Page 26 of Violent Things
“You’re breaking the rules,” I inform her. “I didn’t say you could move.” Palming her right breast, I squeeze hard, tightrope walking that boundary between enjoyable pain and real discomfort. I’m going easy on her, though. She’s still not feeling one hundred percent, after all. Sloane’s hips press back down into the mattress in an instant, her eyes closing as she breathes through what I’m doing to her. “That’s better. Yeah. Good girl…” I let my other hand trail down the side of her body, my fingers slowly working toward the apex of her thighs. I don’t go straight for her clit, though. I run my fingers up the insides of the legs, over her hips, up her stomach, breasts, neck, over her high cheekbones and over her lips.
“Suck,” I tell her.
She obeys, opening her mouth, allowing me to slide my fingers inside. Her mouth is hot and wet, and has my cock throbbing so hard. She’s so good at blowing me now. She had no clue what she was doing the very first time back in that darkened hotel room, but her inexperience and her tight mouth had almost been enough to make me come on the spot. Now that she knows what she’s doing with that tongue of hers, she has the power to rob me of all fucking common sense.
She grazes her teeth against my knuckles and I can imagine all too well what that would feel like if it were my cock in her mouth. I can’t help but hiss as she sucks harder. “You’re being so good,” I whisper into her hair. I let go of her breast and prop myself up on one elbow so I can slide my fingers from her mouth and place them between her legs, wetting her with her own saliva.
“Fuck, Zeth.” Her head kicks back, rocking to one side as I work my fingertips in small, tight, purposeful circles over her clit. She’s staring at me, beautiful, so turned on I can see it in her eyes, when I lift my fingers to my own mouth and slide them inside. She tastes so fucking good. Guys say that about girls all the time, but I really fucking mean it. The taste of her pussy on my tongue is enough to send the blood roaring through my veins like combustion fuel in a high-powered engine. I feel like I could do zero to a hundred in less than a second.
“Fuck, Sloane. You’re incredible. Lift your knees for me.Now.” She bridges her legs, feet pressed flat against the bed, and holds them there. I know she wants to let her knees fall to the sides, opening herself up for me, but she’s good. She waits.
That clamp from yesterday enters my head, stowed safely back in the black duffel I keep in the bottom of the wardrobe, but I reject that idea. I do want to make her moan. I do want to make her twitch. But I want my head between her legs, too, and I can’t lick her with that thing in the way.
My eyes catch on the plate I brought up here with me and I know what I’m going to do. Reaching over, I pick up a piece of the pineapple and throw it into my mouth. Tastes so sweet it twinges at the sides of my tongue. “Mmm, yeah, baby. You’re gonna like this, and so am I,” I say. Sloane fights back a surprised smile as I take another piece of the pineapple and I head down between her legs.
I’m not in the mood to be careful. Fuck that. Shoving her knees apart myself, I get down there and take hold of her ankles, throwing her legs over my shoulders. “Are you ready, angry girl?”
She bites her lip, her head rolling back. I know she wants to arch her back off the bed again, lift her hips up to meet my mouth, but she knows there’ll be consequences if she does. I’ll tease the fuck out of her for hours and I won’t let her come, and that’s not something she enjoys. Me, on the other hand… torturing her like that gives me a particular thrill that no amount of breakfast making and domesticated life will be able to tamp down.
I bite carefully down on the piece of cold pineapple and press it into her pussy with my mouth. She gasps, hands tightening as I work it up and down, slowly tracing it from the entrance to her pussy all the way up to her clit. I want to pump my fingers inside her. I want to make her fucking scream. I can be patient when the situation calls for it, though. Instead I tease her with the piece of fruit, enjoying the flavor of it mixed in with the slick juices of her tight, amazing pussy.
I can’t help myself. I have to touch myself. Reaching down, I slide my hand inside my boxers and I take hold of my cock, squeezing the tip. Feels fucking amazing, but I know sinking myself balls deep into the woman in this bed is going to be a million times better. I’m already planning where I’m going to come. Over her tits. In her mouth. Her stomach. Her back. I want to mark her all over with my come, rub it into her skin. Into her pussy. Claim her as mine.
I swallow the pineapple, and then I set to working my tongue over Sloane’s clit. The fruit was fun, but I don’t need it anymore. I just need her pussy in my mouth and her come on my tongue. And I’m gonna make it fucking happen right now. Carefully, I push my index finger inside her, teasing myself as much as her with how slowly I do it. She’s trembling violently by the time I’m knuckle deep. She’s so tight. I’ll never get over how incredible her body is. How tightly she squeezes my cock when I’m inside her.
I can’t wait to get to that point. First, I let myself pump her with my fingers, knowing she’s imagining they’re my cock. I go slow at first but then pick up speed, matching the motion with the sweeps of my tongue over her swollen clit. I could suck on the hot bundle of nerves and make her explode, I know I could. But I refrain. This is just too much fucking fun.
She’s begging me to let her come by the time I give in. And she really does fucking explode. I lick and suck at her, groaning like a goddamn savage as she comes all over my tongue. So. Fucking. Hot. She buries her hands in my hair and grinds up against me, her body shaking, falling apart as she climaxes.
I have absolutely no self-control after that. As soon as the tension falls out of her body, her muscles sinking heavy into the mattress, I grab hold of her hips and spin her over, throwing her onto her front and then lifting her hips so that her ass is in the air. “We’re not done yet, angry girl.” I lay my hand against her skin, making a sharp cracking sound as my palm connects with the soft curve of her ass.
“Fuck!” she gasps out, instinctively grabbing hold of the bed sheets, like she knows how hard I’m about to fuck her. Like she knows she’s about to be seeing stars. I lose the boxers, and then there’s nothing between me and my angry girl. I trace my cock from her clit upward, gauging her reaction, seeing where she wants me to stop…where she wants me the most. I don’t even make it to her ass. She’s pushing back against me, panting hard as I tease the tip of my dick against the opening of her pussy.
“You want me, Sloane? How bad do you want me inside you right now?”
“Fuck. Please. Please… please… I need you,” she moans.
I could wait, I could play with her some more, but my balls feel like they’re going to burst. I slam myself home, not holding back, fire singing through my veins as Sloane screams out my name.
My fingers dig into her hips as I pull her back against me. She doesn’t resist. She moves with me, sighing and melting against me as I thrust so hard I’m seeing stars myself. When we come, we come together, and we’re both incoherent.
Just. Too. Good.
We collapse together onto the bed as one, me still inside her, my body angled slightly to the side to keep my weight off her. When we’ve both regained our breath, I begin tracing my fingers absentmindedly up and down her side. Her skin is soft as silk. “You bought weird fruit,” I whisper into her hair.
She laughs, and the feel of it travels through her and into me, spreading some deep, strange contentment down into my bones. This woman is going to be the end of me. “Yeah, well, I need vitamins so I can get better. But I also did it for you,” she says.
“Oh? How d’you figure that?”
“They say…” She seems bemused. “They say that if you eat lots of pineapple, it makes you taste good.”
The irony of what she’s said hits me full on, given that I’ve just used a piece of it between her legs. I bite down lightly on her shoulder, growling. “You don’t need to eat anything to taste good, Sloane. I’m addicted to how you taste, just as you are.”
She laughs. “Well, since you spend about ninety percent of your day with your head between my legs, I just wanted to make sure you enjo—” The sound of my burner ringing on the bedside table cuts her off. We both just look at it. Before earlier this morning when the Barbieri brothers called me, the thing hasn’t rung in…in fucking forever. Since shit went down with my ex-employer and everything changed. And now it’s ringing again? Bets are on it being Theo again. I donotwant to talk to him. I don’t want to talk to anyone who might be asking me to beat the everloving shit out of anyone, or worse. It’s not as though I’ve gone soft. I’ll still tear anyone limb from limb should the situation require it, but it’s more on an as needed basis. For protection and defense as opposed to for money.
Sloane presses her face into the pillow, and a muffled, “You’d better get that,” reaches my ears. I do answer, but only because the people who are likely to call my burner aren’t the kind of people who give up after calling once.
When I hear the voice on the other end of the line, I find that the Barbieri situation has been escalated up the ranks. Typical. First Lowell’s trying to ruin my fucking day, and now more of this shit. “Zeth,” Roberto Barbieri, the Barber of Brooklyn himself, says. “I hear you didn’t much like talking to my sons?”
