by Gemma Weir
He turns and leaves, not giving her a chance to speak again.
“Wow, he really isn’t getting the message, is he?” Bonnie says, still wrapped in Beau’s arms. They were too busy pawing at each other so I don’t think they saw the way I was touching Cora, honestly, I don’t give a fuck if they did.
Shrugging my arm off her shoulder, she inhales sharply. “He really isn’t. He thinks just because he’s pretty, he’s impossible to resist. Cam inviting him to dinner probably has him thinking I’m playing hard to get. I’m going to fucking kill my brother for this,” she says, lifting her drink and downing the contents before shoving a ball of what looks like cotton candy into her mouth.
“You want me to have a word with him?” Beau asks.
Bristling, I fight the urge to snarl at my older brother. Cora isn’t his business; I’ll take care of this not him. My woman, not his. Gritting my teeth, I push the possessive feeling down again and focus all my attention on Cora. She’s glaring at me now, but I don’t react, instead I place my hand on the back of her seat, and hidden from view I gently rub my thumb over the skin at the back of her neck. She tries to shrug me off again, but I keep my fingers in place needing to touch her, and not wanting to look at the reason why.
“Thanks Beau, but I can deal with him. I’ve been trying not to be a bitch about this breakup but he’s forcing my hand,” she tells my brother.
“You change your mind, you let me know, we’ll make sure he doesn’t bother you again,” Beau tells her.
When the waitress passes, we order another round of drinks and Bonnie chats away to Cora as they decide what song to sing. Gradually she relaxes beneath my touch, the tension melting from her shoulders as she leans into my hand.
The girls drink and sing karaoke a couple of times, and each time Cora takes her seat she settles back into my touch, almost seeking it. My dick is rock hard, and all from the touch of one single finger across her neck. My peaches is intoxicating and even though I know I shouldn’t, I just don’t seem to be able to leave her alone. I want to fuck her again. I want her looking at me this time, her legs on my shoulders, that fiery red hair wrapped around my fist.
Since I left her place yesterday all I’ve been able to think about is how when I take her again, she won’t be dismissing me before the sweat is even dry, she’ll be begging me for more, begging for me to stay, to hold her, to claim her and own her. I want to edge her until she’s mindless and desperate and then I want her to beg me to make her mine.
Without realizing I’m doing it, my palm wraps around the back of her neck and tightens, until I feel her tense beneath my fingers. When I glance down and realize what I’m doing, I find her looking at me, her expression confused, her eyes flaring with heat. She likes it when I get a little rough with her. That realization makes my dick even harder and I inhale silently, willing my cock to get the memo that as much as we both want to fuck her, it’s not going to happen in a bar with an audience.
“You ‘bout ready, Baby Girl?” Beau asks Bonnie, his arm wrapped possessively around her.
“Yeah,” she yawns. “Too many tacos and blowjob martinis.”
Cora laughs. “You’re a lightweight, it’s barely eleven.”
“Leave me alone, I’m practically an old married woman,” Bonnie giggles, as Beau nips at her neck playfully.
“God, you guys are so adorable. You make me sick,” Cora deadpans.
“Jealous,” Bonnie singsongs.
“Come on, let’s go, if the hubby gets to fuck you before you pass out, he might let you out to play a bit more often. Plus, I don’t want to be here at closing in case Mitchell circles back around hoping I’m drunk and weak,” Cora says, her tone changing from playful to serious when she mentions her ex.
Meeting my brother’s eyes over the girls’ heads, we have a silent conversation about Cora and her asshole-won’t take no for an answer-ex. Beau might just be playing the protective friend, but for me this feels a hell of a lot more personal.
Beau pays the bar tab while the girls grab their stuff and as a group we head for the door, only to almost run straight into Mitchell on his way in. Cora steps back as I step forward, melting into my arms when I pull her to my side. Curling my arm around her waist, my fingers spread over the top of her ass. It’s a possessive, dick move, but I need this guy to know she’s not available, that she’s mine.
Her ex’s eyes move to her, his jaw tensing when he sees how I’m touching her. Before he gets a chance to speak, Beau steps forward with Bonnie beneath his arm. His huge frame blocks Cora and I from view and when he steps forward, he effectively muscles Mitchell backwards.
Leading Cora forward, I guide her from behind Beau and to the side, so when Beau moves, Mitchell’s only option is to step forward into the bar, not to turn back to Cora.
Without even glancing in his direction, I know he’s watching, I can feel the heat of his glare where my hand is planted on Cora’s ass, but I don’t care. I want him to look, I want him to see what it looks like to own a woman, and I fucking own her. I don’t know when I decided she’s mine, maybe it’s when I saw the way he was looking at her, like he knows what she looks like when she’s in the middle of an orgasm. Whatever the cause, I’m not going to fight this attraction I feel for her. I don’t care that this is by far the most stupid thing I’ve ever done. I don’t care that this could cause problems for Beau and his woman. All I know is that if Mitchell or anyone else touches her, I’ll lose my shit.
We all watched when Beau had his come to god moment with Bonnie. I fucking laughed, but now I think I know how he felt. From the moment I saw Cora drunk and dancing with Bonnie the other day I fell hook, line and sinker. She’s argued, taunted and tried to play games with me, but I know she wants me just as bad as I want her and I want her more than anything.
Reaching the car, Beau opens it and I guide Cora into the back seat while Beau and Bonnie get into the front. It takes less than five minutes to drive to Cora’s apartment block and when we do, I open the door and climb out first offering her my hand. I’m surprised when she takes it, but I help her from the car, releasing her once she’s on the sidewalk.
“Bye guys, thanks for the ride, Beau, I’ll call you tomorrow, Bon,” she calls, blowing a kiss before she turns and heads for the entrance door.
Beau smirks when he catches my eye. “I’ll swing by and get you once I’ve helped Bonnie set up in the morning.”
“Thanks Bro, night Sis,” I call, turning and grabbing the lobby door before it has a chance to close, barely hearing Bonnie’s questioning, “What?” as I step into the building.
I curl my arm back around Cora’s waist as she waits for the elevator to arrive.
“I don’t need you to walk me to my apartment, I know where it is,” she snarks.
Smirking down at her, I don’t bother speaking, there’s no point arguing in the lobby, best we get this sorted out in her apartment closer to a bed.
A ding heralds the elevator’s arrival and Cora lurches forward, trying to free herself of my touch, but instead of grabbing her, I carefully follow her into the small space and turn to face the exit. Once the doors have closed, I reach my palm up and wrap it around the back of her neck. It’s a blatantly possessive gesture and I feel her tense, but she doesn’t try to move or free herself.
I don’t release her when we reach her floor, instead I guide her with my hand on her nape until we reach her door. Leaning forward, I press the code and open it leading her inside, then closing the door behind us.
Loosening my hold, I allow her to step away from me, watching as she kicks off her shoes and crosses the room, putting distance between us. “Thanks for walking me up, Beau and Bonnie must be waiting for you.”
“They’re not.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, her brow furrowed.
“They’ve gone.”
“Why?” Her brows are raised, her lips pursed in question.
“Why would they wait?” I ask, turning the question back to
her.
“To give you a ride home.”
“I’m not going home.”
“Then where are you going?” she asks slowly.
“I’m staying here.”
“No, you’re not,” she practically yells.
Smiling, I close the distance between us. “Why not, Peaches?”
“Because this is my home and you’re not welcome. I mean who the hell just invites themselves to stay the night?”
“Would you rather have invited your ex home instead?” I growl.
“No, of course not, I’m not interested in him.”
“Yesterday you wanted me here,” I taunt.
“That was a mistake.”
“Which part? The part where you lay on your bed and rode your vibrator wishing it was my dick, or the part where we fucked?”
“All of it,” she cries, her cheeks pink, her chest heaving up and down.
“Liar,” I whisper. Closing the distance between us, I palm the back of her neck again, squeezing until she melts beneath my touch. “I think you want me just as much as I want you.”
“I don’t,” she says so quietly I can barely hear her.
“I think your pussy is soaking wet right now. I think you’re aching for the feel of my cock inside your cunt. I think you’re desperate for me to own you.” Leaning down I press my lips against her ear. “To make you my own personal fuck toy.”
Before her, I’ve never spoken to a woman like this in my life, there’s something about her that makes me react this way, and from the way she’s shivering and not pushing me away… it’s obvious she like’s this as much as I do. I’m not saying these things to degrade her, but I don’t just want her to be my girl, I want to own her on a primitive level, I want her to be more mine than hers. My woman, my belonging, my toy, and I want her to want it as much as I do.
9
Cora
God, I shouldn’t like anything he’s saying to me, it’s wrong and disgusting and abhorrent to the feminist I consider myself to be. But I can still feel myself responding to him. My muscles feel lax, my vagina is pulsing with need and I can feel the arousal soaking through my already sopping wet underwear.
My mind goes fuzzy for a moment and I just stand there, surrounded by this aura of power that’s emanating from him. I want him, but I shouldn’t. Messing about with him could mean losing Bonnie, it could ruin our friendship, so I force myself to fight my reaction to him. Inhaling shallow breaths, I force my eyes open, not even realizing I’d allowed them to close.
“Why are you doing this? We both know this is a stupid idea, Bonnie is my best friend and you’re her new brother. Sex isn’t important enough to cause problems with my friend.”
“I don’t just want sex,” he growls.
“Then what do you want?” I ask, hating how weak I sound. I enjoy sex, I love orgasms, but I’ve never been the type of girl who is guided by her vagina, or at least not until Huck fucking Barnett came into my life.
“I already told you. I want to own you,” he tells me, his voice barely above a whisper.
Shaking my head, I try to deny him, but he just smirks and tightens his grip on my neck until I make a sound that’s half whimper, half moan.
“Oh my god, I hate you so much,” I scream at the top of my lungs.
“You’ve mentioned that,” he says, his expression impassive, like my words have zero effect on him at all. “The thing is; I don’t believe you.”
Wrestling myself free from his hold I turn my back on him and head for the door, needing to get away from him and his annoying face and iron clad disinterest that has obviously been as much of a façade as my indifference to him has been.
Strong fingers wrap around my wrist and he yanks me back, pulling me off balance. I slam into his chest and he pins me to him, one hand on the base of my spine, the other tangled into my hair, holding me in place.
“Let go of me,” I say, my resolve weakening by the second when I’m this close to him.
“No.”
“I don’t want you here,” I cry, forcing the words out.
“Liar.”
“Please just go.”
“I can’t,” he says, his voice thick, the only outward sign that he cares about me at all.
“Why not?” I plead.
“Because I’ve tried, Peaches, and I just can’t leave you alone.”
His lips land on mine a second later and he tightens his grip on my hair until it hurts. My scalp burns, but I don’t care, I like it because it makes the pleasure of his tongue in my mouth feel even more heightened. This is a mistake on so many levels but I don’t care, sometimes being wrong just feels too right to care about the consequences.
Melting into his kiss, I press myself against him, needing to feel the heat and strength of him. His hold tightens in response like he’s worried I’m trying to get away, when we both know that right now neither of us has the strength to leave.
Gripping his shirt, I pull myself upwards, deepening the kiss as he tilts my head to where he wants, using his grip on my hair like a leash.
“Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he hisses against my lips.
“It’s a mistake, but I don’t seem to be able to care,” I pant, needing him to kiss me more than I need to explain again how stupid this is, even as I know I don’t want to stop.
Smirking, he releases his hold on my hair and palms the back of my neck, squeezing until his grip is almost painful. I moan shamelessly and his eyes flash with mischief. “I think you like it when I get a bit rough, don’t you, Peaches?”
My lips part but I don’t speak, pushing my mouth against his hungrily instead. He pulls me back and glares at me. “I expect an answer.”
“I want you to fuck me,” I purr, not interested in his dirty talk right now. I want his hands and tongue and cock to do dirty things to me instead.
“Is that what you need, baby? You need me to rip your jeans down, bend you over the couch and fuck you?”
“Yes,” I gasp, reaching for his shirt and undoing the buttons, my fingers trembling with anticipation.
He chuckles, and the sound hits my clit like it came with batteries. Moaning, I undo the last button and push his shirt off his shoulders, revealing his chest. Toned and firm, with a smattering of dark hair that I rub my fingers over as I lean into the shape of his body on the way down to his belt.
Before I get a chance to touch his jeans I’m abruptly turned, lifted off the ground by his arm that’s around my waist and moved across the room to the couch. My feet touch the ground and I’m unceremoniously folded over the arm of the couch, my breasts crushed against the fabric, his hand in the middle of my back keeping me fixed in place.
Pulling my arms up, I try to push up, but the moment I move he shoves me back down. “This is what you said you wanted, Peaches,” he snarls, releasing his hold on my back to drag my jeans and panties down, leaving them bunched just below my knees.
“Huck,” I cry, pushing myself up and turning to glare at him.
“Bend over the arm.” His voice is full of threat, but instead of being scared, I feel my sex gush with arousal. I have never had a guy take charge like this, I’ve always been the aggressor in my sexual relationships, but the way he’s looking at me, talking to me; fuck, it’s hot.
“Now, Peaches.” His growl is a warning, and I comply without thinking about it too hard.
Leaning forward, I curl my torso over the arm of the couch, gripping the fabric with my fingers as I wait for him to touch me.
“This wasn’t what I had planned for this first time tonight. I was gonna eat you, stretch you out with my fingers and tongue. I was gonna take it slow, show you what it feels like to be owned by me.”
I feel his body curve over me, I’m exposed from the waist down, but he’s yet to touch me and I’m almost vibrating with need for him. His lips press against my ear and I flinch, feeling his hot breath. “Is this what you need, Peaches? To be claimed, taken.”
I whimper aga
in as he grinds his hard dick into my ass cheek, making sure I can feel how ready he is for me.
“Answer the question, baby, is this what you need?”
“Yes,” I pant, my voice raspy and desperate.
I feel the loss of his weight and heat when he lifts off me, and I swallow back a groan of disappointment that tries to escape my lips. Surely he won’t leave me like this, my pussy exposed, wet and ready.
An audible sigh of relief bursts free when I hear the sound of his belt being removed, followed by the rustling of denim as he pushes his jeans down. I flinch when his fingers spread my pussy lips open and he immediately slams two large fingers inside of me, pushing me upwards with the force.
“This cunt is dripping for me, Peaches, so desperate to be filled.”
“Fuck me,” I beg, not recognizing the desperation in my voice.
His fingers don’t move, buried deep in my core, but not giving me the friction I need. “Grip my fingers, show me how much you want my dick,” he orders.
I squeeze my internal muscles and push back onto him, silently begging him to move, and growling with frustration when he pulls his fingers free and doesn’t immediately replace them with his dick.
“Huck,” I whine.
“Tell me what you want, baby,” he taunts.
“I want you to fuck me.”
“How do you want it, Peaches? Do you want me to take it nice and slow, tease you until the only thing you can do is beg for me to let you come, or do you want it hard and fast like you belong to me, like you’re my own personal fuck toy?”
“Hard and fast,” I pant, wiggling my hips, my body instinctively seeking his.
“Tell me, baby, tell me exactly what you want.”
I know he’s taunting me. I know he’s denying me his touch to force me to say the words, but right now I need him more than I need air. I need him to fuck me with a desperation I’ve only ever read about. So I say what he wants me to say, confess what I’d never say aloud. “I want you to fuck me hard and fast like I belong to you, like I’m your own personal fuck toy.”
Before I’ve even finished speaking his dick slams home, filling my sex completely and pushing me onto my toes, my body forced further over the arm of the couch. Barely giving me time to breath, he pulls out and slams back in, one hand pressed against the middle of my back keeping me in place, the other gripping my ass as he sets a furious pace, fucking me with single minded intent.