by Emelia Blair
“They’re okay. Thought you’d be naked by now.” She grins at me.
“Do I look like some perv to you?” I demand.
“I can always dream,” she retorts, and I chuckle.
The happiness fades to something darker when our eyes meet. I walk her back to the door ‘til her back is against it and I am pressed against her, feeling her every curve.
Her hand is still holding up her towel, and I feel my heart racing in my chest. She looks so soft and delectable, her wet hair strewn over her shoulders, her lashes still holding droplets from her shower, her skin soft and rosy.
My mouth drops to her jaw, and I press an open-mouthed kiss there. And then another. And then another.
Her skin smells like jasmine, and I was instantly addicted. I lay my mouth on hers. She still holds up the towel between us as I mark her bare skin, biting the delicate curve of her shoulder. She hisses at me, but I see the spark of excitement in her eyes when I use my teeth on her.
I kiss and suckle, tasting what is mine.
“Let go of the towel, Agatha,” I murmur against her ear as I suck on her lobe, tugging at it with my teeth.
She groans at the way I am using my mouth on her. “No.”
My lips curve against her skin, my voice low and rough. “Don’t make me strip it off you.”
“Promises, promises.” Her tone is sly, and I raise a brow. One powerful yank and the towel falls into a heap beside her. She takes a sharp breath at the sudden movement, and her eyes meet mine, her voice breathy when she says, “Well, then. Looks like I’m naked.”
I take a step back and look at her. Her breasts are full, nipples pink and pebbled, making me want to suckle on them. Her legs are long and lean, and I want them around me as she screams my name over and over again.
She doesn’t hide herself from my view. Instead, she cocks her hip and asks in a sultry voice, “Like what you see?”
I push her against the door again, with a growl, “You know I do.”
Cupping her breasts, I suck on one nipple, and she moans at the way my hand plays with the other. “At least take off your clothes.”
“Why?” I drag my mouth away long enough to ask. “I have you naked and at my mercy.”
One of my legs is thrust between hers ‘til her pussy is directly straddling my fabric-clad thigh. She moans, grabbing onto me for purchase as I use my thigh to give her the friction she craves.
“Come on,” I bite her nipple. “Let’s see if you can get yourself off.”
Her breathing is harsh as she moves against my thigh. “Your pants will be ruined.”
“Fuck my pants,” I tell her, my eyes transfixed on her the helpless face she is making as she keeps rubbing her pussy on my thigh.
“I’d rather you fuck me.”
My hands mold her breasts, and I squeeze them and pinch her nipples, making her bite her lower lip. “Oh, I intend to. All night long.”
One of my hands move to her head and my fingers grip her hair, my hold tight enough for it to be uncomfortable, and again I see that look of excitement.
One sudden thrust of my thigh up has her gasping as she comes apart in a heartbeat. Watching her come drives me wild. Tightening my hold in her hair, I pull her towards me for a kiss, my mouth slanting over hers as I thrust my tongue into her mouth.
I am a dominant lover. I always prefer a submissive partner, but with Agatha, my blood stirs when she tries to take back some control. My cock hardens in my pants. She is always in control of her life, and right now I am going to unravel her and make her submit, a prospect that arouses the both of us.
My tongue moves in the warm crevice of her mouth, and I can taste the minty flavor of her toothpaste. My hand moves to circle her neck, a dominant hold as I kiss the fight out of her.
When I pull away, her eyes are cloudy. “Not fair,” she whispers. I smirk, and my fingers reach for her clit, and I rub the small, hard nub, making her quiver in my arms. “Ian. Don’t! Ahh!”
Her cry is short as she comes again just from my playing with her clit. Without pausing, I thrust two fingers in her drenched pussy, and my cock becomes almost painfully hard when her inner muscles contract on my thick fingers, wanting something else.
I work my fingers in her, pumping them in and out, dragging another orgasm out of her. Her chest heaves up and down, and her pretty nipples catch my attention. I lower my mouth and suck on one of them, enjoying her half-formed cries as I pin her naked form against the door with my fully clothed one, my fingers still pumping inside her pussy.
Another orgasm and I take out my fingers and feed the remaining juices on them to her. Her face is flushed as she accepts my silent command to open her mouth, and it pleases me to see how obedient she has become after just a handful of orgasms.
However, Agatha isn’t without a few tricks of her own. As she swirls her tongue around my fingers, her half-mast eyes warn me of trouble. The way her small mouth sucks on my fingers make me want to replace them with my cock.
I want her on her knees before me, worshipping my cock, but I also want to watch these helpless expressions on her face when I drive her over the edge.
I take out my fingers and kiss her, an open-mouthed kiss, an erotic entangling of tongues that is primitive and raw. Pulling away, my breath still on her lips, I murmur, “Why don’t you take out my cock?”
The fact that I am making her undress me isn’t lost on her.
Her hands go down to my pants, and as she deftly unzips and unbuttons, she breathes, “I’m only being compliant because I want your cock fucking my brains out.”
I grip her by the jaw and plant a harsh kiss on her lips, making her moan, and I tell her, “I will never give up control in the bedroom, Agatha. Have fun trying to take it from me.”
I feel her small hands wrap around my thick cock and as she looks down at it, I see the hunger and desire in her eyes as she takes the condom I offer and carefully rolls it down my length.
Picking her up by her waist, I wrap her legs around me, and without warning, thrust into the wetness of her pussy.
I feel like a randy teenager. My cock is near to bursting, and since I don’t want to come too quickly, I move slowly.
It is the right thing to do apparently because I have never seen Agatha beg and right now, as I slowly fuck her against the door, she pleads with me to move faster, to fuck her harder.
I never even knew she has such a sailor’s vocabulary. I make sure she feels every inch of my cock as it goes inside her. She grabs me by the hair and pulls me into a fierce kiss before hissing, “If you can’t fuck me like a man, maybe I should just get one of those dildos—”
I take my dick out, and lifting her easily, I impale her on it in a quick movement, making her gasp at the sharp pleasure. Self-control making beads of sweat pour down my face, I piston in and out of her, her screams driving me on, her cries of my name like music to my ears.
Her inner muscles clench on my cock, and I pull out again as she orgasms. Dropping her legs to the floor, I whirl her around ‘til she is facing the door, pinning both of her wrists in one hand above her and kicking her legs apart.
I drive my cock in, this time reaching a deeper penetration that makes her howl my name. I jackhammer her pussy ‘til she comes one more time. Then, I let go.
I groan out my release, her name in my head.
We are both a mess, our legs so wobbly that asking us to walk in a straight line is mocking us. We somehow make it to the couch, and I drag her over me.
“I’ve never,” her voice is hoarse, “It’s never been like this.”
I wipe the sweat out of my eyes. “You’re telling me.”
She looks up at me. “Please tell me you ordered food.”
“You can always eat my—”
“Eww, Ian! You’re sick.” She slaps me on the chest, scowling, and I laugh.
“I was going to say leftover sandwich. Who’s the pervert now?” As she rolls off me and pad to the shower, I grin, following her. “Doe
s this mean no second round?”
She drags me into the bathroom.
8
Agatha
Waking up next to Ian, his strong arms around me, is one of the best feelings I have ever experienced.
He is a deep sleeper and right now, he has one arm under my head, the other resting on my breast, a light but possessive hold. I don’t mind that about him. I like how possessive he is.
One of his legs is thrust between mine, and the other is thrown over my hip, keeping me in place. I turn my head to watch him sleep.
Three days.
It has been three days since I finally forced myself to let go of my anger and hurt. I knew it was unreasonable. I understood that, and it made me feel like shit, but in these last three days since he had forced me to confront myself, I have felt cherished and loved.
Falling in love with your best friend is such a strange experience. The dynamics of our relationship didn’t shift that much, but I noticed that Ian likes to touch me a lot. His hands would be on my neck, my shoulders. When we would be on the couch, he would rest his hand on my inner thigh.
I had never considered myself to be one of those women who liked their men to desire so much physical contact, but Ian’s touch is addictive. His kisses are like my personal brand of heroin.
Every day I am in control in the office, at home. But when it comes to the bedroom, Ian takes over. He is a dominating man in bed, and there is almost something sadistic about him when he gets me naked.
It drives me wild how he makes sure I know who is in charge in bed. Our chemistry is hot and heavy, and I find myself getting wet just thinking about how last night he spanked me when I had orgasmed after being explicitly ordered not to.
“You look like you want something,” Ian’s voice is rough from sleep, but I don’t miss the heat in his eyes.
“Maybe I do.”
His breath is warm against my lips as he whispers, “Then why don’t you come and get it?”
We are both naked under the sheets, and I crawl on top of him, and his cock slips inside me, making me moan and bite my lower lip as I feel the thick rod rub against my insides. His hands go to settle on my hips, and he lifts me up and then slams me back down, making me cry out at the sharp sensation of pleasure.
My hips move as I ride him and I barely reach my orgasm before he flips me under him, my back to his chest and takes me from behind, our groans filling the room, the sound of flesh slapping flesh driving us both wild.
His name is like a mantra on my lips as he fucks my brains out, his hands squeezing my breasts and then reaching down to play with my clit, making me whimper and beg. He bites down on my shoulder, and I am forced into an orgasm, him following close behind.
When he collapses on top of me, our breathing labored, I finally find my breath and murmur, “Waking up to sex with a hot redhead isn’t the worst way to start a morning.”
Ian is trying to breathe; he can’t contain his laughter at my words, and the whole thing just ends in a coughing fit when he nearly chokes.
I am laughing too hard to breathe as he glares at me after swallowing some water. “You’re a monster.”
“There, there.” I pat his butt, grinning broadly.
He stands up in naked glory and stretches. “Well, I’m going to go on my morning run.” A hopeful glance in my direction. “You want to join me?”
“When it snows in hell, sure,” I pull the sheets around me and snuggle into the warm bed. “How can you go running out in this cold?”
“It’s good for me,” he says as he walks into the bathroom to change.
“Don’t leave the toilet seat up!” I yell through the closed door.
I hear him say something and I glance at the clock. It is six in the morning. He will have to make his pre-workout shake first.
Rolling out of bed, I put on his discarded shirt and go to clean up in the guest bathroom. Putting my hair up in a messy bun, I move to the kitchen and start gathering the ingredients to make that weird pink shake that is like routine to him.
I am just pouring it into a glass when Ian walks in. He stares at the pink liquid in the glass. “Is that my protein shake?”
“Yeah,” I nudge it towards him.
He blinks, a smile growing on his face. “You made it for me?”
The delighted look on his face makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “Of course.”
He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Drinking it, he picks up his water bottle, and I let him out. I see his phone on the table as I am cleaning up a few minutes later and I know he’ll be back. True to form, I hear a sharp rap on the door.
Grabbing his phone, I make my way to the door. “Ian, you—”
There is nobody there.
Blinking, I look around, but the entire floor is empty. There is only one other apartment on this floor, but it belongs to a neighbor I have never even met. Feeling a little off at the weird knock, I am about to close the door when I see an envelope on the ground.
Leaning down to pick it up, I quickly retreat and lock the door. Leaning against it, I open it, and my heart stops at the contents.
It’s a picture of Ian. He is in his running attire, his earphones in his ears. The picture was taken from across the road but his face is pretty clear, and it’s marked with a cross, the red paint giving off a metallic scent.
My heart is racing; I don’t think twice.
The timing of the photo makes me anxious, and panicking, I grab my car keys and my phone and rush out the door. I don’t bother using the elevator, just the emergency stairs, and race down to the parking lot.
The two guards on duty stare at my attire. I am just clad in Ian’s shirt, no coat, no jacket. Ignoring the cold, I get into my car and start driving.
I have a bad feeling creeping up my spine and I pray that Ian is fine. Fear is a harsh companion and my body trembles as I try to remember the route he has been taking.
He mentioned it a few days ago, but for the life of me, I can’t recall it.
Sometimes the universe just gives you a push.
Going with instinct, I take a turn in the street, towards the park, and I see Ian’s form way ahead of me.
I also see the blue sedan racing towards him from the other end of the street.
It’s closer to him than I am.
Anger and fear a warring mixture in me, I press the gas pedal and drive at the maximum speed. I can’t let that car touch him!
The driver of the sedan hasn’t noticed me yet, and I hurtle towards him, praying that the air bags work. My eyes are narrowed, fixed on that sedan, adrenaline rushing through me as I try to go for maximum impact.
Ian notices the car moving towards him barely a few seconds before it would have hit him. He doesn’t have time to react.
Fortunately, I do.
My car slams into the sedan and the airbags deploy as my head bangs against the steering wheel. I try to maintain control of the car, but it goes spinning around and smashes into the street light.
“Agatha!”
The terror and heart-wrenching agony in Ian’s scream forces me to push the door open. I can’t hold my balance, and I fall onto the ground, crawling out of the wrecked car.
Firm hands around me as I am lifted, Ian’s terrified eyes on me. “Baby! Oh, God. You’re bleeding!”
I shake off the dizziness and look around for the sedan.
It’s gone.
I grab onto Ian’s hoodie, mumbling, “Are you okay?”
He doesn’t say anything at first, just pulls me into a tight hug. “What… Oh God, you just took ten years off my life!”
The world slowly stops spinning, and I push at him, “You’re okay, right?”
“I’m fine.” His worried eyes rake over me. “How did you know? What the hell were you thinking? What if you died?”
“I don’t know,” I shake my head, tears filling my eyes. “All I could think was he was going to kill you. What if I couldn’t manag
e to get to you? I was so scared. Ian, I was so scared.”
He pulls me into his arms. “We’re okay. We’re okay. You’re going to be fine. We’ll get that cut checked out.”
Moving away from me, he takes off his hoodie and puts it on me.
“Stop resisting.” He hisses when I try to tell him no. “You’ll die from the cold, and you’re going into shock.”
I am bundled up and stop resisting.
People are starting to look out their windows, and Ian picks up the picture that had fallen from the car as I had left it. I hadn’t realized I had still been clutching it. Ian’s eyes narrow before he puts it somewhere on him.
I can hear the blaring of the police car, but my world is hazy. We talk to the police and are offered a ride to the hospital.
Ian’s arms are around me and that is all I know.
He is safe.
He is alive.
We are at the hospital in half an hour and I clutch at the white bedsheet as the doctor in the emergency room gives me a few stitches on my forehead. I don’t know when everybody else arrived.
I can hear Fergus’s voice shouting something at someone and Philip growling. It’s Zayn whom I see as he throws open the door of the room, something wild in his eyes.
The minute he sees me, his whole body relaxes.
“You dragged me from my bed for just a few stitches?” His voice isn’t quite steady. “Bitch.” The term is affectionate, and he holds my other hand as Ian nods at him, leaving me to him.
“Wait, where are you—” the words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them.
“Just outside. I need to talk to Philip and Fergus.”
I am feeling a little better now, the headache subsiding. The doctor seals the last stitch and stands up. “You have a concussion, but otherwise you’re fine. Miracle, though. Anybody else wouldn’t have survived.”
Zayn’s hand tightens on mine, and I say, weakly, “Yeah, well. Lucky for me the airbags deployed on time then.”
The doctor gives me a strange look and leaves the room.
“Maybe I should finish the job the car crash clearly didn’t,” Zayn growls at me.