Page 72 of Killer Confections
I near an alleyway that cuts across to a street connected to my apartment’s back entrance doors. I take it quickly, my feet nearly slipping on a puddle as I scramble to move down the narrow passage.
The bike idles for a second, and I spare Atlas a glance over my shoulder and instantly regret my decision. Piercing glacier eyes narrow on me. Not a hint of playfulness in them.
He looks starved, and his only prey is slipping right through his fingers.
I gulp before taking off toward my freedom with a renewed vigor I hadn’t felt before. The glee of being chased is quickly dashed, and now I feel a ravenous heat unfurling deep in my core.
There’s no telling what’s going to happen if he catches me.
When I break through the other side of the alleyway, I hear the distant retreating of the bike’s engine before it’s cut and then eerie silence has my heart slamming in my chest.
I suck air into my lungs as I push myself across the street and my feet hit the first steps leading to my apartment.
Victory is sweet, and I giggle as my hand reaches for the door.
It isn’t until a gloved palm slaps over my mouth and a thick arm wraps around my abdomen that the sinking feeling of being fucked crushes my mood. I’m yanked back into a hard chest, my hand still reaching out. I thrash, my fingers going to pry at his wrist as he drags me away from the door.
Breath fans my ear as lips ghost the shell. “Did you really think I chased you on my bike just to make you come in a bed? Nah, baby. Time to christen.”
Oh, god.
The way he sounds is making white-hot lust uncurl in me. His gravelly voice paired with his breathlessness is like listening to pure sex. His body is swallowing mine as he manhandles me and I have no desire to stop him.
What sane woman would? A behemoth of a man, who makes my insides turn to putty and treats me like I’m a fucking goddess, is about to give me an orgasm or two on his motorcycle.
I’m literally living a dream.
But I know we’re still playing. CNC has always been a fantasy of mine. Apparently it’s Atlas’s as well. He never takes it too far. If I don’t like something or I seem uncomfortable, we’re quick to discuss things and reassess. He’s kept it safe and fun, all while taking care of me after a scene.
I fight against him, shoving my amusement down for the sake of the act. He carries me back towards the street, taking a left into an empty, rundown parking lot that’s blocked in by buildings. It’s small and quiet, devoid of cameras and anyone who could see us. He walks us over to his parked bike, the sleek black paint shining under the minimal street lighting.
“You almost made it,” he taunts in my ear, sounding mocking. His hand leaves my mouth before encasing thecolumn of my throat tightly and forcing me to look up at him. His head is turned and his mask pulled up over his nose, but I can see the sardonic expression on his face. “My sweet girl. You can never escape me. I thought we covered this?”
My throat bobs and my lips twitch. “I… I think I need another lesson. I’ve never been good at listening…”
His eyes narrow as his chest rumbles in a warning. “I’ll show you again just how much you belong to me, but listen closely, baby,” he nuzzles the side of my head, clothed lips pressing against my heated cheek. “I don’t like to repeat myself. Some advance for the future? The next time we play, it would be in your best interest to acknowledge you’re mine. Like a good girl. If I have to give this lesson again, I won’t be sonice.”
I nod deftly, entranced by the man looming over me like a shadow of death. His words ring with truth and promise, but I find myself walking the fine line of danger nowadays. It’s not good to provoke the beast, to poke the bear, but that’s all I want to do. I want to find the sharpest stick I can and fuck with Atlas until he drops that mask and the act. I want to see just how deep hisobsessiongoes.
And defying him only makes the scene more fun. He goes caveman on me and my poor feminist ideals suffer a grand death in his wake. I recover them once my brain is no longer goopy and I can move without my limbs wobbling pathetically, but I can’t seem to keep a straight head around him.
It’s nice to not think and let someone else take control.
At my lack of response, he loses any patience he once possessed. Hands move to my jeans, ripping them open before shoving them down my thighs.
“Wait!” I gasp.
He grips my throat, growling in my ear. “I’m done waiting for what’smine. You’re going on that fucking bike and you’re gonna soak the seat. Do you understand me?”
I nod, a whimper falling from me as my legs clench at the flood of arousal that coats my thighs. Everything is slick andI feel like I’m on the brink of begging. His nasty words always do something to me, pushing my mind to become hazy and relaxed. I stop trying to fight him off and let him take me for the ride.
He removes my pants and panties, shucking them aside forcefully before hefting me onto the bike. I’m seated sideways, one of my legs propped on the seat while the other dangles before I extend my foot and allow my toes to hold me up. The bike is huge, and it feels sturdy enough to hold me without buckling, but I find myself looking around and checking things out before a thumb and finger pinch my chin and pull my attention back.
“You’re not gonna fall, baby,” Atlas coos, his eyes softening. “I won’t let you.”
I nod. “Someone could see us—”
“I will shove your panties in your mouth if you keep talking like that,” he warns. “No one is going to see us.Ican barely see you as it is. Just don’t make too much noise and we’ll be fine.”
