Page 58 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two
So, instead of pulling away, I give her my most feral smile. Her bottom lip trembles—the first crack in her armor.
I nip and suck at the skin above the edge of her exposed bra. My fingers move inch by inch down the pad of her pussy until mymiddle finger reaches the bend that brings her a straight shot of pleasure.
“That’s a nice monologue, baby,” I say. She shivers, a slight flex of her shoulders. It’s almost as if she doesn’t want me to see the involuntary effect I have on her. In fact, I know she doesn’t want that.
Playing with the very top of her button, not quite touching, I say, “But this hard little clit tells a different story.”
She whimpers again, swallowing the sound, and I brace myself to look at her face, to not scare her with how fucking much I want her.
Love her.
And then, she says, “Fuck. You.”
“I can do that, but I don’t think you’re ready for my ‘magical dick’ again.”
She glares at me, defiant.
Then, with another roll over her pulsing spot, down along the line of her cunt, she says, “Fine. Show me.”
That’s all the permission I need.
My finger slips, sliding over her hard nub and into her soaking wet center.
“Storm!” she shouts, the hard façade she’s been wearing since I walked in the door finally, fucking finally, slipping down to the floor.
It’s a tight fit between her flat stomach and the band of her pants, and it’s an even tighter grip where I’m inside her. She clamps down around my fingers like she’s trying to break them in half. It’s like she wants to devour me alive, and, God help me, I might let her.
“Fuck, Sweetness. Let me make you come. Tell me to make you come,” I growl, my needy dick getting my boxers all wet with pre-cum.
She snaps again, anger and desire radiating off her in waves.
“F-fuck! Make me come, goddamn it!” she shouts, and with urgent movements, flicks open the button on her slacks and slides the zipper down.
With more leverage, I impale her on my ring and middle fingers and bring my thumb up to press and rub in the circle I know is the recipe for getting her there.
“Ohhh,fuuuuuuck,” she slurs, and then I feel it. Her pussy clamps down on my fingers so hard I almost drop her, almost come in my jeans. Her hips move wildly, chasing the rest of her high as she wrings the last drops of her orgasm from my hand.
Then, with big bellows, she huffs and puffs…and slides her eyes shut.
“Sweetness,” I murmur, my fingers still inside her. I lean in to kiss her, to claim her mouth, but at the movement, she jerks back so hard she clocks her head on the wall, scrambling to get away from me.
I let her go.
I let her go because I know she’s overwhelmed and scared. I know because she’s part of me, and when she hurts, I hurt.
And this is agony.
She buttons and zips her pants, then turns away from me to walk to the end of the foyer. She stops for several seconds before whirling around, her arms crossed over her chest again.
Protecting herself.
From me.
“Eight years.”
The two words hang in the air, even though they’re fucking heavy.
“You’ve been out of my life foreight years, and now you’re here talking about…wanting to protect me?”
