Page 51 of No, You Hang Up

“Doesn’t sound like a name to me,” he hums, drawing out until his tip is resting on my lips. “Come on.Try again.” He snarls the words before slamming into my mouth, and this time my eyes don’t just water. I’m full on crying without meaning to from the feeling of him fucking my face. Tears fall down my cheeks, creating curved tracks along my skin.

This time I really do try to say it, and the sound is lost in his movements and his intensity. But it must be good enough, because when I do, Huxley slides out, until once more his tip is just resting on my lower lip.

“Good girl,” he tells me darkly. “That’s my good, fucking, little bunny.” Then, without warning, he shoves me onto the bed, eliciting a yelp from my throat when my shoulders hit the mattress.

I don’t have time to be surprised when he follows down with me on his knees. His hand fists in my shirt, ripping it off over my head for it to disappear somewhere in the room. My black bralette is next, and barely survives Hux’s relentless assault before it, too, ends up across the room.

“These are cute,” Huxley compliments, running his hands down my tights. He easily slides my boots off of my feet, leaving me in them and my shorts. “Adorable. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you all night, and I’ve never been so attracted to a girl in tights.” His hands tug on my denim shorts, and I can feel the pent up energy in his grip.

“Let me—” I begin, but he bats my hands away when I try to help with my tights.

“No, I don’t think so,” he tells me sweetly. “Not when this is the best part.” Still smiling, Huxleytearsmy tights with his hands, ripping them apart so easily that it feels surreal. “Perfect,” he purrs, when they’re resting in shredded strips against my skin from my knees up. “I think you should wear them like this. You know, I had a thought when we were at the bar tonight.” Using the chain around my throat, he forces me to flip over onto my knees, my hips in the air while he shoves my face into the pillow.

“I thought about how humiliated you would be if I dragged you into the bathroom to fuck this pretty pussy.” At his words, he runs his fingers along my slit, which I realize quickly is bare now, thanks to his tearing of my tights.

“I liked these tights,” I murmur, turning my head to the side. I didn’t really. Honestly, I’d forgotten I even owned them until tonight. But I want to voice my protest. Just because.

“Too bad.” He gives the chain a little jerk, just enough that I can feel it. Like a tiny reprimand, I think to myself. “I like them better now. Anyway, I thought about fucking you in the bathroom. I’d keep your mouth covered, of course. So no one came in thinking you were being murdered. But I wanted to rip up these pretty tights and make you keep them on. You know why?”

When I don’t answer, his smile turns sly. “So that for the rest of the night, everyone would look at you and know what happened. That I fucked your greedy, sweet little cunt. Maybe I would have kept doing it all night, ripping them a little more each time. So every guy who looked at you would know how addicting you are…and how they’d never have a chance with you.”

A full body shudder goes through me at his words. I can’t help how my back arches. How my eyes close and I want to bury my face against my pillow at the sensations that idea sends through me. My fingers clench in the blankets, and when he drags his fingers along my entrance again, I swear he’s going to sink them into me like I want him to.

“Huxley—” But that’s all I get out before my words are choked off by my yelp of surprise and pain. My back arches off the bed, and I would jerk upward if it weren’t for him holding me by the metal collar around my throat. As it is, I fight like a surprised, feral animal as his hand comes down on my thighs again.

“Get your face back on that pillow, pretty girl.” He laughs, not at all put off by my sudden fight-or-flight reaction. “I told you that you were racking up punishment points. But you just kept going, didn’t you?” God, he sounds so condescendingly sympathetic that I whine in frustration. “Ah, ah, ah…” His hand trails up my thigh, over my ass.

“Don’t talk back.” The next hit is harder, and stings enough that I nearly shriek at the sharp sensation. With one hand, he grips the fabric of my tights, jerking them until they’re torn even further.

Soon enough, I doubt there will be enough material left for them to even stay on my body. But with every tug, I also feel myself being exposed to him more and more, so the next time his hand comes down, there’s barely any fabric in the way.

“You don’t need to say sorry or anything,” Hux informs me in a voice that I take means I should feel grateful for his kindness. “I get it, Kai, I really do. I understand that you want to be the one in charge sometimes. You want people to think that you’re the dominant one. The one calling the shots.” His fingers trail along my hip. “But we both know that’s not true.” His hand comes down again. “Don’t we?” And again, twice more until I’m writhing and completely unable to stay still.

“Huxley stop!” I gasp when the next hit nearly makes me see stars. “That hurts!”

“Yeah, babe, it’s supposed to.” He cackles. “I’ll make it better for you, though.” He smooths his fingers up my spine. “You’ve got about six more, but I’ll make it better if you promise to stay right there.”

“Six?!” I nearly sit up before his hold on the collar yanks me back down. “I can’t?—”

“Stay there like a good girl, and I’ll make it better for you.” His words are firm, and his tone makes it pretty clear I shouldn’t argue. I give another small shiver, and my arms come up to pillow my face as he slips his finger free of the heart-shaped loop.

“Fine,” I huff, promising silently to try my best. “Okay, fine.” I’m panting as I hold myself still, anticipation making me almost unable to do even that.

“Good girl.” Both hands smooth down my hips, then over my ass, and while one of them disappears, he trails the other between my thighs until his fingers are rubbing at my slit with purpose. “I know you can be good for me when you try.” This time he slides two fingers into me, slowly, until they’re as deep as they can go. I make a soft sound against him, my hips arching, but this time it’s greed instead of fear.

I want more of this.

At least, until his other palm comes down hard on my skin again, dragging out another shocked and pained gasp from me. But even that is swallowed by my moan when he twists his fingers in me, adding another one until he’s fucking me open on four of them.

I shouldn’t be this wet, I think to myself as the sounds of my arousal meet my ears. He must be thinking something similar, because I hear his soft, breathy chuckle before he spanks me again, and once more.

“You’re almost done,” I gasp, barely able to hold myself up on my knees. “Huxley, I can’t—” He pulls his fingers free and strokes my clit instead, which sends a spark of electricity straight through me. When he spanks me again, he doesn’t give me a break before the next one. But maybe I don’t need it. Not with the pleasurable heat his touch sends through me that mixes with the pain until I can’t see straight. With my head buried in my pillow, I find myself arching my hips higher, though I still flinch with every hit.

It occurs to me belatedly that he spanks me more than another three times. But I don’t have the words to say it. I’m too busy writhing and shaking. Too busy making incoherent noises while I move against him from the dual sensations of pleasure and pain from his hands.

Maybe I’ll die from this, I think ruefully to myself. Maybe I’ll die from the overstimulation of being fingered and spanked.

“Fuck.” His voice comes out low and rough, and suddenly his fingers are gone. “Fuck, pretty girl. You’re really going to kill me, here.”

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