Raw - Aurora Belle - Страница 58
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Dave nudged her playfully. “Naww, thanks babe. I like watching you guys fuck too. Pussy isn’t my cup of tea, but watching anyone get off is hot.”
I gaped at their strange choice of conversation.
Nikki giggled, “Oh, I especially like when he…” She leaned closer to Dave and whispered something into his ear. Dave bit his lip before muttering, “I like that too.”
Raising my arm to match my brows, I hailed a bartender and placed an order, “I need about eleventeen cocktails to erase the last five minutes of fucked-up-ness. What would you suggest?”
Nikki and Dave just smirked like a couple of cats that got the cream while I squirmed.
We drank. And talked. And drank some more.
Then the conversations turned to things more my speed.
Dave slurred, “You know what’s a weird word?” Nikki and I waited with baited breath.
“Pants. Why are the plural? Yes, there are two legs but it’s only one piece of clothing. It’s a pant for chrissake!”
Murmurs of approval went around. That’s when I asked, “I don’t like that. It’s the same thing with Weetbix. Why is a single one called a Weetbix? It’s a Weetbik if it’s one, right?”
Dave sipped on his cocktail, nodding. “This is why we’re friends.”
Nikki slapped the bar in excitement. “I got one! Why are they called scissors then?”
Dave and I gave her our best mind blown looks and nodded in agreement.
I love my friends.
Shaking my head at our silliness at the bar, I bebop around my bedroom to the song playing on my expensive-ass stereo.
Turning, I squeak at the black shadow in front of me. Taking in a deep breath, I open my mouth to scream, when arms wrap around me and I smell him.
Silly Twitch. Sneaky, silly Twitch with his creeping, lurking, and skulking.
Melting into him, I blurt out the first thing I think of. “Why don’t you use the belt on me anymore?”
Wow. That sounded a lot more desperate than planned.
Pulling back, he responds, “Because I’m sure you won’t try to run now.”
Hmmm. Well, I guess that makes sense. In a fucked up kind of way. I guess.
Insert pout here.
He asks an amused, “Are you drunk?”
I scoff. “No. I just had…” I mentally count. “…six Long Island Iced Teas and a shot of tequila. I’m fine.”
As I say this, my knees give out and Twitch holds me up like a doll. He kisses my brow affectionately. “You want me to get the belt?”
I respond breathily, “Yeah.”
Setting me on my bed, I watch as he walks over to his pants on the floor, removes the belt from the loops, and stalks back over to me. Whoa. He does something to my head. Every freaking time. Normally, thoughts would lurk in the thing I call a brain. Right now, all I hear is a high-pitched whistling noise.
We are officially off the air.
In my alcohol-uninhibited state, I ask, “I want to try something new tonight.”
He stops halfway to me. Wrapping his belt around his hand nice and tight is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. “Oh yeah? What’s that, Angel?”
Crooking my finger, he comes closer to me. I kneel up on my bed and cup my hands around his ears to whisper, “Role play.”
He sniffs a laugh. “Sure. I’m down for that.”
Suddenly nervous, I lean back and dip my chin. “You’ll think I’m weird. That I’m not normal.”
He returns with, “Fuck normal. Who’s to say what’s normal. Labels, babe. That’s all they are. Tell me, baby.” But my mouth won’t open. “C’mon, Lex. I won’t judge you.” But I can’t. That’s when he asks quietly, “You wanna try what Ling was doing?”
I’m so ashamed. I cover my face with my hands as my heart races.
His fingers come under my chin and lift. I drop my hands to accept my fate. Looking into my worried eyes, he kisses me softly before saying, “As soon as I put this belt around your neck, it’s on.”
How did he make that so easy for me? And why do I want this so badly? Both of those thoughts circle my head. My thinking time is cut short when he works the thick black belt around my neck. Looking up at him, mouth parted slightly, he watches me carefully. Buckling on the tightest notch possible, he takes his time, giving me an opportunity to refuse.
But I won’t.
I can’t.
I need this.
Something inside of me desires Twitch’s approval, and has from that very first day.
The moment he releases me, he searches my face. I know the exact moment he turns into his character. My attacker. I know this, because his hooded eyes darken and his lip curls cruelly. He wraps the remainder of the belt around his hand tightly, yanking hard. I yelp as my body is crushed against his strong naked torso. A large hand firmly palms my ass through my little black dress. The touch isn’t warm or affectionate. It’s so unfamiliar that I feel this man isn’t even Twitch.
But isn’t that part of the appeal? That at this very moment, we can become two different people. People we never would be or become.
It’s absolutely thrilling. My heart races and I begin to sweat.
Breathing heavily, I steady myself as much as I can, slide off my bed, and stand in front of him. Twitch taunts, “Move and I fuckin’ kill you, bitch,” then pulls the belt slowly but firmly closer towards his body. The move makes us impossibly close.
Right now, I believe him; he could hurt me, even though I know this is a game. Right now, Twitch is the most alluring man on earth, as well as the most terrifying.
It all happens so quickly.
His silky boxers are gone. I tremble as he grips the front of my dress, fisting it tight. He looks me in the eye as he pulls with all his might in opposite directions. The sound of material tearing fills the room before it falls at my feet in a heap. I openly gape at him.
I liked that dress.
Now dressed in only a strapless bra and a lace thong, my mind swims in an ocean of bliss as he yanks my bra down below my breasts. The move pushes them high up on my chest, and in the slither of moonlight through the closed curtains, I see his eyes fixed on them. Looking like a starving man eyeing his first meal in months, he steps out of character only a moment to run his thumb down the swell of my breast and mutter, “Perfect. So perfect.”
Shaking his head as if to clear it, he looks down at me through hooded eyes and whispers roughly, “I’m gonna fuck you bare.” My heart stutters. In a good way. He smirks. “Gonna blow inside of you. And you’re going to like it.”
Cue my first line. “No. Don’t. Please don’t. I’ll get pregnant.”
He barks a laugh. “Perfect.” Crushing his lips to my cheek, he utters against it, “Every time you looked at him, you’d see me.” Biting my cheek none too gently, he hisses, “You don’t stop shaking and I’ll make you choke on my cock.”
It’s almost worrying that he can do this so well.
Almost.
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I beg, “Please let me go. I’ll never tell anyone about this. Just let me go.”
Grinding his impressive length against my stomach, he reaches down to rub my mound through the lacey material. He tuts, “Bitches like you don’t wear shit like this if you don’t want a man to fuck you. I’m a man, baby. I’m going to fuck you. Whether you want it or not.”
The fear in my voice suddenly feeling real, I tell him, “If you try, I’ll scream.”
I hear the smile in his voice. “Scream all you like.” His lips touch the shell of my ear. “It turns me on when they fight.” Pulling the material to the side, his finger comes into contact with the wet warmth of my extreme arousal and he whispers, “See? You want this. Your body doesn’t lie. Don’t fight me.”
We both know he really means, ‘Fight me, baby. I love it.’
So I do. Pulling away from him, I lift my foot to his stomach and try to gain some distance between us by pushing away. He pulls on the belt, choking me a moment. I gasp then pant heavily, while my heart races and my head pounds. I push at his shoulders. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his body, constricting me. I whimper. He snarls and bites my shoulder. I yelp and cry out in both pleasure and pain. My core pulses. I’m already close to orgasm.
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