by R. J. Lewis
“What makes you want to see mine? Lack of options?”
“No, I’ve got options.”
“Is it because you can’t fuck me?”
“Fuck, when you swear, it’s hot, rebel.”
My cheeks heated. “Well, is it why?”
He made a light noise in the back of his throat. “That could be it. You’re forbidden fruit right now.”
“Only because you’ve made it that way. Are you prolonging it on purpose?”
His jaw tightened as he thought of my question. “I might be.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t felt this kind of buzz over a woman in a long time. I ain’t looking to ruin it so fast.”
He thought fucking me was going to ruin his attraction to me? It was hard not to feel just a little wounded. I had to remind myself in that moment I was just business pussy. Nothing more.
What more did you possibly expect, Olivia?
I silenced that part of me immediately. I knew all that already. I wasn’t sitting here looking for a heart to heart moment. Reaper had no fucking heart. He was playing around with me. I was his distraction, and he was savouring me until my luster wore off. Maybe he was that for me too. Like him, I wanted to feel the same buzz he was talking about. It was like a language I was slowly learning, and I wanted to learn every fucking word of it. That feeling of being on the edge of a great escape was far better than apathy.
“Keep going,” I whispered, too deep now to stop. “I want to know what else you’re wondering about.”
“I wanna know how tight you’ll feel, and how many times I can make you come. If you like me playing with you first. If you want me sucking your perfect nipples so much, you beg for it. I want to know what colour they are. If they’re brown, or pink. Am I treading too quick for you, rebel?”
“No.” I was in that dream-like state, like last night. I wanted him to kiss me. To make me grip his cock again and show me how deep inside of me he could be. I wanted to be led. I needed him to make that move. But he didn’t inch closer, though his eyelids were heavier than before.
“Do you want to know then?” I whispered, my voice shaking from nerves. He didn’t respond at first, but his jaw clenched as he glanced down at my bra before looking back at me. “Do you?” I pressed, barely breathing now.
It was the first time I’d seen him totally unsure. But he buried his conflict, and he ordered in a tight voice, “Show me.”
The only reason I had so much courage was because I was so painfully horny, and because he looked at me so wantonly, my shame was gone and replaced by an even stronger urge to push him. Staring into his eyes, I slid the straps of my bra down my arms and then tugged each cup down. He was so close, my fingers brushed against his hard chest in the process. He felt tight, and he was barely moving as I went. He didn’t look down straight away. His eyes remained fixed on mine, searching them. His brows came closer together in thought, like he couldn’t figure me out. I couldn’t figure me out either. One second defiant, the next a bold mess that was all too willing to pull her bra down to satiate her monster’s curiosity.
I must have been beet red, but he wasn’t concerned about it. The second he looked at my exposed chest, his grip around me stiffened. I might have felt self-conscious if it weren’t for that drunken look on his face.
“You’re the strangest thing, aren’t you?” he said, as his hand left my back and inched up my hip and waist. His large hand cupped my right breast whole, unabashedly, like he fucking owned me already. God, it felt good. “No experience, yet you’re dropping your beautiful tits for me just like that. Are you tryin’ to break me, Olivia?”
“Yes,” I breathed out, defenceless now. “And no. And maybe, even. I don’t know. I just want the throbbing to stop, and I don’t know any other way.”
“Where’s the throbbing?”
“You know where.”
His teeth clenched. “Are you fuckin’ with my head?”
“Why would I do that?”
“You’re trying to push me over the edge, sweet talkin’ me like you’re so fuckin’ innocent.”
“You called me cute two minutes ago, so I guess I am all that innocent.”
His voice came out like a whip. “No one this innocent puts out their tits for someone like me.”
I sucked in a breath. “Someone like you?”
“I’m a fucking monster.”
“I know that already.”
“And you’re fuckin’ with me.”
“I’m not trying to.”
He shook slightly, and the grip around my breast tightened in need. “I’m not so fuckin’ strong these days when it comes to this, feisty. I ain’t kind, either. If you’ve got a fuckin’ agenda, I’d rethink it now.”
“An agenda? Wow, now you’re really paranoid.”
“Yeah, an agenda.” His voice rose. “Don’t be playing with me, babe. I’m a fuckin’ scorpion when you get too close.”
My brows shot up in shock. “A scorpion? Oh, and I’m the frog? Don’t forget I had a knife to your throat once upon a time!”
He smirked back darkly. “Did you really think I put it there because I was so lost in the moment, Olivia?”
My eyes widened, and my cheeks burned. “So, you put it there on purpose, did you?”
“I knew what I was doing.”
“Convenient we’re using that excuse.”
“It’s true, feisty. I was testing you.”
“Then who’s playing with who now?”
His thumb skimmed over my nipple, not at all perturbed we were neck and neck. It was like his touch was a separate entity to him, and I hated that I didn’t push his hand away and leaned into his touch instead. “I wasn’t playing with you,” he explained, pressing his forehead to mine as he continued to rub me. “I just needed to know if you were fucking with me.”
I stared down at his lips. Blood red. Wet. “I wasn’t fucking with you until I saw it.”
His tongue swiped my lower lip slowly from one corner to the other. A jolt of pleasure ran down my spine. My eyelids felt heavier as he did it again, this time pressing his tongue between my lips. He made a light groaning sound. “Did you grab a knife when I was out?”
He was referring to the shit ton of knives on the floor beside the bed. I’d looked them over in his absence, all sheathed and clean. “No,” I bit out, annoyed at him for assuming I would have.
“So, what’re you planning to do then when I push you down and rub my hard on against your pussy?”
“I’m not planning to do anything.” Except maybe moan.
“Not plannin’ to cut me up –”
“No!”
“No hidden agenda in you then?”
“I told you I’m throbbing –”
“And I told you not to play –”
I pulled my head back midway through his words and glared at him. “I don’t have an agenda, you asshole, I’m just turned on!”
I barely finished that when he pushed me back on the bed, knocking the air out of my lungs. He went down with me, his chest pressed against mine. His hand snaked up from my breast to my shoulder blade and up my neck. He gripped a chunk of my hair on the back of my head and dipped his face between my neck and shoulder, skimming his lips against my skin. He planted a trail of wet kisses up my throat, capturing my mouth in a deep, quick kiss. Then he pulled back. I opened my eyes and stared up at him. He was looking back with the most devilish smirk on his face.
“What’s your problem?” I hissed at him.
“I’m havin’ a lot of fun with you, rebel,” he replied, planting another kiss on the corner of my mouth.
I shook my head in an act of frustration, but he was so close, we rubbed noses instead. He chuckled again deep in his throat. “I’m just entertainment to you, huh?” I growled, annoyed as ever.
He ignored that. “Spread your legs for me.”
I kept them together instead. “No.”
His smirk turned into a giant grin. “Spread them
so I can feel you.”
“I said no.”
“Olivia, you’re only making me harder for you with your noes, which means you’re making the situation a lot worse for yourself.”
“Tough,” I retorted, resisting. “Don’t you hear yourself? Saying my noes turn you on, that’s kind of sick.”
“Based on your recent behaviour, I’d say you like it a little sick, Olivia.” His hand drifted down to my clenched legs and rested where my thighs would part.
I didn’t spread. Instead, I smirked back at him, knowing he wasn’t going to force them apart. He talked a big talk, but he wasn’t that kind of guy. Still. I liked feeling like I had the power. It was damn hot knowing I could make a big guy like him hold back.
He was right. I did like it sick.
“Come on,” he coaxed, eyes alive with mischief. “Spread.”
“Why would I do that?” I replied, wittily. “Have you seen the state of you? You got mud all over your arms. I’m not marrying an animal.” Using his words right back at him felt good, but he wasn’t all that amused.
“Fuck, you know how to work up a man, don’t you?” he said, an ache in his voice. “But, see, you’re windin’ up the wrong man.” Before I could respond, he rubbed his arm down my chest and ribcage, muddying me back. Jesus Christ. My thighs shuddered at his bold move. Every inch of me prickled beneath him. He looked right into my eyes, challenging me. “I think we’re both animals now, feisty. Question is, what’re we going to do about it?”
If I wasn’t so wound up with need, I might have laughed. Of all the things I could have imagined would transpire between us, this was never one of them. He seemed to be enjoying my reaction. I was positive my face was flushed red. I was tongue-tied – utterly fucking speechless – at his latest victory.
“Do you usually irritate someone to the brink of insanity?” I wondered, trying to keep it light, because it was so far from fucking light by the way my body was responding.
“To the brink of consent,” he returned swiftly, burning me with his gaze. “Will you consent, feisty?”
I swallowed hard and tried to calm my thudding heart. My mind was silent, but my body… My thighs loosened and fell apart for him. This was me waving my white flag. Instead of rubbing that in, he made a humming sound in the back of his throat, glancing down at my thighs with a tight jaw.
“You wet, Olivia?” he asked softly, his chest moving faster.
“Find out.” My response was so quiet, I could barely hear it. But he did. Loud and clear because that jaw flexed. He was fighting himself. He stared into my eyes with a million thoughts behind his. He wasn’t touching me, but then he had told me relentlessly to spread for him. It suddenly occurred to me what he was doing. “You’re pushing yourself on purpose,” I said, annoyed again. “I’m your sparkly toy and you want to be excited.”
“You think I want to be teased?”
“Maybe you’re not used to it.”
“You’d be surprised.” There was no smirk, or evil glint in his eye with that response. No humour returned as he looked back at me with the most unreadable expression.
“Have you been teased, Reaper?”
He didn’t respond. His hooded eyes had been so focused on me, and now it was fading. His tight body loosened, and swiftly, his attentive expression changed into a look of boredom. I knew when I was losing him, and it showed when he had that look on his face. He was distancing himself rapidly, putting up the walls brick by brick so I wouldn’t coax anymore emotion out of him. He was damn good at it. A master of his craft, but he had overlooked a very important fact: I was the same as him.
I squirmed beneath him, trying to spark life back into him. “Or were you trying to see how far you could push me? Which one is it? Am I just staving off your boredom in this cunt of a place? Your buddy Logan did say you poor boys have no internet.”
His expression now was dry. “You talked about the internet with Logan?”
“Among other things.”
“Couldn’t have been a very stimulating conversation.”
My lips twitched. “Can’t say a whole lot runs through his head, but he was engaging enough.”
He grunted and said nothing. I knew I had lost him. He removed his body off me and I blinked hard, feeling irritated. I tried to think of what exactly it was that shut him off, but I hadn’t acted differently. There were no triggers, unlike the last time he had snapped in the other room when I’d angrily asked if he’d locked anyone else away.
Jesus, had he?
I eyed him. He was sitting on the edge of the bed now. His head was turned from me. I couldn’t see his face. His body language looked relaxed, until I spotted his hands clenched into tight fists.
I’d definitely done something, and I didn’t feel like beating around the bush.
“Is something wrong?” I asked.
He bent down and began re-tying his laces. “On the contrary, feisty.”
“Then why did you stop?”
“Because I’m not gonna touch you again until we’re married.”
“You had your hands into fists. You were pissed.”
He shook his head. “No, Olivia, I was tempted, not pissed.”
“I guess I don’t get why you shut down and then state we’re waiting until we say a bunch of lines we don’t even mean to one another.”
“I made a deal with your father.”
“I know that,” I snapped. “I’m just business. I get it.”
“It’s more than that. It’s my word I gave.”
“And who’s gonna know?”
“You really that horny right now, Olivia?”
I bristled. “Doesn’t matter. It’s not like you’re going to do something about it. I’m glad you get to decide these things without my input. That’s really fuckin’ generous, Reaper.”
He glanced back at me, a hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth. “But it’s good, isn’t it?”
“What is?”
“Pulling back when it gets hard. It makes you feel pretty alive, doesn’t it?”
I raised a brow, offering the driest response. “If alive means feeling like I have the female equivalent to blue balls, then sure.”
He grunted, buried in thought, and nodded once, more to himself. “So that’s what it’s like then to really wind someone up.”
This time I wasn’t going to ask what he meant. He was venturing into a memory that made him swallow hard. He was suppressing a strong emotion. Good or bad, it was impossible to know. This guy was a tough nut to crack. Instead, I watched his face closely as he finished up with his boots. He was so reserved. I could physically feel the distance he had put in place, and I wondered why I wasn’t so quick putting up mine.
“Stop going back there,” I muttered quickly before I stopped myself.
“Going where?” he asked, absentmindedly
“The past.”
His movements slowed. He kept his eyes fixed on his boots. “And what about you, Olivia? Do you go back there too?”
“All the time.”
He glanced at me. “We ain’t going that way.”
“No.”
“Best we shed it then.”
I nodded slowly. “Best we don’t let the past win.”
He swallowed hard, nodding back. Then he looked at me like he didn’t want to go back out. Like he wanted to stay right here with me.
With a long exhale, he finished tying up his shoes and got up.
“You sure did a lot of talking for someone that didn’t want to speak,” I remarked as he strode to the door.
His hand paused on the doorknob for a second as he mulled over my words. Then he pulled it open and said very softly on his way out, “So did you, Olivia.”
Twenty-One
Liv
The wet season had hit with full force. Comfort was very tricky. I spent most of my time in Reaper’s room, or outside so long as Shane or Reaper were with me. I was wearing a lot of Reaper’s jackets, and spent hours buried unde
r covers, writing notes on a notepad Reaper had left lying around.
It was like camping…perpetually.
I was frankly sick of it, but I didn’t want to give Christy the satisfaction of letting her see it was getting to me. She always strode around, soaked to the bone, smirking widely at me like it was the best thing ever. Fucking liar.
“What the hell do you keep writing in there?” Reaper finally asked one day, slipping his boots off after a long day out. It was dark. I had the oil lamp on the bed beside me, helping me write.
“Just stuff,” I murmured. “What took you so long? You’ve been out all day. Didn’t come see me once.” He was doing this a lot actually. Not coming around as often as he did in the beginning. I worried he’d lost all interest in me, and any sign of fun was gone, but then when he was around, I’d see the lust in his eyes the second he locked them on me. So, it couldn’t have been that.
“Finishing up,” he said, vaguely. “Not long out here anymore.”
“Thank God.”
“What are you writing?”
I looked up from my page. “I answered that already.”
“No, you barely answered. You said ‘just stuff’.”
“And that was worse than your response to me of ‘finishing up’?”
He looked at me with a smile tugging on his lips. “One day, I’m gonna tape your mouth shut and just fuck you slow. So slow, and hard, and not have to hear a fucking word come out of your mouth while I do it.”
My mouth dropped open. “Why would you do that?”
“Just to teach you a lesson.”
I tapped the pen against the page, thoughtfully. “I might need lots of those lessons, then.”
This time he laughed deep in his chest. “You’re killin’ me on purpose with that mouth.”
I looked down, burying my timid smile while admitting, “I’m writing about things I can do when we’re out of here.”
“What kind of things?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Volunteer work.”
He nodded slowly, studying me. “You wanna help the poor, feisty?”