by Hannah Ford
“Fine,” I said, standing up. “I’m willing to try, but if you’re not, then there’s no need for me to be here any longer.”
“Where are you going to go?” he demanded, turning to me. “To your mother’s house? Do you understand how dangerous that is, Charlotte? Colin Worthington is on the loose. Not to mention your mother’s house will be crawling with reporters.” I knew he was right. My mother had already called me fifteen times. All the calls had either been missed while I was sitting in a jail cell or had been sent to voicemail, because I just couldn’t deal with her.
“That’s not your concern,” I said.
“The fuck it’s not, Charlotte. You’re carrying my child.”
He’d turned around now, and true to form, there was no trace of softness on his face. Now he was all rough and ragged, no sign of the man I knew he could be.
“A child you don’t even want.”
“Is that what you think? That I don’t want him or her?”
“Of course!” I was in the closet now, looking for shoes that I could wear out of here. I shoved my feet into a pair of running shoes, but they didn’t fit. Was it possible that my feet were swelling already? So far this pregnancy thing was not impressing me.
“That couldn’t be farther from the truth,” Noah said from the doorway to the closet.
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Because I’m fucking terrified, that’s why!”
“And I told you, I’m scared too!”
“What if I hurt him? What if I beat him?”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because it’s what I want to do to you!” His voice broke, the pain like a jagged edge of a knife. I dropped the shoes and went to him, wrapped my arms around him. He struggled against me, trying to push me away, but I wasn’t going to let him, not this time.
He was much bigger than I was, must stronger, even though I wasn’t a small or weak woman physically.
Any other time he would have been able to easily move me away from him.
But I knew he wouldn’t be rough with me, not when I was pregnant.
Sure enough, he tried to push me away gently. But it wasn’t enough.
“Shhh,” I said. “Shhh.” I was talking into his chest, trying to calm him, to settle him.
Finally, he went still.
I ran my hands up his back, feeling the taut muscles there, his body a testament to the self-control and discipline he exercised over all things. I kneaded his upper shoulders, trying to loosen him, but Noah kept his arms by his side, not holding me, not moving.
“Please,” I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. “Please.” I closed my eyes, and I could feel my heart beating against his. I pressed my ear to his chest, desperate to feel his heartbeat even stronger than I already could, as if it was proof that he was human.
And then I realized I’d made a mistake, telling him that we didn’t have to do the things that he wanted to do.
Those things were inside of him.
I’d known that from the moment I’d gotten involved with him.
These things he wanted to do to me, the way he needed to dominate me… the reasons for that cut deep, much deeper than something that could be solved by just telling him to try.
I never wanted to make him feel that I loved him despite of the things he needed to do to me.
Because the truth was, as fucked up and wrong as it was, I loved him because of those things.
I loved everything about him, and if I wanted him to let me in, I had to let him know that everything about him was okay, that nothing about him was disgusting or wrong or something I couldn’t handle.
I wanted to give him everything he needed. I wanted to let him know I trusted him, that nothing about him scared me.
So I got to my knees.
“Charlotte,” he said warningly.
“Please,” I said. “We can still…” I trailed off, not exactly sure what I was supposed to say. We could still do what? Be rough? Let him dominate me?
“No.” He took a step back. “Charlotte, we can’t.”
“Why? I’m still me. We’re still us.”
I began to crawl to him, looking up at him, my eyes wide, letting him know that I was ready and willing for his instructions.
When I reached him, I sat back on my knees and reached up, touching the outside of his pants. His cock was hard, as I knew it would be. He could protest all he wanted, but it was true when he said he needed this.
And I needed it too.
I unzipped his pants slowly, reaching my hand in and pulling out his cock. It was stiff and thick, and I wrapped my hand around the velvety hardness, squeezing gently.
He reached down and grabbed my hand, stopping me.
“You do not get to decide this,” he growled.
“Then show me,” I said, swallowing. “Show me how to please you.”
My pussy pulsed at the words, and I felt my panties get damp.
“Jesus, Charlotte.” He sounded angry, but the end of his words were a strangled moan, another sign that he wanted this.
He took my hand and began to move it up and down his cock slowly.
“Yes, baby,” he said. “Just like that.”
He was looking down at me, and our eyes locked on each other.
“Like this, sir?”
“Yes, baby.”
He continued moving my hand up and down, slowly, his breathing becoming more labored under my touch.
It was incredibly erotic, holding his hard dick in my hand, and I moved my eyes from his and looked at the way he was guiding me. It was almost like he was teaching me how to please him all over again, like we were going to have to navigate this new world, of me carrying his child, figuring out how to make sure both of us got what we wanted and needed.
His other hand reached down and took the back of my head, his fingers tangling with my hair, twisting gently.
He began to guide my mouth toward his cock, using the hand that was wrapped around mine on his shaft to point it at my lips.
“Keep your mouth closed,” he commanded.
He took the head of his cock and slid it across the seam of my lips. I tasted the saltiness of his precum, the warmth of it causing the pulsing in my pussy to intensify.
“You like that, angel?” he demanded. He’d never called me angel before, and something about it felt intimate, like I was suddenly innocent again, like I was something so pure he needed to be extremely careful with me.
“Yes, sir.”
As I finished talking, he pushed just the smallest bit of his cock into my mouth. The underside slid against my tongue, and the fact that he’d done it without warning, after instructing me to keep my mouth closed, felt like a violation.
I gasped at the intrusion, at the massiveness of his cock, which I’d still never gotten used to.
“Shhh,” he said. “Shhh.” The muscles of his taut forearm tensed under the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt as he pushed his cock further into me.
I quieted.
“Fuck, Charlotte,” he groaned. “You look so hot with my cock in your mouth.”
He pushed all the way back into my throat in one thrust, then pulled out quickly, before I could choke. I whimpered, and licked my lips, but he held my head just out of reach of him.
“Please,” I whispered.
“Please what?” he asked, sounded slightly amused.
“Please let me suck you.”
My hand was still stroking him, as he guided me up and down, slowing the pace then bringing it back up. My nipples were hard with desire, poking through my bra, and I was sure they were visible through my shirt.
I realized that he was teasing me just as much as he had before.
He’d trained my body and my mind to want this, and now he was holding me hostage to my own desires.
“You think you can get me off with your mouth?” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“Yes, what?”
“Ye
s, I can get you off with my mouth.”
“Just sucking,” he said, reaching down and tilting my chin up so that I was gazing up at him. His eyes stormed with desire, the look on his face one of pure lust. “No hands. No deep throating.” His thumb grazed my lower lip, and I felt the precum that was there sliding over the length of my lips.
His cock brushed against my cheek, and I moaned.
“Good girl,” he growled.
He let my hand go, and guided his dick to my mouth.
I wrapped my lips around his cock, taking him into my mouth. My hand immediately went to his shaft – it was an instinct. I loved feeling his hardness in my hand, loved feeling his cock harden in my mouth, loved getting him slick with the precum and saliva that mixed together to become the perfect lubrication, that I would then use to stroke him off while I sucked him into my mouth.
“No, angel,” he said, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand from his cock. He pulled his cock from my mouth too, and I gazed up at him, ashamed to see the disapproval on his face. “I see you’re not going to listen.”
He slapped his cock against my cheek, and I moaned.
He pulled off his belt, then took my hands and placed my wrists together, cinching the leather until my hands were bound in front of me.
His breath hitched as he looked down at me, and I knew he loved seeing me like this. Even though I was still fully clothed, I was bound, my mouth his to use as he pleased.
Even worse, he could see my nipples through the fabric of my sweater, could feel the wet heat of my mouth and tongue, could tell that I wanted this just as much as he did.
Once I was bound, he placed his hand on the back of my head and guided me back to his penis.
My mouth opened and took his shaft. He slid against my tongue, hot and salty and velvety and good.
He held the back of my head, but unlike in the past when I’d blown him like this, down on my knees with his hand on the back of my head, he didn’t push all the way into me, didn’t fuck my mouth.
Instead, he held me steady, not letting me take more than half of him into my throat.
What he’d told me to do was exactly what he was going to make me do now. He was going to make me get him off with my mouth.
“Good girl,” he breathed as I popped off his cock with an audible sound and then began to lick his shaft. There was a long vein on the underside of his cock, and I slid the flat of my tongue along it.
“Jesus,” Noah breathed. The part of his torso that was visible, the part right above the line of hair that started at his belly button and slid down to his cock – twitched, the muscles tight and chiseled.
The movement of his muscular body, so hard and hot he could have been a statue, flooded me with desire.
The urge to reach up and feel his muscles, to run my hands under his shirt and over the dips and lines of his six-pack, was almost unbearable.
I moaned in frustration, my hands pulling against the restraints that kept me from being able to do what I wanted.
Noah noticed, and he grinned.
“Suck me, angel,” he said. “Show me how you can get me off with just your mouth.”
I wanted to please him so badly, and my mouth went back to the head of his cock, taking it into my mouth, sucking and sliding my tongue around the velvety hardness.
I fell into a rhythm, sucking and swirling, the taste of precum becoming more intense with every movement.
“Good girl,” Noah moaned. “Good girl, suck my cock, baby, yes, just like that.”
I kept going, loving the way he tasted and the sounds he was making.
I began to pull him out of my mouth just a little bit with every suck, pressing my lips together and forcing myself back down on his cock. I bobbed up and down like that, knowing he was getting close to coming by the way his breathing was accelerating and the way his hands tangled in my hair, grabbing the strands tightly.
“Yes, keep going,” he groaned and then he grabbed me and pushed me down on his dick, finally filling my mouth the way I needed him to, shoving his whole cock down my throat as he began to come.
I swallowed as fast as I could, taking down the first spurt and then immediately having to take the second as his cock pulsed. He unloaded into me, shot after shot of cum hitting the back of my throat, hot and salty.
When he’d stilled, he leaned down and picked me up, sliding his arms under my knees and carrying me gently to the bed.
He laid me down and gazed at my body.
“I want to see you,” I whispered. “Please…” I trailed off, knowing that sometimes if I pleaded and begged, he would take the opportunity to punish me. “I want to touch you.”
He hesitated, and then released my wrists from his belt and allowed me to reach up and unbutton his shirt, to slide if off his shoulders and let my hands drift down his chest and over his torso. I shivered as I felt the hard muscles there, and I closed my eyes, letting the feeling of desire wash over me, blotting out the rest of the day.
A second later, he’d taken my wrists and pushed me gently back down onto the bed.
He pulled off my sweater and I squirmed in my bra, trying to rise up from the bed, desperate to feel his chest against mine, to feel his hard pecs against my nipples.
But he guided me back down again.
His belt was still in his hands and he pulled my arms up over my head and bound me to the headboard.
I squirmed again, and the movement caused the cups of my bra to shift, exposing the tops of my areolas.
Noah reached down and brushed his fingertips over the sensitive skin, then got on top of me, straddling me around the hips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, and I arched up into him as he leaned down and kissed me hard on the mouth, his tongue tangling with mine.
When he pulled back, he pressed his lips to my neck, then slid down over my cleavage and down my stomach.
I moaned as his breath skated over my skin, warming me.
The heat between my legs pooled as I arched again, desperate for him.
He unbuttoned my pants slowly, separating the fabric from my skin with agonizing deliberateness. He pulled them off and threw them onto the floor, gazing down at me as he ran his hands down my sides.
He kissed my thighs, the stubble on his cheeks brushing against my skin and I pushed into him, wanting it harder, faster.
But he controlled the pace as he blew against my damp panties.
The warmth of his breath on my most sensitive place, even though it was covered, made me shiver and twist on the bed, the leather of the belt chafing my wrists.
“You’ve been such a good girl, baby,” he breathed.
His voice was gruff and sexy, and my body burst into flames underneath him.
His thumbs hooked the sides of my thong, and I arched again, desperate and hungry to feel his mouth on me.
“You made me come like such a good girl,” he continued as his hands pressed against my hips, pinning me down to the bed. His voice was controlled, his movements still deliberate, a contrast to my own movements and the frantic feeling building inside of me.
“So now I’m going to put my mouth on your pussy. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” I writhed on the bed as he lowered his mouth to the spot right below my navel, kissing me softly as he began to tug on my panties, slowly pulling them down my thighs.
He stopped when they were halfway down my mound.
“You’re so wet,” he said. “I can see it on your panties.” I looked down at him, poised between my legs. He blew between my legs some more, and I thought for sure he was going to rub me there, to prove to me that he knew how wet I was, but he was in full-on torture mode now, finding a way to tease me, to keep me wanting and submissive to him, even if he couldn’t be as rough as he wanted to be with me physically.
Then he pulled my panties to the side and put his mouth on me, licking me with the flat of his tongue.
I moaned and arched as he began to eat me out, open-mouth kiss
ing my pussy, licking my clit softly before sliding his tongue in and out of me. He was a master with his mouth, guiding me to the edge of orgasm before pulling back and slowing the pace.
Then, finally, he pulled his pants off and unlocked my wrists, then pulled me up and toward him, his naked body pressed against mine.
He finished removing my bra and took my breasts in his hands, squeezing them together and pulling my nipple into his mouth, sucking softly before moving to the other one.
He released them and kissed me, pulling me toward him, my legs parting and encircling his waist.
I knew this was difficult for him, the two of us sitting up, me wrapped around him. He didn’t like feeling like he was anything but totally in control, and I knew he was doing this for me, knew it was a way to show me that he was trying as much as he could to let go.
I moaned as his hand tangled in my hair, and I wrapped my arms around him, feeling the muscles in his back, the smooth skin stretched there, the tautness and broadness of his shoulders.
He was so beautiful that it made me want to cry.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered against my mouth. “You are my world, Charlotte. I love everything about you.” His words caused the emotion to bubble over inside of me, and I felt a cry escape my lips.
He ran his hands down my sides.
“I love your body. You are the sexiest, most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I love you,” I whispered as the head of his cock pressed against my opening. He was rock hard, even though he’d had an orgasm only a few minutes ago.
He pressed into my slowly, the whole time looking at me with such tenderness that I almost couldn’t take it.
I closed my eyes, but he cupped my chin and pulled my lips to his.
“No,” he whispered. “Don’t close your eyes.”
I forced them open as his hands found my stomach, and he rubbed protectively. Our baby. We were going to have a baby.
And in that moment, as Noah entered me fully, that was all that mattered.
Everything else fell away, piece by piece, as if it were a carefully constructed tower falling down around us, leaving nothing but the two of us.
Professor Worthington.
Gone.
Jason Cartwright’s murder.