by Monica James
She sees the significance for what it is and doesn’t disregard it as merely a theatrical flair. She seems to understand that each stroke serves a purpose, that nothing was done by accident. How can she read me so well?
“Their lives are mine,” I ambiguously answer, eyes locked with hers. “I know who they are…it’s only a matter of time.”
“And what happens when you take them?”
Her question catches me off guard because I haven’t thought that far ahead. Up until tonight, I didn’t even know that one of those lives could be my da’s.
“What happened to you, Punky?”
Hissing, I pull her toward me, so we’re pressed chest to chest. She doesn’t cower. She dares me to do my best.
“If I tell ya that, I’m gonna have to kill ya.”
She licks her bottom lip nervously, but what she replies brings me to my knees. “You can try.”
I know this is a bad idea, but that’s never stopped me before. In reality, I have no self-control when it comes to Babydoll, and finally, I give in to what I’ve wanted to do since we first met and slam my lips against hers.
A gasp escapes her, but that soon turns into a moan when she stands on her toes and kisses me back with fire. She pulls at my hair, whimpering when I bite her bottom lip. She flicks her tongue across my piercing, then tugs it gently between her teeth.
The sharp sting has every part of me hardening, and kissing is suddenly not enough.
With our lips still attached, I walk her backward until her knees hit the couch. She tumbles onto it with a yelp, but I don’t follow. I stand before her, breathless and so incredibly turned on. She scoots backward on her elbows, her eyes never leaving mine.
When her back hits the armrest, she inhales slowly, her cheeks turning a deep red as I openly explore every inch of her. Her mouth is slathered in black and white paint, making her all the more delectable.
Her blue summer dress dips low at the collar. Her chest is rising and falling with uneven breaths, and I like that I’m the one who provoked this response from her.
“I’m n-not sure if I should trust you,” she confesses, and I hum in delight.
“Good,” I reply, watching the way she slips off her shoes, eagerly awaiting my response. “Don’t.”
Just as she’s about to rise, I climb onto the couch and sit back on my heels because this is happening and it’s happening now. We’re on opposite sides of the sofa, giving her a false sense of security because when she tries to get up again, I grip her ankles and drag her toward me.
A yelp leaves her, and she grips the cushions, needing something to anchor her for what’s about to come. Placing my hands on either side of her hips, I hold her prisoner, keeping my weight off her as I press my lips over her racing pulse.
She arches her neck, permitting me to take and take I do. With no hurry, I run my nose over her skin, lost in her vanilla scent. She smells good enough to eat…which is exactly what I plan on doing.
I slither down her body, her curves molding to mine, and come to a stop at the junction of her thighs. She shuffles back and leans against the armrest, knowing what I want as she opens her legs timidly. She slowly pulls up the hem of her dress, exposing her black lace underwear.
They’re see-through, allowing me to admire what that flimsy piece of material conceals. Her pussy is bare, and I run my tongue over the ball in my lip piercing, obsessed with what I see. I don’t ask, I take, as I run my hand up her thigh and circle the outside of her underwear.
I’m surprised to feel the material is wet.
I wish I could be gentle and give her what she deserves, but I can’t. I don’t know how.
She repositions herself, bending one leg while she spreads the other wide, granting me full access to her beautiful cunt. Her breaths are hot and heavy as I shift her underwear to one side, baring herself to my deviancy. Her pretty flesh seems to turn scarlet all over.
With two fingers, I stroke up and down the outside of her pussy, excited by the way her body responds to my touch. She whimpers, gripping the couch cushions.
Her skin grows slicker, and never breaking eye contact, I offer her two fingers from my other hand, where she does as I coax and draws them into her mouth to suck on them. Barely holding back my growl of approval, I continue stroking her while she suckles my fingers, circling her tongue around them.
Her cheeks hollow as she sucks me deep, which has my dick stirring in approval.
Once my fingers are well lubricated, I remove them from her mouth. They slide free with a pop. The noise, coupled with the feeling, just increases the need to eat her whole. She leans back against the armrest, her throat quivering as she swallows deeply, awaiting my next move.
She’s on fire in my hand, but when I sink my finger that was inside her mouth seconds ago into her pussy, she detonates.
“Oh my God,” she moans, throwing her head back.
I work my finger in and out, in and out, watching closely as Babydoll comes undone. With my thumb, I circle over her clit, in awe at the way her body responds to my touch. I’m used to my hands causing pain, not pleasure, so I can’t get enough of her breathless cries and small shudders that rock her body.
She reaches down, placing her hand over mine, begging I speed up the tempo. Seeing her beg is a new drug to me, so instead of increasing the rhythm, I sink in another finger.
Her back bows as she squeezes her eyes shut, her body trembling, demanding more.
With sluggish strokes, I penetrate her deep. Her warmth sucks me in, and I never want to leave. She’s so slick, I slide in and out with ease. To feel how turned on she is pleases me in ways I never thought possible.
“Please,” she begs hoarsely, raising her hips, hoping to deepen the angle.
“Please what, Babydoll?” I question, her pleas only adding to the tension building inside me.
“More,” she shamelessly demands. “I want more.”
Her underwear is in the way, which frustrates her. She shoves them aside, opening herself further up to me, but I chuckle smugly as that’s the reason I left them on—to have her on the cusp of exploding before I give in.
As I work her into a wild mess, I play with her clit, unable to get over the sight of her coming undone because of me. I enjoy going down on women. I prefer it to sex, to be honest. Being able to dominate someone to the point of them losing complete control is what I like.
Sex is the hard part. The intimacy makes me uncomfortable because someone always wants more, and I don’t have any more to give. Being with them, vulnerable that way, isn’t something I enjoy. But now, all I want is to be lost in Babydoll as I know my demons will play well with hers.
I just want to let go.
With a guttural groan, I give her what we both want, and with a sharp tug, tear off her underwear. Her pussy glistens under the light, the slickness awakening an even deeper hunger within. Without thought, I lie down on my stomach, position one of her legs over my shoulder, and take her cunt into my mouth.
Babydoll cries out, clutching the top of my arms for support as I devour her without apology. She tastes how she smells—like vanilla—and I want more.
Rubbing her flesh against my face, I slather myself with her honey, taking her into my mouth as I sink my tongue in deep. Up and down, in and out, I fuck her with my tongue and mouth, licking, sucking, leaving no part of her untouched.
She bucks against my face, using the heel of her foot to coax me in deeper. She is the one holding me prisoner, and usually, I wouldn’t like it. I would feel suffocated, claustrophobic, but not with her. She tenderly runs her fingers through my hair, moaning and shuddering with each flick of my tongue.
Her pussy is scalding, burning me alive, but I want more, so I add a finger to the mix, showing no mercy as I eat her out. Gripping her thigh, I extend it out further as I want her all over me. I want her aching, her legs resembling jelly, so she’ll think of me tomorrow with each step she takes.
My finger and tongue are in a race with
one another, sprinting toward the finish line as I punish Babydoll with torturous strokes. Her back bows off the couch, and she uses my hair as reins, pinning me to her pussy. She is confident and knows what she wants—and that is the kind of lover I want.
I want someone to take from me, demand I serve her like a queen. I want an equal, in every way there is. I want someone to challenge me, infuriate me until I’m ready to explode, because that eruption will result in something utterly sinful…just like this.
“Ahh, Punky!”
Gripping her waist, I keep her restrained as I work her into a frenzy. She writhes and moans. “Please, oh God…it hurts…but it hurts…so damn good.”
It pleases me that Babydoll doesn’t mind a little pain because I can give her that. Everything else is foreign to me. But being with her this way feels almost innate as though we’ve done this a thousand times before.
We click, in every way, which has never happened before.
She is slathered all over me, and I wonder what my face looks like because her pussy is covered in slashes of black and white. My dick is so hard, I’m afraid I’ll come in my pants like a horny wee lad.
Babydoll pumps her hips against my face, fucking me as I’m fucking her, and when I suck her clit, she comes loud and hard. I keep her pinned, holding her pussy prisoner as I milk every last tremor from her body.
Her curses are moaned, and holy fuck, if it’s not the hottest sound I’ve heard, then I don’t know what is. The last shudder leaves her, and her body grows lax. With one last kiss over her perfect pussy, I sit up and wipe my mouth because I’m a messy eater, but I thoroughly enjoyed that meal.
Sprawled across the couch, Babydoll attempts to catch her breath. I like seeing her here, in my home, sated because of me.
I’m about to stand because my erection threatens to have me walking with a permanent limp, but the moment I do, Babydoll slides over and straddles me. She loops her arms around my neck, still breathless and spent. Her cheeks are scarlet, and a satisfied look paints her face.
Instantly, I stiffen as I don’t like this intimacy. She’s too close. I turn my cheek, but she stops me, coaxing me to look at her as she places a finger under my chin.
“You just ate me out like I was your last meal, and now you can’t bear to touch me?”
“It’s not that,” I reply, not wishing to offend her.
“Then what?”
“I, I don’t like this sort of…touchin’.”
She arches a brow, confused.
“I don’t like being this close to someone,” I confess, feeling emotionally inapt. “I feel…caged in. I feel like I can’t breathe.”
She purses her lips, weighing over what I’ve just shared, but she doesn’t get off. She isn’t repulsed or mad. “What happened to you?”
“Ya don’t want to know,” I counter, gripping the cushion beneath me.
“Yes, I do,” she gently argues. “That’s why I asked.”
She looks at me, waiting for me to divulge all the sins of my past, but she’ll be waiting a long time. My walls are instantly re-erected, and I click over into defense mode.
“Just ’cause I ate yer pussy, doesn’t mean we’re gonna cuddle and share our deepest, darkest secrets. Ya got what ya came here for. Now away with ya.”
She blinks once, clearly offended, and she has every right to be.
But this isn’t personal. This is who I am. I’m fucked up in the head. I know that. There is no fixing me, and I don’t want to be fixed.
When she realizes I’m serious, she angrily stands, frantically putting on her shoes. She won’t look at me, and it hurts, but I brought this onto myself.
“You’re a real arsehole, you know that?”
Leaning back against the couch, I smirk. “Aye, I think we’ve established that, but ya can’t seem to stay away, can ye? Any time ya want that grand pussy ate—”
I don’t get to finish my sentence because she springs forward and slaps my cheek—hard. “You shut your filthy mouth,” she sneers, eyes narrowed and making no apology for her actions.
Good, she hates me. Hopefully, this is enough to keep her away because I don’t have the strength to do so.
Rubbing my cheek, I merely grin smugly. She reads this for what it is.
She spins to leave, but stops and levels me with nothing but pure hatred as she reveals, “I came here to check on you. I wanted to make sure everything was all right after I sent you that information. I was worried,” she says, scoffing. “What a bloody idiot I am.”
I remain impassive, not wanting her to see how her words have affected me. This was her final ploy to get through to me, but she failed, by no fault of hers. When she realizes this conversation is done, she turns on her heel, slamming the door behind her.
Once she’s gone, I lean my head back against the cushions and place an arm over my eyes, wishing to block out the pain I’ve caused. It’s going to take a lot more than that, however.
I just did Babydoll a favor…she just doesn’t know it.
He wants to see me. I don’t know why. Has something happened? I gulp at the thought.
Walking through the luxurious home, I pay no attention to the riches because this wealth is merely a reminder of everything I need but will never have unless I do something so deplorable, I’ll question my morals forever.
I’m already halfway there, however.
I’m sore, thanks to Punky giving me the best orgasm of my life before throwing me out like some common whore. I clench my fists just thinking about that son of a bitch. How dare he.
This shouldn’t be personal, but it suddenly feels like it is. I’m in way over my head.
Puck Kelly has gotten under my skin. I should have been more careful, but I never expected to feel…this connection to him. But after last night, that connection has been severed because I will not be treated like a whore.
However, when I knock on his office door, I know that this choice isn’t mine anymore. I’m here to serve a purpose. He permits me admission, and I enter, head bowed; just as he commanded I do.
I don’t take a seat. I know better. Someone like me isn’t fit to sit before someone like him. I smell his trademark pine cologne underneath the cigar smoke. It makes me want to gag. I wait for him to address me, but he draws it out. It’s all just a powerplay, but I can never forget who’s in charge.
“Bout ye?” he asks as if I’m here because I want to be.
“Fine,” I reply, keeping my answer short.
“Did ya find anythin’ out?”
Measuring my breathing, I nod. “Yes, he asked about a house in Moville. I gave him what I found at Mr. Duffy’s.”
“Aye, good, love. What else?”
“His face was painted.” My body still tingles at the memory of finding him that way. He looked so frighteningly hot.
Silence.
“He had three red lines down the middle of his forehead. They signify the lives he’s going to take.”
“And he knows who they are?”
“Yes. He didn’t tell me who.”
He claps loudly, clearly happy with the update. “And his father was the one who beat him up?”
Nodding, I swallow down my disgust at the thought.
“Well done. What else?”
I know what he wants me to tell him—that I seduced Punky into telling me all his secrets—but he doesn’t know Punky. And he doesn’t know me.
“I’ve got photos of all the files you wanted,” I reveal, which is not the information he wanted, but it’ll do—for now.
“Nice one. I want ya to keep at it, though. I need ya to break him.”
Tears well, because I don’t want that. I never wanted any of this. But that’s why I’m here. Puck thinks he’s a monster, but monsters come in all different shapes and sizes. His mask last night was a reflection of who he thinks he is.
What happens if he saw mine?
“He’s not easily broken,” I counter softly. “It’s going to take a lot more than
—”
When I hear the leather of his chair creak, indicating he’s risen, I seal my lips, terrified. I shouldn’t have contradicted him. But I can’t stand this.
The plush carpet announces his arrival, and when he lifts my chin with his finger, my mask, the one I’ve tried so hard to master, slips into place. He examines my face, but I can’t read what’s going on behind those steel gray eyes. His mask is rock-solid.
“Try harder,” he calmly says—but make no mistake, this is a warning. “Ya know what happens if ya don’t?”
Biting the inside of my cheek to stop the tears of anger, I nod firmly.
This motherfucker loves to assert his power as if anyone could ever forget. “Yer here for one reason only. And what’s that?”
I stand tall, hating myself more than I already do as I stonily reply, “To…seduce Puck Kelly and make him fall in love with me.”
And there it is…the ugly truth. The reason I’ve helped Punky. The reason I can’t leave him be.
At first, he was merely a means to an end, but the moment we met, I realized he was something more. But regardless of my feelings, if Punky ever knew who I really was and why I was sent to him, he’d have no qualms killing me for my betrayal.
He nods happily, brushing over my trembling bottom lip. “And?”
“And to uncover everything I can about the Kellys.”
“And what does that make ya?”
A tear trickles down my cheek. “It makes me a liar.”
“Aye, and no one could ever love a liar,” he says, wiping away my tear. “Ya think yer meeting was by chance? None of this is by chance. Ye all played right into my hands.
“I knew dressin’ the way ya did would spark his interest. As would doing something which would have him lookin’ for ya. Stealing from him was perfect. I gave ye orders, and ya ran with them. None of this makes sense. But it will.”
I hate him, and he knows it.
“Yer nothing but a liar. And a good one at that. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Never forget that. I own ya.”
I’ll never forget because no one can hate me more than I do myself.
He walks toward his desk and picks up the phone. He dials and offers it to me. This is the reason I’m doing this. This is the reason I’ve sold my soul to the devil.