Mindgasm - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist (Mind Games Book 3)

by Gabi Moore

  I peered at him and saw him watching my face intently, a distant smile on his lips.

  “So, I guess I came over here to tell you thank you,” I breathed.

  “Thank you for nearly getting you into so much trouble?” he said and reached out to poke my ribs. I squealed and darted away.

  “Yes, thank you for nearly getting me into so much trouble” I said, teasing him, but suddenly the look on his face went deep and serious.

  “Well, I hope I can do it again sometime.”

  And boom, there it was. All at once, a bright spark popped right the way through me, landing square between my legs in one undeniable thump. I said nothing. My eyes tried to dart around the room, trying to settle on something, anything that wasn’t that burning black gaze of his.

  “Can I make you some coffee?” he asked.

  When he went off to the kitchen I had time to notice the little things around his apartment.

  No sign of a feminine touch in here, that was for sure. The sofa was a fold-out futon. He had expensive speakers, but cheap furniture. Nothing really matched, but it all got along well enough. There were no plants, no scatter cushions, nothing on the walls. It seemed primarily a place to do things. I spied a door that looked as though it led to his bedroom. It was darkened, with a purple bedspread over a probably unmade bed…

  “Here we go,” he said, and handed me a steaming cup.

  It tasted good. Exactly what I needed.

  We sipped silently for a moment.

  “My mum and dad both died in a car accident two years ago,” I said.

  He said nothing.

  It was my usual preamble. The first line to any story I’d want to tell from here on out. It didn’t seem possible to talk about anything without first starting this way.

  “Well, I’m sure they’d both be proud to see you …shall we say, living the creative life,” he said quietly. His voice made me feel funny inside.

  “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as ‘proud’…” I said. “My aunt is paying for me to do this course. She’s been very generous. My parents were …well, they obviously never expected to just wake up one morning and die in a car crash, you know? So they didn’t have anything set in place for me. No money. I’d be on my own if it weren’t for my aunt.”

  I didn’t know why, but it was so easy to talk to him like this, his dark eyes and the black coffee soothing and invigorating at the same time.

  “So you’re in a bit of a trap, aren’t you?” he said.

  “A trap?”

  “Well, you’re trying to learn how to create. But if you risk creating too much, or the wrong thing… then…”

  “Then my aunt cuts me off.”

  “Exactly. Sounds brutal.”

  “It is when you put it that way.”

  We sipped silently some more.

  “It’s fine to play it safe for now, though, right? I won’t rely on my aunt for that long anyway, I’ll work eventually, I just need to be careful, that’s all.”

  He gave me a quizzical look.

  “Right? I can just complete this course and then go my own way, she’s been very generous you know, and if she cuts me off…”

  “Then what? Who cares if she cuts you off?”

  It was legitimately a thought I had never had. I had no idea what would happen. I didn’t like thinking about any of this.

  “We can’t all be starving artists you know, gallivanting around taking drugs in weird broken houses or whatever,” I laughed.

  “Oh shit, can’t we? That’s basically been my life plan all this time.”

  He smiled mischievously.

  I wanted to both smack and kiss him.

  “Well, not all of us have to rely on an aunt Lila for their survival, so.”

  “Nyx?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m getting pretty tired of hearing you blather on about your aunt. I’m sure she’s a lovely woman and all, but do you think you might like to come over here and kiss me a little instead?”

  I blushed hard.

  Though my hands were shaking as I placed them down on the sofa and inched closer to him, my lips seemed to remember instantly, falling straight back into the easy rhythm we had found with one another the night before.

  Kissing him was glorious. My body melted away and all that came into focus was his sweet, soft lips and all the delicious things they did to mine. He groaned quietly as his tongue caressed mine, and the sound alone was enough to set that little spark popping through me again.

  Gently, his hands went to my hips and I shuddered. Soon, we had both tumbled down, down, down onto the sofa, crumpling sweetly into a kiss that I couldn’t bear to end. His hands were stroking over and over the flare where my hips met my thighs. I could let a boy like this get me in trouble, oh yes. If he kept kissing me like this, I could let him do anything at all…

  I pulled back and looked at him.

  “I’m …I’m feeling really gross and I think I need to freshen up,” I said, stopping our kiss dead in its tracks.

  “Don’t worry, a little dirt suits you,” he said and leaned in for another kiss.

  I reflexively pulled back.

  It was all well and good throwing caution to the wind, but shit, it was a weekday morning and I was wearing my same clothes from yesterday. I placed a cautious hand on his chest, holding him off. He smiled and looked down at the folds of crumpled velvet.

  “Are you telling me this nasty dress is the problem?” he said. I giggled.

  “We’ll have to get it off then,” he said, fingers on his chin like he was some great philosopher who resolved one of life’s great mysteries.

  I laughed and slapped his arm. “You’re terrible!”

  “Nyx, you’re the one who’s all dirty and gross,” he said, and playfully stuck out his tongue at me. I leaned forward and pecked the tip of his tongue. Quickly. Without thinking.

  “I’m sorry, I –”

  He kissed me again.

  “But really, I smell like smoke and my feet are probably all gross and…” before I could finish he had hoisted me up off the couch and threw me over, yes, threw me over, his shoulder. It was the second time in as many days. I could do nothing but laugh.

  “Oh my God, Adam where are you taking me?”

  “To get cleaned up of course.”

  Upside down, I could see us heading for another door, which he kicked open and then plonked me down in the room it opened into.

  The bathroom.

  “Well, go on. If that dress is terrible and dirty, let’s get it off and put you in the shower.

  Well, why not? I knew it was a weekday, and broad daylight to boot, and I should probably be saying fifty hail Mary’s and thanking my lucky stars my meeting this morning had gone as well as it did… but why not?

  I unknotted the little belt tie at my waist and then crouched down to gather up the hem of the dress. Maybe I was glad to be rid of it. In one long movement, I stood back up and brought the hem with me, curling it up against my body and peeling it off and up over my shoulders. When I had shrugged it off and lowered my hands, I was naked except for my panties.

  And except for his eyes. All over me.

  I stood before him. He nodded, a slight frown on his face, and I couldn’t tell if the shiver up my spine was from the coldness of the bathroom or from the intensity of the way he looked at my stomach. At my breasts. Did he see all the little imperfections? Could he tell that I was excited to be there, no matter how violently my heart was pounding in my ears?

  He reached behind the shower curtain and turned on the taps. Not taking his eyes off me, he slid off his own pants, and to my surprise, he had nothing else underneath. His body was …stronger than I had guessed.

  His thighs seemed hard and knotted, tight like the haunches of some kind of predator. And his …I looked down to see his cock hanging half erect from a dark mass of curls. With a little thrill I realized that yes, that was certainly a sizeable cock indeed. No two ways about it.

&
nbsp; He squared his shoulders and took a breath so deep it was like he was about to step out onto stage and project his voice for a crowd. He gestured to my flimsy knickers.

  “Are those terrible and awful too?”

  “I hate them with all my heart,” I giggled.

  “Go on then, let’s get rid of them.”

  He held out his hand.

  I wriggled out of them and gingerly handed them over. Without skipping a beat, he balled them up and threw them angrily into the dustbin.

  “Good riddance! Is there anything else we need to throw away before we continue?”

  “No, I’m good,” I giggled.

  He held out his hand and I took it, and like a gentleman escorting a lady into a carriage, he guided me into the wet steam of the shower, stepped in behind me, and closed the curtain around us.

  Chapter 9

  “What’s that?”

  I turned to look at where he was pointing.

  Ah, that.

  His gaze fell on the tendrils of a faded and poorly inked tattoo snaking over my ribcage and onto my back. I hated it. A wrought iron key with ribbons laced around. At one point I had thought it was the best idea in the world.

  “That? Oh that’s just my misspent youth,” I said and smiled at him.

  He extended wet fingertips and stroked a long, thoughtful line over it, examining its shape.

  “It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

  I gulped. My head felt dizzy in the hot steam of the shower. We stood there together, looking. The water had soaked us both, and his dark hair seemed even darker, slicked back in little spikes like a seal’s. We huddled together under the water stream, our bodies only an inch or so apart.

  “You’re beautiful too,” I said, and when I did he leaned in again and kissed me, lips hot and wet and little parts of my body touching little parts of his. The top of his pecs, the poke of hips, all delicately grazing against my nakedness. I closed my eyes against the water dribbling over me and felt the most delicious pleasure washing down. A tight, almost painful ache throbbed at my clit.

  He was the last thing I needed right now. He was a ‘bad influence’, reckless, a little wild, too much. But maybe that was just what I needed?

  I squeezed my thighs together and brought my hips closer to him. I didn’t have to look to know that he was fully hard now, his cock pinned between both our bodies, the endless torrent of warm water rushing over us. He pressed against the slick flat of my belly, smooth and utterly naked.

  “I can’t decide yet if you’re good for me or bad for me…” I mumbled against his partly opened lips, and his hands raked into my wet hair and guided my head back, revealing my vulnerable neck to more kissing.

  “Ask your gut …ask …here,” he said and extended a hand to rest just beneath my navel. My knees almost buckled by how good it felt to have his hands so close to that desperate growing throb inside me.

  I let my head fall back, my head swirling full of steam, nipples hardening despite the heat, and I tried to focus on the almost maddening sensation of his hand heavy on my abdomen.

  “I want to be an artist, like you,” I said quietly. I traced my lips over his wet torso, kissing trails over onto his broad, well-developed biceps and shoulders.

  He stood tall and strong, looking down with pleasure as I kissed him, feet spread wide apart.

  “An artist? There’s no such thing. All you have to do is keep following your intuition, keep going after what really excites you. How else does anything new come into the world unless someone is brave enough to think of it, from scratch?”

  Slowly, his hand slid down from my belly and went lower, one tentative finger gliding neatly into the hungry folds of my body. I could feel him shaking. The tip of his finger sunk into a pool of syrupy wetness there.

  I moaned.

  “We can do whatever we want,” he whispered into my ear. This time, the pulse that thumped through me lingered around his fingertip, and soon I felt him stirring gooey sensations through me. It felt so fucking good. Again his lips were on mine, till he was kissing and stroking in rhythm, my hips obediently swirling in time against his rock-hard body. The water pelted down over us, melting every tension. Though I could hear the weight of his breathing, could see him pull back to bite his lip before diving in again for more, he was still masterful, still guiding our tongues, still stroking delicious, tiny circles right where I wanted them, till I was sure my whole body itself was melting, wet and quivering over his insistent fingers.

  “Anything we want…?” I breathed into his neck.

  “Anything.”

  His finger slid into my pussy. I gasped, bending a little at the knee and collapsing more deeply onto him. Fuck. That felt amazing. Here in broad daylight, on a school night, when I had groveling to do, when I hadn’t yet begun to redeem my sorry self, right here, right now, with this dark stranger’s fingers in me till the knuckle …I could do nothing but whimper and lean further into it.

  He groaned approvingly. The finger worked inside me, and then became two. Very much taller than me, he had to crouch over to kiss me, and I found myself balancing up on my tiptoes to lift and lower myself off his caresses in time, the dirtiest sensation pooling up somewhere deep inside me. He made it feel so easy to open my mouth up to him. So easy to spread my legs and fall down onto his strong forearms. So easy to let go…

  When I next opened my eyes he had a soapy sponge in his hands. He gently dragged it over my body. I held out my arms, and then he crouched down in front of me, his back muscles rolling and tight under his skin.

  I watched with fascination as he soaped me down, a flat hand following after the sponge to swirl around the line of suds. He washed me thoroughly, guiding his hand and the sponge over every part of me. The bathroom filled with the touching smell of antibacterial soap. My skin squeaked under his smooth caresses.

  He stood back up, then admired me as he sloshed water over me to rinse me down. It felt good. He took his time. He washed each bubble away, then finished by stroking the wet snakes of hair away from my breasts and smoothing everything flat behind me.

  Before I knew it, the water stopped.

  I blinked and looked up as a few long drops fell out of the showerhead. He smiled at me, then flicked his head a little and gestured for me to get out. I obeyed and stepped into the crisp air outside, found towels and bundled us both. The ache inside was at fever pitch. I didn’t want soap bubbles and manners. I wanted him. I wanted to feel what it would feel like to have him in me…

  We toweled ourselves off roughly and then, naked, he took my hand and guided me to his bedroom. At the threshold, I let his hand drop and I stopped, cooling drops spiraling down my legs and to my feet. He went inside his bedroom, plunked down on the purple bed and looked up at me expectantly.

  “Am I about to do something stupid, Adam?”

  His face darkened.

  “What I mean is, well, I’m trying to be sober these days. I have a habit of …getting carried away with things, you know? Maybe that stuff we took last night has clouded my mind, and I’m not seeing thing clearly now…” I started saying.

  The ache inside was retreating. Going somewhere deeper in.

  He exhaled loudly. “Or maybe what you took didn’t cloud your mind, but opened it…?”

  I wanted to believe it.

  He sat up and crossed his legs on the bed, and looked at me standing in the doorway.

  “Nyx, I meant what I said back there. We can do whatever we want. If you like, we can both get dressed right now and we can head off for some lunch somewhere. Or…” He looked down at the fabric of the bed, and stroked it absentmindedly. “Or you could come in here, and trust yourself, and see what you’d really like to do…”

  He flicked a heavy gaze at me and all at once, the ache was back again.

  I looked down and played with stepping my toes just an inch into the room. Maybe he was right? Maybe I didn’t need to beat myself up forever. It wasn’t my fault they got into the ca
r and went out that day, was it? I placed a foot down square inside the bounds of the bedroom.

  “You’re the perfect actor to play Bluebeard, you know that? You’re so delightfully evil,” I said and laughed.

  Slowly, I walked over to the bed and lay down beside him. He pretended to pout and be offended, but then we were kissing again, and soon his hand was again between my legs, again finding that sweet, sweet spot and stroking it into a frenzy.

  I let him.

  The more we kissed the more I let go. Screw it all. I liked it. All of it. And this is what I wanted, wasn’t it?

  “Will you be Bluebeard for me?” I asked, before I realized what I was saying.

  “What?”

  He held my head in his hands, looking at me quizzically.

  “In one of the scenes, the wedding night, you know, when Bluebeard consummates his marriage, I want you to be him. And I want to be the girl,” I gushed. It was a crazy idea. He’d laugh at me for sure. But I said it anyway. He did laugh.

  “And I thought you weren’t an actress, huh?” he said and gave me a playful slap on the butt.

  I nestled into his chest, trying to hide the fact that I was blushing hard. Again.

  “It’s OK if you don’t want to, it’s a dumb idea I know, I’m sorry…” I said, but he lifted my face and stared hard at me, examining it the same way he had the first time we had met.

  “What are you saying, dear?”

  “I was just…

  “That’s not a fitting way for the lady of the manor to speak. And as my wife I’d thank you to comport yourself with a little more equanimity.”

  His face was stony as rock. My eyes went wide. My heart fluttered like a caged animal in my chest. I throbbed.

  “I’m …I’m sorry, my lord.”

  I felt the hairs, one by one, stand up straight on the back of my neck. He looked me slowly over, buried his fingers in the hair at the base of my neck and gently pulled. Though my eyes instinctively fell closed, I could feel the warmth of his breath as his lips passed over my neck and down onto my collarbone. Like he was testing me. Tasting me. I swallowed hard.