks to his dad.
Vince's apartment building is modern and impressive, all gleaming glass and steel. As an uninvited guest, I have to wait while the doorman calls his apartment for permission to let me up. I wait nervously and wonder if Vince will send me away without even letting me come up to his door.
When the doorman gets off the phone and ushers me through an elegantly decorated lobby to an elevator, I'm so relieved. The feeling is short-lived when I remember why I'm here and who is waiting for me on the fifteenth floor. I stand in the elevator as it goes up and tell myself to just breathe. The closer I get to his floor, the more apprehensive I feel.
Stepping off the elevator, I walk on plush carpeting in the hallway and look around for his apartment number. Once I'm on his doorstep, I get ready to explain why I'm here. Knowing him, Vince is going to assume that I'm just here to jump him. It's not like I haven't thought about it constantly since he's been gone, but I have to stay focused.
Before I can ring his bell, he swings the door open wide. Startled, I stand there with my finger over the doorbell. Vince is looking me up and down and there is no mistaking what's on his mind.
"So you're here to welcome me back," he says.
"I want to talk to you," I tell him but it's more like I'm here to defuse a bomb.
I'm glad to see that Vince is fully dressed, and I can smell coffee as he motions me inside his apartment. Actually, I can't swear that there is an apartment because all I can see is the view through the huge windows. The sky stretches out broken up by skyscrapers. I see colorful rooftops to the west and the rising sun over the hilltops in the east. The river sparkles cutting the downtown in half. From here I can see both the Sullivan and Brightbow Bridges.
"Would you like some coffee or maybe you would like to make out with that view," Vince says seeing how taken I am with it.
"No coffee for me, but if I could make out with that view..."
Vince grabs me around the waist and swings me around. "The view isn't available. You'll just have to settle for me," he says. He is a beautiful sight too. All the light that streams into this apartment lights up his blue eyes. He's an amazing sight and his arms around me feel so good.
But I can't let him distract me. I pull away from him and look around the apartment to get my bearings. The floors are dark wood the color of molasses. The seating is dark brown leather. The furniture is unpolished wood and rough looking metal. It has its own masculine beauty, but I feel like the décor is sending out a message, something like "Get the hell out, girly, if you know what's good for you."
"You hate my apartment. Let's go see how you like the bedroom," he says and places his hand on my lower back to guide me there.
I jump away from him and remind him, "That's not why I'm here. I have news. I wanted to be the first to tell you, so when you hear it from your dad, you'll react the right way."
The expression on Vince's face darkens as he regards me with narrowed eyes. "What is this about? Spit it out."
"My mom is pregnant."
His first reaction is shocked denial. "The fuck she is."
I confirm it. "She is. My mom is going to have a baby. Your dad will be telling you the same thing soon enough. And when he does, you are going to congratulate them and not throw a fit."
"You don't control me."
"Try some self-control then."
"I exercise self-control every time I don't tell your mother what I really think of her. But I think it's about time I did," he says and heads for the front door.
"No way in hell," I tell him and block the door.
"You think you can stop me?" He fixes me with an angry look and for a moment I'm afraid to breathe. Damn him.
The truth is I don't know if I can stop him but I have to try. "Have you even thought about what this means?" I ask him reasonably. "That baby is going to be our little brother or sister. And you are going to be nice to that kid before and after he or she is born. Got it!?"
"You expect me to be happy about this?" he asks like I said something outrageous. "I'm just supposed to sit back and watch while your mother leads my dad by the nose?"
"Let them be happy!" I yell then take a few deep breaths.
"And in exchange you'll keep me satisfied and on a short leash," he accuses me as a mean look comes into his eyes.
"A leash isn't enough. You need a cage and a guy with a tranquilizer gun to stand guard," I tell him.
"Well you're not a guy, so you must be my cage. Let's see if you can keep me here," he challenges me while I block his way. He then walks straight toward me like he can barrel right through me and go out the door.
