Jason struggled out a wimpy, defeated sounding “Fuck you.”
“You’re already fucked. You’re done for. That’s assault with a deadly weapon on top of whatever else you just put her through.” He looked over to Laurel. “You getting the cops?”
She was holding out her phone in two trembling hands.
“You want me to call?”
She raised the phone to her mouth and in an anguished voice described her location and her emergency. Jason Coates attacked her with a fucking baseball bat.
Matthias could hear the calm, professional tone of the operator. “Is he still there?”
“Yes.”
“What’s happening? Is he subdued?”
“Yes.”
“We’re sending units right your way, ma’am. Hold tight.”
Matthias checked back at Jason, who had stopped struggling. Now he was moaning and writhing in pain. But under Matthias’ boot, he wasn’t going anywhere. He looked back to Laurel, who was still shakily holding the phone. She lowered her hands and now her eyes were on Matthias. They were filled with tears.
8
Laurel
She finally relaxed by the time the police arrived. Matt had everything under control, and Jason under his boot. He’d been standing, leaning his body weight on top of his chest for as long as it took for the cops to arrive. From then on she was busy answering questions in the back of a squad car. They had separated her and Matt, probably to root out any inconsistencies in their stories. But there was nothing to hide. In fact, it had been very straightforward. Jason had attacked both of them with a baseball bat. Matt repelled the attack and basically just kicked his ass. And that was it. Pretty cut and dried.
She would follow up on what Matt had suggested in filing a restraining order. It was said that she’d have no problem getting that through a judge after the latest in a long series of abuses from Jason—who, as she’d just found out, had a prior history. Well, she knew about the prior history— having lived through some of it. But she hadn’t known there’d been women before her. Documented cases. And an arrest record.
Matt was waiting for her when she stepped out of the squad car, wrapping his arm around her and holding her in tight against his muscled torso. She’d stopped crying a long time ago, and now it was just a pleasant numbness. The cops had already carted Jason off to jail and they were wrapping up the investigation in the parking lot. As the last of the squad cars pulled away and drove off into the night, she heard Matt ask if he could still walk her home.
He was actually smiling, like he’d been doing the last time he’d asked that question. Smiling as if nothing had happened. And Laurel was glad for it.
“No,” she said. “We still have time for last call.”
He looked a little surprised. “You want to head back inside?”
“Definitely. I think I need to.”
He shrugged and then lead the way back to the bar, holding the door open for her as they re-entered Whitby’s.
They stumbled home well after 3am, arm in arm, giggling at nothing like a bunch of kids. She was glad for his company, his easy charm, and the way he got her to laugh through even the most miserable moments of their first night together. After another round or two in the bar, and now, after both of them becoming sufficiently drunk, he was helping her up the stairs of her downtown apartment. There had been no discussion of what would occur once inside. And Laurel didn’t even care. Right now, there was no tomorrow—certainly no presentation. It and the rest of her responsibilities had been wiped clean from her mind. Whether it was from the drinks, or from a swing of Jason’s bat, everything else but the immediate moment had evaporated. How heavenly it was.
For once, she was excited. And living. And she wanted to see where things would go with this new exciting, brave, chivalrous man. Their natural momentum having brought them together so perfectly, and now, through the chaos of the night, it having swept them up together like in a cool evening breeze, carrying them all the way home and up her stairs, and through the door which lead into Laurel’s empty apartment.
Shit. She really was drunk.
“Whoa,” he said, laughing. “Did you just move in here?”
“Yeah, kinda.” That was a lie. She’d been there for over a month.
She stared at him in the empty living room. A man—a stranger, even—standing in her new place. She wanted to reach out and touch him again.
“Be honest,” he said, laughing. “Are you jobless? Are you broke? It’s okay. I can get us dinner or something. Or even just a table to eat off of.” He laughed again after slurring some of the words. But she was glad. She wanted him to enjoy himself. He deserved it.
“I actually just got a promotion,” she said, flipping on the light switch.
“At McDonalds?”
“Alright,” she said, flipping off the light switch on her way to him, creeping up to him through the dark. “That’s enough out of you.”
“Enough?”
She wrapped her arm around his waist.
“Enough comedy. Enough talking.” She stretched up to kiss him, him leaning over at the same time to meet in the dark with a nice hot kiss. She held it there, loving how he wrapped his hand around hers, holding it up as his tongue tasted along her lips. She felt him breathe hard against her, and then suddenly release. She pulled back slightly, noting the odd little smile across his face. He looked surprised. Satisfied.
“You’re right,” he said, gliding his hand down her arm, to her wrist. “Who needs furniture anyway?”
“Well,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “I have a bed.”
“Oh . . .”
She laughed and moved away from him, feeling a little dizzy. The moment a little too intense.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
She was in kitchen, opening the fridge and almost feeling blinded by the light. “Let’s have some wine.” She drew out a cold bottle of white wine and parked it on the table. The corkscrew was readily available on the counter and she grabbed it and stuck it into the cork.
“So, um . . .” The sound of Matt a little flustered was a new and interesting twist. “So, are you sure you’re okay? I mean, I know you had a pretty crazy night.”
She poured the wine into two glasses. “I’m fine, thanks to you.” He had joined her in the kitchen where she offered him a cold glass of wine. “And, I think my goal now is to just . . . forget about it.”
“We can do that.” He took a sip. “Mmm.”
“You want a snack?” She turned back to the fridge. “Some cheese or something?” She looked around inside, peeking through Tupperware leftovers, opening a drawer. But then his warmth wrapped around her, his body pressed softly against her from behind. He reached past her and shut the fridge door and Laurel turned around, into him, leaning her head against his chest.
“You sure this is okay?” he asked, his voice vibrating through his ribcage.
“I don’t really care.” It was the truth. She was feeling reckless, and excited. And his arms felt so good around her.
“I do.”
She walked forward, moving him slowly backward where his hips backed up against the kitchen’s center island. She reached back behind and placed her wine glass on the table with a tiny clanking sound. She grabbed his glass, wrestling it out of his hands with minimal effort, and doing the same. And then Laurel pressed more of her weight into him, pinning him, showing Matt that maybe he didn’t have a choice. It certainly felt that way, his erection pressing into her. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist. She felt it to be sure, his hardness stiffening tighter against his pants, against her, and then her hand trying to grasp it through his pants, and his squirming with her touch. The sound of air escaping his lungs like he’d just been punched in the gut, him weakened now in her kitchen, finally weakened, physically, and brought to someone’s mercy.
His mouth darted forward and his lips locked onto hers, tongues sliding past each other as his hands slipped down around her wai
st, squeezing on her ass and then lifting her there, scooping her up into his arms and spinning her around while they kissed deeply. She was dropped onto the center island like a sack of potatoes brought home from the store, like a piece of meat, and she loved it.
Was that what she really needed? To be completely taken over like that? And to have it done to her by a stranger?
She hadn’t the slightest idea who this guy was. Only that he’d rescued her.
That counted for something, right?
And maybe he did deserve a little reward for it. He at least deserved something sweet at the end of such a tumultuous night. They both needed it. Could he be her sweet, naughty dessert? Her secret, guilty pleasure?
He was already well on his way in satisfying his pleasure, his hand snaking up through her shirt against her bare skin, to her bra and slipping under one of the cups and around her breast. Her nipple hardened instantly in his hand. In that same hand she felt her body fold over and melt like putty, like something moldable and useful for his every desire.
He was nibbling on her ear and her hand was working his belt, loosening it and then running under his waistline, under his boxers to the heat of his bare crotch. The smooth skin of hardened cock burning against her hand as she fondled him in the dark kitchen, her mystery man, her hero.
9
Matthias
He was moving with her through the darkness, Laurel’s arms clutched around his neck and shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist, her face planted on his. Even if it hadn’t been so dark, he still wouldn’t have been able to see Laurel’s surroundings. He was too busy kissing her, and bumping lightly into walls and doorways on his way through the apartment.
“In there,” she said after peeling her lips away and nodding her head in the direction of a darkened room. “There.”
Matthias carried her through the doorway, her leg brushing against the frame. And right before her face returned to his with another long, deep kiss, he saw into her room, a glowing shard of orange from a nearby street light spilling across a bed. She wasn’t lying. There actually was a bed. And now he was in it, dropping his knee onto the mattress and gently lowering her body while keeping his lips in contact with hers. His belt buckle clanked again, and then her hands slipped under the stiff denim. During their quick trip from kitchen to bedroom he only got harder, and now there was a sense of urgency, of needing more than just her hand. And for that, he’d need her to be wearing a lot less clothes. Matthias started with the buttons of her shirt, feeling his pulse quicken at each new revealing of skin. First her collar bone, and then the milky smooth tops of her breasts, the light from outside making her skin glisten in that soft orange hue. She’d been busy, too, sliding his jeans over and off his ass and then immediately plunging her hand inside his boxers, grabbing a firm hold of it before leaving him pointing up over the waistband while her hand began working on her own clothes. She started unbuttoning, unzipping, and after her shirt had been spread open, Matthias grabbed hold of her pants and peeled them off. He was immediately drawn in, his head diving low against the mattress to her core. He needed a better angle. Wrapping his arms around her thighs, he pulled her toward the end of the bed, then knelt before her on the floor. A loan groan spilled from Laurel’s lips when she realized his intentions.
It really wasn’t how he’d imagined his night wrapping up, between a girl’s legs, some southern cutie he’d met in the bar. But it felt a little more meaningful than that, their current late-night romp a little more sincere than just some random hookup. In his short time with this woman, Matthias had felt an attraction well beyond the physical—beyond the fact that she was exactly his type, a busty girl with an hourglass figure, nice juicy ass and thighs—but aside from all that, he’d come to understand her, and sympathize with her. She’d obviously needed help tonight with Jason, and Matthias was only too glad to pound his face in. But the more time he’d spent talking with Laurel, the more he realized that he might need her help, too.
He could use her help tonight, in this moment. He could use that kind of help badly. But there was something else. A more thorough kind of help she’d offered in her smile, and how she’d listened to him—truly listened. The way she’d laugh and then place her hand to his chest. And even her apartment, as curiously empty it was, felt inviting to him. It felt as open as she was, as ready for a change. Ready for him and his life. They were both were equally desperate for it. Both equally empty. Damaged, even. He knew he was.
Laurel’s hands had been holding his head against her, her fingers now pressing hard, curling and kneading into his hair like cat claws. It seemed like she needed his help too, especially at this moment, his tongue lapping into her and causing her body to writhe uncontrollably on the bed. She might have been saying something, a groany, grunting voice, but he was in too deep to hear, too busy with his work between her legs, his tongue now working back and forth on her clit until the voice went away. There wasn’t anything left to say, Matthias made sure of that, making Laurel go limp now, the grunting turning into a hard, open-mouthed panting. No words were needed. No explanations, either, for how he’d ended up in some stranger’s apartment, her warm juices smeared across his face. And now with her hips rolling against him, her body shuddering under his work, her knees locking tight around his head. Her strong thighs squeezing, holding his head in place. He reveled in the sweet trap. And by her increasingly loud and almost painful-sounding breathing, she loved trapping him there. Matthias moaned into her, pushing his tongue inside, feeling her heat, her pulsing core, and then her body shaking one last time before Laurel reached down to push him away.
He almost wanted to laugh, the way she just tossed him aside so abruptly, especially with how serious her expression was. More than serious, it almost looked like she was in a panic, holding his head away from her and closing her legs tight as she cried out in ecstasy. She returned to him a moment later, after having caught her breath. She looked flushed and completely spent. Almost sleepy. But satisfied, evidenced by the glow of her teeth in that big smile of hers.
“I so needed that,” she said. “You don’t even know.”
“Oh, I know.”
“Do you?”
He needed it just as badly, his erection still thick and pressing against her back as he came in close to spoon her. She reached down for it, thumbing over the tip, stroking him.
And he collapsed with her touch. “Mmmm.”
“I guess you do know,” she said, running her hand down to hold his swollen balls. “You’re such a big boy,” she said, returning to his shaft. “And you worked so hard for me. And worked so well.” She held him back with her hand, pushing his chest down to the mattress. She laid him out flat and then crept down on her knees to his erect cock.
Matthias laid back and took a deep breath. It was time to stop thinking about how the hell his night had ended up like this and just feel. He closed his eyes as her mouth took him in. No hand, just pure wet, warm mouth, a gentle sucking pressure as she worked his head and then her lips gliding down to his base, almost taking it all.
He flopped his head back, breathing harder, and then groaning. “Fuck.” He felt himself melt into a puddle, his mind dissolving away. Thoughts and memories disappearing as he disappeared in her, her hot mouth sucking and squeezing his throbbing cock. But he could only take so much, and he wanted to be inside her when he came. Laurel seemed to pick up on it, perhaps reading his body language, the signals, her hand on his abs as he flexed, his breathing turning into little whimperings. He was ready. Was she?
She stopped for a moment, catching her breath, letting her hand take over. Matthias wrapped his hand around hers, taking over and then drawing hers away from his cock. He gently pulled her toward him, up his torso. She climbed onto him, her warm weight making him groan again. God, he loved the feel of her smooth skin, her breasts gliding against his chest, her hardened nipples rubbing against him. She reached down and grabbed hold of him one last time, to direct him home. The tip o
f him rubbed against her core. So wet. So ready.
Matthias tried raising his hips, wanting so badly to enter, needing penetration more now than ever. But she held him away and made a tsk-tsk sound. “Bad boy.” Laurel brought him back, allowing him once again to come so close to what he wanted so badly. And then using him, rubbing her slippery clit and then back down to her opening, almost allowing him in, just putting the slightest pressure so that he felt the very faintest beginnings of that most glorious moment.
And then she pulled him away again, working him again over her clit, groaning.
It was fucking killing him.
How much longer would she do this for? And how much more would he have to obey? It was so hard not to push up into her. He fought the urge with every breath. But he couldn’t. And he tried again to slide into her, but she swiftly stopped his progress, this time giggling while she sat on him, on his cock, trapping him.
“You’re killing me.”
“Good,” she said. “I want to kill you a little bit before you kill me.”
“Kill you?”
“I want it rough,” she said, the words instantaneously making his cock twitch and pulsate. “Once I give over control to you, that’s it. I want you to take it hard and rough, okay?”
“Okay,” Matthias could barely say it.
“So behave yourself,” she said, grinding her hips on him, sliding her wet lips up and down his shaft.
Matthias instinctively moved his hips, trying to aim himself again, but she caught him. “Not yet.” She glided up and down him again, his cock now firmly between her lips and pressed hard against the weight of her body. And for a moment, he was satisfied. It felt almost as good as what he’d imagined the real thing to be like. She was rubbing faster now, grinding as she fell onto him, hands feeling up his chest, her hungry mouth sucking at his. Her tongue ran wild, sliding into his mouth. She groaned a little into him, and then her hips held in place. She moved back from a kiss and smiled at him.
Dark Control (DARC Ops Book 4) Page 6