by Hazel Grace
Thankfully, we didn’t get that far. Her lies aren’t something I can swallow.
But her skin is something I want to graze and cut just so I could hear any fact come off her lips.
A muffled growl of exasperation sounds in the direction of the extra bedroom, and my mouth curves into a smile as an idea hits me.
Lifting Jane by her ass with one of my forearms, I carry her towards the door that leads to Stormi’s new prison.
I also make sure her back slams hard into the surface in hopes of making my prisoner jump in surprise because I’m petty as fuck, and she pisses me off.
The woman in my arms moans as I sandwich her between me and the hard surface, kneading her ass cheeks and biting down on her bottom lip.
“Move your panties to the side,” I order before I drop Jane to her feet so I can liberate my dick for all intents and purposes. “Don’t take them off.”
Jane grabs the cotton fabric of her dress and hikes it upward, revealing her thighs and pink underwear.
One thing I like about Jane is that she’s not extra with her lingerie choices. Do I dig lace—sure—but would I rather focus on the important shit underneath—yep.
My cell rings in the back pocket of my jeans as I lower myself onto my haunches to Jane’s pussy. Only a handful of people have this number, so it’s imperative—most of the time—that I answer it.
Stealing a glance down at the screen, I don’t hold out on my heavy sigh.
Wade Lockwood, ladies, and gentlemen.
“What’s up?” I greet then run my flat tongue up Jane’s wet clit.
“Heard your sources aren’t talking.”
“Mhm, and who told you that?” I grasp one of Jane’s thighs, rubbing the inside of her soft skin with my thumb and generating a shutter.
“I thought you were some big badass who went off and murdered—oh shit, what did you use to call it to make Reagan feel better?”
This motherfucker.
If it wasn’t for me, my sister would already have a bullet in her head because he couldn’t take care of his own fucking problems—AKA, his wife, about four or five years ago.
Yeah, this isn’t the first time my sister has been through some shit. Before I had my sights on the problem and I solved it.
“Is there a fucking point to this conversation?” I leer, squeezing my phone in my hand. “Or did you have to puff your chest out a few times since you’re not of use anymore?” Meaning he’s not the president but some dumbass governor again.
Fucking loser went backward, which is what he always does.
“Listen, fucker—” Wade’s voice drops into an almost whisper. “—let me know if I need to ramp my shit up to protect my wife. Because I’m not risking a goddamn thing with her or Huck. If your boys can’t handle—”
“Watch your next words,” I seize before shoving two fingers into Jane’s pussy. “I have friends in higher places.”
Jane’s hands lace in my hair, not giving a shit that I’m having an argument with someone on the phone.
She better not, or I’m not doing my job right.
“I don’t give a flying load of hot shit who you think you have backing you, dickhead. Make. Them. Talk.”
I hit the red button on my phone and hang up.
Wade of all people isn’t going to preach at me on what to do. Besides eating out Jane with my prisoner on the other side of this door, it’s not like I haven’t been doing what I’ve been trained to do.
Except the little shit won’t spill a goddamn thing. My looks aren’t her cup of tea, she has a type for overweight, old men.
That’s fine.
But what I do know...is that I want to see Stormi when I come all the way down Jane’s throat.
Rising from my position, I slam my lips to Jane’s before tugging on her hair to look up at me.
“Get on your knees.” My impatience seeps through my timbre, but Jane’s lips curl into a wicked smile, believing that I’m so horny that I can’t wait another second.
Her body lowers, fingertips grazing down my Adidas t-shirt, and going right for my shaft. My regard falls to the door since Jane is no longer there to block it.
Behind the cheap plywood sits the woman I can’t wait to get rid of.
Ever since I laid hands on that female, she’s seeped her little claws into me, and I’m about to pry them the hell out.
She’s obviously conceived ideas that I’m going to weaken and go easier on her, maybe let her go. The conundrum is that I don’t play with my mark.
I can imagine it, dream it, eye-fuck it, but I won’t touch it.
Not after everything.
Not when she’s toying with me like she has the upper hand and the sweetness she portrays seeps from her like it’s nothing.
I pull my phone out again, typing out a quick text to my sister.
Me: Did she have long blonde hair?
I need to know.
Fuck me, I’m not quite sure why I’m double-guessing everything.
I saw her. I’ve never in my whole career at B723 had someone keep their facade up for so long.
Maybe she’s not a greenhorn and has been doing this for a long time.
I think about what I would do if the tables were turned. I would never rat out the boys. I’d die before she’d get a word out of me.
Reagan: You found her.
I let go of Jane’s head, using both hands to type out my next message.
Me: I think so.
Me: What do you remember?
The tip of my cock hits the back of Jane’s throat, and I cower over slightly, my right palm striking the door between me and the woman I want in place of Jane.
“Fuck,” I growl as I steal a look down at blonde hair. Her golden locks bob around me, focused, as she continues to work me into the finale that always plays out when she blows me.
Reagan: Not very tall, small built. I’m not sure why I remember this, but she was pretty but nasty. Her voice...she laughed. Like a child kinda.
Me: Anything else?
Reagan: Something about the weather. I heard a man say it a few times.
Stormi.
It wasn’t the weather, it was her name.
Me: I love you. Text you later.
I shove my phone back into my jeans, glaring at the cheap access between me and the entity who almost murdered my sister.
Leaning forward, I turn the doorknob to her room and gently push the door open, letting it slowly reveal me in front of it.
Jane is too busy stroking me, eager to please me because she’s already mindful of how hard I fuck when she has the tip of me at the back of her throat.
Another good thing about Jane, no gag reflex.
I pet her head, encouraging her, as Stormi appears in my line of sight, stealing the show that is on its knees for me. Her red-rimmed eyes find me immediately, and they look the same, always the same.
Virtuous.
Beautiful.
Hopeless.
I could be wearing down that faith finally that she’s been clinging onto. But she’s fucked now. My sister just hammered another nail into her coffin.
How much more do I really need?
I recognize her.
Reagan just described what she could, and it matched.
And I’m staring at her right now.
Her thick eyelashes are wet from crying, and I watch those blues fall down to Jane. The handkerchief wrapped around her head and between her lips makes my dick harder as a cheshire cat smile emerges from my face.
I want her to see all of this and to use her in the only way I can. Just her sitting there is enough.
“Just like that,” I urge Jane as her tongue circles my head. “Show me how bad you want it.”
She hums as Stormi meets my gaze again with owl-like eyes. I wink at her and slowly begin to thrust into my neighbor’s mouth.
“Fuck, that feels good,” I growl, cupping the sides of Jane’s head. “I’ve imagined it just like this in my head.” I nod
towards Stormi. “Me and you.”
Jane moans around me, figuring it’s her I’m talking about.
Far the fuck from it.
The blue eyes that I’ve become infatuated with never leave my hazel gaze. Call me a moron, but she might be enjoying this.
There is no way.
Yes, there is. She was getting finger-fucked by Fatso the Killer Klown with a Santa Claus beard that smelled like stale cigarettes.
I expect Stormi to close her eyes, maybe narrow them at me, but is completely entranced by my fucking another woman’s mouth in front of her.
The silence between us is electric besides Jane’s saliva making noises around my cock.
I imagine her soft-looking lips on my dick. Her hair in my palm and between my fingers.
Taking another hit off my blunt, I let the smoke fill my lungs, and the high hit my brain.
Except I’m already doped up.
Just focusing on her is making my body relax and enjoy the head I’m receiving because, in my vivid imagination, it’s her on her knees at my feet.
I may conjure up many things in my mind for Stormi to suffer, but I can’t rid myself of being attracted to her.
It’s a ploy.
It might be. Don’t know that for a fact, but I’m familiar with enough already.
The screwed up part is that I like how she’s looking at me. I’m possessed with the notion that she’s letting her true self come out, and I want to play.
However, half of me doesn’t want to be taunted by the memory of her.
I don’t want to compare her.
I have more memories of shit with my sister that already taunts me.
Stormi isn’t going to be one of them.
She’ll just be another objective that I obliterated so she can’t hurt my family anymore.
Is it a crying shame—not sure about the crying part, but the waste of the woman would be. Too damn bad she got caught up with the wrong people.
And the wrong man.
“Stand up,” I tell Jane, sucking in one more inhale of my hash before tossing it to the hardwood floor.
Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she bites her lower lip again, waiting for my lead. I haul my shirt over my head while Jane lets her eyes run down the length of my chest.
“Wanna try something new?”
Her brown eyes dart back up to me. “Yes.” She says it so quickly that a small chuckle escapes my lips.
Fucking perfect.
I steal a quick glance over her shoulder at Stormi watching us, pulling her good knee up to her chest as she scoots her ass along the brown carpet of the room.
Don’t be timid and shy now, sweetheart.
Making quick work of Jane’s dress, I peel her tits from her bra but keep it on. “Lay down.” She begins to make her way to the floor, but I hold her dress up. “And keep this over your eyes.”
Another sweet smile, and she does what I say. It’s easy, she’s simple, and for this experiment, it’s foolproof.
Peeling off my jeans and boxers at the same time, I keep my eyes glued on my little faker, letting the head that has been doing all the talking about Stormi spring free.
Stormi quickly averts her eyes, which doesn’t stop me from pumping my cock at her, now, bashfulness.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I say out loud, keeping Stormi within my scope. “And this is going to end more quickly than I’d like. But we both know why.”
“I’m ready,” Jane sighs dreamily through my conversation. “I’ve been thinking about this all day.”
“I’ve been thinking about it for the past three, ” I reply for Stormi.
It’s not a lie. This blonde hits my last thought before drifting off to sleep for a few hours.
Two more rough caresses of my length and I kneel down between Jane’s thighs.
“I wonder how tight it would be,” I convey, not giving a shit if I confuse Jane or not. “How wet you’d be.”
“Touch me,” Jane mutters. “You’ll see just how soaked I am for you.”
Shut up.
Being an asshole, I shove some of the fabric of Jane’s dress into her mouth.
I don’t want her comments ruining my fantasy with her voice when I have Stormi in my sights.
Letting my tip smooth over Jane’s opening, I watch Stormi turn her neck to take me in again. And in one hard thrust, I impale myself into Jane.
I don’t hide the groan that escapes my lips as I slowly inch out before going in for more.
“A revenge fuck would feel so fucking good, sweetheart,” I quip, hating that I need this right now, to look at my enemy to get off. To want her as my main focus. To admire her while I imagine that I’m fucking her and not the woman underneath me.
Jane mutters something, but I ignore her. I’m too locked in on Stormi’s eyes that are speaking volumes to me.
It’s hate.
Disgust.
“Tell me what I want to know,” I bargain. “And I’ll make it so good for you.” I pull my cock from Jane and rise, not able to handle this shit anymore. “Stay here and don’t move.”
My voice is terse, not the normal shit Jane is used to hearing, but I slam the door behind me the moment I’m inside the room—alone—with Stormi.
Her eyes enlarge as I loom closer, my hard cock in my hand as I stroke it once just to tease my own damn self.
“Is it as big as his?”
I have zero clue why I just asked that.
But my balls tighten as Stormi continues to keep me and my dick in her sights. My fingers tingle to just give in and touch her.
I want one taste.
I want her to taste me.
“Why did you do it?” I ask, even though her mouth is gagged. “Why did you have to be on the wrong side, sweetheart?”
Her eyes close, and I imagine it’s because I’m inside her.
“Open them,” I order off a rattled exhale. “Because I’m going to come, and you’re going to watch me.”
She doesn’t.
“Or I’ll kill off your daddy, baby.”
On cue and off my sad need of wanting me in her line of sight, I rub my length harder, and she watches. Even feet away, I can see something glaze over in her blues.
It could be pure repugnance, a curiosity of how this is going to end or fervor for the shit playing out in front of her.
Regardless, I’ll never know.
Stormi lets out a moan, and I come, the simple sound of her voice almost sending me to my knees.
I’m more fucked up than I thought.
I just gave myself a handjob in front of the beauty who almost drowned my sister.
A wave of fury slams into my gut because I let her in when I have a now confused lookalike outside this room ready to fuck and who isn’t down for taking out my family.
Stormi’s expression mirrors mine, except it’s still mixed with fear.
We’re repulsed by each other, but I think I win that battle.
I’ve never gone so far as to do this with anyone else in my life, and now I have to live with it.
That and possibly failing Reagan.
With the cum in my palm, I take it a level further.
Fuck it, why not.
Hunching naked before her, I dip my thumb in the sticky substance and brush it over her bottom lip.
My cock pulsates with another wave of lust. It wants to go again but once is enough.
It’s all I can live with.
“I look so pretty on you, sweetheart,” I mutter. “The vivid images of you on my side of the coin are more than I can obviously bear. And it was perfect. Another thing I’ve taken from you. Just like you tried to do to me. I managed to fuck you without touching you.”
I stand, prying myself away from the temptation asking me to give in.
“And we’re not done yet.”
I’m beyond the word “tired”.
I’m broken.
Not only physically with the numbness and every limb on my body that
aches, but mentally.
I’ve had challenges in my life, knew what it meant to be independent and fend for myself at a very young age.
I just didn’t know that this was possible.
Emric won’t stop questioning me.
Torturing me.
The same inquisitions and threats that I’m terrified that he’ll finally act on. Some he has, others he leaves to my imagination, and that thing jumps leaps and bounds to the possibilities of what he’s capable of doing.
Except for last night.
Last night was different.
I didn’t doubt him on anything he’s ever said to me. He creates what he says valid within an instant.
I just never expected him to screw a woman in front of me with nothing but pure hate and thirst in his eyes.
He wanted me.
His thrusts were ruthless and unkind. He panted like an animal, demanding his release while the black tattoos along his broad and tight chest came to life. I couldn’t make them out because I wasn’t able to pry my eyes away from his.
From practically drowning me with buckets of water, to thrusting a blade into my flesh, yesterday took the cake.
I could see his demons.
They craved to fuck, depart, and free themselves within him.
He wanted to touch me, spilling some of the vivid thoughts from his imagination out.
I don’t even believe that was the tip of the iceberg of all the ideas he had in store if he does get his hands on me like that.
And when he splayed his thumb over my lip, marking me with his release...my body rocked with turbulence and disorientation.
I heard what he said.
I just didn’t believe it.
Now I’m confident I was continuing on with my nightmare because this morning, Emric rudely woke me up, yanked me off the floor and threw a coat over my back.
His threats were explicit on throwing me down the stairs if I screamed as we left the apartment he brought me to.