Page 22 of Crave You

I lift one arm and put my forearm across Leona’s throat and push back. She stumbles back the step she gained and ends up pressed against the wall, again. I push my arm against her throat a little more. A little groan slips out. I’ll stop when I know I have applied enough pressure to worry her, but not quite enough to stop her from breathing.

I know Leona is strong, but I am stronger. And this is what she wanted and needed. Before she can start fighting again, I push her jeans down with one hand and then her panties. I push my fingers between her slick, wet lips and begin to rub her clit. I rub her until she is on the verge of her climax and then I stop and move my fingers away. She makes a frustrated sound in the back of her throat.

Damn, that’s hot.

“More?” I ask.

She only glares at me. I take a step back and the word comes out, unwilling and clipped: “More.”

I run my fingers along the outside of her lips, tickling her. She writhes and bucks, not trying to get away now, but trying to put the pressure back on her clit.

"You think you’ve earned that yet?” I ask, smiling.

She glares at me harder.

I feel my cock bursting into life. I want to fuck this girl so badly, but not yet. I will not reward her insolence by fucking her. She has to know her place before she gets that.

I keep teasing her until she is whimpering.

"Say please,” I say.

She clamps her lips shut, then thinks better of it: “Please.”

I relent a little and push two fingers into her tight little cunt. It’s wet and slippery and my fingers move in and out of her with ease. I want to hurt her. I want to punish her, but I want it to be the sort of pain she can enjoy. I don’t want to hurt her in a way that she’s going to need sewing back together. The fact I want her to enjoy this hits me again as bizarre and it’s all I can do not to laugh out loud at the sheer ludicrousness of it.

Leona scratches at the back of my hands and the sharp sting of her nails sends a lustful shudder through me. I can’t let her get away with it though. I lower my head to her chest and suck one of her nipples into my mouth and I bite down on it. She makes a sound that could be appreciation or could be the beginning of asking me to stop.

I move my fingers back to her clit to finish her off. I wait until I feel her muscles clench and I know she is coming, and I tighten my grip on her throat. Her eyes widen and although I see a flash of panic there, more than anything, I recognize lust. Her mouth opens and closes as she tries to suck in some air, but I keep my arm firmly in place. Her eyes roll back in their sockets, and I finally move my arm. She gasps as her eyes roll back into place and a fresh flood of juices coat my hand.

I take my hand away from her clit and catch her as her knees buckle. She slumps against me, gasping and half crying.

“You … you could have killed me,” she says when she has got herself a little bit more under control.

I laugh. I can’t help it, and Leona pushes herself up and off me. She’s a little shaky still but her legs hold her.

“Why is that funny?”

“Because you’re so dramatic. If I wanted to kill you, you would be dead,” I say. “That wasn’t a murder attempt. That was a lesson for you to remember. When you are mine, you don’t go off to parties like that without me.”

“Is that so?” Leona says with a raised eyebrow. “Who said I’m yours?”

“I did, just now.” I say, surprising myself as well at my admission, although I don’t show it.

She frowns at me, but it doesn’t feel real. I can see that she is pleased and that she enjoyed herself despite her protests.

I realize who she reminds me of. Me. She is like me. Not just in that she is strong and cunning but in the way she confounds sexual pleasure and pain. She has a wild animal inside of her, but unlike me she hides it well. But no longer. I have seen it and I intend to set it free.

My cock tingles at the thought of it.

Chapter Eight

Leona

“Friday in a week then, for sure?” Christian says.

“For sure,” I reply. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

I end the call and sit grinning to myself like an idiot. I am so excited. On Friday, my friend, Christian’s band is playing in a bar not far from the university. Christian was also a bit of an outcast at my high school, that is among the jocks and traditional prom princes and princesses, although he had a good group of friends, notwithstanding. As president of the school’s LGBTQ association, he was a fearless advocate for polarized students and this drew people to him. He was also a talented musician and in his last year he moved from the school band to his own rock band.

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