I followed her to the front gate. Went against my own mind to have a shred of alone time with her and see who she’s been fucking.
I’ve stalked her long enough to know who she speaks to, who she meets and who the fuck touches her, and I wasn’t aware of whoever that was at the gate.
I still have no idea. Barry is working on it.
Rule four went tits up the second I let her grab my cock in the studio. The instant I felt her palm on me, the rage I’d been feeling simmered a touch. Not fully – just enough to curb the craving to rip someone’s head off.
My anger knows no bounds these days, especially when it comes to a pretty little dark-haired dancer named Stacey fucking Rhodes.
Then it came to me unblocking her, another rule broken.
But rule five will remain solid. The idea of forgiving her makes me sick. I’ll never fall under her spell again.
Don’t get me wrong, the sight of her above me is wonderful. She’s always been hot – a wet dream; she’s always made liquid heat rush through my veins. Her tits are bouncing as she moves against my mouth, thighs tightly bracketing my head as she rides my face, and her taste on my tongue has me eating her out like a starved man.
I don’t deserve nice things. I don’t deserve to have her look at me like I’m her fucking God, but she also doesn’t deserve me. I meant it when I called her a snake, yet my cock is pulsing as I fuck my own hand, tasting her orgasm on my tongue.
I can’t say I’m amused with myself, to be brutally honest. I have those five rules for a reason. This girl broke my teenage heart, yet here I am pleasuring her.
Stacey moans loudly as I suck and lick through her orgasm, and my dick thickens in my grip.
I’m harder than a rock. The urge to flip us over and fuck her brains out is strong.
Her hands grasp at my hair as she grinds against my mouth. “Kade,” she whimpers over and over again, head dropping, and the shake in her voice and tremble of her thighs has my dick dripping with precum and sensitive as hell.
“I can’t,” she breathes. “It’s too much.”
She’s swollen and pink and tastes like a dirty sin I’d feast on every day.
I haven’t enjoyed pleasuring someone in years, and my dick certainly hasn’t been like fucking steel while going down on someone. I haven’t willingly participated in anything sexual for so long – or been turned on by the taste and sound.
Everyone after her was either a distraction to make her jealous or an unwanted assignment.
I’ve never claimed to be a saint when it came to sex. I’m not a gentleman who can offer sentiments and roses. Not anymore. I’m a creation of being used and abused, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. It’s my life now; I just need to live it.
So fucking sue me if I’m going to stay beneath her for a little while longer and drag out her orgasm. It feels right. And it fucking annoys me that it does. I’ll suffer the consequences of this later, when Stacey inevitably tells me this was a mistake.
I suck harder on her clit, and a hum of deep, mind-boggling pleasure falls from her lips, driving her towards another orgasm that leaks down my chin. My balls tighten. I might actually cum from eating her out.
She’s soaking for me as her cunt clenches around my fingers, quivering and throbbing as I curl them again, pumping and sucking.
Her high hits a breaking point as her body shakes, and my grip tightens around my cock as her mouth opens with a silent “fuck”， pupils blown and wild.
I don’t give her a second to realign with reality as we swap positions, my cock pressing into her inner thigh as she pants in my face beneath me.
“Another,” I order, hand coming between us to rub circles on her clit. “One more, Freckles, then I’ll fuck you.”
I’ll pound her so hard and fast, she’ll never forget me again. When she goes back to whoever screws her on the regular – that’s if I don’t find him and kill him – she won’t be able to have an orgasm without seeing my face.
The thought pisses me off more.
“Don’t stop,” she breathes.
As I bring her to orgasm again, her fingers twist in the bedding. Her thighs try to crash together, but I spread them with a knee as her walls crush my fingers through each spasm.
She captures my wrist, her pleading gaze begging me to stop because it’s too much. I remove my fingers from her pussy and lick them clean while she watches; I fight the deep groan threatening to leave my lungs from her addictive taste.
My mouth lowers to hers, and before I can capture her lips, she tilts her head to the side. “No. Don’t kiss me.”
She kissed him.
My nostrils flare with rage, and I flip her. “On your hands and knees. I don’t want to look at you.” The words feel like poison on my tongue.
She complies, slowly, then glances at me over her shoulder with a raised brow.
“So I can picture you as someone else.”
She rolls her eyes, pulling a pillow under her body. “You’re such a dick.”
Of course that doesn’t bother her. She’s here to be fucked and that’s it.
Her ass hikes, and I spit on her back hole. She flinches and glares at me while I swirl the tip of my thumb around it.
“What?”
She grits her teeth and swipes at my hand. “If you even dare put anything in there, I’ll rip your balls off.”
I fight a laugh, giving her ass cheek a slap, my cock twitching as she whimpers from the sting. I can see everything – her glistening pussy and the forbidden hole I want to stick my tongue in. I revel in the fact I was the first to break in every area .
I slide the head of my cock up her thigh, capturing wetness, then rub it over her pussy and ass. She winces, and I ease back before I ignore her threat and try to shove into the back hole.
She’s dripping, and I rub my thumbs into her inner thighs, spreading her cum. Then I bunch her top in my hand, push it up to her head and shove her face into the pillow.
Her back has some tattoos to go with those on her arms and legs. She’s like a fucking work of art of all my designs. I love ink; I love drawing tattoos, especially for her.
I spot my favourite, which I drew when we were in a hotel in London, the same night we lost our virginities to one another. I have the same tattoo – K and S, integrated in a twisted design of meaningful scripture, roses and vines that makes our initials hard to notice.
She didn’t want Luciella or Tylar to notice. Because I was her dirty little secret, and she wanted to keep it that way.
A tightness tugs in my chest, but I bat it down and shove two fingers inside her again. She’s ready.
There’s a veil of darkness lowering in my mind that I’m always fighting against, and now of all times is not the fucking moment for it to descend. My eyes involuntarily flutter into a rapid blink I’m unable to control, and the room blurs.
Bernadette’s voice is in my head, as if she’s whispering over my left shoulder about what a good boy I am and how well I’m doing – how much the girl below me is enjoying herself as I screw her brains out.
Nails clawing at my back and tearing the skin.
The woman’s whimpers to go harder .
A gunshot and blood.
She’s dead, and Bernadette wants me to keep going, but I can’t.