Lost Highway(24)

“I’ll burn them once the fog lifts,” I say, ducking under his arm pressed against the doorjamb. “Thank you for showing me.”

Grunting at my comment, Quill follows me to the living room where I change CDs and play Otis Redding. He leans against the wall and watches me. I glance at him over my shoulder and smile slightly.

“I hate you,” he hisses.

“You’ll get over it.”

Rolling his eyes, Quill heads for the front door. He sees the fog and realizes he has no escape. I watch him stare at the door, and then he looks at me. I think he might strike out at me. Returning to the bedroom, I wash out the bucket and decide I’ve done enough for today.

I step into the shower, wanting to scrub away the horrors I’ve seen and touched. My mind is on Quill, and I wonder what he’ll do next. He’s usually impossible to read, but now he doesn’t even understand himself.

Stepping out of the shower, I find him at the bathroom door. His gaze washes over my naked body, and he exhales coarsely.

“It never ends,” he says, walking away.

I follow him with only a towel wrapped around me. He opens the basement door until I touch his hand.

“We could chain you to the bed in your room. It’s quieter in there. No lying voices.”

“I don’t want you in my room.”

I cross my arms and frown up at him. Quill is behaving like a baby. While I feel pity for him never actually having a childhood, I also lack the patience to deal with his tantrum.

“I won’t go down there.”

Quill leans in and growls, “I can make you.”

“But you won’t. You want me to be in charge. You need me to chain you up and make you orgasm. So are we going to your room or are you handling this problem yourself?”

Frowning, Quill looks around, and I realize he’s never even masturbated before. He has no idea how to make himself feel better. The naughty part of my brain hopes once he settles down, I can teach him a lot of fun things.

Quill sighs full of defeat. The poor guy will have to f*ck me in a bed. I want to laugh at his expression but restrain the urge so he won’t lose his already hair-trigger temper. He retrieves the chains from downstairs and brings them to his room.

A large, four-post bed rests in the corner of the room. I glance around at the décor and assume the owners of the real cabin chose the flowered wallpaper.

Nearby, Quill strips down. With every piece of clothing he removes, his expression becomes increasingly sullen, and the beast more intense. I lock him into the chains before my towel comes off.

Again he takes in the sight of me and seems more depressed than aroused. His body tells a different story. I stroke him quickly, licking at the head of his thick erection until he erupts into my mouth. He growls with the orgasm and hisses with pleasure when I suck at his softening flesh.

I crave to feel him inside me. The way he stretches and owns me is addictive. I’ve never enjoyed sex before. In the past, I orgasmed because my body felt things my heart never could. Now I have Quill.

Once he’s hard in my mouth, I pop him loose. I reach behind him and hold onto the bedpost. He watches me warily as I lower my breast to his lips.

“Suck, Quill.”

His mouth grudgingly opens for my nipple. He doesn’t care about my pleasure, which isn’t a surprise since he doesn’t care about his pleasure either. Quill endures sex while I ache for it.

Like a baby, he calms from the sucking motion. I have to wiggle free to force him to let go of the first nipple so I can switch. He frowns at me, irritated I took away his toy. Biting my nipple, he wants to punish me.

Tugging his head back, I kiss his forehead. “Be nice or I’ll leave you chained up in here.”

Growling, Quill yanks at the chains. I watch him struggle and hear him cursing my name under his breath.

“Do you want to suck?” I ask, tempting his lips with my hard nipple.

Relenting, he sucks the flesh into his mouth and relaxes. I run my fingers through his thick, brown hair. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the feel of his rough sucking. Between my legs, his cock searches for my *. I feel the tip leaking against my thigh, but I’m not ready. Quill is at my mercy, and I want to play a little more.

Tugging my nipple out of his mouth, I stand, so his mouth feels the heat of my *. I open the flesh between my legs and touch the swollen nub.

“This is my clit. If you lick it, I will cry out your name like you moan mine when I lick your dick. Will you help me cry out?”

Quill wants to glare at me, but his gaze latches onto the sight of my wet, pink flesh, and he can’t look away. He licks his lips, hungry for what I offer. I take a chance of offering my vulnerable clit to a still unsatisfied beast.

His tongue slides between my fleshy folds, drinking my juices. I hear him groan and strain for more. I brace myself against the wall, keeping my balance while he devours me long after I cry out his name.

When I take away his newest toy, he growls, “Bitch.”

“Patience,” I whisper, lowering myself onto his cock.

My body opens for him. His hips move instinctively, shoving upward to fill me completely. I cup his face and suck my juices from his lips. Between my legs, I clamp his erection tightly, making every thrust unbearable for him. Quill nips my bottom lip and won’t let go until he shudders from the first wave of his orgasm.

Quill groans and growls and mumbles my name. He calls me the devil while shoving himself deeper and seeking more pleasure. I watch him orgasm and enjoy how he smiles when the orgasm hits its peak.