Page 7 of The Trap

“It’s cute when you pretend not to care, but the grip you’ve had on that poor fork throughout this entire meal says otherwise.” She grins, resting her elbows on the table, forcing her already ample cleavage further together, making her look fucking edible. “Spoiler alert, I have my nipples pierced. I can be a lady and just show you if you want. That way you don’t have to strain yourself to get a peek, Coley.”

I slam my fist on the table. She jumps back a little bit, but she’s not afraid. She knows she is getting under my skin. She’s fucking turned on by it.Which is turning me on. “Don’t call me that,” I grit out.

Her hands raise in a forced and phony defeat. “Fine. The Coley part was a joke, but I was serious about showing you my tits if you ask like a good boy.” She winks and I roll my eyes. “He’s right you know,” she states so matter-of-factly it makes my blood boil.

I nudge my head forward, eyes bulging. “About?”

“He asked if you fixed the cameras, Colson. But you were staring out into space.” The glee that’s plastered on her face as she purposely drags out each fucking syllable of my name is equal parts maddening as it is erotic.

Playing it cool, not giving her the reaction, she wants, I rise, flattening both palms to anchor my stance. Even standing hunched over across the table from where she sits, I tower over her, and assuming from the way she’s clamping her thighs together, I’m confident she likes it too.

“I heard him,” I grit, through clenched teeth.

“Didn’t seem like it to me. Maybe you should get your hearing checked,” she smirks, challenging me.

Fine. If she wants to play, then let’s fucking play.

Straightening my spine, I make my way to the other side of the long oak table. Closer to her. I continue to walk until I’m standing behind her. My hands latch onto either side of her chair, allowing me to settle my stubbled mouth at the side of her face. Her blonde hair caressing my cheek. “Trust me, my hearing is just fine,dirty girl,” I grit, my lips teasing the shell of her ear. I keep my eyes on the sliver of skin exposed on her shoulder, watching how it prickles to life with my proximity.

Her lips pop, a gust of trapped air bursting from her mouth. I click my tongue, continuing. “Or wait, what were you begging my brother to call you the other night? Whore? No, no, that’s not it. Ah yes, I remember now. I believe it was last night that I heard you, loud and clear, banging that pretty little head of yours against the headboard, asking—no,begging—him to call you afilthy fuckingwhore. Isn’t that right?” I taunt. Straightening her spine, she swallows, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the way even her fucking saliva sounds traveling down her throat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lies, keeping her gaze forward, refusing to look at me.

Shifting from where I tower over her, I sink my weight onto the table, seating myself right in front of her. My hand travels to her chin, capturing it in my palm, forcing her to look at me. Fucking Christ, her skin feels like ecstasy trapped within my grip. My mind drifts. Temptation. Primal, unfiltered, illogical temptation plagues me, as I fantasize how good her body would feel pressed beneath mine, stretching her with every inch of my cock, providing her with no other option but to submit herself to me, one painstakingly erotic cry at a time. My dick springs to life at the thought, and this proximity is only making the craving I have for her intensify.

Squeezing her cheeks tighter, I lower my chin, meeting her gaze with mine, those red stained lips suddenly trapped between her teeth as she bites on them.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she likes how my hands feel on her.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Take this as a lesson to mind your fucking business when my brother and I are talking,” I warn, increasing the pressure on her hollowed cheeks. I fight the temptation to slip one of my fingers into her mouth so she can suck it like the filthy slut I know she is. Instead, I opt to behave. Let her squirm a bit.

Loosening my hold on her she grabs for my hand, kneading my palm.

“Or what? Are you going to spank me?” She pouts.

What a fucking brat.

“No, you’d like that too much. But mark my words–” I begin when I’m suddenly distracted by a wet, warm sensation. I glance down and see that she has taken the liberty of sliding my finger that was just squeezing her cheek…into her fucking mouth.

Her cheeks hollow around my digit as she sucks it deeper. Her eyes fluttering shut, and a moan erupts from her throat, vibrating against my finger.

Thrown off, I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is hot air. Not a word, not a gasp…nothing. For once in my life, I’m stunned. I wait, prisoner to her wet, skillful mouth until the grip she has on me loosens as she pops my finger free.

“What the fu–” I begin, but she lifts her other hand, pressing her raised index finger to my mouth.

“Shh,” she whispers.

Teasingly, she crawls that same finger to my chin before creeping it down my neck, landing on my fucking Adam’s apple. She pokes at the protruding cartilage, and the pressure feels like foreplay, making me want more even though I shouldn’t.

I clear my throat, but she moves her finger lower, her hand now wrapped around the collar of my shirt. She guides her mouth to my ear and obediently I wait to listen, despite my better judgment.

“Good boy,” she coos.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” I scoff.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t call you something you’re not. Let me instead tell you what you are though,” she pauses, clearly for dramatic effect. Typical.

“Please, I’m dying to know,” I drone.

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