Page 220 of Ominous: Part 1
I bite my lip, rubbing myself, watching the small muscles in her abs clench, the ones in her thighs pull taut as she opens herself up more, as wide as she can.
It’s beautiful, seeing her pink flesh beneath the gleaming water, watching it pound against her, making her feel good.
I release myself, holding onto her knee still, and reach in to stopper the water.
Her eyes open, and I’m inches from her, my palm flat over the silver drain. “What’re you doing?” Her words are hushed, and pink splotches form on her cheeks, even with the pills in her system.
“Trust me.” I know she doesn’t, and every time I say it, I see it in her eyes. It enrages me at the same time I convince myself I don’t deserve her trust. Eventually, given enough time, I’ll break it, and she’ll have been right to have kept her guard up all along.
The water begins to fill up, but it’s not even to her ears, not yet.
“It’s like a… game,” I explain quietly, bringing my hand to her shoulder, massaging her knotted muscles, full of tension. “I want you to come.”
“You want to act outyourfantasy this time.” It sounds like an accusation, which seems unfair, because we did most of hers in my car without judgement.
I guess, though, she’s the victim in both cases. She has more to lose.
“I won’t let you get hurt,” I promise her. I smile, crawling my fingertips to her throat, grazing it with my index and middle finger and watching her swallow with nerves. “Dominic is here, and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in prison.”
It’s supposed to be a joke, but she glares at me, unamused.
I lean down closer, brushing my mouth over hers. Her lips part for me, despite her annoyance, and I feel her resistance soften. She’s as gone for me as I am for her, despite our walls.
“I want to make you feel good. That’s all.” I speak against her mouth, and she reaches for me, threading her fingers through my hair and pulling me closer. Her tongue brushes the seam of my lips and I open for her, our mouths gentle, soft, a different speed for us.
I feel her relax as I hold her throat, my thumb against the hollow of it. I don’t squeeze her as the water fills higher. Both of her hands are now wound in my hair as we kiss, and she moans against me, shivering, the water still pulsing on her.
I want to see.
I want to see.
But I’m worried if I pull away, she’ll grow anxious again.
Still, as she moans again into my mouth, I can’t help it.
I pull back, shifting my palm possessively down the center of her chest, thumb and pinkie finger over the curve of her breasts as I watch her get closer to her climax, my mouth going dry with lust.
Her eyes close, the water climbing higher, over the piercings in her ears, the metal glistening beneath the suds, but she just grabs the outside of her thighs, digging her nails in.
I slide my palm down her sternum, over her belly, grazing her clit with my fingers, then circling her hole as she gasps, still keeping her eyes closed. I want her to look at me. I want to see her come, but I know she’s probably feeling a little awkward and exposed like this, and she’s already done so much of what I want, I don’t want to make her more uncomfortable.
I push my index and middle finger into her, her thighs stretching even wider, her back arching up. Soap bubbles cling to the edge of the tub, but with my hand and the stream of water, they don’t obstruct my view of her. I push in and out, finger fucking her, feeling the tightness of her walls close around me, the ache in my cock growing deeper.
The water rises higher, over her ears completely, but she doesn’t let go of her thighs, straining to find her release.
Her knees are shaking, her entire body trembling.
But I see the moment her eyes open, and the bubble bursts.
She starts to panic at the rising levels of water.
She grabs the ledge of the tub, fingers curling over the sides as she intends to pull herself up, but I turn fully, one knee on the ledge, the other pressed against the outside of the basin, and I shove her down, my hand over her chest.
She gasps, still seeking purchase against the white porcelain ledge, but I shove harder, my fingers still inside of her, and this time, her head reaches the bottom of the claw-footed tub. Her eyes close and her face is submerged, even the tip of her nose, her lips, bubbly water swirling over her face.
Her knuckles grow white against the ledge, but she doesn’t move her lower body.
She wants this as much as I do.
