Page 30 of No, You Hang Up

“Just a little,” I gasp out, wishing I could throw my arm over my face to hide what I’m sure is an embarrassing expression. “I don’t suppose you’d take the handcuffs off?”

“No. I like you all helpless like this. I like it when you just have to take what I give you.” His hand smooths down my stomach, pulling a shudder from me I can’t help. “My fucked up little bunny. You’re so perfect, aren’t you?”

“If that’s the word we’re using, I’m definitely not going to complain.” I’m aiming for sassy, but I gasp when he thrusts his fingers into me harder, and a little faster. With his thumb on my clit, I can feel my body tensing.

If I were on my own, it would’ve taken me a lot longer to get here. There’s no way I’d be so turned on so quickly. But with Hux here, holding me down and keeping me handcuffed with three fingers sliding in and out of me, I feel ready to just come apart on his hand.

There’s definitely something magic about his mouth and his fingers. Or I really am just a little too fucked up.

“Hey, hey. Look at me.” He slaps my cheek lightly, causing me to open my eyes and glare at him indignantly. “Eyes on me, pretty girl. I want to see the face you make when you come all over my fingers.” I shudder when he says it, and it’s like just Huxley bringing it up drags me even closer to the edge.

“Hux—”

“I know. You’re so close, aren’t you? Just from my fingers and the way I talk to you. You know I could do anything to you with your hands trapped. You know I have Midazolam on me. I could drug you until you’re all loopy and all you want to do is beg for my fingers and cock. You know what?”

He leans forward, his lips brushing mine. “I bet you’d even beg for my initials carved into your thigh, right next to your pretty pussy.”

Huxley barely gets to finish his words before I’m coming, and the moment my lips part for a sound of desperation to escape, he crushes his mouth to mine to take it for his own, greedy and desperate.

My thighs clench around his hips, and I can’t move except to rock against him while my orgasm rolls through me. I want to curse, to moan, to make any kind of audible noise, but he’s intent on swallowing every single one as he continues to finger me through my release.

At least, until I’m lying on the bed with shaking thighs and a spaced out feeling between my eyes. Only then does he sit up with one last nip to my upper lip and a smile on his face that reminds me of the Cheshire Cat.

“You’re the worst,” I tell him with no hesitation. “Did you know that?” But my voice is too breathy to sound offended. Too rough around the edges to be anywhere near composed.

“I’m nowhere near the worst. For you, anyway.” He sits back and strokes his fingers along my thighs as I breathe, and even after I close my eyes, I can still feel him staring at me.

Watching me, like I’m the most interesting thing he could ever see, or like I’m going to do something unexpected.

Somethingfun.

For my part, the only thing I’m considering is just how fucked up this makes me and if I need a therapist. Arealtherapist, instead of just sometimes going to the pet store and kissing rabbits on the nose or stroking chinchilla ears.

God, I need a pet.

Somehow, the silence worse than anything Huxley could say, and I twist slightly under him, eyes flicking up to meet his. I scan my brain for something to say—for anything to stop the awkwardness—but I’m saved from having to do so when a soft chiming noise comes from his back pocket.

I stare at him and he stares right back, both of us clearly surprised. But then he curses under his breath and reaches back to dig his phone out of his jeans.

“Not a word,” he sighs, making eye contact with me once more. “All right?” In response, I give him a quick nod, though I squirm in the handcuffs and give him wide, hopeful eyes to convey that I hope he’ll undo them.

Huxley doesn’t, of course.

“Hey man.” His voice is so different as he climbs out from between my thighs, moving to sit against the wall and leaning his shoulders against it. He’s close enough that he can pull me with him, using his grip on my arm to help me onto my knees. “It’s a bit late for your shit tonight.” He sounds friendly…amicable. Like a normal guy.

But with his gaze on mine, narrowed and heated, it’s easy for me to remember he’s anything but. “Yeah, I get it.” He chuckles at whatever the person on the other end says, and reaches up to run his fingers through my hair until he can grip it tightly, fingers scraping at my scalp. “No, I have time. You can vent.”

Does he?

Glaring at him, I’m only met by his stupid, cocky grin as he yanks me forward. If my arms were free, I would’ve been able to catch myself. Instead, I’m at his mercy as he lets me fall until my cheek hits his thigh, hand still in my hair.

It’s harder to make eye contact to relay my murderous intent, but I manage. As I watch, he cradles the phone against his shoulder, so his now free hand can come down and deftly unbuckle his belt, then he undoes the front of his pants.

No fucking way.

Indignantly, incredulously, and with more than a little bit of anticipation, I watch as he frees his fingers from my hair, though I don’t move while frees his already hard cock from the confines of his pants and underwear.

“I’m sorry she’s been acting like that. Can you think of any reason why? You miss her birthday again?” He sounds so unaffected as his hand comes back to tangle in my hair. With one hand wrapped around his shaft, he slowly strokes his fingers up and over it, slicking pre-cum over his tip.

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