“It makes me wet knowing you own me,” I breathe out.
Resuming his hold on me against the wall, he smiles, kisses me deeply, and drops to his knees.
“Spread your legs,” he commands, licking my inner thighs.
I do it, panting and trembling to the warmth of his tongue.
I feel like exploding as he laps it over my pussy, concentrating solely on my clit and I have no choice but to brace myself with his head as I moan and push against his face.
He holds my hips steady, growling and pleasuring me with exact precision as my body trembles, my heart pounds and I begin to climax into his mouth.
“Oh. My. God,” I pant as the orgasm courses through my body.
When I can’t possibly take any more, I push his head away and he stands, licking his lips.
“You’ve always tasted of such sweet sin, and you are the only thing that makes me feel alive. I might own this body, but you, Vixen, own my soul. Turn around,” he commands.
I grip my hands into the back cushions of the sofa, still reeling from the orgasm and trying to decipher his words. He takes no time and drives himself into me, stretching and filling my swollen pussy as I whimper.
“You had better brace yourself,” he hisses. “This is about to get rough, Vix, hate-fuck rough.”
He’s solid in his plight, fucking me as hard and as fast as he can, it’s how we both like it as I moan out in yearning.
My body is tensing, building toward release again. His presence is intense as he grips my hair and growls under his breath.
“This, Vixen, is. How. You. Affect. Me,” he growls with each relentless movement. “There is no man on the planet who will worship you the way I do.”
The lust in his tone and feel of his hand feverishly working my clit sends me over the edge into another orgasm.
“Holy shit, Whiskey,” I gasp, riding it out, dazed by the force.
I feel his release begin, his body locking firmly against mine as he spills into me.
“Fuck,” he grunts.
We stand motionless, catching our breath and I close my eyes, relishing in the feeling as his hand sweeps my hair to the side. He places gentle kisses down my neck, then my shoulder, his stubble amusing me as he does.
“Now that we’ve cleared that up,” he teases, “I think we should talk about the incident with Helen this morning.”
I turn and look at him, throwing my sweater and panties back on in the process.
“You want to talk about her walking in on us?”
“No… I want to talk about her nailing you with a fucking glass.”
“Oh. Well whatever, its nothing new, and she got lucky. Her aim usually sucks.”
He pulls me close and cups my face, his gaze dead serious.
“This isn’t a joke, Kirsten.”
“I never said it was.”
“Then tell me what the hell we are going to do about it. She’s going to end up killing you one day.”
“She’s not,” I say pulling away from him. “I have a plan and don’t give me that stupid look as if it’s going to be reckless, Pax. It’s a good plan, but I haven’t worked out all of the kinks yet.”
His eyes narrow and he sighs, taking a seat on the sofa. Patting his lap, he tells me to sit, so I do.
“And what are the kinks?” he asks raising his brows.
I shrug, not wanting to tell him. I know he’s not going to like my idea of payback.
“How about I let you know once I’ve worked out all of the details?”
“Before you initiate the plan… right?”
“Sure,” I nod.
“Good,” he winks, “now you can sit and rest that bashed-in head of yours while I make us something to eat.”
I smile and find my comfy spot on the sofa, feeling exhausted. He’s right as usual. My head hurts like a motherfucker, probably because of the blood rushing around my body from the intense orgasms.
Sometimes I’m positive Pax knows me better than I know myself. He’s the man I would marry if I was the marrying kind. But I’m not, and I don’t think he is either, especially since I know it bothers him that he can’t have kids, which is one of the biggest reasons people tend to get married. Legitimacy, what a joke!
I’d give my right hand not to be related to Satan, never mind the fact my father never should have married her.
But Pax is different, he’s talked about the things he would do if he had kids, even mentioned wanting to adopt one day. I know he would be an outstanding father. He’d be that dad. The one that never missed a game or a recital, the one that taught the little shits how to ride a Harley before they were legal, and the kind of dad I had. Smart, strong, and fearless.
But legitimate baby Paxes can never happen though, not for Whiskey. He got screwed out of those hopes, literally.
He’s only ever told me once about the night it happened. I knew after hanging out with him for less than three weeks, that he was the man I wanted to lose my virginity to, and he knew it as well. So, when the night came, he was hard into the whiskey and we were both desperate to fuck, I was worried about not being on birth control or having any condoms, and that’s when he told me about the abduction. He thinks he was four when they snatched him, he’s never been sure, just remembers living in an orphanage of some sort when they lured him from the park into the van. A man and a woman, he calls them The Imposters, and I’m not sure why.
What they did to
