Page 14 of Riot Reunion
“I asked you not to wear any panties to dinner. And you’re such a good girl for me, aren’t you, Carrie? You’re such a good girl. Always a good girl. You wanted to make me happy, so you did as I asked. You’re not wearing any underwear at all.” I groan at the very thought of it. The green silk dress I bought myStellalunamakes her look so fucking beautiful. I have dreams about her wearing that dress. My cock hardens immediately, imagining her wearing that for me, knowing that her pussy is bare beneath the shimmering, clingy material.
“Dash,” Carrie whispers.
“We go downstairs. It’s raining outside. Genesis is there, wearing a black dress and that bright red lipstick. She could never look as good as you, but that doesn’t matter. Seeing her makes you feel something—a heat building in between your legs. She’s beautiful. You think she’s maybe the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. The way that she looks at you makes you feel so confused. You love me so much. You’d never want to hurt me. Cheat on me. Lie to me. But the way Genesis is looking at you now makes you want things you’ve never wanted before.
“The weather issobad now. The rain’s torrential. Outside, a storm is brewing, and it’s so cold. Genesis offers to have a romantic dinner hosted for us in a private dining room, so we can avoid trying to find a cab in the rain. You agree. I invite her to join us because I can see how much you’ve been watching her. I can smell how much she turns you on, just like I can smell it on you now.”
Carrie bucks against this, her eyes snapping open. She arches her back, trying to pull away from me, but I laugh mirthlessly, wrapping a hand around her throat. I apply the smallest amount of pressure at first, gauging how hard she’s going to fight me on this. The moment my hand closes around her windpipe, she goes limp.
“We sit down together in the dining room. It’s quiet, small, and private. Genesis opens a bottle of wine for us while we wait for our food. She’s so easy to talk to. The dim lighting from the candles makes you both look so fucking stunning. She teases you for drinking your wine so slowly, so you drain your glass. She asks us how we met and how long we’ve been together. We tell her the story about Wolf Hall, but only the good, happy parts. She tells us how good we look together. How hot we are together. Do you think we’re hot together, Carrie?”
“God. Yes! We’re so fucking hot together.”
“Mmm. Good girl. I’m happy you think so.” I pause, releasing my hold on her throat, carefully running my hand downward, over the curves of her body. I don’t even hesitate when I reach the waistband of her sweats. I dip straight inside them, yanking her panties out of the way as I stroke my fingers against her.
I already know how wet she’s going to be. She’s going to be absolutely fucking dripping for me, but that knowledge doesn’t prepare me for the roaring need that tears into me when I tease my fingers between her pussy lips and find her slick heat.
She’s fucking glorious.
Let’s face it: the restraint I show on a daily basis is phenomenal. I’ve seen this woman naked. I know just how blindingly beautiful she is without clothes on. I know what shetasteslike. I know the exact rosebud flush shade of pink her nipples are. I know what her pussy feels like, hungrily gripping and pulsing around me from the fucking inside. She is a walking goddess, the likes of which I’ve never encountered before, and yet somehow, I manage to drag my ass to Uni every day. I compose music to a professional standard. I cook food for us, and I read books, and I go out and adult in the world, knowing what I have waiting for me when I climb into bed at night. I’m not normally one to pat myself on the back, but the fact that I can function at all, knowing that Carrie Mendoza is mine, and I can eat her cunt any time of the day I want, borders on the miraculous. I deserve a fucking medal.
She makes a soft, whimpering sound—a sound that will kill me dead one of these days—a low growl builds in the back of my throat. “You feel a hand on your thigh under the table. You assume it belongs to me, but it doesn’t take long to realize that it’s Genesis. Her touch is light. Tentative. Teasing.” I breathe heavily into her hair. “And itreallyturns you on.”
“Dash, this—this is ridiculous. I don’t—I’m not—” Carrie stutters. She arches her back, though, grinding her ass up against my cock, her body betraying her. She can try and tell me that she’s impervious to the scene I’m painting for her, but her denial would be futile; she’s so turned on, she’s squirming out of her own skin. I smirk, peppering the nape of her neck with featherlight kisses, pleased as fuck when I feel her skin respond, goosebumps forming in the wake of my attentions.
“Her hands are soft. So gentle. She skims her fingers over the fabric of your skirt at first, but it’s not long before she’s toying with the hemline. Sliding the silk further up your leg. Her fingers stealing underneath, skating over the insides of your thighs. She watches you as she talks about the wine we’re drinking. Her eyes are full of suggestion. She’s enjoying itsofucking much. You can tell she wants to take it further, and you want her to as well, but…”
“Dash. Oh my god, please, baby. You need to stop,” Carrie whispers.
Nipping the tip of her ear between my teeth, I relish the sound of the sharp inhalation I coax out of her. “Do I, though? You sure that’s what you want, love?”
“Yes! I—I just want you. I only love you.Please.”
“Oh, I know. No one else will ever matter to you the way that I do. But that doesn’t mean the thought of another woman enjoying your pussy doesn’t make your heart race a little, though. Am I right? Are you going to admit it?”
Licking my way up the column of her throat, up toward her ear, I smile an open-mouthed smile. Her silence is damning. “It’s okay,Stella. You can tell me. Because the thought of that…fuck, the thought of you lying on your back with your legs open and pussy exposed? While a beautiful woman licks and sucks at your clit, worshipping at your altar? That’s so fucking hot to me, baby. I’m gonna jerk off thinking about it for days.”
She shudders, falling slack, all of her weight leaned up against me, as she processes the words that I’m saying to her. Still, she can’t bring herself to say anything, though. Nuzzling my nose into the crook of her neck, I breathe her in, feeling more and more feral by the second. I drive my fingers into her, curving them deep into her pussy, a dark, animalistic part of me growing impatient, demanding that I sink my cock inside her this very instant. The game we’re playing is just too delicious. I won’t relent so easily, even if I can barely hold myself back. I want her screaming for me, begging me to thrust myself deep inside her. I want her on her hands and knees, pleading with me, crawling, panting, desperate—
A loud, unwelcome sound cleaves the air in two.
Riinnnggg. Ringgggg. Riiiinnng!
Sounds like the shrill, urgent chime of a rotary phone. Carrie changed her cell’s ringtone a couple of months back—I’ve considered the old-school tone charming thus far, but right now, I fuckinghateit. “Silence that this second,” I snarl, loosening my grip on her. Carrie almost sinks to her knees.
“I don’t—I don’t even know where it is,” she whimpers.
Well, fuck. I’ve wound her up so bad she can’t think straight. I soften my tone at once. “That’s okay, love. Come.” Taking her hand in mine, I guide her over to the sumptuous cream couch by the window and gesture for her to sink down onto it. “Sit there. I’ll find it for you. And when I get back, I’m going to lick and tease your clit, and I’m going to make you come until you scream. Is that what you want?” I curl my finger under her chin, forcing her head up so that she has to look at me. “Hmm?”
She nods, her eyes unfocused, glazed over. “Yes. Oh my god, yes, please…”
Riinnnggg. Ringgggg. Riiiinnng!
Goddamnit, the incessant ringing makes me want to roar. I tear away from her, back toward the door, where her purse lies abandoned on the floor by the entrance to the penthouse. Yanking her phone out of her bag, I go to reject the call right away, but the name on the screen gives me reason to pause.
Michael.
Carrie’s caretaker never calls her from his own cellphone. He always calls her from a fake number that shows up as a florist’s or some shit. It’s weird that he’s calling from his own personal number. There has to be a reason for it.
