Page 118 of Feed Your Fiends

Don’t move…

I watch as a silvery thread drips from his parted lips onto my clit. It's so warm.

“That’s when it’s prettiest.”

My lips part a fraction as I try to release my quickening breaths without making my chest rise and fall too sharply.

He’s just talking to himself to get off, but it’s having the same effect on me.

“No, that’s a lie. Silvery and slick, yes, but creamy and white, that’s the prettiest colour combination.”

He spits on his dick and the sight plus his thumb massaging my slit makes my toes that are hidden beneath the covers curl.

“But I can’t see my favourite colours until you let me. Your cunt would have to swallow me whole, milk me then spit me out. Drip me out down your thighs.”

Don’t move.

Don’t move.

He brings my hand to his mouth and sucks on two fingers, licking and splitting them with his tongue until they’re dripping as he strokes his cock faster. Then he takes my hand and guides my fingers to my pussy like he always does. He’s always careful not to touch my clit. Not to push me in dry to wake me.

“When will you let me turn you into a puppet again?” he asks, working my fingers deeper. “If you let me, I can bring you to life. Your pussy can suck out mine, my life, and take it for your own.”

When he pulls my fingers out, he smears my slick onto his dick and spits on it again before stroking himself faster.

“My sweet little doll,”he whispers.

All the other times, I managed to just watch. To wait for his orgasm to make him sleepy enough so that I could have mine while I watched him sleep. But watching the head of his cock, wet and slippery, jerk in and out of the moonlight as he pistons his hips is too much for me.

When he curls over me to suck my tits and soak the towel he’s placed at the junction of my thighs, I creep my fingers into his hair and he turns into stone.

“So turn me into your puppet. I want to come alive again.”

He releases my nipple with a long, slow drag as his eyes crawl up my throat and my lips before settling on my eyes. I love the stunned surprise in his because, for once, he isn’t a step ahead. And it’s his own greedy desire to release that made him ignore everything else. Then again, he couldn’t feel me contracting around my own fingers. Or feel the wetness coating them as he fucked me with them.

He leans onto his elbow, a slow, vicious smile curling his lips. “You can talk? My little doll?”

“I can do a lot more than talk.”

I ease up the pillows to sit against the headboard so that there’s a gap between us, one he quickly tries to close, but I use the break in contact to roll off the bed.

“Where are you going?” he asks devilishly. “Dolls can’t move.”

“But they can play. And I want to play.”

One last time.

His jaw ticks, his eyes hollow black tunnels in the shadows. “What game do you want to play?”

“The one we always play. Where you hunt me. Chase me.”

His head bows. “Your feet.”

I follow his gaze to my socks, but I’m not backing down. If this is it, I want to do one last thing for him because he helped me regardless of his motives. He got Jarett away from me for two years, and he gave me my mother in the process. He taught me how to swim and dance and come alive in his arms. Finally, he’ll make me six figures richer.

It doesn’t negate the bad. It doesn’t even put a dent in the bad, but it makes me want to do something for him besides finding his mother's killer.

“Then you better catch me fast,” I say, “so I can get off my feet while you put them in the air.”

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