Page 25 of Ruse
“The way your body reacts to my touch.” Leaning forward, he lowers his mouth to my neck, blowing hot air softly against me. “It’s like I was meant to touch you.” His wet tongue trails its way across my pulse point and down to the hollowed dip of my throat, my body nearly trembling in his hold. “To lick you.”
“Yes,” I groan, as long, skillful fingers dip under the hem of my dress, grabbing my ass, and kneading my skin in his hands until I’m a whimpering mess. I press against his erection, grinding up and down against the zipper of his jeans. It feels so good I can feel my release building up. My nipples are pebbled, rubbing against the smooth, cool satin, and hardening as they press into his chest.
“To tease you.”
It takes me a moment to register it all, but once I do, I’m hysterical. It can’t be. How is it possible that everything he's just whispered to me is exactly what I imagined he said in my dream? It’s impossible. I must be hearing things, making it all up in my mind.
The loud vibrations of my phone in my clutch take us out of our daydreams and bring us back to the land of the living.
“Shit, get off of me!” I shout, pushing him away and nearly falling back in the process. But Maverick’s quicker than me and balances himself while simultaneously reaching out for me and keeping me steady.
Both his arms are wrapped around my waist, his face at level with mine as he hovers over me. I can practically taste him, “Whoa there, no need to get all crazy on me. I wasn't doing anything you didn’t want me to. Nothing you weren’t letting me do.”
I struggle to get away. “You wish this is what I wanted.”
A sexy as fuck laugh leaves him, making me wonder when the hell did laughter become sexy?
“Then why weren’t you pushing me off you? Why did you let me put my hands all over you? Why were you rubbing yourself on my cock if you don’t want it?”
Those are all excellent questions and ones I don’t have the answers to, nor do I plan on finding them, so I ignore him, continuing to wrestle out of his grip. Though it’s useless. He’s like a metal chain wrapped tightly around me and I can’t escape.
“Let me go Maverick. I need to leave.”
He laughs wholeheartedly. “The only place you're going is back upstairs and into your room. It’s a school night, Nyx. Mommy and daddy wouldn’t approve of you going out on a school night.”
“Bite me asshole. You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”
Maverick releases me, but he doesn’t step back. He steps forward until my back hits the edge of the staircase railing. “Oh, but I can, sweetheart. Go upstairs and lock your door. It’s for your own safety.”
* * *
It’s two am,and I’m in my bedroom alone and unable to sleep, my mind teetering on the edge of madness with thoughts about what just happened.
How-fucking-dare he?
Maverick Carter is a manipulative, egomaniac, and sociopath who thinks only of himself. The audacity of the gorgeous bastard, thinking he can waltz into my life with his devil-may-care attitude, and control it.
As if.
It’s a school night Nyx. Mommy and daddy wouldn’t approve of you going out on a school night.
The nerve of the asshole to think he could prohibit me from going out, especially after he had his hands all over me. The moment I came into my room, I released the breath I was holding in, screaming, and throwing things to relieve the pent-up tension I was feeling. I didn’t relieve myself. My arousal was still as present as it was downstairs, aching for me to slip my hand under my thong and make myself come to the image of the smug bastard fresh in my mind.
Yes, it’s true I didn't end up going out, but that was simply because I wasn’t in the mood anymore after our little encounter. To make matters worse, Maverick takes off not ten minutes later.The shithead!
I had no other choice than to sit in my room, still dressed in the sexy gold dress I bought, sulking, and cursing his name as I devoured a bowl, or two, of cookies and cream ice cream, the real shit not that fake no-calorie bullshit they sell claiming to be made of unicorn milk.
I texted Dee and told her I was staying home, and I’d explain later, but I don’t plan on explaining and she probably won’t ask. I’m sure she and Olly assumed it had something to do with my stepbrother, given the stupid plan we came up with to taunt him with the dress I’m currently still wearing. It didn’t work as planned. They offered to come over, but I told them I was going to call it a night.
I didn’t and playing on my laptop has been an episode or five of The Vampire Diaries - my go-to emotional support shows when I need a good cry and want to blame it on yet another one of Mystic Falls resident’s untimely deaths.
The one I’m currently watching, the infamous break up scene where Damon begs Elena to open her eyes and see just how toxic their relationship really is. Elena breaks down and yells at him, admitting he’s to blame for literally everything negative that’s ever happened to her, yet she can’t help loving him.
Ladies and gentlemen,The Bad Boy Effect.
Dark, and mysterious with an inkling for murder and causing trouble, Damon Salvatore should be the last person/vampire ill-fated Elena should have ever fallen for, but the darkness is what drew them together. The thrill of being bad and giving into that which others tell you to steer clear of. Their love’s a fucking tragedy, yet she can’t turn her back on it, no matter the consequences.
I scoop another mouthful of the frozen, creamy concoction into my mouth, pondering my future.
