by Kitty Cox
She ducked her head, but a giggle slipped out. "So I just sit on it?"
"No." A finger under her chin let him see her face. "First, you kiss me. This isn't about my damned dick, Dez. I've told you that. Kiss me and stop thinking so damned much. Stop worrying about what comes next and pay attention to right now." His hand released her face and moved to her spine, barely caressing her soft skin. "Feel this? I'm touching you, Sugar." His other hand began to move higher up her leg. "I can feel your skin shiver. I can hear you breathing faster. I can see your eyes wanting to close." He leaned just a bit more until he could almost touch her neck. "I just want to hear you moan and know it's because you're with me."
The breath she released was loud, but his little demon wasn't going to give in. Chance kissed her throat, his tongue teasing the skin as he moved toward her jaw. Unconsciously, Dez tilted her head back, giving him access, and he felt all the blood rush right back where it belonged. He kissed again, this time behind her ear, and finally got what he wanted. The sound was so gentle, so unlike anything she'd ever made before, and it had him completely enthralled.
"Kiss me," he begged. "Just kiss me, Dez."
Her breath caressed his cheek, her mouth followed a second later. Chance couldn't stop himself. His arms wrapped around her back, and he turned to claim her lips with his own. This time she wasn't timid. Dez's tongue was waiting, dancing softly in first her mouth before daring to invade his. The groan in the back of his throat was a match to hers.
When she broke free to suck in air, he claimed her neck again, kissing lower, then lower still. When his mouth reached Doom, he felt the thickened flesh of her scar but ignored it. She leaned back, pressing into his touch, and he moved just a bit lower. Those small, perfect breasts of hers were right there, the nipples standing erect, begging him, and Chance wasn't the kind of man to say no. His tongue flicked across one, and finally, her moan was real. He licked it again until her hands tangled in his hair, demanding more. He moved to the other, giving it the same treatment.
She tasted so good. Each swipe of his tongue made him want another. Every gasp, pant, and sigh proved she wasn't scared. For this moment, Chance had all he could ask for, and he was not going to screw this up. He was going to show her what it felt like to be loved, not fucked. He was going to show the woman of his dreams that touching him was something she needed, because this would not be the only time. This woman was not going to just walk out when she was done with him. She was the only one he'd ever wanted to stay. Chance let his hand move around to her stomach then lower.
He couldn't feel the ink under her skin, but the scars were hard and thick. With his eyes closed and his mouth on her breast, his hands told him everything. The thin skin over her ribs had too little padding. The lines of her stomach were soft but lean. The dimple of her belly button was small, as delicate as everything else about her. Then he felt the short brush of her curls. The hair wasn't thick or long. She might not have a reason to keep her pussy trimmed to impress, but he didn't give a shit. He didn't want her because she waxed herself bare. He wanted her because she made him feel real. Chance moved his attention back to the first nipple and moved his hand down to her damp folds and slid right between them.
She jerked, her body going tense and he froze. "Is this where I stop?" he asked.
Dez shook her head.
"Talk to me, Sugar."
Her chest was rising quickly with each breath. "Slowly, ok?"
"We don't have to do this."
She bent, sliding her body over his hand as she reached for his mouth. "I do." Then she kissed him.
That was all he needed. Chance shoved his tongue into her mouth and his hand over her clit. His girl bucked, arching back as he hit just the right spot. She whimpered, proving she was giving in. Dez's hands grabbed at his shoulders for balance, but she made no move to stop. Oh no, she rubbed herself against him, using him like her own personal sex toy. He could do that. Pressing a bit harder, he circled her clit, then shifted his hand. While his thumb teased her hard little knot, his fingers reached back for what he wanted. Hot, tight, and dripping wet, when he entered her, she didn't stop. She pressed herself down, riding his hand.
"Oh, yes," she gasped.
He wanted to suck on her tits. He wanted to watch her come. Unable to decide, he just let his hand drive her higher, holding her up with the other, feeling like he was living a dream. Dez didn't hold back. She didn't know how. No one had taught her to be ashamed of enjoying this. Every last thing about her was perfect. The way she never did anything halfway made him want to show her how good this could be. When she came, he wanted her to scream. Chance crooked the finger inside her, his thumb stroking in time, moving faster, pressing harder, until she began to clench. Her hips were moving. Her eyes were closed. Her fingers dug into his skin. All around them, the rest of the world was silent, only her muffled little whimpers filling his half-dark room.
Then she threw her head back and stiffened, growling in pleasure as her body gave in to his demands. She came hard, all over his hand, and Chance leaned in to kiss the soft skin of her belly, waiting for the shudders to pass.
"I love you," he whispered against her body.
She lifted herself off his hand. "Then show me."
Without a single word of warning, Dez grabbed his dick and aimed it right where she wanted, barely giving him time to move his arm from between them. She tried to push herself onto it, but he caught her, one hand on her waist, the damp one on her thigh, holding her up. He was not going to fuck this up.
"Slowly," he whispered.
"I don't want slow."
Oh, those were the words he longed to hear, but he knew better. She didn't have a damned clue what she wanted. "If you go too fast, I'm gonna blow my fuckin' load and we'll be all done, Sugar. Let me feel you. Take me slowly."
The tip of his dick was teasing her opening. Her fist was tight around his shaft. When she pressed him into her, she was so wet, but damned tight. Chance groaned, trying to help ease her down, fighting the instinctual urge to shove his hips up and bury himself inside her. He wanted this feeling to never end. He wanted to lose himself in her, but he knew if this wasn't perfect, she'd never do it again. Right now he had to be the damned hero.
Dez didn't make a sound. Chance couldn't look away. As her heat enveloped him, her jaw relaxed, her eyes closed, and she sank lower. Every beat of her heart was so hard he could feel it thrumming through her body. Or maybe that was his own. He couldn't tell. He couldn't fucking think. With his woman clenched around him, all he knew was that this was real. She was gripping his dick so hard it couldn't be a dream.
"Relax," he told her. "Does it hurt, Sugar?"
"It's big."
"Yeah." He used his hands to lift her back up a bit. "Supposed to be." Then he let her slide back down, feeling his balls turn into rocks, ready to explode. "Just like that. Oh, Sugar. Ride it just like that."
She took over. One hand pressed to his chest, the other clamped on his forearm for balance, she gave him up slowly before taking him back in one more time. Each time, she felt tighter. Every last inch of him was devoured, smothered, and tormented. When she moved down again, he lifted into her, helping. Dez moaned, leaning back, and he couldn't stop himself. Chance pulled her hips down, sheathing himself in his lover's body just to pull her up.
"Tell me to stop," he groaned, struggling not to lose control.
Dez relaxed, dropping back onto him, hard. "More," she demanded.
Oh, yeah. She wanted it like that, he could do that. His arms held her weight. Her thighs clenched his hips. Her pussy squeezed him into oblivion as Chance forgot about everything except how good she made him feel. Their bodies slapped together. Their breath came out as gasps. When she faltered, losing the rhythm of their passion, he knew she was close. He just had to hold off until she knew how good this felt. He just had to keep control until she got off. Seeing her tits bounce, her mouth part, and feeling her moisture running down his dick was more than he coul
d take, but he had to get this right. Oh, god, she felt good, but he had to make this about her. He had to give back what had been stolen. He had to be the. God. Damned. Hero.
The heat of her clamped down like a vice around his dick a split second before his girl cried out one single word. "Chance!"
And he stopped thinking. Feeling her cum was the bliss he'd always wanted. Tremors caressed him, flowing with the pounding of his own release. The smell of her was heavy in the air. Her tiny little waist filled his hands. Her body was entwined with his, and the world was perfect. Everything was good. For this one moment, he wanted nothing else. So many times, he'd dreamed of this, but hearing her call his name?
Chance pulled Dez down to his chest and wrapped his arms around her back, struggling to keep his wits. "Did it hurt?"
She snuggled into his chest. "Nah. I think we may have to do that again."
"Oh, yeah." He gently kissed the top of her head. "Damn, Dez. I really like touching you."
"Mm." He felt her lips on his chest. "I like you touching me, too. Crazy, huh?"
"So long as it's just me, I can do crazy. Damn. I could get used to this."
She pulled her arms close to her but made no other move to leave. "This mean you're not going to touch anyone else either?"
"You," he said softly. "Just you, Sugar. I don't want anyone else."
He felt her cheeks pull back as she smiled against his skin.
Chapter 33
It took almost a week to repair the glass. It took a lot less time before the threats started rolling in. First it was the emails. Most of the development team got at least one. Sam, Amy, and Dez got more. Chance got the most. They were all variations of the same: how those stupid bitches were going to dumb down the games until there was nothing fun left, and Deviant would be a joke. It didn't take long for Dez to set up a spam filter that caught most of them, but Chance kept watching their sales numbers drop. He wouldn't tell Dez. She didn't exactly need anything else on her plate.
Then the attacks moved to social media. Twitter was the worst, but Facebook wasn't much better. Every post Deviant Games made, someone had to respond to with a nasty remark. Reddit didn't tolerate the abuse, at least. The haters got downvoted into oblivion. Unfortunately, the gamer media picked it up. When Claudia sold her story, it all came together in a shitstorm. It seemed everyone was talking about Deviant, girl gamers, and why they shouldn't have to worry about offending anyone because of what they said online.
It was the ninth day after the vandalism when someone got the bright idea to start spamming the forums. The first post was moderated. Then the second. After only two hours, the threats to developers and female Silk players were being posted faster than the entire team could take them down. Tucked in her corner, Dez was frantically trying to trace the IP address of the posters, hoping for some connection, but it wasn't that easy. Braden took over the "ban hammer," completely denying access to anyone who made a threatening comment. Amy plastered a warning across the front page, and still the threats poured in. By two o'clock, all that could be seen in the bug report subforum was a stream of "The bitch will kill the game" posts, each one a carbon copy of the last. Chance was done.
"Shut it down!" He gestured to the machines in the room. "The entire forums. Shut it all down. I'd rather we're offline than spreading that bullshit!"
Mark looked up from his screen. "It'll kill the website, too. No sales."
"Don't fucking care," Chance growled. "Dez! Shut the whole thing down. Don't read that shit, just turn it off and start purging the archives so we can put the forums back up, clean. Coding team is yours, make this happen."
With a sucker in her mouth, she didn't even bother to look up. "On it. We're going black in five minutes. Gonna see if I can get us some data."
"Don't want data, Dez. I want this off. Let them find another sandbox to piss in."
Her hand slammed down on the corner of her desk. "That's not how it works, Chance. They don't go away because you blocked them. They try harder. They get smarter. They are gamers! These are people who live for the challenge. You want to stop this? Then we need to track some goddam connections and get some fucking data. The forums will be down in five!"
He froze, staring at her. She was glaring back. Nothing about Dez was afraid. She wasn't backing down. For a long moment they were stuck in a stalemate, each waiting for the other to change their mind, but Dez didn't work like that. She ran. She hid. She stayed far away from every threat, but right now she was sitting before hundreds, maybe thousands of them, and all it had done was piss her off. Ever since that night he'd dared her to take control, something had changed. His little Sugar wasn't meek. She'd found whatever it was that gave her the ambition to fight back. Slowly, he nodded, admitting she was right. If Dez was pissed, then nothing in the world would stop her, and he didn't want to try.
"Your baby," he said loud enough for the team to hear. "I just don't want any of our players to feel threatened, ok?"
"Promise." Her eyes flicked to her screen, something almost like a smile touching her mouth. "I'm not going to let them win again."
He moved closer, dropping his voice. "I know. I'm also not going to let them hurt you, ok?"
"Good luck with that." She looked up, but the sparkle in her eyes proved she believed him.
"I swore that to you, kid. Can't go breaking my promises now, right?"
Then she reached out and took his hand. "Yeah. Doesn't mean I'm gonna let them kill our baby, either. See if you can get a list of MAC addresses to go with the login accounts?"
"Yeah." Then he turned and headed for his office. Halfway there, he had a thought. "Amy? Start posting to the Deviant accounts. Let everyone know we took down the site to protect our players from harassment. Play it up. If they can't log in, I want them entertained on Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, and whatever else. Assign people to help."
She nodded, claiming one of the empty machines. "Call the police, Chance. Get it on record, at least. I've got copies of around ten death threats."
His feet paused. That wasn't at all what he'd expected. He probably should have, but never thought it would really get this far. "Real ones? After Dez?"
"All of us." Her complete attention was on the monitor. "Andy just got outed. Someone said they know where Mark lives. Things like that. There's plenty of empty threats, but every time they say one of us will die, they include something they shouldn't know."
"Get me copies." He was already digging out his phone.
The police put him on hold, transferred him, then transferred him again. Sitting in his office, listening to symphonic renditions of 80s rock, Chance had enough time to not only print out the worst of the death threats but also fax them to the local police office. When a detective finally got on the line, Chance wasn't shocked at his response.
"I'd be happy to take a report, Mr. Hunter, but there's not much else I can do. I can't exactly issue a warrant for someone named KittyPooper, now can I?"
Chance had to mentally count to ten. "I'll need that report for insurance reasons, but why can't you issue a warrant for the person accessing this site under the username of KittyPooper?"
"Need a real way to identify the person." The detective huffed, sounding annoyed with the entire conversation. "I got your faxes. I'll make an official record of this and send you a copy. I'm sorry. That's all I can do."
"Right," Chance growled, hanging up.
It wasn't the guy's fault. It really wasn't. The law just hadn't quite caught up to the twenty-first century yet. Threats made over the phone were taken seriously. Harassment in person, like stalking, was a real crime, but if it never left the internet, they had no idea how to classify it. Hell, half the law enforcement agencies in the country didn't even have a cyber division.
As the thought crossed his mind, he reached for his phone. This call wouldn't be nearly as pleasant as the last, but it might be more useful. Chance flicked through his contact list, found the image of an elegant woman, then swiped. As the
phone rang, his stomach began to tighten.
On the third ring, a woman picked up. "Anita Hunter, how can I help you?"
"Hi, Mom."
Silence hung on the line for far too long. Eventually, she cleared her throat. "Chance?"
"Yeah. How've ya been?"
The sound she made proved he wasn't fooling her at all. "I watch the news, young man. What the hell are you doing? Fire that girl already. Your profits are about to tank and I'm not bailing you out again. I told you that you got one chance at this whole video game thing, then you have to stop screwing around like some kid. You're too old for that."
"I'm dating her."
His mother audibly groaned. "Of course you are. Chance – "
He wasn't about to let her get on that rant. "Mom, you're not going to change my mind, ok? But this isn't about that. Well, it kinda is. I mean..." Why did his mother always make him feel like an awkward child? "Game forums just got hit with multiple death threats. They're real ones, too. They know which dev is gay, where another lives, and then there's what happened to Dez." He shuffled through the threats. "Local police say the best they can do is file a report."
"Then file it."
"Already did. I need to do more than that. These people could get hurt because they work for me. What other options do I have?"
Anita sighed, and he could hear her walking, probably pacing. "If you let the girl go, you'll probably see all of this clear up in about a week. Isn't that before your game is released?"
"Six days, but..." Chance dragged a hand down his face. "I'm not firing her. I gave her half the company. I can't."
"Why did you do that?" His mother sounded pissed.
The only answer was the truth. All of it. "Because she's the only person who can fix this. She's the best damned developer this decade. I'm also in love with her."
"Until next week, when she'll be suing you for sexual harassment like your last girlfriend?"