Page 44 of The Catcher

“What do youthinkis wrong?” I said, letting the heat and anger into my voice. “You’ve gotten me humiliated and fired from my job and now I’ll never teach again.”

“Good,” he said. “I don’t want you away from me. It was shit when you were gone. I want you where you’re supposed to be. With the club. Your legs spread open for me after every game.”

I said nothing, tightening my mouth and staring out the window. We drove for a little bit, then he jerked the car off the road again.

I didn’t say anything, thinking he wanted me to suck his cock again, but to my surprise, he reached for my shirt, yanking me over the stick shift with a sharp ripping sound. He settled me onto his lap, my ass against his thighs.

“What are you doing?” I cried, struggling in his arms as he reached down, his fingers at my stomach, then the waistband of my long skirt, then the waistband of my panties.

“What do you think I’m doing? Making you come so you’ll talk to me.”

I felt a sharp stab of uncertainty.Since when did he care about that?

Tanner wasn’t like other people. He didn’t do things for unselfish reasons. When I felt his rough fingers reach my pussy lips, I began wiggling, trying to escape them as shards of panic trickled down my spine.

I was afraid he’d feel that I was wet, and I struggled against him.

“Stop it, Em,” he said sharply, grabbing my chin, his arm like a bar of iron across my chest. “I don’t everdothis shit, so you have to stay still.”

He ran his fingers speculatively across my pussy, then dipped into my cunt, wet and noisy.

Tanner grunted with pleasure.

With one arm across my chest, he kept me trapped, with his other fingers, he brought wet slickness to my pussy lips, his fingers moving until I couldn’t help betraying myself with one little gasping moan.

He paused, running his fingers carefully back where he had been, and when I shivered, I felt his lips curve up.

“Nice fucking try, Em. Now spread your thighs wide and be still like a good girl.”

I whimpered. “Stop it, Tanner. Don’t touch me.”

He opened his mouth and bit my ear, not gently either.

“You tried to run away from me. You’re going to sit here and be a good girl and come for me exactly when I tell you to.”

And his slick fingers began to circle my clit.

I threw my head back, trying to headbutt him, shoved against his arm as hard as I could. But of course, it was no use. Tanner Courtenay had me and he was going to do exactly what he wanted to me.

That steady, firm pressure on my clit sent me spiraling to my release embarrassingly quickly, a soft cry escaping my lips. But he didn’t stop, pressing a big finger into my wet cunt as he continued to rub my clit, and I realized with horror that he wasn’t going to stop until I came again. I was so hypersensitive that it rode the line between pain and pleasure. I tried to shake my head back and forth, wanting to escape, but he was strong enough to do what he wanted to my body, plunging another finger into me.

“Ride me, Em,” he growled against my back. “I want to see you come again.”

And I did, riding his hand as he circled my clit with strong fingers, his arm trapping me, forcing me to accept the pleasure, and then I came, throwing my head back into his chest, the sweat running down my neck and lower back, clenching and releasing painfully against his hand.

Only then did he let me crawl back to my own side, my release slick and wet on my thighs, my legs trembling and weak.

“Damn, that was hot,” he said, and he sucked each finger into his mouth, noisily cleaning his fingers of my cum. “Fuck, that’s good. Now get in your seat. We’re almost home and I want to fuck you in my apartment where I can see all of you.”

He yanked on the stick shift and sped off down the highway with a peel of tires.

I tried to get my breath back inconspicuously, my thighs still weak and trembling as I tightened the seatbelt around myself.

“You were so wet, Em,” he said, glancing over at me. “That’s perfect, since you’ll be ovulating in a few days.”

Despite my vow to ignore him, I couldn’t help looking at him, startled.

“You don’t know when I’ll be ovulating,” I said.

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