Page 59 of Hitch
Duane
We settleinto a routine after that: I call her over, she comes to the farm, and wherever we end up, I chase her until she’s out of breath, then we both go at it until we pass out. But today’s different. She’s getting dressed next to me, thoroughly fucked, but it’s there as plain as day—the camera lens stares at me from her purse, blending in like an eyelet. It’s so damn obvious now, I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.
Was this part of her plan? Get my defenses down so that she can find the real story, and use it to betray me?
Whyis she still recording me?
Once she’s dressed, she stretches her arms above her head, her black hair dancing down her back. That beautiful curve of her tits makes my mouth salivate. She travels across the room to get something out of her purse, and I realize her purse is positioned perfectly, so she can get the entire room on film.
I come up behind her, my hands skimming her hips. She stiffens, a chill running down her back, like she knows she’s been caught. I bring my mouth to the crook of her neck.
“Why are you filming this?” I ask, my voice full of accusation. Immediately, she spins around, gaping at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I grab her purse. We’ll see about that.
“Hey!” she shouts, jumping after it, but I’m a big boy and I hold it up out of her reach. I dig my nails underneath the miniature lens, then pull it out until the chips in the back are exposed. I throw it on the floor between us.
“Not recording, huh?” I say.
Her cheeks flame red. She grits her teeth.
“Fine,” she says. And I brace myself for the words that are sure to come out—the confession that cements her future to die on this farm, just like I always knew she would. “You scared me, okay? So I thought that maybe if I had a camera on me at all times, I would find something. And then, I’d go to the police.” She crosses her arms. “But I didn’t, okay? I had a flash drive, but I never took it to the police.”
I already knew she was there that day, contemplating turning me in. But this, being scared of me? Does she not realize how much I’m protecting her from?
I almostpreferthe blackmail angle.
But maybe this shows her loyalty. Maybe it proves that she’s a good woman. Better than I deserve.
She leans against my bicep, trying to soothe me, but I whip her around until she’s facing me. Her nipples pebble through her tank top, and saliva gathers on my tongue, imagining those brown nipples in my mouth. I pull her tank top, letting those round breasts come into view. They practically spill out of her bra, and my hands reach down into those cups, grabbing those pert nipples and twisting them until she squeals.
“Stop it,” she cries, full of anger. “Not now, Duane. Not like this. We’re talking!”
“You afraid of me, Hitch?” I growl. “You want to give the cops a show?” I grab that mini camera lens off of the floor and hold it up to her face. “Let’s give them a show.”
I push her back down on the bed and she gasps, kicking at my chest, but I use my weight to keep her compliant.
“Spread your legs,” I order, and the little devil does, her thighs so juicy, I lick my lips. I press my palm against the seam of her leggings, and her heat soaks through the fabric.
“No,” she says. “Stop it, Duane. This is—”
“You want this just as much as I do,” I say. I shove my hands down the front of her leggings, cupping her wet pussy. I growl, throwing my head back, and her eyes fill with lust. “Go on. Pretend like you’re afraid. Like you don’t want this. But we both know it’s a damn lie.”
I hold her neck until her cheeks purple like an eggplant. Then I let go, letting her choke in front of me. I grab my phone, switching it over to my own recording app, then position it toward her as I set it on the dresser. I pull down her leggings as she fights me, digging her nails into my forearms, but I clutch her hands in one palm, then undress her with the other. Her ass is bare, her leggings tangled around her upper thighs, but her pussy is so wet, it’s glistening. I sniff in the sweet smell of her cunt as deep as I can take it, then I grab a fist full of her hair, yanking her head until she’s looking at my phone.
“Tell the camera how much you like it,” I say.
“Fuck you,” she snarls.
My belt slides through the loops, the leather swishing so loud, my girl’s back arches like a cat. She glimpses over her shoulder, the pang of fear in her eyes. Before she can do anything, I pull the belt around her neck, treating it like a leash. She trembles, her mouth gaping as I pull down my own pants, bending to thrust inside of her.
“You’re so wet for me,” I say. “You know how much it turns me on, knowing that you crave the fight? That you like resisting just as much as you like giving?” I growl in her ear. “Before I showed my face in the club, I rubbed my cock raw every night, just thinking about you, Hitch. And now I want you to tell me how much you love when I take everything from you.”
I pull the belt around her neck slightly, and she arches her back more. Then I fuck her good and hard, her tits and ass jiggling with each thrust. Power swells inside of me as I squeeze the belt, taking away her precious air. Knowing that this way,I’mthe one who’s in control. I’m the one who has all the power. I’m the one who can end her life.
I give her some slack, and her chest expands with air, gasping. The power I have right then fills me with a hunger so deep,I need more.
