Page 37 of Burn for Me

BEG he wrote against my clit with those fucking fingers.

I wanted to. I really did.

Every single part of my body was strung as tightly as hisviolin, his cock like his bow, playing me so expertly. He’d mastered my flesh so easily. All I had left was my mind.

Giving in wasn’t an option.

‘Never,’ I gasped.

His hips stilled, and I cursed myself in my head. I waited for him to move. To let me go and pull away. Instead he held me there against him, his cock nestled between my pussy lips, my wet panties all bunched up between us and his fingers still pressing against my clit.

I was awake long after he fell asleep, rage burning me to a crisp.

TWENTY

Phoenix

The wind whipped at my bare shoulders while the sun peeked up over the eastern horizon. A layer of salty sweat covered my skin, mingling with the light dusting of rain the clearing mists had brought.

My muscles ached with every chop of my axe, my biceps protesting at every jarring bite into the logs. I’d needed something to distract me from Laura.

I’d woken up still entangled with her and my obsession had exploded before I’d even opened my eyes. The feel of her soft, warm skin against me. The way her sweet breaths tickled at the gap between my shoulder and my neck where she lay pressed against me. My cock hard against her hip and my fingers still tangled up in her moist panties.

Fuck me.

I needed her more than I needed to fucking breathe.

It took every single fibre of my being to dragmyself away from her. To pull on trousers and slip away from her sweet, soft skin.

As I slid out from beneath her, her jutting hip bone grazed me and threw back to my time on the hunger strike when I was a teen. My time before I’d accepted the revolting shakes were my new normal.

My beautiful girl was suffering. Wasting away. I needed to find her food she’d actually eat. The last time I’d run down to the shops with a pocketful of change to buy something to eat had been far too long ago. I couldn’t even remember it. More than likely I’d had May trailing me, pestering me to buy her some penny sweets. I’d have likely sighed about her having to come with me, but scooped her up in my arms when we reached the counter like I always did to pick the paper bag that looked the most full.

Shaking the memory away at the physical hurt it wrought, I heaved the axe into another log, my breath fogging in front of me. I kept going until the pile of logs were fully split into log burner sized pieces. My chest rose in exhausted pants while I leant against the cool stone walls of the cottage.

A movement inside caught my eye.

Laura was inside the little bathroom, stripping off the shorty underwear I’d ground against the previous night. She stood looking into the little mirror above the sink, scraping a brush through her hair, before reaching over and turning the metal knob which sent water cascading down into the bathtub.

Oh sweet Laura… You need to give in and beg.

It was killing me to taunt her and deny myself her screams of pleasure. I needed them almost as badly as she did. She stillfought my touch, her body cried out for it with every torturous little whimper she gave.

What I’d do to have her look up at me with those big doe eyes and beg for me to make her come. To hear my name in a strangled cry tumbling from her lips.

She bent over to swish the water in the tub, giving me a spectacular view of her arse and the still swollen pink lips peeking out between her soft thighs. I wanted to tear open my stupid scarred lips and bite her. To lick her tears from her cheeks after she begged me so prettily for more. To redden her skin until it glowed before thrusting into the one place I was sure would feel like home.

What had started as a stupid, reckless moment of madness was quickly turning into a deep obsession.

My Laura.

My darkest craving.

She stood and stretched before stepping into the water, sinking into it with a silent sigh. I should get her bubbles. Then she could be like one of those women on TV. I’d never bothered with them just for me.

Laura rested back and lifted a leg, running her fingers over it before reaching over the edge of the bath to one of the bags I’d gotten for her. She pulled out one of the safety razors and worked it over her leg in slow, careful strokes.

My pretty brat preening for me.

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