Page 13 of Torch
“Yes,” I whispered, chewing on my lip as I fretted, smoothing the blanket beside me once more.
“It’ll keep doing that while you’re sitting on it, babe.”
He still had my chin, but my eyes had been anywhere but on him until now.
“What?”
He grinned a little. “The blanket. You keep smoothing it like you want it perfect, but your fine ass is what’s making it crease up. Now, I do know a cure for that, but you might not like it.”
I blinked dumbly at him for a moment, and he grinned again, pulling me up from the bed as he stood up, a smooth move, liquid and elegant, but something was wrong. He cursed, pulling his arm back as he straightened a little.
“Torch?”
“I’m fine. It just feels weird, that’s all.” Weird. Something feels weird. Oh god, his injury! I felt clarity returning like a bucket of cold water tipped over me. I tried to turn him around so I could check it, but he was like stone, locked in place, and watching me with an amused grin.
“You want something, babe?”
I rolled my eyes, stepping around behind him, to smooth my fingers over his warm tattooed skin, checking where his stitches were exposed with no bandage on.
“Nothing is torn or damaged, Torch, but oh my god, we need to be careful. These are due out any day now, and if we tear-”
He spun on his heel, grabbing my wrist and pulling my fingers to his lips, sucking my index finger into his mouth, stunning me silent.
“Doc? Stop making excuses. I know you’re back with me now, so give me one good reason why I shouldn’t plough you so fucking good that you can’t walk for a week,” he hissed as he released them, dragging my fingers down his hard chest. There were scars under my fingertips, some more recent than others, and some more severe than others. I knew about them already, having catalogued them during his time as my patient, but I’d never really taken the time to consider just how many times he’d been wounded.
“Get out of your head, and back here with me, babe. I want your hands on me, but I want your brain too. I want you focused on me, on what I want to do to you. I want you fucking feeling every second of this.”
He pushed my hand lower, pressing it over the bulge in his jeans, stroking it up and down.
“I wanna give you this, babe. I wanna shove it so deep inside you, the only thought in your head is gonna be how it feels, plundering your fucking pussy like-”
“St-stop!”
Eight
Ireleasedherthesecond she told me to stop, but call me confused, because she instantly looked disappointed.
“Woman? I’m gonna be honest, you have me so fucking lost here. Do you want me or do you not? I don’t wanna misread any signals here, because you’re giving me every possible direction here. Give me a clue, yeah?” Grace chewed on her lip, casting a nervous glance at me.
“Is this because you want control? I’ll give you control if that’s what you want. I’m easy, babe. You wanna ride me and own my cock, go right ahead? You wanna grind your sweet pussy on my face, and ride it to get off, I’ll let you suffocate me to get yours. What. Do. You. Want?”
Was she playing me? Was she trying to fuck with my head? Was this all just a fucking game to her? I reached for her and her breath caught as I stopped. Did she want me to? Didn’t she? What the fuck did she want?
Just to get a reaction, I advanced on her, watching as she backed up to the wall, then I rested my palm against her throat, feeling her pulse thrumming rapidly against my skin. Just as I suspected, her breathing started to speed up, and her pupils seemed to dilate as she stared back at me.
“You want me, don’t you?” She nodded slowly.
“You probably don’t like that you want me though. That’s okay. I’m just a bit of nasty rough for you, aren’t I? Little miss rich, living in her posh house, driving her expensive car, and roughing it with me. You want me to treat you like a whore?”
Her pulse sped up, and she bit down hard on her lip, and I grinned widely.
“You want me to be mean to you, darlin’? Want me to get rough, and say nasty things?” Her head moved, a jerky bob of her head. She wants me to treat her like a filthy little slut, doesn’t she?
“You sure about this? You wanna be degraded and mistreated because you’re a disgusting little slut?”
I felt a shudder run through her at my words, but fuck, it was the kind of shudder that she’d probably get just before an orgasm. This was hot for her. Real. It was what she wanted.
“Gimme a word you can use if you don’t like what I’m doing and need me to stop. I need to know you have a way out if you change your mind.”
