Page 154 of Unorthodox
“Bend your knee.”
My eyes dart back to his, and I find him staring back at me. Slowly, I do as he asked, and he drags the gun closer to my core.
“Nervous?” There’s a sick gleam in his eyes that should repulse me, but if anything, it only makes me want him more.
I nod, because I’m not sure I can speak.
His eyes rake over my naked body, his lips curving into a smile as he changes direction, runs the barrel of the gun down my slit.
I gasp with how cold it feels, my hands clenching the sheets beside me.
“I want you to watch,” he says quietly, glancing at the gun in his hand. “I want you to see what I’m doing to you.”
I swallow down the lump in my throat, slowly shift my gaze to between my thighs. His hand is angled, his finger not on the trigger as he directs the very tip of the barrel to aim at me, circling the hard steel over my clit.
I start to shake.
My legs tremble, and I want to shift my knee down, close my legs, but I fight it. I resist the impulse and keep my eyes on what he’s doing to me.
“Still trust me, Addison?”
I grip the sheets so hard my hands hurt. For a moment, I can’t speak. I can only watch in equal parts horror and pleasure as he slides the gun down my pussy, his other hand coming to my lips, pulling me apart, giving him and the weapon better access.
My face flushes hot, and my legs shake harder.
“Y-yes,” I answer him, my voice quavering.
“Look at you, trembling for me,” he says softly, almost reverently, running his fingers over my folds, the gun following his movements. It isn’t soft, the edges of the weapon lending a slight pain to my pleasure.
I can hear the slickness of myself against the steel as he toys with me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.”
I try to bite back a moan, because I don’t think I should be enjoying this.
I think I should be crying. I think I should be fighting him.
I don’t want to.
“Don’t hold it in,” he says sharply, and I look up to find him staring at me. “I want to hear you.”
I gasp as he pushes a finger into me, still using the steel of the gun to circle my clit.
“Such a good girl.” His eyes are still on mine. “You listen so well.” He adds another finger and I clench around him. “And you’re so fucking tight.” He almost groans with those words and I moan, shifting my hips to give him better access.
He rakes his eyes over my body, then watches as he toys with me.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, “and so fucking wet.”
Slowly, he pulls his fingers out of me, drags them down my inner thigh. He slides the gun down the length of me, then he trails it back up, over my pelvis, gliding it toward the plane of my abs, between my breasts, up my throat. Under my chin.
“Open your mouth, baby girl,” he whispers, and I do, knowing what comes next.
But instead of the taste of steel sharp on my tongue, it’s his mouth that’s on me after he leans down toward me. His kiss is raw, consuming. He breaks away long enough to say, “You’re incredible,” before his lips are on mine all over again.
My stomach flutters. I think of the time he forced the gun in my mouth. When he promised to make this hell.
But right now, it isn’t.
