Page 50 of Executing Malice
A third finger and I whine low in my throat.
My hand drops to his wrist. I think to stop him. My thought process gets fuzzy when, rather than shake me off, he leans in and pulls two of my fingers into the hot cave of his mouth and swaddles them in his tongue. Laps their length. Skirts between them. Never once slowing with his pumps.
“Oh...” I remember at the last second to swallowGodbefore it hits my tongue, but it’s ringing in my head as my entire being shakes.
“I wasn’t that shocked,” Reed is saying, scratching the side of his head. “I guess it’s a little weird but ... remember when...?”
I’m nodding, but I’m no longer listening. I can’t. My damp fingers are brought to my clit and I understand the assignment. He wants me to do it. wants me to play with myself. Touch myself while my brother is two feet away talking about bacon.
“Bacon?” I blurt, needing to make some noise so he doesn’t get suspicious when my fingers obey.
When they dance lightly up and around the bar, not touching, but teasing the nerve endings around the slick bundle.
Reed blinks and I realize I fucked up. “Where did you get bacon from that?”
Fighting to regulate my breathing, I force a chuckle. “Sorry. I heard ... I heard bacon.”
Reed cocks his head to the side. “Are you okay? You look ... weird.”
I nod and choke on a moan when the fingers curl. A tremor crashes through me I can barely hide.
“I ate something ... stomach...”
Lips latch into my other thigh. The one he hasn’t marked ... yet, and sucks.
Reed grimaces. “Runny poops?”
I snort a laugh at the crinkle in his nose, but it dissolves in a groan when the fingers delve deep with a hard thrust that makes me see stars.
Reed jerks a thumb in the direction of the door. “Want me to put the sign up?”
The fingers pull free and I almost think I can breathe again when something cold and hard replaces them. The bulbous shape extends my opening. Stretches me wider than the fingers. Expanding my walls. Filling them. Filling me.
“Oh my ... fuck!” I exclaim, body falling back as I’m forced to take every inch.
“Shit!” Reed’s panicked gaze sweeps over me. “I mean, don’t!”
“Get the fuck out, Reed!” I snarl at him, knuckles white, gripping the seat of my chair, hips bucking as I’m invaded. “Get out!”
Visibly flustered, Reed turns as if to run out but stops. Tentatively glances back.
“Do you need me to run to your house?” He gestures to me. “Get you anything? Underwear?”
“Reed!”
Throwing up his hands, he turns and jogs to the door. I watch him through a blurry haze as he slaps my break sign on the glass, latches the lock and vanishes from sight down the street.
The second he’s out of sight, I wheel my chair back and bunch my skirt up to peer down at the pink, wiggly string dangling out of me.
“What the fuck—?”
My tormentor unfolds from his hiding place, a powerful shadow unspooling into my space. His hulking frame looms over me like a vengeful God ... with a helmet.
The man is quick with that shit.
Strong hands close into my hair and jerks my face back. But while he started gentle, his hold now tightens. I’m dragged off the chair. My yelp of pain is ignored as I’m forced to the floor behind the desk with him crouched over me. Knees wide straddling my stomach. One hand clamps around both my wrists and my arms are wrenched over my head. The roughness pulls the muscles of my shoulders, arches my spine.
“Hurting me,” I gasp.
