Page 14 of Malevolent Secrets

The drive is short, the city lights blurring past in a kaleidoscope of color. We arrive at a luxurious apartment building, its facade imposing and elegant. He leads me inside, the quiet hum of the elevator highlighting the silent tension between us.

His apartment is spacious and impeccably furnished. It’s the kind of place that speaks of wealth and taste. But I barely notice the surroundings as he pulls me into his arms, our lips meeting in a fierce, hungry kiss.

He pushes me against the wall, thrusting his fingers into my hair and pulling one side of it too much, but it feels good. My hands aren’t shy either, as they roam the expanse of his wide chest, undoing buttons and then dipping lower to unhook his belt.

“So fucking beautiful,” he mutters into my ear just before biting my earlobe.

“You’re not bad to look at either,” I rasp, and he stops and stares at me for a beat.

I have made a lot of mistakes in the past, but never have I followed a stranger back home, especially one I met in the club just a couple of hours ago. I think of Jeremy for a split second and my heart pinches in my chest. I shove the thought away. I want to be drunk and horny for now. I’m so tired of being sad.

He yanks my dress off my shoulders, and it puddles at my feet. I’m not wearing a bra, and I can see the flash of appreciation in his light eyes as he takes in my pert breasts with their full, tempting nipples.

I blush, tucking my hair behind my ear. I’m suddenly shy, not sure what to do.

I can feel his eyes piercing through me. I don’t need to look up to know that his gaze is fixed on me.

“They’re even better than I expected,” he murmurs, his voice filled with lust. I feel the sound all the way to my core and my pussy clenches in reply. He reaches out with those beautiful, dangerous hands and cups my breasts and I gasp, arching into his touch.

“Thank you for sharing them with me,” he says to me, his tone worshipful, just before he bends his head down to pull one of my nipples into his mouth.

“Oh!” I gasp, arching forward and pressing my hands flat to the wall behind me.

He transfers his attention to the other breast and I cry out as he nips at it.

“Too much?” he inquires, straightening up to look at me.

I shake my head, following my instincts and reach out to skim my fingers over his full lips.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. I squirm my thighs together in a vain attempt to ease the ache between my legs.

“Not unless you agree to sit on my face,” he says to me, those strange, and yet beautiful eyes still boring into mine.

“I think you could ask me anything,” I say to him, “And I would say yes.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, his tone proud and commanding.

Without saying a word, I nod in agreement.

“No. I want to hear you say it,” he insists. He reaches out and pinches one of my nipples, pulling on it.

I gasp. “Yes, I want you to fuck me,” I say. My voice sounds loud in the silence between us.

He grabs my thighs with both his hands and lifts me off the ground. Carrying me is ridiculously easy for him. I feel light and small in his arms.

He strides into what must be the living room. I catch a glimpse of huge windows that reveal the city skyline before he sets me down next to a leather couch. He makes short work of removing his slacks and shirt, then he lays down on the couch.

I stare down at him, not sure what to do. He reaches out and links his fingers with mine, the gesture strangely sweet. It’s like something a middle school boyfriend would do.

“Come here,” he commands, his words sharp, allowing for no argument.

I glance down at him and see the evidence of his desire. I feel a ridiculous amount of pride when I see the straining bulge of his erection barely contained by his boxer briefs.

I allow him to tug me forward until my legs bump into the sofa. I hesitate for a moment, then I remember that he said he wanted me to sit on his face. I slip off my thong and toss it away from me. Grinning, I straddle him, looking down at his face before he reaches out his tongue and flicks it against the slickness of me.

I gasp loudly as pleasure sails along my nerve endings. His tongue presses inside of me, filling me far more than I expected and my hips tilt forward of their own accord, allowing him further access.

“Yes! Oh God, please don’t stop doing that,” I moan.

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