Page 14 of Mischief Mayhem

5

HOLLYWOOD

I didn’t know watching someone else climax could be so fucking intense. Granted, I had made a lot of people come in my life, but this was . . . Holy fucking shit. Was it because I had fantasized about it for months? Was it because she’d degraded me while she did it? Was it because I wasn’t allowed to touch? Whatever had glued my attention to her, I couldn’t shake it.

Her panties coated my tongue with the sweet taste of her wet cunt, shooting the delectable flavor down the back of my throat. The mere hint of it was so fucking delicious that I yearned to situate my face between her legs and take my Goddamned time. I would stay on my knees and watch her play with herself for eons. When she caught me staring at her, she grinned and dug her boot in harder on my shoulder, holding me in place.

“Go on,” she said. “Show me how you like it, Hudson.”

Fuck, the way she said my last name had me tugging my cock like the world might end. My feet had fallen asleep ages ago, but I didn’t care. I sat there and yanked because she wanted it—because she commanded it.

“Does it feel good?” she murmured, her voice coming out in a purr that ricocheted wanton hunger down my back and into my balls.

“Uh-huh.” My lower stomach clenched, and I slid my hand faster, grabbing the tip the way I liked. My head fell back on my shoulders, and I watched her watching me. When our eyes connected, I lost myself in that vibrant shade of deep blue—so blue it was almost the shade of irises in the sun. She pressed her lips into a pleased smile, her cheeks blushing an adorable shade of pink.

Fuck, that made me harder. She was so rough all the time, so quick to hiss at anyone that got close to her, but I made her blush. Me. The one she never had a nice word for, the one she lived to cut down to size.

“Do you want to come?” She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, staring down her nose at me like the peon that I was, like I was scum on the boot currently holding me in place.

“Yes, please, yes.” I forced the words around her drenched panties, knowing it wouldn’t take much more. I was already so close. She dug her chunky black heel into an old bullet wound, one she knew was there, and she leaned in closer, spreading her legs wider so I had a better view of her messy wet pussy.

“Spit those out and tell me how much you love the fact that I hate you. Tell me how much you want me to hate you again and again.” Fuck, I nearly melted on the ground. Yeah, I was a special kind of fucked-up that I liked when she talked down to me, but no one else spoke to me like this. No one dared even try. No one but her, and with her sultry vibrant tone, my hands shook as my orgasm built in the center of my spine, preparing to burst out the tip of my cock.

“I love when you hate me, Mistress,” I said, pushing her lacy fabric out so I could keep going. “Hate me as much as you want.” My broken words tipped the scales, and I grabbed my nuts, yanking down on them hard to add a slice of pain to the building pleasure. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

I was almost there . . . almost there . . .

A loud bang came from the door as someone twisted on the handle and tried to walk in, but the deadbolt caught and slammed against the metal lock.

At the surprise, I came like a fucking firehose, spurting all over my pants and hand and the space between her legs, catching some on her boots. I came and came and came, like I hadn’t whacked it out this morning, imagining this very scenario, like I hadn’t thought about this a hundred times before.

“V? Are you still in there?” Wheels called, slurring his words. “Why the fuck is this door locked? Have you seen Hollywood?”

I couldn’t stop the eruption in my blood. The world had ceased to spin on its axis, my entire soul having been shoved out of my body and back in again. I was drunk, sure, but this climax broke through that like a freight train barreling out of control.

“Shit,” V hissed, pushing to her feet. “Yeah, I’m in here, Wheels. What do you want?”

“Why’s the door locked?” He tried to barge in again. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sleeping,” she said. “I’m really drunk.”

“I can take you home,” he said. “Let me in.”

I inhaled deeply through my nose, falling forward on my knuckles while I tried to right myself. I had spunk everywhere, on the floor, on my fingers and pants. Hell, even on my T-shirt. I couldn’t fucking see straight. I blinked, trying to shake off the wooziness, but it did nothing.

God, I’m a mess.

“Give me a minute,” she said, returning her attention to me. “I’ll be right out.”

“All right.” His footsteps retreated farther away from the door.

When I caught my breath, I sat back on my heels and stuffed my cock in my pants, wiping my fingers on my jeans before running them over my face and back into my hair. I’d never come that hard in my life . . . and that was saying something because I’d been with a lot of people. Compared to some of the shit I’d done, whacking off while V rubbed one out barely registered on the kink scale, but I couldn’t get my heart to stop racing like it might combust.

“Are you okay?” She walked closer and kneeled, bringing herself eye level with me.

I nodded. “Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.” She said the word, but it rang hollow, even to my postcoital drunken ass. I met her gaze, knowing I should say something to alleviate the awkward tension that had crept up between us. I wanted more. I wanted her to enact every fantasy I’d ever had, to do all the things no one had ever agreed to do before. I had daydreams of latex bodysuits, silk rope bindings, and St. Andrew’s Crosses dancing through my mind.

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