“Have you been crying?”
Holding up a hand, I shake my head. “Please don’t. I’m not in the mood right now.”
His chuckle is deep, and I feel its rasp in my core. “Where are we headed this evening?”
“We aren’t going anywhere. I’m going to Caleb’s, and you’re not invited.”
“I’m not sure you understand how this works, angel.”
“No, I can’t say I’m very familiar with stalkers,” I say, moving past him to head for the door, swiping my purse off the vanity as I pass by.
Closing my fingers around the knob, I start to pull it open, but then he’s there, slamming it shut. I glare at his palm where it’s flattened against the wood, his rings dull against his inked skin.
He slides his hand down, stopping when he’s just centimeters from my face, and then I feel him press into my back, wedging his cock between my ass cheeks.
“I was hoping we’d be able to spend Thanksgiving together.”
“Why would you think that?” I manage, trying to ignore how good he feels, how warm and fulfilling his touch is. “We barely know each other, and you’ve made your intentions here pretty clear. Do you think I’m going to just roll over and let you hurt me, no questions asked?”
“I think,” he says, reaching down to grip my hips in both hands, squeezing them as he shoves me farther into the door. My pelvis grinds against the wood, trapped between two impossibilities. “If I told you to flip your skirt up and let me fuck you right here, right now, you’d arch your back and give me what I want.”
My breathing grows shallow.
Erratic.
“No.” It’s all I can muster, a half-hearted whisper that barely makes it past my lips.
“No? I don’t remember asking a question.” His hands glide down, brushing the bare skin of my thighs as they slip beneath the hem of my skirt. In a second, the soft material is pushed over my ass, the chilly air cool against my skin.
Aiden clicks his tongue in clear disapproval. “Where did you get new panties?”
“New panties?” I frown, starting to turn my head, but he reaches up and grips my hair, keeping me in place. “Oh, my god! Did you steal my fucking underwear? You really are insane, I—”
My words cut off on a strained moan as his fingers slip between my legs and glide upward. Frissons of heat coil tight in my stomach, and he rubs my clit in soft, circular motions, forcing my thighs farther apart by shoving his knee between them.
“We might not know each other that well yet, but your body craves mine,” he says, voice low, fingers hooking in the crotch of my satin thong and tugging it aside, giving him better access.
He alternates between swirling and pinching, fast and slow, and it’s mere seconds before I’m panting and rocking into the movements.
“And if you want to talk about how insane I am, let’s discuss who made me this way.”
“I didn’t—”
Pitching himself forward, he moves his hand down, teasing my pussy with his index finger. I’m practically bent in half as he pushes inside, and the sound that escapes my throat hurts on its way out.
A single burst of clarity breaks through the lusty haze in my mind, and I blink, forcing myself to reject the way his fingers turn me to putty. If I don’t end this, I’m going to be late for dinner.
“Stop,” I whisper, but I think even when I say it, I know he’s too far gone.
I think that’s the only reason I do say it; because I know I should.
Not necessarily because I want him to—which feels odd, all things considered.
His strokes come fast, his finger curling against that spot inside me that makes my vision slacken. “No.”
I feel the loss as soon as he withdraws, and all I can do is brace my palms against the door. My thong slides back into place, and he shifts; the clinking of a belt buckle has my muscles drawing tight, unease skating down my spine as the hand in my hair pushes me harder into the wood.
“Wait,” I say, twisting, moving my hips, trying to escape.
My throat constricts, confusion clawing its way to my chest, and he just chuckles.
“Not a very nice word, is it?” He pulls my thong aside again, and the band stings where it cuts into my waist.
“Oh, god, Aiden—”
“God?” he snaps, and Jesus fucking Christ, I can feel him pressing against me. The head of his dick prods my entrance, hot where it touches me, trying to split me open. “No, angel. There’s nothing holy about what I’m gonna do to you.”
He rubs up and down my seam, and I feel wet, but I don’t know if it’s him, or me, or both.
“Why don’t you want me to go to dinner?” he asks, dragging his dick up and positioning it. I suck in a sharp breath when he starts to push inward, feeling my pussy stretch beyond belief.
It burns slightly, the pressure sending sparks of weirdly pleasurable discomfort through my limbs. They sizzle, electricity and nerves mixing to put me on edge, and I tense up, waiting for more that never comes.
“Fuck, my cock looks good inside you,” he says, blowing out a breath. But still, he doesn’t move any farther. My fingers scrape at the door, and he finally releases my hair, reaching around to continue circling my clit with his thumb.
“Answer me,” he demands, and I twist my head to see what he’s doing, watching as his free hand wraps around his veiny shaft, pumping slowly.
My eyes widen, the sight of him stroking himself—while simultaneously rubbing me—so painfully erotic that I lose my grip on the door and droop forward, pressing my chest into it to keep upright.
“I don’t want people to get the wrong idea,” I gasp, struggling to maintain a coherent thought as he switches directions.
“You mean you don’t want Caleb to get the wrong idea.”
“Yes! I don’t want to hurt the only real friend I’ve ever had.”
He grunts, and I feel myself starting to unravel. Arousal unspools like an old thread inside me, and even though he’s not pushing deeper, my pussy clamps down around nothing, my clit pulsing to the point of pain.
“What’s he gonna think when you show up tonight, smelling like a mixture of our cum?”
“I’m not—”
“Sure about that? I’ll bet you’re three seconds away from drenching my fingers and cock. I bet if I wedged myself inside this tight cunt any farther, I’d blow my goddamn load so fast because of how she’s strangling me, desperate for release. Good thing you’re on birth control, right?”
Shaking my head, I try to ignore the words. Try not to think about what they say about me, that I’m not only laughing at the absolute danger I’m in, but also once again proving my mother right.
Maybe I really am a worthless whore.
My brother certainly doesn’t seem to have much faith in me.
And if family, the ones who are supposed to support and love you no matter what, can’t see anything worth respecting in a person, then how could anyone else either?
Maybe this treatment is exactly what I deserve.
“Come on, pretty girl. Show me I’m right.”
When I come, the euphoric sensation that rolls through me like a thundercloud almost knocks me off my feet. It steals my breath and kicks me in the gut as wave after wave of sweet relief crashes down over me.