“Do you like riding me, Sophie?” I smiled cockily as I asked, watching her paw at me, clutching my chest, her nails digging into my arms as she ground down on my shaft.
“Yes,” she moaned, her hair flying wild around her.
“Want my cock inside you?”
She pushed her pussy against it as she groaned again, “Yes.”
“Show me your tits,” I growled, wanting to push her further.
Panting, she didn’t even look to see if anyone was walking by. We weren’t parked under a streetlight, but we were right on the edge of downtown on a summer night. I knew people would pass us at any moment. But it didn’t stop her. Maybe it even turned her on. She lifted her shirt, then pulled her bra down. In the shadowy night, her breasts looked soft and delicious. I reached up and took one of her quivering nipples between my fingers.
“Someone could walk by right now,” I whispered into her ear as she ground against me. “They might see how much you like it when I do this.” I pinched her nipple between my thumb and fingers, twisting it hard. She opened her mouth, panting, moaning, pushing her pussy against me.
“See what I’ll do to you if you’re with me?” I asked, twisting her other nipple, making her bite down on her lip and whimper as she clawed my shoulders. “I won’t stop here. I’ll make you go down on me in my truck,” I warned her. She moaned, moving her hands between her legs. “I’ll push you down and make you take me deep down your throat. I won’t care who sees us.”
She worked her pussy as she moved against me, giving her clit extra pressure, her eyes closed to pleasure. She was going to cum soon, I could tell.
“Don’t you cum,” I warned her, stern. “I did not give you permission.” Her eyes opened wide. “You don’t cum until I tell you. Put your hands down.”
Trembling, with a slight whimper of effort, she did as she was told, moving her hand down to her sides like a good girl.
“I get to decide when and how you cum,” I told her, unbuttoning her shorts. She drew in her breath, watching my fingers. “I get to decide how wet you get, how much you want it before I let you release.”
Zipper down, I slid my fingers under her panties. She was so wet. Her eyes closed as I found her and started stroking, so smooth and hot. It felt like heaven, but I wanted more. I leaned her back against the steering wheel, tilting her at a better angle. Then I worked my fingers farther back. Her eyes flew open as I pressed my slick thumb against her asshole.
“You want to know what I’ll do to you, Sophie?” I pushed my thumb past her tight ring, sliding it up her ass as I played with her clit with my other hand. “I’ll fuck you hard right here.” I shoved my thumb up as I said it and she sucked in her breath. I knew it might hurt a little. I hadn’t worked her into it this time, let her relax. That served as more of a warning. “I’ll make you beg for it,” I told her as I removed my thumb and started using my index finger instead, longer to fuck her with. “I’ll fuck you rough. I will make you crave pain.”
She moaned, biting her lip, her hands clenching against her sides where I’d told her to leave them.
“I want to own you.” I thrust up, deep, hard. She shivered, making soft cries, quaking inside as she struggled not to cum. “I’ll demand everything. Make you surrender completely. I’ll leave nothing untouched. I’ll consume you.”
With sudden aggression, I thrust my finger up into her ass, worked her clit and growled, “Now you cum.” Then I bit down on her neck.
Shuddering, screaming out, she came apart, climaxing on my fingers, bucking against me, taking as much of me in as she could. Mewling, crying out, she sobbed and came in convulsing waves as I bit, then licked, then sucked on her neck.
“Liam,” she sighed, collapsing onto my chest, burying her head into the crook of my neck. I held her, stroking her back, giving her time to come down. But then I said what needed to be said.
“You need to stay away from me.” She drew herself to sitting, looking at me with disbelief. “Look what I just did to you.”
Her neck looked like it had been attacked by an animal. I could see my tooth marks and the red around them. She brought her hand to it, looking dazed.
“I’m not good for you.”
Her eyes grew cold, like a candle snuffed out. “What are you saying?”
“You should head up to your apartment.” I pulled her tank top down and helped her get off of me and onto the passenger seat. A family walked past with little kids eating ice creams. They’d just missed catching us mid-action. I shook my head, furious at myself for losing control like that.
“Liam?” she asked, flat and emotionless.
“Yes?”
“Fuck off.” She jumped out of my truck, slammed the door behind her and disappeared into her building.
I was a bastard, through and through. Pounding my fist against the steering wheel, I cursed myself. The only good that would come out of having just treated her like dirt was the fact that she’d definitely steer clear of me now. If she needed any reminders tomorrow, all she’d need to do was take one look at those bite marks on her neck.
You know what a sick fuck I was? As much as I felt like a true asshole, having used her like that practically in public, part of me still liked the fact that I’d marked her. Deep down, I liked knowing she’d walk around with a reminder of me. Like I owned her. Theo couldn’t miss those tooth marks. That would keep him off her, at least for a couple of days.
That was why I needed to stay away. I’d do her harm and I’d like it.
13
Sophie
Liam and I didn’t see much of each other over the next week. He still insisted on working on the flooring, and I suppose I could have tried to stop him. Instead, when he came by, I made myself scarce. We’d manage a few minutes of stilted small talk until I’d find something else I needed to go and do. He sent me a few texts, sticking to logistics like what time he could come by and do some work. I limited myself to emojis like “thumbs up” for OK sounds like a plan.
Not much was said, but it felt like we were circling around each other like boxers starting a fight, sizing each other up, working out strategy. Every time I saw him it felt like one of us might swing. But boxing wasn’t exactly the right analogy. The way he looked at me, the heat in his eyes, the power in his body, it was more accurate to say it felt like a shark was circling me. And angry as I still was, I felt a crazy, electric charge around him. Like maybe I was tempted to find out how it felt to get eaten alive.
Thank God, Wednesday night Regina came over for dinner. We’d talked about doing something, which I’d assumed meant meeting up for a drink at one of the bars locals frequented. Which then made me think about Liam and whether we’d run into him, maybe him with another woman. Around four in the afternoon she texted me.
* * *
Regina: Do you mind just having an early dinner?
* * *
Sophie: I knew I liked you. Sounds great – why don’t you come over?
* * *
And just like that, I had my first friend over for dinner at my new apartment. Of course I’d had people over for dinner before when I was living in New York, but it had never been on my own turf and terms. It had either been a large, messy affair mostly organized by dance roommates, or something slightly stuffy and formal George arranged when one of his friends visited from London or Paris.
George had always had dinners catered and pared flights of wine with different courses. The meal was always sumptuous and the conversation sparkling with wit, but I couldn’t say I ever really got to know anyone during one of his parties. It hadn’t been about that. It had been more about showing off, his superlative taste in wine, food, artwork—he’d always just purchased something-or-other—and, of course, ballerinas. I was his live performance piece, his artist in residence. He almost liked it when I was temperamental from fatigue and stress, it fit so well with his conception of what a high-strung prima ballerina should be like. And bolstered his own sense of himself as my patron
.
What did it say about me that I’d avoided intimacy by staying in a relationship like that for over a year? And that I almost never thought about him now? It seemed as if I’d vanished clean from his brain as well. He hadn’t even tried to get in touch with me.
I sighed, tidying up my apartment, enjoying the menial task of making my bed and putting away clean dishes. At least those things I could do cleanly and neatly, gaining satisfaction in my accomplishments when I was done. So far I’d had less success with relationships.
“I like what you’ve done with the place!” Regina arrived around five, a bottle of red in her hand.
“Pretty swanky, I know.” I laughed as we both took in my latest attempts at furnishing and decorating.
“I see you’re very into things that fold.” Regina admired my folding card table and folding plastic chairs set up as a make-shift eating area.
“That’s my concept.”
“Nice. And who is this up-and-coming artist?” She stepped closer to admire the crayon and colored pencil artwork I had taped up all over the walls.
“Eloise, my niece. She’s five years old, not even in kindergarten yet.”
“Pure genius.”
“I know, right?” Conversation flowed as I boiled some pasta—almost too long but Regina took it off the stove before it turned into limp glue. To say my cooking skills were limited would be generous. But with jarred spaghetti sauce poured on top and large plastic cups of red wine, I had to say I thought the dinner was excellent.
Regina told me all about her boyfriend Ed the electrician, how he was a good guy, steady and reliable, even though he sometimes drove her crazy.
“How long have you been together?” I asked, twirling up a forkful of spaghetti.
“Two years.”
“Do you think you might, you know…?” I tapped my left ring finger.
“Maybe.” Regina took a swing of wine. “It’s a big decision. Have you ever gotten close to that with anyone?”
“I lived with a guy in New York. But it really never crossed my mind. Is that weird?”
“I don’t know if it’s weird.” Regina though about it. “But it does tell you something. If you’d had a future together, it would have been on your mind.” She ate another bite, then asked, “How about with Liam?”
I sighed. “Oh, I was crazy about him that summer we were together for sure. But I was only 18.”
“I didn’t mean then. I mean now.”
“Now?” I remembered how he’d made me cum so hard in his truck that I’d nearly blacked out, then told me to leave for my own good. “It’s complicated. He says he doesn’t want to hurt me.”
“Ouch.” Regina made a face like it hurt just to hear the words repeated.
“Right?” I agreed. What a painful rejection, the “I don’t want to hurt you.” Like he was being a good guy. But maybe he was. “He says he doesn’t think he can be the right guy for me.”