by Zoey Parker
“Not yet,” he says from where he is perched between my legs. “I’ll tell you when it’s time.” He slips a finger underneath the edge of each side of my panties and slides them down my bare legs, leaving me moist and open before him. I wrench my shirt over my head and toss it aside, then fall back down. My knees collapse to either side.
It’s almost pitiful, how quickly I’m throwing myself at him. But the fire racing through every nerve ending, the pressure mounting in the core of every muscle, will not be denied. The only relief is to moan and hope that Vince lets me finish soon, before I shatter like glass.
I do just that, moaning loudly as he gently takes my clit into his mouth and adds a probing finger into my wet cunt. His finger slips easily into me, gesturing and twisting within, before he extracts it. The force of his licking on my throbbing button is steady and calm, a swishing ebb and flow like waves on the beach.
He adds a second finger. I wince at first, but quickly my body expands to absorb him. The increased tightness spreads his stimulation further within me, washing over each millimeter of my tunnel. I feel like a piano, spread open in front of him, and he’s playing every key with a perfect, deft touch.
The tempo of his licking increases. Round and round goes his tongue; in and out go his fingers. His free hand is squeezing my hip, anchoring me down to the bed as I begin to writhe underneath him. My breath is coming in sharp, short gasps, each more cloying than the last. It’s like my body is shutting down to focus on one thing and one thing only: coming as hard as it possibly can with Vince licking my pussy towards climax.
My legs jitter with the swelling pressure. I’m almost there, edging back and forth in mini-waves. Everything clenches tighter and tighter. Vince licks, fingers, suckles, and pins me down all at once. For one moment, everything is squeezed to its maximum and the involuntary shaking pauses. Then I explode, like water from a geyser, tumbling over into a tumultuous sequence of vibrations and spasms while I’m rocked from head to toe by a powerfully surging orgasm.
When it finally calms down and I open my eyes again, it takes a moment to focus and regain my bearings. I look down at Vince. He looks back to me, his mouth slick with my juices, a feral intensity scrawled across his features. I know how he feels—I want more, too.
I pull him towards me and he pounces like a jungle cat, catching himself just before his bulk crushes me. I scrabble to unbutton his jeans and shove them partway down his hips, far enough to free his manhood from the fabric. I unspool my tongue down his throat in a wide-open kiss while I simultaneously use two hands to encircle his girth and begin pumping him slowly to hardness.
My hands are hardly big enough to handle his long, thick cock. It takes the full reach of my fingers to wrap all the way around him. The head of it is glistening with a jeweled drop of pre-cum, like a salivating animal ready for its meal. Between my own legs, wetness glimmers in like kind.
Vince grabs one thigh in each hand and pulls me towards him. I let him position my hips, slanting upwards towards his. My pussy is inches away from the cock held between my fingers. My hair is splayed out across the pillows, dark and mussed. The low glare of the lamp on the bedside table flits across Vince’s face, casting long shadows that only highlight the glow of his eyes.
I lower his dick to slant down towards my opening. Rubbing myself gingerly against his tip, I see a pained moan ripple from his mouth. Alarmed, I stop.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
He looks down at me. “I don’t care if this building was about to burn down. As long as you’re doing that, then there’s not a single thing wrong in the whole goddamn world.”
Vince arches over hungrily to kiss me at the same time that he takes control of his member back from my grasp. He lines himself up with my entrance, but pauses just before sliding in. He breaks the kiss back and presses his forehead against mine. Our eyelashes are close enough to touch. All I can see is a whole ocean’s worth of green, churning with heat and need.
“I want to look you in the eyes the first time we fuck,” he says. “So I can watch you become mine.” Then he leans his hips forward and fills me.
I clamp my teeth on Vince’s shoulder to stop from crying out. He’s so thick, so deep inside me. There’s a flash of pain as he pushes all the way in, until our hips collide and he can go no further. I’ve never been filled so fully, not even close. My walls are stretching, yearning to accommodate him. But as I settle down and catch my breath, the pain is replaced by a euphoria. This is how it is supposed to be. This is what it feels like to meet your match.
Vince begins to stroke in and out of me, long and slow. His angle slides past my clit on every downstroke, so that the twin sensations of our joint motion fill me. Light, rippling murmurs move out from my clit, while a deeper growling “Yes” emanates from deep inside my cunt where his cock is sheathed. He keeps his eyes open and locked on mine. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
I cling to his neck with both hands and whimper softly as he starts to pound harder. My tits are bouncing up and down on my chest with the strength of his thrusting. I’m wet enough to pour juice across the sheets, gaping enough to take his length further with each ram forward. He retreats, withdraws, then slams into me endlessly. The crunch of our flesh colliding might have been painful if it didn’t feel so damn good. His heat surrounds me, lurid with his scent.
“Don’t stop,” I’m gasping without even realizing it, before even that simple sentence dissolves into a train of moans and “Ohs” that peter out without ever finding the words to express what I’m feeling. It’s a cacophony of sweetly climbing pressure and brutal, grinding shockwaves that are somehow one and the same. I feel like I’m bursting and collapsing inward at the same time. Nothing makes sense except for this to keep going, for as long as it takes until he brings me to release.
Vince rolls onto his back, pulling me on top of him without ever falling from inside me. I plant a knee on either side of his waist and begin to bob up and down, rooting myself to his chest with my palms. I toss my head back and push my breasts forward. He seizes each in his hand and twists my nipples gently like radio dials, just enough to add a new sizzling intensity to the desperation with which I’m flailing on top of him. I’m sweating, rivulets of perspiration trickling down my skin to meet his. My muscles are sore but there’s no stopping. I don’t care if I won’t be able to walk for days—there’s no way I’m stopping this now.
We’re nearing a breaking point. It’s obvious in every inch of my body, from my sweat-slicked skin to the desperate force clamoring under my skin for some kind of relief. It’s obvious in Vince, too. I can see in his gritting jaw and focused eyes that he is holding back his own climax, waiting until the last possible second, trying to wring every possible moment of pleasure out of this. Who knows how long we have or what might happen next. All that matters right now is this—him, me, the edge we’re approaching together with rapid acceleration.
Vince sits up. His legs hang over the edge of the bed, while mine are wrapped around his torso. I’m speared on his member. He lifts me up and down with a strong grip on my ass. Gravity brings me closer to him on each descent. I steal a sloppy kiss from his parted lips. I need his touch everywhere at once. I want his teeth on my neck and his tongue on my breasts. It’s insatiable. This hunger is foreign to me. I’m scared by its power, but it is as addictive as it is dangerous. I’m too close to turn back now.
I’m so close that there’s no more room for thought. My inner monologue is one long moan, mirroring the wrenching gasps coming from my dangling mouth.
Vince growls, “I’m so close to coming, baby.”
I can’t decide whether that’s a warning or a word of encouragement, and I’m not about to take the time to figure it out. The only thing I can focus on is the edge. I see it looming in front of me, can feel it coming like a runaway train. Vince picks me up, drops me, picks me up, drops me, and then I’m there, I lose it, I unleash.
My body tightens down around Vi
nce’s throbbing cock, locking him inside me. Thighs and arms clench where I am wrapped around him as spastic waves rock me from head to toe in long, tidal flows. The second my pussy compresses on his length, I feel him, too, explode. Spurts of white-hot cum paint my insides as we freeze, as immovable as mountains, going nowhere until the storms have long since passed us by.
My chin falls over Vince’s shoulder. My arms droop limply. He holds onto me still, not even withdrawing from my slit, but instead staying right as we were when we came. I can feel his cum begin to dribble down my inner thighs in sticky streaks. Our breath is long, ragged, exhausted, but I can hear his heartbeat in his throat, pounding feverishly, just like mine.
I lean back and look at him. “Who are you?” I say. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
His eyes flare. “I’m the man saving your life.”
“Is that what you call this?” I gesture towards the messy sheets and strewn pillows, indicating the fiery lovemaking that had just taken place.
He laughs. “Wasn’t part of the plan, but I don’t hear you complaining.”
He’s got me there. “Well, still. You’re a stranger. You’ve saved me twice now, so I owe you my life. But I still don’t know anything about who you are.”
He tilts his head and looks at me strangely as he replies, “I’m saving you more than twice. I’m saving you from everything that’s happened before. I’m saving you from everything happening now. And I’m going to keep saving you for the rest of your life. That’s what I meant when I said you’re mine now.”
I shiver. Who talks like that? I’ve never heard anyone say something that is simultaneously so ridiculous and yet so bone-chillingly sexy. He’s not joking, either, judging by the look of him. There’s no hint of a smile on his face. Only a scowl, the kind of brooding darkness that tells me he believes every word he says. It’s haunting in a way.
He lays back down to rest his head on the pillows and pulls me against his side. “Let’s sleep for a few hours,” he said. “We’ll leave first thing in the morning.” He starts to close his eyes.
When I hesitate, he can feel it in the tension of my muscles resisting his fingertips. I’m not sure what to make of all this. He has been there two times already, in the most random of situations, times when I thought my life was truly in danger. What weird kind of karma is playing out here? I’ve never believed in fate, but this entire situation has that same kind of unsettling, coincidental air. I’m still struggling with what to think about it all.
“Vince,” I say in a wavering, unsure voice. He opens one tired eye and looks at me. “Can I trust you?” I bite my lip.
He sits up straight. At first, he looks angry. His fingers are wrapped tightly around my wrist, squeezing close to the point of causing pain. I wince and shy away, but he’s got me held tight. I’m not going anywhere.
“You can’t trust anyone in this world,” he says firmly. Then his whole face softens. His grip on my wrist slackens, leaving a tingling sensation where he had held me. “Except for me.”
He motions for me to lie down with him. I curl up with my head on his chest, his heartbeat thumping quietly against my ear. For the first time in days, I feel like I’m safe. Like I’m protected.
Like everything is going to be okay.
Chapter 11
Vince
The first crack of splintering wood interrupts the dream I was having. The second one jolts me awake in bed. The third crack is not wood at all, rather the shattering of my back molar as a pistol butt slams into my jaw.
The taste of blood rinsing over my tongue is acrid and sharp. One side of my face is riddled with pain and blossoming bruises from the strike to the teeth. I start to try to struggle up, in spite of the stars twinkling in front of my eyes, but a leather gloved hand wraps around my throat and shoves me back down. I feel the point of a gun press between my eyes.
“Don’t move, motherfucker,” growls a vaguely familiar voice. I hear a scream. My eyes blink open through the pain. The scene swims into life.
Early morning light streams through the wreckage of what was once the door to the motel room. It is now little more than fodder for matchsticks, thanks to the axe work of the two men who are standing in the room. Their snarls are identical. Both are wearing black boots, black jeans, and long-sleeved black shirts, along with leather gloves on their hands. The one pinning me to the mattress by my neck has a short-nosed pistol in his hand, aimed squarely at my face. The other has a gun held to Rose’s forehead.
He’s holding her back against him so that she faces me, while keeping an arm looped around her neck. Her face is a patchwork quilt of terror. Eyes bugging out, hands scrabbling for purchase on the man’s bulging forearm, bare skin riddled with goosebumps.
“Get the fuck away from her!” I roar, trying to leap towards where they are standing at the foot of the bed.
But the man with the gun pointed at me slams me back into the bed by my throat. He raps the gun on the bridge of my nose to get my attention. “Stay still, you stupid son of a bitch,” he says. “You want a fucking bullet in the eye?” I’m seething, chest rising and falling with every angry breath, but there’s nothing I can do. He’s got me trapped.
Fuck, how could I have been so stupid? Focus. No time for that. Figure out how to save her. I glance around, but nothing presents itself. They outmaneuvered me, found us when we were vulnerable. I’d thought we would be safe here for the night. How fucking wrong I was.
Rose is still naked, squirming in her captor’s arms. All I want is to reach out and comfort her. She can trust me. I told her she could. What is this, then? They found us anyway. I was wrong.
He sees the way I’m looking at her and laughs. “What a nice bitch, eh? I cannot wait to see what it is like to have her.” He looks at his partner, and they both cackle evilly.
“She will be very fun, yes,” the second one agrees. Then he adds, “Until we’re bored with her, that is. Then she will be not much use to us at all, I am afraid.”
Rage is clouding my vision. I want to murder these men, rip them apart with my bare hands. How dare they touch what is mine.
“If you hurt her, I will hunt you both down, and you will wish you had never met me,” I grit. “I swear that to you.”
The man above me loses his smile. He wipes a band of sweat from his forehead. “You would be very stupid to follow us, amigo,” he says. “Very stupid indeed. You and she will both end up in a great deal of pain.”
I’m lying deathly still, biding my time, hoping against hope for an opening to present itself. It seems fruitless though. There’s no way I can move quickly enough to avoid the man filling my skull with hot lead. For Rose’s sake, I need to stay alive. Head clear. Patience. The seconds are ticking by frustratingly fast. They won’t linger here for long. Maybe they’ll kill me before they go, maybe not. I might only have one chance to act.
I look at Rose. I’m trying to tell her with my eyes to do something, anything. All I need is a sliver of opportunity and I can try to buck the odds. I rescued her twice before. Third time’s the charm, right?
She’s staring back at me in abject fear. She looks frozen, rooted to the ground and completely incapable of motion. I’ve never seen something so fragile before. She deserves better than the rough hands of the cartel scum wrapped around her throat.
I blink hard. The only thing I can do is stare at Rose and urge her to move. Run. Get the fuck away from here. Please. I see a flicker of something in her eyes. It’s hard to decipher. Is it adrenaline? Courage? Pure animal instinct? I can’t say for sure, but the shell of her panic seems to begin crumbling. Come on, Rose. Fight.
As if she hears me, Rose opens her mouth and sinks her teeth hard into the sleeved arm of the man holding her. He curses and flings her away from him. She careens into the wall, smacking her skull against the plaster. For a moment, her knees buckle. The impact must have snapped her head back. She looks dizzy, confused.
In the midst of the chaos, I see the Diablo po
inting the gun at me glance away for a split second. I surge upwards, knocking his weapon aside, although he manages to keep his fingers wrapped around the grip. I slam my forehead into the crook of his nose. He stumbles backwards, one hand covering the torrent of blood erupting from his nostrils.
I can hardly believe our luck. I made a mistake, but they won’t catch me sleeping a second time. No one is ever going to hurt Rose again. We’re going to get out of here. Against all odds, we’re going to fucking make it.
For a moment, I truly believe that.
Then everything comes crashing back down. The Diablo that Rose bit comes to his senses. She reaches her hands towards his face as if to claw at him, but he bats her outstretched fingers aside and delivers a brutal backhand to her right cheek. Her lights go out instantly. She slumps to the floor.
“No!” I bellow. I try to jump from the bed, but a sheet wraps around my ankle. I get a foot in the air before it pulls tight like a leash and yanks me to the floor.
