Page 16 of A Shot in the Dark
I’m bending over the bed, stretching towards the belt when he sweeps the string of my thong aside and rests the head of his cock at my entrance, making my breath hitch. I freeze at the feeling of gloved hands sliding along my sides, undoing my bra and skimming across my already aching nipples. He gives them both a firm pinch and desire spikes through me as I buck up with a moan, taking only his tip inside me.
Not enough… The buttons on his vest press into the small of my back, his breath pushing the hair away from my ear as he growls, “The lady wanted traction,” and his fingers dig into my hips. He plunges all the way into me with neither pretext nor pretense, fast, hard, and utterly unrelenting, and pulls halfway out just as fast. Again and again. And again. I grab the bed for support, then brace myself against it, thrusting up against him, hungry. He drives into me faster and deeper—no curves along this trip, it’s all straightaway at a blinding pace—as he does exactly what he promised—precisely what I need—pushing me to a fierce crescendo with a speed and intensity that vaults me out of my body and minutes later leaves me shuddering, swollen, and sore in all the best possible ways, and—for a moment—completely unable to form words as I lie on top of the bedspread.
Sated.
Peeling my eyes open, I watch Boots drop his used condom into the trash.
“I didn’t scream,” I murmur.
His head snaps up. “What was that?”
I lift myself on quivering arms, tip my chin up and declare, “I didn’t scream. You said I’d scream. I didn’t scream. And,” I say arrogantly as I lift one trembling leg and look meaningfully at the high heel shoe dangling from my toes, “you didn’t ‘fuck me right out of those fancy shoes of mine.’”
He goes impossibly still except for the twitch of his jaw.
I roll my foot lazily, watching the shoe dance in mid-air.
The room grows thick with tension and I freeze, remembering I don’t know this bull I’m teasing with a red cape.
“Did you think that was all of it?” he asks with deceptive tenderness. “You’re right. You didn’t scream. But you also didn’t manage to do what I told you to, did you?”
My brow puckers. “I didn’t?”
“Let’s try it again,” he orders, and I hear the sound of a condom wrapper opening. “Now grab the belt.”
Two hours later there is nothing left of me but swollen flesh, sweat, trembling legs, and a sense of deep, beautifully aching satisfaction.
“What a good girl you are,” Boots purrs as he pulls out of me slowly, giving me one last, back-arching shudder of pleasure. He leans over me, stretching above my head, his cock between my breasts, the smell of the condom and our mingling sweat thick. The belt binding my wrists comes undone and he rolls off of me, dragging the supple black leather teasingly along the length of my body. My bracelets lay scattered across the bed.
My shoes? One lies all the way across the room, beside the door, and the other is somehow standing straight up on the nightstand beside the alarm clock.
The sigh that rushes out of me pours from the tips of my curled toes to the top of my head.
As the world reassembles itself around me, I hear the distant sound of a zipper. Boots threads his belt back through every belt loop flawlessly, only looking my direction long enough to say, “We leave at six.” Then he’s out the door and gone.
The fuck.
He’s right: Boots doesnotlack imagination.
In my dreams I am no longer “little Sylva Waters” lost and alone, a teen girl wandering the woods of Greenbriar after learning of the accident that stole away her parents—her safety net—but something fierce and fluid moving as one with the forest’s drifting leaves, and owning every inch of my power as I stalk through the night, my eyes casting moonbeams that slice past the here, the now, piercing into previously unseen worlds. I pause beside a lake, mesmerized by the stars caught just below its rippling surface, and parched, I move forward, bowing low to slake my thirst with the cool water—to quench the fire rising within me again. I startle, seeing a face I do not recognize reflected back at me and yet… I recognize her.
She is wild, indomitable—wolf but woman—and I am all at once monstrous and beautiful in my startling totality.
Need thrumming through me with an undaunted intensity wakes me in the early hours of morning, and sore as I am, I get out of bed with thoughts of finding Boots in mind. I stretch andlet loose a delighted groan. How long can this roadtrip possibly last? He’s a fast driver—will this be our only night in a motel?
A moment of dizziness overtakes me at the thought of tumbling to the bed with him again. Something hums inside me, a strange sensation making me soften at the thought of those hands all over me… The sensation grows—Ilikeit. I don’tlikeBoots, but I am absolutely aware that I don’t have to like him to keep fucking him.
The sensation humming through me picks up a vibrato that makes me press my thighs together and straighten. I am warm, as if a fire is being built within me. A fire Boots can quench. It’s only when I get to the door that I realize I don’t even know what room he’s in. Frustration moans out of me as I press against the cold metal door. I rub my breasts against the chilly metal, my nipples hardening.
Shit. Why am I so excited? So warm?What iswrongwith me? I have never been this horny in my entire life. Did Boots slip me something? Before he slipped me his cock? I run back through the day… No. He never had the opportunity. He was honest. He didn’t do anything to me—well nothing I didn’t ask him for…
And yet I hunger for more.
I am suddenly and unequivocally ravenous, as if something inside of me has awakened from too long a slumber and must feed.
Maybe I can find him—go to the front desk and ask whoever’s there to tell me where he is.
Maybe whoever’s at the front desk is in need of a little distraction…
