Page 19 of Justyce
Kenzi’s feet rush across the room and the handle jiggles up and down. “Fuck,” she curses, and its music to my fucking ears.
Smiling, I walk down to my room and unlock it. Unlike the room Kenzi is in, this room is dark and represents everything I am, and the caged beast inside.
Sitting at the end of my dark timber four post bed, I slip off my dress shirt and kick off my shoes. I’m fighting with all my might not to bring up the security cameras on my phone and see what Kenzi is doing, more to the point to see if that smoking body is naked in the shower.
Groaning, I throw myself back on the bed and heave a sigh. Emotions and pent up energy are battling inside of me like a fucking cyclone ready to decimate everything in sight. Not to mention my cock is punching the placket in my pants, even after fucking Krista for two fucking hours.
Palming my heavy cock, I tell myself what I’m about to do isn’t about her, it’s about me. I roll my eyes. Who am I kidding? It’s always been about Kenzi.
The teeth of the zipper echoes loudly in the room as I drag it down. Riding commando never felt better as my cock springs out from the restraint of my pants.
I lift my head and cup my hand at the base of my skull so I can look down at the bead of pre-cum seeping from the head of my cock. Wrapping my palm around my shaft, I stroke up and down, with images of Kenzi from the night she found me fucking that bimbo from high school penetrating my thoughts.
The strokes intensify while my heart jackhammers in my chest. Lust settles deep inside, sparring with dispassion as I fuck my fist to Kenzi again. I should go in there and force her on her knees so I can shove my dick in her mouth. We both know she wants it. She’s always wanted me.
Midnight blue locks cascade along naked shoulders while electric blue eyes peer up at me, and the vision of Kenzi’s little hand wrapped around my shaft takes front and center. Groaning, I allow the fantasy to play out as I pump my fist faster, squeezing tighter from base to tip.
Minutes pass and my balls tighten. The familiar heat travels up from the base of my spine. I still, clenching my eyes as the orgasm racks through my body, spilling over my abdomen.
Grabbing the shirt I was wearing, I wipe up the semen, cursing myself for succumbing to Kenzi’s fucking siren call. I sit up and rake my hand through my messy tousles. Why is she still under my skin? And why can’t I rid my mind of her? It’s frustrating beyond belief.
The breeze floats in from the open French doors and slides over the stickiness on my stomach, reminding of what I did, again. Clenching my jaw, I jolt upward and stalk toward my bathroom and slam the door.
The peacock granite vanity winks up at me. I turn toward the Jacuzzi before my vision focuses on my image in the mirror. I’m a fucking mess and she’s barely been here for ten minutes. I toe out of my pants and sneer down at my cock sitting at half-mast. Disgusted with myself, I tear my eyes away from the mirror and step into the massive tropical style shower.
Natural brown and gray rocks line the walls as I reach for the faucets for the waterfall shower. I turn the hot tap on first in hopes that I can burn away the images of Kenzi, along with the stickiness on my abdomen which reminds me of how utterly weak I am when it comes to this woman. That’s about to change.
I hiss when the searing water scorches my flesh. Closing my eyes, I welcome the heat and everything it represents. If only this water would absolve me of my sins and soften me instead of molding me into fucking titanium. Unbreakable, unmoving... I have everything at my disposal when in reality it feels insignificant, like nothing.
Again, my thoughts drift to Kenzi. I’m supposed to make her life a living hell, make her pay for what she saw, more to the point, make her regret leaving me instead of fighting and staying like the sassy princess I remember her to be. How fucked up is that?
Alright, so she may not have run off on her own. I did banish her from Dana Point, fromme.As I stand here in this scorching hot shower all I can think of is her tears running down her face at my expense and me catching them with my tongue. I really am a different shade of fucked up.
The sound of glass shattering jars me from my thoughts. Turning the tap off I leap from the shower, palm the fluffy grey towel and tie it around my waist. I quickly shuck on a pair of track pants then fish the wad of keys and cell from my pant pocket and run to Kenzi’s room.
I shouldn’t have left her. My wet feet slap against the slate, sliding to a stop when I reach the door. Shoving the key in the lock, I turn the handle and stop dead in my tracks.
Kenzi’s long dark hair hangs recklessly, dripping water down her shoulders. It seeps into the white tank top she’s sporting, making it hard not to zone in on her dark nipples under the fucking thing. But somehow I manage.
Pieces from the shattered mirror lay on the floor, enticing me yet angering me in the same sequence. I swear I hear my blood hiss viciously in my ears. I’m like a fucking kettle, with the warning sounds blaring in the background until I reach a boiling point and there’s no turning back now.
Drawing my eyes back to her, she shrinks away from me. It’s not much, but that small movement makes me fucking smile triumphantly. Kenzi knows she’s fucked up and this time I won’t offer her an out.
Although she’s trying to keep her eyes fixated on my face, I watch as they slowly dip low before darting back up. I don’t even try to mask my smirk or the fact that I caught her checking me out.
Raking a hand through my wet hair, I make a tutting sound with my tongue. “You had to poke and prod, didn’t you? Even after all these years you haven’t learned, Dark One.”
Kenzi cradles her hand to her chest and that’s when I notice she’s bleeding. My eyes go wide and a war within myself detonates. A part of me wants to scoop her up and clean and bandage her hand, but the other side, the bastard side, wins, and I stand stoically watching her, feigning nonchalance.
“Stop. Fucking. Calling. Me. That,” she seethes.
I clap my hands for theatrics. “She has a voice. For a minute there I figured you had turned into a mute.”
She scoffs, “You’re a lot of things, Justyce, special isn’t one of them.”
Ouch.
I don’t show an ounce of emotion, and I definitely ignore the slither, that tiny sting that pinches my skin like an annoying bug chomping into my flesh at herspecialcomment.
