by Jo Raven
“Stay.” Yolanda pouts. “We'll cheer you up.” She casts a glance at Jason, who looks like he has exactly zero interest in helping to cheer me up. We've never cared much for each other. Every time the three of us are together, he's either as silent as a shadow, or I end up feeling like a third wheel.
“I'll catch up with you guys later. Thanks for dinner.” I tap the table before taking off for the door, not wanting to deal with her whining anymore. The only other thing on my agenda tonight is sleep, and I pray to God I never wake up.
By the time I get to my apartment, I'm on the verge of tears. I've been going through way too much lately, torn between a man who cheated on me and a man who only wants to fuck me. The reality is that I'm not really torn between them. Asher is the only one who wants me, but that fact only compounds my misery. I feel used and lonely and horrible. Men are awful. I hate them all.
I set my box of leftovers on the floor to dig through my purse for my keys. My porch light flickers like something out of a horror movie. I've already put a request into maintenance to have it changed. That was a week ago. Why it's taking them so long, I have no idea. It would get done a lot faster if I just did it myself.
I find my key and plunge it into the door lock, sighing in relief that I'm finally home and will soon be buried in my pillows crying myself to sleep. It's the only comfort the night has to offer.
As I turn the handle and push the door open, strong hands wrap around me, clamping over my mouth and pulling me back. My heart feels like it might burst out of my chest as the barrel of a gun is pressed into my spine. “Don't scream, and I won't hurt you.”
A whimper of pure terror sticks in my throat, and my eyes instantly water. And I thought my night couldn't get any worse.
The scent of the man's cologne wafts over my shoulder, strong and familiar. “Get inside.” He pushes me forward, though he doesn't let go of me.
I've smelled that cologne before. I've heard that voice before. My brain works on overdrive to put it all together, to figure out who I'm going to have to beg for my life.
The gun leaves my back for a moment as we step inside, and he closes the door behind us, leaving my leftovers outside for whoever happens upon them. More than likely, they'll just stay there, absentmindedly passed by by the residents of the complex.
Once we reach my sofa, the man forcefully throws me down on it. I twist my body to look at my assailant, and relief rushes through me. In an instant, I'm on my feet, slapping at his chest. “Parker. You fucking asshole! I thought I was going to have a heart attack.”
There is no gun. What I thought was a weapon was actually his index and middle fingers pushed together and pressed against my back. It's funny how your mind can play tricks on you when you can't see what's going on. Or maybe it's not funny. I thought I was going to die.
There's no amusement in his expression as he grabs my wrists and forces me back onto the couch. My mood changes in an instant, confusion taking over, though I'm no longer afraid. “Don't struggle,” he warns me.
“What are you doing here?” I feel like a rag doll, moving with him as he roughly undresses me. This isn't like him at all.
“I'm giving you your gift.”
“My gift?” I arch my eyebrow as he practically rips my bra off, causing the straps to scratch my shoulders. “Ow. Be careful. You're hurting me.”
“I don't care that I'm hurting you.” His voice is uncharacteristically cold.
“Well, you better start caring.” I furrow my eyebrows at him, wrapping my arms around my chest and trying to get away. He pursues me relentlessly, tugging off my heels one at a time and tossing them in random corners of the room. Is he really that fucking horny that he's being a slob about everything? “Stop. Just stop.” I hold my hand out at him, palm flat.
“You don't want me to stop.” He tangles his fingers into my nude hose and rips them as he tugs them down my legs.
“I do. I really do.” I scoot farther away from him, reaching the end of the sofa. There's nowhere left for me to retreat without standing up. “You know you made me leave my leftovers outside.”
He sighs, abandoning his quest to get my skirt off and standing in front of me with his hands on his hips. “You know, you're really bad at roleplay.”
“Roleplay?” I squint at him in the darkness. What is he talking about?
“I'm trying to rape you.”
“Rape me?” I'm confused about whether or not I should be legitimately scared. Then I remember what I told him in the massage room, about it being my biggest fantasy. “Oh. This is my gift.” I feel a bit stupid for not realizing it sooner.
“Your leftovers can wait.” He advances on me again, though his movements are a bit more slow and gentle. I lean over onto my side to give him better access to the zipper of my skirt, feeling my body throbbing with need. Maybe I should have continued being oblivious. The fantasy was a lot more realistic that way. Now it just feels like he came to my apartment to fuck me.
My apartment. “Holy crap, I can't believe you're here.” My mouth drops open in disbelief.
“Next time you talk, I'm going to duct-tape your mouth.” He switches back into aggressor mode, ripping my panties right off my body. I want to scowl at him, but I'm in way too much shock.
Once I'm naked, he grabs me by the hair and practically drags me off the couch by it. I cry out in pain as he turns me away from him, wrapping his strong arms around me to lead me towards the bedroom. When we get there, he picks me up and throws me onto the bed. His motions are so fluid and effortless, it's like I weigh nothing at all.
I turn around to face him, wondering what I got myself into. He could win an award for his acting skills. There's a timid part of me that's actually afraid of what he might do. Would he stop if I asked him to?
I lie there as I watch him undress, too frightened to move. Maybe frightened is a strong word. But after the not-so-pleasant hair-pulling, I'm a bit concerned. He's completely in the zone right now, and it doesn't seem like anything could stop him.
He crawls onto the bed, and to my displeasure, goes straight for my hair, tangling his hand into it to tug me toward him. If he was really trying to rape me, I'd punch him square in the nuts, since I have a pretty good visual on them. But instead, I swing my hand up and slap him across the face. If he's going to play rough, then so am I.
Part of me hopes that the slap will show him he's hurting me, but if it does anything, it just enrages him. He presses my head into the bed for a few seconds until I stop struggling, then he shoves my face between his legs, impaling my mouth on his rigid cock. It swells as I suck on him, reaching its full girth in a matter of seconds. His hands roughly guide me up and down his length, treating my gag reflex to a beating the likes of which it's never experienced before. All I can do is whimper and suck while the tears roll down my cheeks.
It's odd for me to think that he could actually physically do this to someone. He's never shown me violence before. And while I know I asked for this in a way, watching him carry it out is so much different than I expected. He's sexy as hell, but my body is having a hard time handling it, my mind a difficult time processing it.
I gasp as he pulls out of my mouth, thankful for the oxygen that rushes into my lungs. His hands leave my hair, and he moves down my body, straddling me. “Keep your hands up and don't fucking move.” The tone of his voice is threatening. I do what I'm told.
He gropes my breasts with both hands, kneading and squeezing them together. For as rough as he was earlier, now he's being fairly gentle. A soft moan escapes my lips as he leans in and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, deftly flicking his tongue across the peak until it swells. Then he moves to the other, baring his teeth down on it and causing me to cry out from the biting pain that races through my chest. I tangle my fingers in his hair and pull hard, to which he responds by letting up on my chest and giving me a soft slap across the face.
“I said keep your fucking hands up,” he barks at me, his eyes narrowed and angry
.
My entire body trembles from the realization that he struck me. While he didn't put much force behind it, it still stung. Am I really going to be able to make it all the way through this? It's like he's an entirely different person, and while I know we're just roleplaying, there are parts of it that feel frighteningly real.
He pulls his hand back to hit me again, and I flinch, turning my face into the pillow as if it will soften the blow. “Are you going to do what I say from now on?”
“Yes,” I reply weakly, opening one eye to see if his hand is about to come down on me.
He lowers his fist, grabbing me by the hips and forcing me to roll over onto my stomach. Then he pulls me back into a kneeling position and climbs between my legs. My clit pulses in heated anticipation, knowing that it's only a matter of time before he takes what's his.
“This pussy is mine. You know that, right?” It's a declaration, not up for debate. I brace myself with my elbows as he spanks my ass with his cock. Then he plunges two fingers inside of me, and my body instantly shoots off. “God, you're so fucking wanton.”
I moan as I press my hips back into him, letting him feel my wetness. Even though he's being a bit of an asshole, I still want him. My body still wants him. Nothing can change that.
He probes into my depths for a few short moments, and then his fingers withdraw and something much thicker takes their place. I bite my bottom lip as his wide head makes its entrance, filling me deliciously as it always does. This is more like it. This is what I wanted. It takes everything in me not to scream for him to fuck me hard. He doesn't need encouragement though. That will likely be part of his scene.
“Fuck, your pussy feels so good.” He bucks into me with leisurely strokes. I groan as he picks up the pace, sliding in and out of me effortlessly thanks to my wet desire for him. It feels so good, his skin on mine. His skin on mine. He's not wearing a condom. The realization both arouses and worries me, but it doesn't take long before I cast worries to the side in lieu of soaking up the pleasure of our parts connecting.
He pulls out for a moment to turn me around, grabbing my leg and forcing it up into the air, resting my ankle on his shoulder before he guides himself back into me. Definitely not wearing a condom. His naked cock looks so gorgeous, and the sight of it sliding into me sends me straight over the edge, stealing my breath away.
“I love it when you come all over my dick,” he growls, hugging my leg and closing his eyes while he thrusts into me. It seems like our roleplay is over. He's back to his former self, lost in lust and me. I still can't believe he's in my apartment, in my bedroom, fucking me on my bed.
I reach my hand out and flatten it on his abdomen, feeling the muscles contract as he pumps into me. He's so solid. So devastatingly handsome. And he's so deep inside of me, delivering delicious little shots of pain with each thrust.
“It's so much,” I whisper breathlessly, to which he responds by leaning in to take my nipple between his lips again. My hips instinctively buck up against him as pleasure shoots from my chest to my nether region, causing my clit to pulse in approval. I rake my fingers through his hair, drawing him to me as I writhe against him. “Oh God, Parker. Fuck me harder. Suck on my tits. Just like that.”
He grabs my other leg, stepping inside it effortlessly and pulling it up over his shoulder for better depth of penetration. Then he bucks into me like there's no tomorrow, causing the friction to build at an overwhelming rate. I whimper and moan as he dives into me again and again, forcing another orgasm to the surface. I'm almost in tears, it's so good. And then I spill over. Everything spills over. The earth spins around me as I'm lost in the sheer bliss of him. And then he looses himself as well, pulling out and releasing his hot pleasure all over my pussy.
When his body is spent, he rolls over onto his back, panting as if he's just run a marathon. Assuming that our little roleplay session is over, I crawl up beside him and rest my head on his chest. He wraps his arm around me, all signs of aggression melting away with exhaustion.
“You came,” I say absentmindedly, more in regard to the fact that he's in my apartment than anything else.
“Hard,” he breathes. It's obvious his mind is still on what we just did.
“I need to go wash up.” I climb off of the bed and go to the bathroom to clean his seed from my folds. I still can't believe he fucked me without a condom. Was that really okay?
The thought is fleeting as my mind focuses on more important things, like the fact that he showed up at my apartment out of the blue to fuck me senseless. What does it mean? He never even hinted that he was going to do this. I have so many questions.
My mind is loaded with an arsenal of things to ask him by the time I return to the bed. Soft snoring greets me, and I frown when I realize he's fast asleep. Oh well, there's always tomorrow. Hopefully, he'll stick around until then. He's so unpredictable.
I crawl in bed beside him, trying my best not to wake him. If he wakes up, I'm certain he'll leave, and I don't want that. The thought of ever getting him to come over to my apartment was a pipe dream until tonight. The thought of spending the night in his arms, unthinkable. Now I'm getting both in one night. I don't want to ruin it.
Despite my attempts to sleep though, I'm wired awake by everything that's happened. I stare at his body in the darkness, the way my blinds cast stripes of light across his skin. He's so amazingly beautiful, and I wonder if this is just a dream or if there's actually a chance that I might have him someday—that I might be able to call him mine.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Morning, cupcake.” Parker yawns to life next to me.
A lazy grin curls my lips from the pet name. His hair is messy, his eyes a bit glazed. This is what he looks like when he wakes up. It's something I've secretly wondered about for a while, fantasized about. He looks absolutely adorable, in a very sexy way. It's hard to imagine that this was the same man who was roughly forcing himself inside of me last night.
“How did you sleep?” I roll over onto my stomach and look over at him.
“Good. You wore me out.” A short laugh escapes his perfect lips.
“You're one to talk.” My grin widens. “We should go out to breakfast.”
He stops mid-stretch and drops his arms back to his sides. “I just drink coffee in the mornings. Do you have any coffee?”
It takes everything in me not to sigh. I can't help but think this is another one of his diversion tactics. He still doesn't want to go out in public with me, the jerkface. “I do have coffee.” My words are clipped with irritation.
“I'll take mine black.” He climbs out of bed and heads to the bathroom. My eyes follow him in disbelief. Is he really going to treat me like an employee right now?
I wait for him to return, but when I hear water spraying from the shower head, I know it's a lost cause. I'm on Parker Bernier's time now, and I better make him his cup of coffee, because I'm pretty sure that after he drinks it, he's going to abandon me.
Grumbling, I pull myself up from the bed and go into the kitchen to start the coffee pot. Hopefully, he doesn't expect me to have some expensive brand of coffee for him.
Once the coffee is brewing, I play the locate-my-clothing game. There's a shoe over here. A shoe over there. And oh look, my cell phone.
I tap a button to light up the screen. One missed text message from… Asher. I need to talk to you, it says. He should know by now that I'm not going to text him back. We're through. Even though he pulled at my heartstrings last night, I know that now. My mind has become a lot clearer with sleep.
I set the phone on the kitchen counter and lean against it while I wait for the coffee to finish brewing. The sound of a door opening startles me, and I turn to see Parker walking out of my bedroom in a pair of jeans, toweling off his hair. He looks so handsome with tiny beads of water still dotting his body. I wish he would have let me take a shower with him.
“I don't think I've ever seen you wear jeans before.” My eyes fall to the dark distressed desig
ner jeans he's wearing.
“That's because you've never seen me outside of work before.” He finishes drying off his hair and rests the towel around his shoulders.
“I hope you don't mind Folgers.” I nod towards the nearly empty canister on the kitchen counter.
“I'm not picky.” He throws himself down on the sofa and waits for me to bring him a cup. So spoiled.
I pour us both a cup of coffee, fix mine with cream and sugar, and then take both cups over to the coffee table in front of the sofa, setting his down in front of him. He instantly reaches for it, blowing the steam off the top before taking a small sip.
“Delicious.” He smiles at me.
“I'm sure you'd rather have Starbucks.” I roll my eyes, settling myself down on the sofa beside him.
“Beggars can't be choosers.” He lifts both eyebrows, a silent confession that he would, in fact, have rather had Starbucks or some other overpriced brand of coffee.
“Nope. They sure can't,” I reply dryly as I lean back into the worn cushions of my sofa. “You should have come to my celebration party last night, it was a real shindig.”
“Was it?” He casts a doubtful glance over his shoulder at me before setting his coffee cup down and pulling me into his arms to cuddle.
“Loads of fun.” The sarcasm is clear in my voice.
“I bet it was… with Asher there.” Parker stares straight forward as he says it.
Did I just hear him right? How could he have possibly known Asher was there? “Excuse me?”
“Asher. He was there, wasn't he?” Parker looks over at me casually.
It feels like he's backing me into a corner. For the briefest of moments, I consider lying. But Parker wouldn't have brought it up if he hadn't somehow known. “He wasn't invited, but yes, he was there. How did you know?”
“I saw him.” Parker leans forward and takes a sip of coffee.