Strict (Part Four)
Page 4
I gag again, and the sound seems to excite him.
“Is this what you wanted?” he demands. “To see what I’m capable of? To see that I’m capable of choking you with my dick, of wrapping my hand around your throat while I fuck you with my mouth?”
He pumps his hips, and I try to match my movements to his, try to keep up with his rhythm. After a while, it works, and I get used to the feeling of him in my mouth, the salty taste of his precum on my tongue.
He watches me, his eyes lidded with lust, and despite the shock of what’s happening, I like knowing that I’m able to make him feel so good.
I stick my tongue out and lick along the head of his cock experimentally, earing me a groan.
“Fucking Christ, Chloe.” He pulls his cock out of my mouth and I suck it like a lollipop, trailing my tongue along the underside, then licking up and down.
“Fuck,” he groans again, his hand fisting my hair hard. “Jesus, you look so fucking hot with my dick in your mouth.”
I lean back on my knees, putting my hands on my thighs and staring up at him, eyes open, blinking at him while he slaps my cheeks with his hard cock.
“You like that, don’t you, slut?” he demands.
“Yes, sir.”
“You want me to cum on your face?”
“Yes, sir.” The thought fills with me with revulsion but also excitement, the thought of his cum on my cheeks, my lips, covering me and making me his.
My breath is coming in ragged gasps.
But he doesn’t cum on me – instead, he pulls back, slapping his cock on my cheek one more time.
Then he yanks me to my feet, pushing me against the wall, his mouth finding mine. He kisses me, hard, our tongues tangling, and his fingers slip up under my skirt, finding that I’m still not wearing panties.
“Good girl,” he says as his fingers slip inside of me. “Jesus, you are wet.”
He finger fucks me for a few minutes, kissing me senseless the entire time. And then I can feel his dick pushed against me.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he says, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’m not going to fuck you. Not yet.”
He starts to rock his hips, sliding his rock hard shaft over my wet slit, bare skin on bare skin, and I take in a breath, gasping as he ups the pace.
He lowers his head to my neck, kissing the sensitive skin there as I throw my head back, the friction and the rubbing against my most sensitive tissues almost enough to make me come.
“Gage,” I moan. “Gage, please.” I’m fisting the back of his sweater, my nails digging into his shoulders.
And then he stops, raising his head to look me straight in the eye.
“Come on my cock,” he whispers, and then he’s moving again, the rubbing the friction and oh my god I’m cumming as I feel his own release splash all over my pussy, coating the inside of my legs.
When we finally still, we stay wrapped around each other like that for a long moment, and he kisses me again, and oh my god what the hell just happened?
But then his hands take my wrists and he’s pulling them up over my head, his cock still between my legs.
“You’re so wet, angel,” he says against my lips. “You’re ready to be fucked, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
And then the head of his already hard again cock is pushing against the opening of my pussy, spreading me open, and I can feel him there, pushing in further, about to take my virginity, and he holds my hands above my head with one of his, the other holding my hips, getting me into position to push past the barrier of resistance, to break me open the way no other man ever has.
I close my eyes, ready for it, wanting it.
And then something happens.
I think of Cassidy.
Her body, lying in that alley.
The pictures of the bruises on her neck they showed at her trial.
The sound of my mom crying when she found out Cassidy had been killed.
Panic seizes me, squeezing around me like a rubber band.
“Fired,” I say, safe wording. “Fired.”
Gage is off me in a second, his hands off my body, letting me go.
I don’t want to tell him what happened.
Instead, I rush for the door, panicked.
I’m crazed, my heart pounding, not thinking or paying attention.
Which is why when I tumble out onto the street, filling my lungs with the fresh air, I don’t realize that there are two policeman standing in front of me.
There’s a cop car parked at the curb behind the car that brought me here, its lights flashing lazily, the blue reflecting off the dark pavement of the streets.
“Chloe Cavanaugh?” one of them says.
“Yes, I’m Chloe.”
And for a second, I’m back home, the officers showing up to tell my parents and me that my sister is dead, that they’re sorry but she’s been killed, that yes, they’re sure, but that they need someone to come and identify the body.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your night, Ms. Cavanaugh, but your friend Alanna at your dorm told us you might be with Mr. Stratford. We ran his plates and found his car in the database.”
Speaking of Gage, he’s coming out of the door behind me now. When he sees the cops, his eyebrows knit together.
“What the hell is going on here?” he asks, taking a step toward me. He stops then, though, looking at me, asking my permission to come closer.
“Mr. Stratford, we’re sorry to interrupt your night, but like we were just telling Ms. Cavanaugh, it was imperative we speak with her.”
“About what?” Gage demands.
“Brandon McArthur.” The name sends shivers up my spine. Brandon McCArthur. The man who killed my sister. “He’s escaped from jail. And we have reason to believe that he might be trying to find Chloe.”
The End of Part Four
What will happen now that Chloe safe worded again? Will her and Gage be able to get past their demons? And what will Gage’s revelation about his past mean for their relationship, especially now that a killer is on the loose?
Find out more in Strict (Part Five) coming soon!
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