Page 55 of Property of Necro
“A lucky guess.”
“You’re never dyin’, whore.”
“Everyone dies, bitch.”
“There you go. Gettin’ under my skin again.”
“I never left,” I snap and spit blood onto the floor beside me.
“True. True. But I don’t like bein’ called a bitch.”
“And I don’t like bein’ called a whore, or watchin’ you fuck in front of me every morning when I try to eat my breakfast, or having the wind knocked outta me.”
He snorts. “Tough shit.”
“I know. Right? Tough shit, bitch. Deal with it.”
“So that’s how we’re gonna do this, huh?”
“How else is it gonna be?” I challenge.
“I got somethin’ I wanna show you tonight.”
“Is it your baby dick? If so, I can already see the little guy. It’s right there.” I point to said appendage with my middle finger, still out and very proud and not little at all.
He rumbles a deep, almost charming laugh and smiles. It’s creepy to watch. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile for real, and that laugh. Gah.
I blink, look around, and blink again, expecting to wake up after what must be a dream. When nothing changes, the crazy blond biker who hates my guts grabs my hand and wraps my fingers around his hot, throbbing shaft.
“Nice try, whore. See. Not small.” He uses me to jack his cock that was just bare inside another woman.
Bile surges up my throat.
Gross.
I try to pull away, but he refuses to let go. Forcing my fingers to form a tunnel around his damp rod, he uses me to get off. His hips snap forward, poking his fat head through my makeshift pleasure sleeve. Precum dribbles out of his slit, lubing the way as he gets into it, not giving a single fuck if I want to do this, where Tiffany is, or who might be watching.
“Now tell me my cock is small,” he taunts, grinning like a madman.
Oh. I sure as fuck will.
I glare straight at his stupidly attractive face. “It’s microscopic.”
“Oh. Yeah?” He snorts, clearly holding back laughter. “Why don’t you put it in your mouth? Then we’ll see just how small it is when I choke you on it.”
Playing the fuck outta this fool, I scowl like that’s thedumbest suggestion I’ve heard in my lifetime. “Why? I wouldn’t feel a thing. I’ve seen bigger jellybeans.”
He snaps his hips, continuing to use my fist like a cock sleeve. “Fuck. You’re gonna regret those words.”
“I doubt it,” I volley, not at all scared of him.
Coffin’s cock twitches as if he gets off on our verbal banter. Sadist. Sociopath.
Knowing what’s in my best interest, I don’t stop stroking, even when he pulls his hand away. He grips the lip of the island. Sweat beads on his brow, and he bites his bottom lip, eyelids growing heavy, as he watches me jack him off. It isn’t half bad. If I liked him, I might actually find this a bit fun. His breath sputters, and his legs tremble before they turn to flesh-coated steel.
“Fuck,” he groans, wraps his massive hand over mine, and squeezes the life out of his erection with my help. His cock head turns a scary shade of dark purple, and his entire body shakes like he’s attached to a live wire.
Mouth parting, air seizes in his lungs, and his eyes drop back into his skull in what has to be one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Then he comes. Only, he doesn’t. Nothing erupts from his shaft as we choke him in our combined fists. His abs tighten, turning his six-pack into a delicious eight. His nuts draw so tightly into his body that they disappear. The universe suspends for a moment.
