And as the book hits the shelves, I let my lips roam freely over her neck. I can’t stop myself anymore. I don’t want to.
She came here of her own free will.
That means something … it means she trusts me enough to want to seek me out.
Maybe she needs someone who will give her undivided attention when no one else does. Something no one else can do quite like me. Something so good … she just has to have it.
So I kiss her skin and listen to her suck in a breath. I plant my hand against the bookcase and trap her between my arms. My tongue darts out for a few quick, sultry kisses, and I can feel her body inching toward me, her breathing ragged. My dick is already hard from the sounds she makes, and I can tell she’s getting hot and bothered too.
But then she clears her throat and pushes me back. “No.”
I cock my head and look at her beautiful lips. “No?”
She licks her lips, biting them, not answering the question.
It’s as if she doesn’t even know what she wants anymore.
I sigh and turn around, casually sauntering toward the bathroom.
“Where are you going?” she asks.
“Shower,” I grumble, annoyed with her indecisiveness.
My cock tents my pants, and I will it down, but it’s not happening. So I take them off, along with my boxer shorts, socks, and shoes. Then I pull off my shirt and throw it in the corner of the bathroom on the pile of clothes that was already there.
When I turn around to grab some shampoo, she’s still standing in the living room, blatantly staring at my naked body while blinking rapidly, her lips parting ever so slowly.
A smirk grows on my face. “Seen a ghost or something?”
Her face glows red, and she stutters, “I can’t believe you just took off your clothes while I’m still here.” She swallows, visibly confused. “Do you want me to go? I can go.”
I shrug. I don’t see the problem. “You can stay.” I give her a smile, and she tentatively smiles back, trying to hide the obvious stare. I guess my cock stole the show.
“Okay,” she murmurs as I turn around and turn on the shower, wondering if she’s staring at my ass. She probably is, judging from the squeaks in her voice. “I’ll go sit down over here…”
I don’t answer, as it wasn’t a question, and I don’t see the point in discussing something completely irrelevant. I’m a man of actions, not of words, and I prefer the written word regardless. I could write whole essays about how her beauty captivates me and about all the things I would do to her to make her mine.
But she already knows that.
She’s seen my notes.
Touched herself to my dirtiest fantasies.
And now, I’m touching myself to them too.
Under the shower, my cock has done anything to cool down.
All I can think of is claiming her for my own, and it only makes me stroke myself more. I don’t even care that she’s in the room beside me. I need the release, one way or another, and if she doesn’t want it, then I’ll have to take care of it myself.
So I imagine her showering with me as I jerk myself off, picturing her naked body. I hiss and bite my lip, completely immersing myself in my own fantasy. The fact she’s right next door only makes it that much more exciting. That much more forbidden.
But when I open my eyes for just a second, I spot her standing in the doorway, with her mouth wide open.
16.
Accompanying Song: “Obsession” by Golden State (Animotion Cover)
Drake
I stop moving my hand, but my cock is still rock hard, and she’s looking at me with a mouth-watering expression on her face. She caught me right in the act, yet she doesn’t even seem angry. Or upset.
She just seems … frozen in place.
Completely mesmerized by my naked body.
I wonder what she’s thinking. If her thoughts just as devious as my thoughts are.
I brush the water off my face and look her straight in the eyes as I say, “Come here.”
With my index finger, I beckon her to come closer. It’s not a command. It’s an invitation. But if she takes it as such, I’ll have no problem with it.
I want to test her limits. I want to know what she’d do. If she’ll cross the line between infatuation and obsession. I’m already far beyond that, and she knows. That’s why she’s staring. Yearning with only a look. Questioning whether she’s allowed to look at me … maybe even touch me.
She doesn’t need to ask.
“You don’t just want to look,” I say. She doesn’t need to say it because I already know.
I cock my head and beckon her with my hand now.
She finally steps forward, one foot in front of the other, across the slippery floor and through the steaming fog.
Her thin, square-shaped body catches my eye, and I can’t help but allow my gaze to roam all over her body, taking in every inch. She looks so young, but she’s far from innocent now.
When she’s near me, I lick my lips and turn toward her with a full-fledged erection, not giving a shit that she can see it. All I care about is that she’s almost close enough to touch it. To taste it.
I look down at her as I tower above her and say, “On your knees.”
I wait … she does too … and I wonder if she’ll back out. If this is one step too far for her.
But she doesn’t. She actually goes to her knees right in front of me, her skirt soaking up the water as she hits the floor.
I swallow away the pent-up arousal that just exploded, making my cock bounce up and down from excitement.
Does she trust me enough to let me do anything to her? Or is this all a test to see whose side I’m on? Regardless … I’m not going to let this opportunity slip.
“Closer,” I murmur, and her face moves closer to me.
Without asking her if she’s okay with it, I start jerking off. Right in front of her. So close to her face, she could dip her tongue out and lick me. I’d fucking love that, and maybe I’ll make her do that in a minute. But for now, I want to enjoy the sight in front of me.
I reach for her face, tempted to touch her … and she actually lets me.
Running my finger gently down her cheek, I spoil myself by imprinting the image of her kneeling in front of me into my mind.
“Open your mouth,” I say after a while, my cock twitching with delight when she does exactly what I say.
Her lips part so beautifully that I just have to touch them. I let my thumb slide along her lips and down to her chin. Then I bring my cock closer and brush her lips with my tip, coaxing her to let me in.
The closer I get, the more frozen she becomes, but I don’t stop. Not unless she tells me to and I haven’t heard a single sound from her throat. That won’t last for long, though … that I’m sure of. She’ll be moaning by the time I get to her soaking wet pussy.
I gently slide my cock onto her tongue, and it feels so fucking sinful. I want to come right there and then, but I have to control myself. I want to enjoy this moment, so I blow out a breath and relax, letting her do the work.
Her tongue swivels across the tip, tickling my senses. I close my eyes and allow her to explore. Her mouth is wet and soft, and I can feel she’s getting into it the more time passes because her strokes get faster and she begins to suck.
So I take the opportunity to slide in deeper and tell her to massage my balls. She listens to every single one of my commands. It makes me wonder if I’m dreaming all of this. If so, I sure as hell don’t want to wake up.
The more she sucks, the harder I become, and I feel the urge to pump into her. So slowly, I allow myself to let go, softly thrusting in and out of her mouth. And she allows me to, goddammit. This is too good to be true.
Her clothes are getting soaked because the shower is still running, and rivulets of water stream down my abs, dripping onto her face. Water won’t be the only thing on her face, though … because I’m so fucking close.
The way she loo
ks at me, with eyes that practically spell out for me to take her …
I have to have it all.
I pull back before I come down her throat, but it’s too late to stop, and I don’t want to wait anymore. As I jerk myself off in front of her, I come. I come in her open mouth, covering her with my cum. I groan, and my body quakes from the pent-up sexual tension finally releasing … all over her face.
But the more seed jets out, the more I feel I’m not done yet. And even though her clothes and face are a mixture of water and cum, I pull her up by her chin and kiss her. I don’t give a damn. The only thing that matters to me is that she lets me.
Instinct drives me to grab her ass and pull her into the shower with me. I don’t even care that she’s still fully clothed, and she doesn’t seem to mind either, judging from the fact that she’s allowing me to pick her up and haul her inside.
I shove her against the wall and yank up her skirt, tearing away her panties, as my dick is ready to claim her. I don’t wait one second before thrusting into her already wet pussy. It feels so good that I moan out loud, and it makes her mewl too. Her face is flustered, her eyes half-mast, and her pussy so damn warm and inviting.
The water is pouring down on us, but I don’t care, and neither does she. All we do is kiss and fuck hard, drowning out the voices in our heads telling us to stop.
Nothing … and I mean nothing … will make me stop wanting her.
I kiss her neck and leave my mark on her skin. I lick her wet body, letting my tongue slide all the way down her chest. And as I impale her on my length, she starts rocking along with me, her pussy clenching with need. I can feel the pressure rise, and I know she’s about to come, so I thumb her clit softly. Holding her up with one hand, I circle her clit until the pleasure bursts, and her muscles begin to tighten around my cock.
God, it feels so good.
And that sound she makes. I could listen to it every day.
Her face looks beautiful when she comes undone, and the mere sight of it makes me explode too. I come inside her, jetting my seed deep into her pussy. It’s the best fucking feeling ever.
I end with a kiss that’s as deep as my need for her to be by my side.
I know she will be mine. It won’t be long now.
Greg will be out of the picture soon.
17.
Accompanying Song: “Last Stand” by Kwabs
Hyun
The next day
I wake up to the smell of bacon filling my nostrils. I take a deep breath and open my eyes, rubbing away the sleep. Thin strips of sunlight pass through the thick, green curtains, blinding me as I look around the room. Fewer clothes are scattered around the room, and I can hear a washing machine running somewhere in another room.
When I throw the blanket off and let my feet sink to the beige carpet floor, that’s when it hits me. I’m not in my home.
I slept at Drake’s home. Did I fall asleep in his arms?
I don’t even remember falling asleep. All I remember is him carrying me to his bed after drying me off completely. I admit I was a bit hypnotized by the way he’d touched me … and used me for his own pleasure.
God, it was so sexy.
What have I been missing all this time? A lot, it seems.
This man knows how to please me. He knows exactly which buttons to push and how to make me do anything he says. It’s dangerous … and intoxicating. All I could think was that I was in his home, and he was in the shower … and I wanted to be with him. So I did.
Rubbing my forehead, I take a few more deep breaths to come to terms with what I did. It doesn’t take me long. For some reason, I feel like this wasn’t as bad as I want to make myself believe. For my own sanity, I need to trust him when he says he wants to protect me and not think of all the possible things that can go wrong. Like Greg finding out about this place.
Oh, god … Greg was at my house … He already knows I had sex with Drake … What else does he know?
Shivering, I decide I’m not going to wait and find out.
So I grab whatever I can find of my clothes, which are barely dry at the moment, and put them on. Peeking around the corner, I don’t see him anywhere, and I try my best to sneak out unseen.
However, the moment I pass the kitchen, I’m screwed.
“Good morning.” His voice is unusually chipper.
Fazed, I stare for a moment … His half-naked body looks so appetizing I’m salivating. Or maybe it’s the bacon he’s cooking along with some eggs.
“Okay.” He frowns in confusion.
“Uh … morning,” I reply, clearing my throat, trying not to look like I was just about to skip.
“Hungry?” he asks, flipping the egg and bacon on a plate and continuing to the next. He points at the chair at a small round table, which is suddenly sparkling clean and says, “Sit.”
His voice alone gets me to sit down exactly where he pointed. I don’t know why. He has that effect on me … like an overpowering need to please him rushes over me. Because he gives me so much attention, I don’t want to leave. It’s like a drug. I need more.
He puts the plate down in front of me. I smile and say, “Thank you.”
He smiles back, not replying, but I know he still thinks ‘you’re welcome.’ Drake isn’t a man of many words, I’ve noticed. Or at least, not the spoken ones. And that’s nice for a change. A man who doesn’t yell at me but prefers to write things down and speak only when necessary. When it’s wanted. It makes every single word precious.
I look around the small cabin and notice it’s a lot cleaner. The piles of paper have been stashed aside on a neat stack, the dirty clothes are picked up, and the dusty shelves look shinier.
Did he actually clean because of me? Or does he do it randomly when he feels there’s enough dirt lying around?
“Eat,” he says, as he practically throws down another plate opposite me and sits down himself.
Awkwardly smiling, I pick up the fork and cut off a piece of bacon, putting it in my mouth. He can’t seem to take his eyes off me as I chew, and I feel kind of watched when I swallow.
“And?” he asks.
It takes me a while to understand what he wants from me.
“Oh, it’s good,” I say, nodding. “Really good. Thank you.”
“Good,” he replies, eating too.
In silence, we eat our breakfast; the air between us thick with unanswered questions and unspoken words. I feel like he already knows why I’m here. That I was on the run, desperate for someone to hold me close. Someone to give me love, which is something I haven’t felt in a long time. And he gave that to me, even though I gave him nothing in return.
I keep running, keep questioning everyone and everything around me, and it doesn’t even matter to him. It’s like his default position is always to forgive me. And it humbles me.
I sigh and swallow my eggs. Neither of us dares to talk. Maybe it’s because we already know there’s no need for explanations. Still, we can’t go on like this forever. And I wonder who will open their mouth first.
Surprisingly, we’re both finished before I finally gather the courage.
“I’m sorry for—”
“Sneaking out?” he finishes my sentence.
I’m flabbergasted for a moment before the redness on my cheeks appears. “How did you—”
“I saw you trying to slip past me.”
I put my fork down, not daring to look at him. “Sorry.” I feel so shitty, trying to run away when he’s only been nice to me. I just don’t know what to do about this situation, and it freaks me out. “I just—”
“I know,” he interjects. “You don’t have to explain.”
I nod, still feeling guilty.
“And I agree with your decision,” he says.
“What?” I frown.
He picks up the empty plates and brings them to the kitchen. “I think you should go.” The way he says it, with the nicest voice ever, makes it sound like he doesn’t really want it either yet knows
it’s the only option. He stops washing the dishes and looks me in the eye. “I’m a stalker. Not a lover.”
I sigh and look down at the empty table, wishing I could turn back time, so we’re still kissing each other in the shower instead of having this uncomfortable talk.
“Your husba—”
“Don’t say it,” I say. “He doesn’t matter to me anymore.”
“I know,” he says. “But you matter to him.”
“Not in a way that’s healthy.”
“Exactly.” He dries his hands and walks into his bedroom like it’s the end of the conversation.
“I don’t agree,” I mutter.
He steps back into view, waiting for me to finish my sentence.
“With the stalker and lover part,” I add. “I’ve never been loved the way you did me last night.” My cheeks glow again, thinking about it.
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he muses, and then he turns around again.
I quickly get up and look around the corner, holding the doorjamb, wondering what he’s doing, but he’s just searching through his cabinets. “If I leave … will you keep writing me notes?”
He pauses, his body tensing. His lips part, but no sound comes out. Instead, he fishes a cell phone from his cabinet and holds it out to me.
“Keep this.”
He stuffs it into my hand like it’s mine.
“Why?”
“It’s safe.” He smiles and then turns around again, searching through his clothes for a shirt.
I clear my throat, trying to capture his attention, but he seems agitated. “You mean it’s an untraceable one?”
He nods and takes out a big sweater and throws it at me. “Put this on.”
I feel swallowed whole by the fabric, it’s so large. “Okay …” Reluctantly, I pull it over my head, but it comes all the way down my legs like some sort of complete dress … except, it’s a sweater. His sweater.
Indecent Games Duet - Boxed Set Page 32
