Page 14 of London's Calling: Part 1
I slip my other keys from my pocket and slide the key into the lock. My guess is Roni hasn’t discovered this little escape route—or entrance, depending on your point of view.
The lock clicks, and a thrill races through me as I push inside. I’m met by a row of clothes hanging from the rail inside the wardrobe of the guest room.
I close the secret door quietly, then listen for any sign of Roni in here. When I’m sure she’s not in here, I crack open the wardrobe and step out. Boxes fill the space, some open and spilling their contents onto the floor, others remain untouched.
I’m tempted to rifle through them, but I’ve got something much more entertaining on my mind than a bunch of Roni’s clothes. My frustration at the whole Hart family in general and Roni cheating her way into my apartment motivates me to keep moving.
I’m about to close the wardrobe door when my gaze lands upon a black bandanna with a red skull on the front. Snatching it from the small shelf on the left, I quickly tie it over the lower half of my face, then close the door. My cock hardens as I think about all that fear-fuelled adrenaline that’s going to shoot through Roni when she sees me.
I stalk from the guest room, following the sound of water as it falls from the rainfall shower head in my ensuite. The bathroom door is ajar and steam fills the room, but none of that is what stops me in my tracks. No, it’s the soft moans of pleasure coming from inside the bathroom.
Something feral slams into me at the thought of someone else touching her. Which is utterly fucking insane—she’s a Hart. I fucked her once.
So what the hell are you doing here if not to fuck her again?
I ignore my questioning inner monologue and burst into the room. Roni screams, almost crashing to the floor, but not before I realise she is alone and was fucking herself.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” she bellows as I slam the shower door open and stand there, watching her as she pants, her chest heaving, with a mixture of fear and residual pleasure.
“Your house?” I hiss, removing my jacket with my phone and keys in and hanging it on the peg beside the door. I turn just in time to catch her as she flies at me, fist raised.
“Arrgh!” she cries, aiming for my face, but I catch her wrist, then narrowly avoid her knee to my groin and use the loss of her balance to force against the wall.
She screeches, grunting and groaning, as her naked body thrashes around against me. “Let…me…fucking…go!” She continues to struggle as I watch her completely unperturbed and running on the fumes of anger and desire. “My house! My fucking house, Mickey!”
I laugh. “Gave myself away, huh?”
“Yeah, should have kept your mouth shut. What you gonna do? Rape me, huh? Is that your style, Rawlins?”
Her accusation sits tenuously inside my chest. Because what the fuck am I doing?
I push my body flush against hers, pinning her and stilling her movements, then I get all up in her pretty, flushed face. “My dick might be hard, Roni, but I don’t rape women! And I don’t see you fighting me so damn hard either. In fact…” I pin her wrists above her head with one hand and tug down the bandanna covering my face before allowing my free hand to glide over her naked body, circling a pebbled nipple, down her stomach and round her belly button before pulling my hips back and giving way for my fingers to sink between her pussy lips. I hum my appreciation at finding her wet—and not just from her shower. For someone protesting so much, she sure seems to be enjoying it.
“How the fuck—oh god,” she moans as I drive a finger into her cunt. “How…did you get in here?” Her breath catches as I take over where she so abruptly left off and fuck her with my finger.
“Wouldn’t you like to know. But I think the more important question is how much do you want that orgasm I interrupted?” I add a second finger, hooking them inside her in a come-hither motion.
“You’re so fucking unbeliev…” Her words trail off as I up my ministrations, ignoring the deep ache in my balls as my cock strains against my trousers. “I won’t give it up.”
“Oh, but you will, Ice Queen. I’m pissed and need something sweet and dangerous to calm me the fuck down. Or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Fuck you!” she pants as her pussy betrays her words, clenching around my fingers as I thrust them in and out of her.
“Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop,” I whisper, leaning in and skimming my lips against hers. It’s a taunt because I know she’s close. There is no way she’s going to tell me stop now, especially after I already denied her on orgasm when I burst in here like a fucking madman.
“No! Don’t you dare fucking stop. You owe me this!” she pants out, tilting her hips and riding my fingers as she crests the peak of her release.
I chuckle as I dip my head to her neck, and as she falls over the edge, I nip her neck before sucking hard, ensuring I leave my mark on her flesh.
Her cries echo around the bathroom, merging with the rushing of shower water as it continues to rain down. I release her hands as she comes down from her orgasm and undo my trousers, quickly tugging my cock free. Her eyes drop down, watching as I begin fisting my dick. Meeting her eyes, I release myself and tug her towards me, shifting her over to the sink before twirling her around, and with a hand holding the back of her neck, I push her forward, bending her over as she places her hands on the sink unit and watches me in the mirror.
Her chin lifts as I line myself up at her entrance. There is no indication of her wanting me to stop, if anything, the look she’s levelling me with is a dare, a silent plea and silent consent.
“Watch as I fuck you, Ice Queen,” I tell her, rubbing the head of my cock along her soaked pussy.
God, I’d love to take a taste of her.
I drive the thought away as I slam into her, bottoming out thanks to the angle. She winces before the pinch of pain evolves and her lips part on a pleasure-filled moan.
