Page 32 of Unhinged Love

My hands shake, but I manage to tug the waistband down over my hips and my butt before slowly pulling them down. I could die of shame, I really could, knowing I’m on full display for him. Of all people.

The worst part? I don’t have a choice. He’ll go through with his threats. I know he will. I have to do this, no matter how it makes me want to die.

“Oh, fuck.” When I dare look down at him, what I find shocks me. He’s staring at me, his mouth hanging open a little so every short breath can make warm air fan across my bare skin. “Sopretty. So pink and already so wet. Have you ever felt a tongue on your pussy?”

He must already know the answer, but I shake my head, anyway. There’s a look of triumph in his eyes, satisfaction. That was the answer he wanted.

“Don’t make a sound,” he warns, spreading my thighs wider, placing my feet on his shoulders. Oh, my god, is this really happening? I don’t know what to think, how to feel. I hate him, yes, but there’s also a fire burning low in my belly, something hotter than anything I’ve ever felt or knew possible. Before he’s ever touched me, my fists twist the duvet under me, while the sensation of cool air against my hot flesh leaves me shivering in anticipation of what’s to come.

And now it’s his breath I feel against my lips. The sensation is unreal—my teeth sink into my tongue as I lift my hips to silently beg for more. Like my body has a mind of its own. I don’t even have to think about it, and it happens.

“Greedy,” he whispers, laughing softly before the most heavenly sensation starts at my slit and makes my toes curl. His tongue, moving slowly up and down through my wetness.

I had no idea! How could I? It’s one thing to guess something will feel good, but to actually feel it? “Fuck, so sweet,” he growls before pressing his face tight against my flesh and wiggling his tongue around.

Fireworks explode behind my eyelids, and I have to bite on my fist to hold back the cries that are stirring in my chest. I don’t think I can take it. It’s too much. He’s tormenting me, barely touching his tongue to my most sensitive parts, laughing against my swollen folds while I writhe and moan as softly as I can.

I can’t help it. I know I shouldn’t like it, but it’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever felt. All I want is to take him by the back of the head and pull him in close, to grind against his face.It’s the most insane impulse—I have no idea where it comes from. I only know I will die if he stops.

His greedy, animal grunts fill my ears and send vibrations running through my pussy. His tongue is magic, working my clit before circling my entrance. My nerves are singing, my body on fire, but it’s the way he grunts so happily through all of it that drives me wild. He likes it. He likes this. And that only makes it better somehow.

“My god,” I whimper, my hips rolling in circles, the pressure building, growing, filling me like air in a balloon. Pretty soon I’m going to pop.

And he knows it, chuckling darkly, holding my hips still so he can ravage me with his mouth. I’m totally lost, clawing at the blanket, at his hands, and finally at the back of his head until he moans against me. The vibrations make my back arch and my toes curl, and oh, my god, I’m going to come. He’s going to make me come on his tongue. I feel it. I want it.

And when it hits, I grit my teeth hard, my body straining, my heart pounding like a bass drum in my ears. It’s the sweetest release, blissful, rolling over me in one wave after another until all that’s left is peace. I’m completely wiped out by the time my legs fall open on either side of his head, and he stands, grunting, panting heavily as he stares down at me.

Without a word, he opens his belt, then unbuttons his shorts and lets them drop to the floor. He shoves a hand down his boxer briefs and pulls out his straining, dripping erection. For one heart-stopping second, I’m afraid he’s going to make me suck it again. I’m not sure I have that in me now.

Instead, he runs his fist up and down, his eyes never leaving my twitching, pulsing core. I can only watch, both shocked and fascinated, while he touches himself, chest heaving, fist flying up and down, up and down.

And then he grunts and aims himself at my pussy before his cum shoots from the tip and hits my skin. I don’t know what to feel, how to think. I knew this was something people did, but I never imagined it happening to me, never imagined feeling a man’s cum running down my skin. I’m filled with surprise and more than a little bit of shame—which I think is exactly how he wants me to feel. That’s why I can’t show it. I can’t let him see.

It’s a good thing I’m so good at shutting down.

He doesn’t say anything as he finishes and pulls himself together. What could he say? What would I even want to hear from him?

“Tell me you’re not going to remember that and wish I would do it again.” With a smirk, he backs away, snickering. While all I can do is wait for him to leave so I can get up on shaky legs and go to the bathroom to clean myself up.

He’s right. Now that I know how that feels, I’ll have a hard time not craving it. And he knows it.

That’s not the worst part. It’s not enough that he knows it. He takes pride in it. And he’s not going to let me live it down.

THIRTEEN

Carter

I can’t believe it.

Here we are, the happy family, surrounded by happy so-called friends. Not friends of mine, of course. I doubt Irene has any actual friends. These are all acquaintances of Dad’s, colleagues, people he felt were important enough to join us during the rehearsal dinner.

It didn’t matter when I reminded him the rehearsal dinner is supposed to be just for people involved with the wedding. Hell, even I know that. “Irene wants to meet as many people as possible before the wedding,” he explained when I tried to be helpful. “So she won’t be at a loss during the reception when everyone inevitably comes up to wish us well.”

Pretty big-ass assumption there.Really, I’m proud of how I’ve managed to bite my tongue over and over throughout this process. No matter how much I want to point out to Dad how obvious Irene’s gold-digging is, I have kept it to myself. He wants to be happy? Let him be. Let him delude himself into thinking this is what he needs. I can only try so hard to keephim from making a total fool of himself. Besides, he is the father; he is the one who’s supposed to have the answers, not me. If anything, I resent the fact that I have to be the one to tell him what’s so blatantly obvious.

That’s just one of so many things I resent as I sit at a long table in a small banquet room at the country club where the ceremony and reception are being held tomorrow. It’s not enough that I have to sit here and watch Elliana pulling her scared-rabbit routine while she sits across from me.

I have to deal with the girl whose leg keeps brushing against mine under the table—Jocelyn Reid, daughter of Senator Martin Reid, somebody Dad is vaguely acquainted with. It didn’t matter to Irene that they’re not very close. As soon as she heard Dad knows the guy, she was dead set on having him at the rehearsal. “It’s not everybody who can have a senator at such an important event,” she reminded Dad more than once, to the point where I wanted to scream at her to stop being such an obvious opportunist.

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