Sicko(68)
He cocks his head, his voice low enough to raise the dead. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because,” I say, and I don’t know what lie I should bring up. He doesn’t touch me, but his presence is enough to caress every single inch of my untamed soul. His eyes alone eat up the space between our bodies like a starved wolf, overdue for his feast.
“Because isn’t enough.”
“Would it matter?” I sigh, glaring up at him while leaning against the metal wall. I’ve come to gather we’re inside of a small shed. It smells of motor oil and fresh grass clippings. There’s no door, so if someone really wanted to, they could probably see us in between the lawnmower and garden tools.
“What do you mean?” he asks, and as soon as he begins running the tip of his finger down the front of my throat, I inhale a deep breath to contain the euphoria that crashes over me, ready to crush me into tiny little pieces.
“I mean, you would have still left…”
He snaps, pinning me to the wall by his hips, his hand coming back to the front of my throat. “Told you to shut the fuck up about that, Duchess.”
“Well maybe!” I protest around the tightness of my throat. “I don’t fucking want to!” His lips are on mine in a flash and sweltering magma rolls through my bloodstream, my legs wobbling beneath my weight. He picks me up from the backs of my thighs and wraps them around his waist while never breaking the kiss. Slamming me against the wall again in a crash, his mouth laps up every bit of flesh he can find. My hands are in his hair, around the back of his thick neck, and down to the front of his cut. I glide my fingers over the patches on the front as he tears open my leather jacket and ducks beneath my crop, his head dipping lower until his mouth latches on to the nub of my breast. He tugs the sensitive bead beneath his teeth and a fierce sting aches through them.
He pauses, standing back to his full height. “Who the fuck let you have fake tits?”
Oh shit.
“Ah, Mom did.”
“What?” he snaps. “Why the fuck would she do that?”
I shrug. “I complained that mine were too small.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
Wrapping my fingers around the collar of his cut, I pull him in closer. “Just fuck me.”
Just like that, with those simple words, he’s unbuttoning my jeans, his hand diving beneath. As soon as I feel his palm over my bare pussy, I moan, my head tipping back. His thumb presses against my clit in slow circles as he rests his head in the crook of my neck. “Do you know how much I want to fucking kill you right now? All these years I could have had my mouth on this pussy, and you deprived me of that.” He increases pressure, his circles slowing. “I’m going to fuck you hard and fast here, and then later, you’re going to wish I was still fucking you how I’m about to.”
I nibble on my bottom lip as he slides his finger inside of my entrance. “I need you inside of me.”
“Say it again…” he growls through a throaty groan.
“I need you inside of me.”
He withdraws his hand from my pants and drops me back to the ground, tugging my jeans down to my ankles and tearing them off. If I wasn’t high and nervous, I would make sure no one was watching us right now, but I don’t. I don’t care. All I care about is that I have him and he has me, and I need to be closer to him. I need to feel him inside of me, owning me, thrusting into me, riding and licking me all over my body. The cold brush of wind whisks over my clit as Royce unbuckles his belt and picks me back up with his fingers flexing around my thighs.
His mouth is on mine again, his slick tongue sliding between my lips. I fight the urge to scream, my body responding to all of his physical cues, as if it knows how to counter his actions.
Slamming me against the wall roughly, he thrusts inside of me, his mouth on mine again. My body fills with hot fire with every single thrust. Every time he rocks inside of me, my pussy clenches around his thick shaft, milking his every movement.
Pulling out, he flips me over and slaps my ass hard, entering me from behind with a force of energy. My hair rolls over one shoulder as I catch where everyone is seated. In my sex and very fucking high haze, I’m somewhat pleased to see no one watching, until my focus falls on Wicked. He’s leaning back in his chair, a toothpick rolling around between his swollen lips. His eyes are dead, cold, and emotionless. Royce grabs my hair tight and yanks my head backward.
“You better not be looking at who I think you’re looking at…”
I gulp, no desire to answer him.
He releases my hair before one hand clamps around my waist, tensing hard enough to leave bruises beneath my skin while his other comes to the back of my throat. “You’ll pay for that too.”
He squeezes and thrashes me from behind, his cock thrusting against the walls of my pussy as his hand tenses enough to cut off any form of oxygen.
I tap at his hand as he relentlessly thrusts into me. In and out, in and out, his hand clenching the same time, with every time he chokes me, it seems to get longer. Bright retro dots dance behind the backs of my eyes, everything turning dizzy. Just as my thighs clench together and a moan falls from my mouth, my orgasm drips out of me and slips down my thigh as everything goes black.
Dirt and chalk crusts around my mouth as I come to, with Royce placing me back onto the ground in the back of the small garage, his shoulders shaking with laughter.