Page 189 of Ominous: Part 1
He shoves up my skirt, exposing me to him, and I have the urge to clamp my thighs together, just like the first time, but he must sense it, crouched down in his car over top of me, because he kneels on the edge of his seat and uses both hands circled around the crease of my thighs to hold me open, exactly like he did before.
I’m grateful for it.
I dig my fingers into the side of his leather seats, fighting the urge to push him away because I’m under his scrutiny. A toy for him to examine.
His chest is rising and falling sharply beneath his shirt, his cock thick and heavy, balls tight and aching. I want to touch him. I want to taste him. I like how every muscle in his body seems tense as he examines me.
He slides his hands up higher, his thumbs peeling me apart, exposing me to him, how wet I am for him, my slick, pink clit throbbing for his touch.
“You want me here?” he asks quietly, lifting his eyes to mine.
I’m leaned so far back, I somehow feel dizzy, my world turned upside down like my position in his car. I nod, scared to speak.
“What if someone sees us?” He doesn’t sound at all concerned. It’s like a test.
“I don’t care,” I finally manage to say.
He smiles. “I do, Eden.” He leans close, kissing me deep. “I want to be the only one.” His words are against my lips, then, before I can speak, he slides his knees from his seat, his head bowed, and his mouth comes to my pussy, tongue flicking along my clit.
I gasp, my back arching upward, his thumbs still pulling me apart, exposing every inch of me to him, more than he did the first time. I’ve never been seen so intimately, save for by myself, one time when I took a mirror into the bathroom and learned all the parts of my body after reading about it in a book Mom tossed my way. This is far more private than that. I want to twist away, to buck my hips, clamp my legs shut, but I can’t, and I don’t.
He sucks on my clit, causing me to whimper, his eyes cutting to mine, a smile on his lips that I can feel between mine. He moves his hand possessively over my inner thigh, twisting his wrist, then curling two fingers inside of me, pulling back from me just enough to groan, like fingering me feels good to him, too.
“You have the tightest little hole,” he says, eyes focusing back on mine.
I reach for him, wanting to grab his hair and yank, but he pushes roughly inside of me, all the way to his last knuckle as he shakes his head, his breath still against my clit, index finger and thumb of his other hand still spreading me for him.
“No,” he says. “Put your hands over your head, on my seat.”
I know he sees me freeze. Sees my indecision, because he licks me, all the way from the tip of where his fingers are seated inside me, to the top of my pussy, his bottom lip catching on the sensitive spot.
“Now, Eden, or I’ll stop, and we’ll leave.”
But I want to touch you. I can’t stay still. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
My chest heaves, my breasts ache, I want to rip free every button on my shirt. I want him to have all of me at the same time I want to hide everything.
“I’m done.” He says the words flatly as he pulls back, and I know he’s bluffing, but I don’t want to test him on it.
“Okay, okay, okay,” I say quickly, my body wound tight. I raise my arms over my head. I bend my elbows, clasping my wrists behind the headrest so I can try and stop the temptation to move building higher inside of me.
He smiles again, licking me once more as he fingers me, twisting and pushing and hooking his fingers in a way that makes me cry out.
“I love when you do what I say, baby girl.” He looks down, right at me, and I’ve never been so grateful for illegally tinted windows as I am right now, blocking even the moonlight from outside of his car. Shielding me from the intensity of his gaze, in the smallest of ways.
Inhaling, I catch my own scent, and I have to dig my nails into the tops of my hands to keep from reaching for him, from wanting to bury my head in his chest, too far away.
Sensing my discomfort, he looks up again, his mouth glistening withme.He attempts to add another finger inside of me, and I tighten up, whimpering.
“Shh,” he whispers, turning his head to softly bite the inside of my thigh. “Breathe for me, baby girl. Let go. I’ve got you.I look out for you.”
You’ve got me.He said those words to me before, and I adore them.You have no idea how much you’ve got me.
He licks where he bit me, then bites harder, causing me to arch up, and he quickly kisses the bite. “I’ve got you,” he says again, still trying to coax another finger inside of me. “You’re so, so fucking mine, Nightmare Girl.” He pushes, the pressure and fullness feeling sogood,and so does the look he gives me, like admiration, even as he controls everything about this situation.
I try to relax.
I try to breathe.
