by Sweet, Izzy
“I know your favorite song is Purple Rain. I know you were born in Saint Nicolas Hospital, and it was snowing that day. I know you lost your first tooth when you were six. You have a scar on your hip from when you fell off your bike while learning to ride it. You took a boy to prom who stepped on your toes all night. I know you would have graduated at the top of your class if you would have applied yourself better...”
“I guess you know me better than I know myself because I don’t remember any of that shit!” I snap, utterly flustered and frustrated.
Simon reaches the bottom button, quickly undoes it, and shrugs his shirt off. My eyes must have a will of their own because despite all the crazy stuff he’s spewing, they take a moment to admire all of his chest muscles.
Especially the way they flex with the tiniest of movements.
“Yes, I do believe I know you better than you know yourself. In fact, if you knew yourself as well as I know you, then you’d know that all you really need to reach your full potential in this life is…”
He reaches down and begins to undo his belt buckle and my eyes snap to his waist.
“A firm hand to guide you.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, spare me.”
Simon yanks his belt out of his pants and my heart flutters with apprehension. Is he going to hit me now? Punish me?
“Is that really what you want, Meredith?” he says, gripping the belt in his hand. “Is that really what you need?”
Memories of last night rush through my head. Of being draped over his lap and completely at his mercy. The way his erection dug into my stomach… And his hands. His big, warm hands roaming over me, exploring me, squeezing me.
Then punishing me.
The spanks angered me, but there was also this… this… relief in the pain.
Simon grins as my skin flushes. My ass squirms against the bed as I remember the pleasure he brought me when he thrust his fingers inside me.
Even now, my core clenches at the memory of it.
He tosses the belt away, but I’m too messed up and fucked up in the head to find any comfort in knowing he’s not going to hit me.
Then his hands move to his pants. As he starts to unbutton them I start to panic again.
In an attempt to stall him and keep him talking, I blurt out, “Is there anything you don’t know about me?”
Simon’s fingers pause for a heartbeat, giving me a second of false hope that I succeeded. His expression becomes thoughtful and his eyes look faraway.
Then he yanks down his zipper and pulls his cock free. Oh god, oh god. What is he going to do with that?
“Yes,” he admits as he shoves his pants down his legs. “There is one thing I don’t know… One thing I’ve always wondered about…”
I dig my heels into the bed and push up, trying desperately to get away.
He takes the time to completely shed his pants and socks before he pursues me.
Naked body coming down on top of my body, one hand grabs me by the back of my head and drags my face up to his face.
Staring into my eyes, he says, “What it feels like to be buried in your pussy.”
Then he kisses me.
I stiffen, prepared to fight off his tongue again.
Unlike his first kiss though, he doesn’t try to overtake me or subdue me. No, there’s so much lust, so much desire in his kiss, the strength of it alone is enough to make me weak.
It’s almost like he’s trying to push all of his need into me. And there’s so much need.
I flounder, drowning beneath the weight of his emotion. How do I fight off a man who’s been waiting five years to get me in his bed? Do I even want to fight it?
I’ve waited so long for someone to know me. To truly know me. To look past what’s on the outside and dig beneath surface.
But why does it have to be him? Why does it have to be Simon?
His hand comes down, cupping and molding around my breast. My back arches just enough to push it into his hand. I shouldn’t want this; I know I shouldn’t. But it feels somehow that we’ve gone too far now, and it’s too late to turn back. I know too much now to ever look at him the same way again.
He begins to squeeze my breast, working it in his palm as his lips drag down, kissing across my chin, my jaw, then to my ear. There’s something about the way he’s kissing me now… something about the way his lips drag across me that makes me feel almost cherished.
If he’d just hurt me, or abuse me, it would be so much easier to resist. But he’s grown tender all of a sudden, and I’m melting in his hands.
“Do you know how many nights I’ve laid in bed, dreaming about this moment, Meredith?” he exhales softly before his teeth capture my lobe and give me a little nip.
I jolt, my hips grinding up into him as goosebumps break out across my flesh.
His breath warms a path from my ear down to my neck. And with my hips pushed up against him, I can feel the heat of his cock now pulsing against my clit.
Once again, I find myself shivering, nearly trembling. Then my muscles tense, bracing for the inevitable pain that’s sure to come next as his breath puffs against my neck.
I feel his lips first. Soft, warm, almost caressing. Then his teeth.
My entire body jerks as he sinks them gently into me. There’s no pain though. Only this hot, current of sensation that has me rocking my hips, gliding my wet sex across his shaft.
“How many nights I’ve dreamt of these breasts…”
His other hand comes down, fingers wrapping around me as his lips kiss a soft trail down my chest.
Looking down at him, watching the top of his dark head as he kisses his way down my body, I’m completely unprepared as his eyes suddenly roll up, clashing into mine.
“One thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two nights…” he says before he gives my right nipple a long lap.
There’s no way… no fucking way…
I suck in a sharp breath and his hands squeeze around me hard. “I know because I counted them.”
“Oh god,” I groan out as his tongue drags across me again like he’s trying to burn the revelation into my skin.
My entire breast feels like it’s lighting up, his tongue setting me on fire. But my mind… my mind is reeling from the thought of him thinking about me for so many nights. Wanting this.
“Do you know how many hours I’ve spent watching you?”
He moves to the other breast and gives it long lap. I try to arch up, off the bed. This is too much… too much… but his hands keep me pinned down.
I’m breaking and he hasn’t even shoved his cock in me yet.
“Keeping you safe…”
His mouth suddenly covers me and he pulls back a hard suckle. I swear it feels like the pull of his mouth is tugging on a string connected directly to my clit.
My nipple tightens and tingles almost painfully as all my blood rushes into it. Then he releases it with a wet smacking sound.
“Protecting you…”
Reaching down between us, he takes himself in his hand. His mouth latches onto my breast and he suckles hungrily as his hand guides the crown of his cock through my folds, wetting it.
Then he poises it at my entrance.
He releases my nipple with a pop and growls, “Knowing I could never have you?”
His head tips up and his eyes lock on me, trapping me with the intensity of his openness. There’s such raw, naked longing in his eyes, I don’t even know how to begin processing it.
“Knowing I could never have what’s mine?” he says as he drives his hips forward, impaling me with the length of his thick shaft.
My back bows and my nails dig into the palms of my hands as he stretches me, spreading me open for him. It’s been so long, so very long, it should hurt. But I’m so damn wet he glides into me without any resistance.
His head drops forward and he groans as his cock fills me up, stopping only when he reaches my inner barrier.
Then he just holds himself there. Panting above me. Hand coming do
wn on the bed.
“Over five thousand hours,” he finally rasps and then jerks, his head coming back up as my walls clench around him.
The way he looks at me… I’ve never felt so desired, so damn wanted.
He begins to pull back only to immediately sink back in like he can’t bear to leave me. He pushes so hard, so deep, he grinds against my clit, trapping it between us.
I cry out, throwing my head back as he grinds me into the mattress.
“You can fight me, Meredith. You can try to run, you can try to hide,” he grunts as he rolls his hips, punctuating each word before he finally pulls back. “But I’ll always fucking find you…”
He slams into me. “Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go. Only death can come between us…”
My body rocks back from the force of his thrust and my breasts jiggle against my chest.
Grabbing me by the hair, he forces me to look up at him as he pulls out and slams into me, again and again.
“And even that might not be enough to free you from my grasp,” he declares as he starts to fuck me into oblivion.
In the very marrow of my bones I know he means it. He means all of it. And god help me, staring up at him, I don’t even want to fight it. I want to fucking revel in it. Revel in his obsession, in his fucking madness, because I caused it.
“Your body was made to take my body…”
It was, I nearly agree, but thankfully I’m so close to my release only a moan spills from my lips.
More of his weight comes down on top of me but his fingers continue to tug on my hair. Keeping my attention focused on his face, even as the force of the orgasm building inside me threatens to shatter all my senses.
“I’m going to fill every fucking hole in your body with my cock, Meredith,” he moans.
He fucking moans.
“And I can’t wait to take your ass.”
His hips slam into my thighs so hard I know I’m going be bruised in the morning. But the pleasure he’s inflicting makes it worth it. So worth it.
“Fuck, your pussy feels so good…” he grunts between pants. “Even better than I imagined. So much fucking better…”
My walls squeeze around him suddenly and that confession alone is enough to send me spiraling over the edge.
Knowing that’s he wanted this for so long, that’s he dreamed about it… that he’s imagined it again and again… has me screaming out his name as wave after wet wave of orgasmic bliss crashes into me.
Overwhelming me.
Shutting out everything else in the universe until only the two of us exist.
There’s only his body connected to my body. His cock pounding into my pussy. Swelling. Growing.
And now pulsing as he roars to the heavens.
Screaming out my name as his own orgasm hits him.
“Meredith. Fuck. Meredith…” he roars, pumping me full of warmth.
But he doesn’t slow. No, he yanks hard on my hair as my eyes start to close, forcing me to keep my attention focused on his face. Focused on the moment.
Trapped. Held by his penetrating gaze, I watch the last of his mask finally slip away. The true Simon revealed as he drives himself into me as if he never wants this to end.
Every word he spoke, every truth he revealed, is reflected right there in his eyes.
And it’s so much, so fucking much, I have no fucking clue what to do with it.
But I do know one thing as his mask slides back into place and his pumping hips begin to slow…
If I ever want to escape him, I’m going to have to kill him. And after everything that just happened, even if I was a cold-blooded murder, I don’t think I could do it.
Shit.
11
Simon
Too many nights I’ve remained awake, unable to sleep, wanting something like this to be a reality.
In my bed, completely naked, Meredith is sleeping on her side with her cheek on my chest.
Her light breathing tickles my chest hair as she sleeps the night away.
And now I have what I’ve been internally aching for, the ultimate prize in the game of life. A woman who matches my ferocious desires, who challenges me in so many demanding ways…
She’s the moon to my sun.
I don’t simply want her to be my broken puppet. No, never that. Her spirit and fight are far too precious for that. If she can simply channel that energy into something more along the lines of what I want, she will be an unstoppable force.
Answering to no one, but me.
I will be her lord and master now.
Damn, how surreal it is to have what I’ve longed for, and yet now I worry about what it will do to me. Will it burn me out like a neutron star? Will I collapse into a black hole if I were to somehow lose her?
I can’t let her go. Not ever. She will be with me for as long as I can hold her to my side.
I want her to remain the woman who enthralled me so painfully that I could barely breathe. But she cannot remain that woman, the black widow of powerful men. She brought too many men down to their knees, never giving quarter. She used her striking femininity, her analytic brain, and a ruthless cunning that rivals even her brother.
She may hate the relation she shares with Matthew, but she is cut of the same cloth.
Hedge fund masterminds, CEO’s of banks, even soccer stars. No one was safe from her wrath.
Ahmed being the only one to turn deadly… at her hands.
If I were to use any type of psychological analysis on her, I would say she has deep down ‘daddy issues’. Her father was a hard man and he had very little in the way of showing compassion.
He was a product of his own vices. He lived hard and played dangerously. He ran the largest crime syndicate in the state, but couldn’t manage to get past the dark ages. If he hadn’t died when he did, I believe I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in now.
Lucifer pulled the family out of the dark. He kept his cool under the storm that his father’s death caused. He ruthlessly removed any who challenged him. Perhaps because she was seeing the man her brother was about to become, cut from the same mold as her criminal tyrant of a father, she seeks to punish them both by proxy through the men she has destroyed.
The buzzing sound of my phone pushes away thoughts of her killing her own father. I wouldn’t have put it past her, though ruining men is more her style than actual murder.
Pulling my phone from the nightstand, I push the connect button, but don’t say anything as I quietly slide out from under Meredith’s arm and head.
As I move away from the bed, I don’t give myself a chance to look at her naked spine. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to resist going right back to bed.
“James, do you have the boxes?”
“Yeah, I have it all in the back of the SUV. What the hell am I now, a fucking errand boy?” he bitches to me.
“I’ll meet you at the garage door,” I say then push the disconnect button.
Risking just the smallest of glances back, I see that she’s curling into a small ball around an errant pillow. Her naked torso wraps tightly around the pillow as if it’s a lifesaver.
Bits and pieces of our night flash through my mind in a chaotic mess of thoughts, desires, and actions.
I have no clue if Lucifer knows just how fully I plan on keeping Meredith to myself. Does he know that I had more than simple carnal desires for her? That I’ve come to need her like I need air to breathe?
Pulling on my slacks from last night, I hope the creases I so carefully maintain in my clothing holds. It would not do for anyone from the inner circle to see me so ruffled, even if it’s by a woman.
Perhaps especially if it’s by a woman.
I have a reputation to uphold. One of stiffness and sobriety. It does not do for those around me to see what’s inside of my own mind. It’s enough that they can barely control themselves, there’s no telling what they would say if they knew I had my own demons inside that I struggle to control at times.
I’ve already made James wait too long. I didn’t plan on being in bed so late in the morning, but after a wild night of passion with Meredith, five-thirty came way too early for me. Even if I was awake by five, I’d still need more time to enjoy her sleeping on my chest. It was a constriction, of choice.
One I can feel slowly wrapping around my throat as surely as a noose.
I’m one hand away from tipping off the gallows. I wonder when it snaps my neck if I’ll see God or Lucifer’s smiling face?
All these dark thoughts and it’s only six a.m. I need to get a move on if I’m to meet up with Father Coss. I have no doubt it will take Meredith her usual thirty-seven to forty minutes to get fully ready.
Opening the garage door for James, I walk through the dark room and stand there as the door rolls up.
“What the fuck, Spider? Can’t you afford electric?” James asks as he investigates the dark garage.
“Would you prefer I light up the place? I’m sure if someone was standing about five hundred yards from here with a rocket launcher we would be small enough targets,” I say as I point to the wall. “Put the boxes there.”
“Fuck me,” he growls as he hefts one of the clothes boxes from the back of a small SUV. “If there is some asshole out there with a rocket launcher, he isn’t going to wait to see our asses with a fucking garage light.”
“You may have a point,” I say as I walk to the back of the SUV to grab a box myself.
“Peter’s remains, or well what little they could find, are going to be interred at the same cemetery his grandmother was buried in. Father Coss will be doing the wake and service at Saint Michael’s,” James says as he passes me with the next box.
“Who’s arranging it all?”
“Me. I asked Lucifer for the job,” he says.
Hmmm, that’s interesting… and probably for the best. James knew Peter the best, so I’m not surprised. Though it’s odd, usually Lucifer handles things like this. He says it’s his job to take care of his men when they pass. He calls it passing away, as if dying to a bomb is an everyday occurrence.