by Hannah Ford
I closed my eyes, loving that he was finally starting to let me in, that he was finally starting to trust me enough to do things like this. Most couples wouldn’t have realized how amazing it was that he was letting me be on top, but I knew what it was, knew what it meant for him and for us.
When I was safely sitting on his lap, he pulled me back toward him, and I watched in the mirror as he pulled my hair away from my neck and gripped the strands in his fist.
“Spread your legs,” he whispered into my ear, his voice gruff.
I spread them, and he reached down and grabbed my ankles, pulling them up so that my legs were spread for him.
I watched in the mirror that made up the opposite wall as he held me tight, making sure I wouldn’t fall.
“I’m not going to touch you.”
“What?” I swallowed, confused. My whole body was wired and tensed with anticipation, waiting for just that.
“I’m not going to touch you,” he repeated.
I moaned.
“Not until you’re ready for me.” He kissed my neck, sucking softly on the sensitive skin there.
I moaned again, not sure what he meant.
“Touch yourself.”
“Noah.” Panic rose in my chest. I couldn’t do that, not like this, not in front of the mirror. It was humiliating. My cheeks blazed as my eyes landed on again on my reflection – naked, my skin flushed, my hair loose and wild around my shoulders.
Noah took my hand and placed it on my pussy.
“Get yourself wet for me.”
“I’m already wet,” I tried, but his other hand tightened in my hair, pulling the strands in disapproval.
“Charlotte.”
His voice was hypnotic, and I loved the way he said my name. Coming from his lips, his tone laced with longing and pulsing with desire, he made it sound like it was sexy and forbidden, instead of a name I’d always thought was old-fashioned and stuffy.
I swallowed and closed my eyes, then began making circles on my clit with my index finger, soft and slow.
“Good girl,” Noah said, and I felt his cock swell behind me.
I tried to push my ass against him, trying to get some friction that way, but he stopped me. “No baby,” he said gently, almost as if he felt sorry for me. “No, baby, play with yourself.”
I rubbed circles on my clit.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Now put your finger inside your pussy.”
I shuddered and closed my eyes as I slid a finger into myself. I groaned as my knuckle slid against my clit as I did it.
I was turned on, not just because I was physically touching myself, but because I knew this was Noah’s way of dominating me, of making me uncomfortable and showing me he was in control.
“Look at yourself,” he whispered against my neck. “Look at how dirty you’re being.”
I watched as my finger went in and out of my pussy, and my eyes locked on Noah’s in the mirror, the look on his face, how turned on he was, the feel of his cock against my ass making my clit pulse.
“How does it feel?”
“Good.”
“More.”
“Like I’m fucking myself.”
“And why are you fucking yourself?”
“Because you told me to.”
“That’s right, baby. And you’ll do what I tell you, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir, what?”
“Yes, sir, I’ll do anything you tell me.”
He grabbed my wrist and pulled my finger from my pussy, and disappointment and relief washed through me. Disappointed that he was taking away the feeling of pleasure, but relieved that he was going to end the humiliation, relieved that he was going to maybe really fuck me now.
But he raised my fingers to his mouth and sucked them softly, tasting my arousal on my fingers as he lubricated two of them.
“You taste so sweet.”
“I want you to taste me.”
“I know you do,” he said. “But you’ve been bad, haven’t you, baby?”
“Yes,” I whimpered as he placed my hand back between my legs.
“Two fingers, Charlotte.”
His hands moved to my legs, pulling them apart further so he could get a good view in the mirror of me playing with myself. I slid two fingers inside my pussy closing my eyes again. I’d been relieved that he’d stopped making me touch myself, but now that he was forcing me to do it again, I felt nothing but turned on.
He’d pushed me past the point of wanting it to stop, and now I just craved more. More humiliation, more pain, more control, more submission, more of him.
His dark eyes burned into me in the mirror.
I watched his body behind mine, his broad, cut shoulders holding me tight, making me feel safe even as he was humiliating me. His ability to do this was a contradiction, just like he was – hard and soft, shut down and open, cruel and kind.
I loved him so much.
“Good girl, Charlotte. Fuck yourself with your fingers.”
He spread me further.
“Your pussy looks so good. You look so dirty and bad doing that to yourself, that clit pushing out like that. Do you see?”
I nodded, watching in the mirror as he spread me more, giving us both a good look at my pussy, spread and pink, my fingers working furiously.
“That’s it, get yourself ready for me.”
“I’m ready.”
“I say when you’re ready,” he growled into my ear. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
I kept fucking myself.
“Harder,” he said, and I complied.
His hands moved from my legs and I watched as they moved up my sides until they cupped my breasts. His hands were large, and the flesh of my breasts spread out between his grip as he ran his thumbs gently over the nipples, up and down, up and down, playing with them.
The sensation of his big hands flicking my nipples, while he made me play with myself, mixed with seeing his strong body behind mine twisted together to create a tornado of arousal so intense that I moaned.
“Does it feel good?” he whispered, his voice ragged.
“Yes.”
“Can you take another finger?”
I moaned, scared, but he reached down and put his hand over mine, took his index finger and placed it on mine, and then pushed inside my pussy.
“Look,” he demanded. “Look at both of our fingers fucking you. You’re so tight.”
My breath was coming in short gasps, and he leaned down and placed his mouth on my collarbone, sucking, his tongue dragging along my skin.
“Noah,” I whispered. “Jesus, Noah.”
“You think you’re ready for my dick?” He pulled his finger from my pussy and hooked it into my mouth, and I could taste myself.
“Yes.”
He pulled my fingers slowly out of my pussy, and it left me feeling empty. He pulled me back against his dick, and grinned devilishly at me in the mirror, the curve of his lip a promise of what was to come.
He lifted my ass gently, pulling me up and over his cock so that I was lying against him, my back to his chest, his cock pressing on the slit of my pussy.
He kissed me, his mouth hot and hungry, his tongue pressing between the seam of my lips and taking control of the kiss the way he took control of me.
He continued kissing me, his tongue tangling with mine as he began to move my hips just the tiniest bit, allowing the hard shaft of his cock to rub against my pussy.
“Noah,” I moaned, when he allowed a break in the kissing.
“Charlotte,” he whispered. “God, Charlotte.”
He stared into my eyes for what seemed like forever, moving me up and down slowly, not going inside of me, just letting my pussy slide up and down his shaft.
The love and electricity and emotion pulsed and danced between us, and the invisible force connecting us that was beyond anything I could have imagined or understood.
“I want you to watch
me slide inside of you.”
I turned my head back toward the mirror, and now, when I saw my reflection, I didn’t see any of my flaws. All I saw was a woman who was completely loved by a man she completely loved in return.
Noah reached down and took his cock in his hand, the head probing against my slick opening.
I was so wet, and yet he was so thick and big that I still gasped at the way he stretched me.
“Good girl,” he said. “Watch me go inside of you. Watch my cock fill that tight little pussy.”
I did as I was told, watching as the hard thickness disappeared inside of me, slowly, inch by inch, until he was all the way in.
When he was done, he tilted my head back toward his.
“I love you,” he breathed. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
He began to move inside of me then, rocking his hips as he began to fuck me. Both of us turned back toward the mirror, watching as we became one, and I closed my eyes, this time not because I couldn’t take the humiliation, but because I couldn’t take how amazing it felt to have him buried inside of me.
Noah kissed me, and he kept kissing me, his kiss becoming more urgent as his fucking became more urgent.
“I want to come inside of you,” he said.
“I want you to,” I whispered.
“But I want to come at the same time,” he said, his hips still pumping. “I want my cock buried inside of you when you come, I want to feel you clench on me, and I want your lips on mine when you cry out.”
He kissed me then, and I let myself go to him, let my body and mind and emotions become a slave to him and his every want and need
I moaned harder into his mouth, and his kiss became more insistent, his mouth sealing over mine.
My hands felt for his, still on my hips, guiding me up and down on him. I felt my orgasm building, and emotion welled in my chest as I grabbed Noah’s hands and held on tight, my nails digging into his skin.
I moaned again as my orgasm began to roll through me like a wave cresting onto a sunset beach, beautiful and pleasurable and so amazing I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience.
“Yes, angel,” Noah murmured. “Come on my cock.”
My orgasm crested then as I climaxed, calling out his name. “Noah.”
“Charlotte.” He came then too, his cock swelling inside of me as I clenched him with my pussy, taking every last drop of his come until we were both finally sated.
We showered together in the guest bathroom, and when we were done, Noah dried me with a towel, touching the cut on my cheek tenderly.
“I’m fine,” I insisted, hoping he would forget about his vow to make me wear a band-aid over it to the meeting with Penn Dylan.
He sighed and turned away from me to grab another towel, and I admired his naked body, the tight curve of his ass, the strength and musculature of his thighs. My clit pounded as I took in his form, and I shook my head. How could I be horny again already? I was starting to become as bad as him.
“We’re going to have to hurry if we want to be on time for the meeting.” He moved slowly as he said this, as if he didn’t give a fuck, then picked up the remote that was sitting on the marble counter of the bathroom and turned on the television that was mounted on the wall.
“You’re don’t seem that worried about it,” I said, as the sound of CNN began to fill the room.
“Don’t I?” he said sarcastically.
We got ready together, in the same bathroom, and something about it was insanely intimate, watching Noah at the mirror, a white towel cinched around his waist, his ripped torso shining with a few stray droplets of water that remained from the shower.
He shaved carefully, running the razor up his strong jaw, and the scent of his aftershave filled the room, making me shiver.
I put on a lingerie set of black lace, followed by a simple black dress, then dried my hair and gathered into a loose bun, always aware of Noah’s eyes on me, his gaze running over me hungrily.
When he was dressed in a crisp black suit, I put his cufflinks on for him, admiring the elegance of his clothes, marveling at the fact that he could go from looking like a professional athlete just a few minutes ago while he was running to the billionaire lawyer he was now.
The television in the corner was showing the news, and I watched in careful horror as they came back from commercial and the newscaster began to talk.
“We go now for an update on one of New York City’s most talked-about murders.” My throat caught as I waited for the B-roll to run, expecting to see a blown up picture of my face fill the screen. What picture would they use? I wondered. My law school ID picture? I hoped so. It was one of the few pictures of myself I liked. It was taken right when school had started at the beginning of my first year, fresh off summer vacation when my skin was still tan and my spirit was still unscathed and hopeful.
But of course they wouldn’t use that picture.
They would use my mug shot.
Jesus, my mug shot! I could only imagine what I looked like in that one, the picture being taken just after getting the news I was pregnant and then realizing that I was also being accused of murder.
But it turned out I didn’t have to worry about a potential jury pool seeing me looking disheveled and crazy, because the newscaster wasn’t talking about me at all.
“Two women have been murdered on the city’s East Side, which is normally considered one of the city’s safest areas. The police have no suspects, although they’ve been following many leads, and think the two murders are connected.” At this point, the faces of two women flashed onto the screen, both of them in their late thirties, both of them pretty in that Botoxed, highlighted-hair and veneered teeth kind of way that was common of the women of the Upper East Side.
“Police say that – ”
Noah reached over and picked up the remote, scowled and turned off the TV.
“If you’re worried about me seeing something on the news about murders, Noah, I think that ship has sailed.” I gave him a smile, letting him know that the thought of him trying to protect me from the morning news was pretty laughable. There was nothing on the television that could compare to what I’d seen in real life, or to what I was going through.
Noah looked at me and for a split second – so fast I was almost sure I’d missed it – I thought he was going to say something.
Instead, he reached out and grabbed me around the hips, pulled me toward him. He pressed my body to his, so close I could feel the heat coming off him through the pressed dress shirt he wore under the jacket of his suit.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing.” But he held me tight a second longer than he needed to, his hands tightening around my hips as our pelvises pushed together and he pinned me to the counter behind me. It was another sign – his dominance was coming out, even though he was trying to control it, and that could only be because he was trying to keep from hearing something, or didn’t want to tell me something.
“Noah, what is it?” I asked softly. I reached up and brushed a lock of hair back from his forehead.
“We should go.” He waited another beat and then released my hips, entangling himself from me and walking into the bedroom.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you were about to say.”
“Charlotte, please. It’s been a long night. For once just do what you’re told.”
He was walking out of the bedroom now, down the hall to the kitchen, where he began firing up the fancy coffee maker. I walked over to him, grabbed his arm as he began to pour beans into the machine.
“Don’t make me beg,” I said.
His eyes alighted at this, and he stopped, looking at me.
“That’s not what I meant.” I wasn’t trying to be sexy, wasn’t trying to be coy, but my voice sounded raspy anyway. My heart began to beat and I stepped away from him, trying to put distance between us, knowing that my body would take over, would make me a slave
to his demands. I took a deep breath, trying to reset. “This is…you need to tell me things. Please, Noah. It’s important.”
“Fine,” he said, turning around and facing me. He placed his hands behind him and gripped the edge of the marble counter, bracing himself. I wondered if it was so he would keep himself from reaching for me, the way he’d done when he’d come to see me at the jail. “I lost track of Audi.”
“Wait, what?” I shook my head as my brain scrambled around, trying to process this new information. “Your brother Audi?”
“Yes.” He shrugged as if this was no big deal, even though he’d made it into a big deal by not wanting to tell me, then turned back around, away from me. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to be a smartass or not. He flipped the switch on the coffee maker, which began to whir to life. Noah crossed to the cupboard and pulled down two tiny white espresso cups.
“How did you… I mean…” I took a deep breath and tried to collect my thoughts. “What do you mean you lost him?”
“I mean I have no idea where he is.” He’d turned back around now, and his eyes flicked down to my hands, which were playing with the hem of my dress. I saw the light burn in his irises, the desire and want at what he perceived to be a submissive gesture. I let go of the material.
“And you think maybe he killed those women? The one’s they were talking about on the news?” Noah’s brother Audi wasn’t someone we talked much about. It was much like the rest of Noah’s family, although coincidentally enough, Audi was the one I knew the most about. Although my information about him had come mostly from the internet, not from Noah himself.
Audi James had been charged with the torture and murder of a rich socialite years ago, when Noah was first starting his law career. Noah had defended his brother and successfully gotten him off. The only problem was it turned out that Audi had been guilty – and Noah had been tracking him ever since, blaming himself for Audi being free, and trying to guarantee Audi stayed out of trouble.
And he had stayed out of trouble, at least, as far as I knew. He’d been working at Force for a while, getting paid to act out his murder on women who had a fetish for that kind of thing. I’d been mistakenly brought to the room where he did that once, and it had been terrifying.
