Page 49 of Mimic
I got to my room and unlocked the door. As soon as we were on the inside, I pushed it closed and dropped her to her feet, before I backed her up against the door. Her eyes were saucers as she stared at me, waiting for me to move. My breaths came fast and heavy, my heart raced faster as I saw the look of fear on her face transform the moment I pushed her against the wall and collared her throat.
“You. Are. Mine.”
Before she could respond, I slammed my mouth against hers. I didn’t know what I was doing. My first kiss, and it was conceived in anger and a rage so possessive I’d lost control.
I moved my lips the way I’d seen Dakota do it. My tongue slid along her bottom lip, and I bit down. Her mouth opened with a gasp, and I invaded her quickly and without remorse. I didn’t ask for her consent; I wouldn’t give her a chance to deny me taking what I wanted.
Her hands fisted my shirt at my waist as she tugged it from my jeans, before sliding her hands over my chest. Her fingers twisted my nipples, and I grunted, pushing my pelvis against her.
My fingers squeezed her throat, and she moaned. The sounds she made spurred me on. With my other hand pressed flat against the door, there was nowhere for her to go. She was mine. Held captive with my lips and my cock against her belly.
Her hands went to my belt. Her fingers deftly pulled the belt open, followed by my jeans. Then, her hand disappeared, and she wrapped it around my hard length, causing me to hiss. No one had ever held me. The only hand to wrap around my cock was my own.
Hers was smaller, barely big enough to reach all the way around, but she squeezed and pumped my dick the way I had for years. The feeling was so different. So much more. My lips moved to her chin, then her ear as I bit down on her earlobe, and she cried out. I wanted her pain. I was so overcome with need that all I’d thought about was myself.
My hand left her throat and moved to her shoulder as I whispered, “You wanted to suck my dick? Well, now you will.” I shoved her to her knees, yanking her hand away as I pulled out my cock and filled her mouth.
Chapter Eighteen
Indie
Mimic’s hands were braced on the door as he slid in and out of my mouth. His movements were jerky, as if he were unpracticed, but I’d seen the women downstairs. The ones who were here to satisfy the men. Tiffany and Jade had been all but naked in their tiny workout clothes.
They were beautiful, and he was gorgeous. There was no chance he hadn’t had sex with all of them at some point. It was what men did. Pussy was pussy. They didn’t care who it belonged to, as long as they had access to it.
I should’ve fought. I should have kneed him in the balls or scratched at his face, but the second he put his hand around my throat and growled those three words.
You. Are. Mine.
I was done. I almost came from his words alone. When he lifted me over his shoulder and carried me off, my panties were soaked. My whole life I had been used and abused by men. I should be disgusted by the way he just took me. Carried me like a caveman claiming his woman, whether I wanted to be claimed or not.
He didn’t ask; he didn’t even demand. He just took me. He made the decision for me, like every other man who’d had access to my body over the years.
But this felt different.
This felt pure somehow.
Now I knew for sure I was broken. Who in their right mind wanted to be forced? To have the choice taken away from them. Who would willingly allow their body to be used the way Mimic was using me?
Instead of pushing him away, I was pulling his jeans down under his ass so I could massage his balls. As soon as my finger brushed against his sac, he pushed forward down my throat, and I swallowed.
I knew what men wanted. I knew how to please them. How to make them come quickly and efficiently. But when my throat contracted around the head of Mimic’s dick and he came down my throat, I was filled with disappointment it was over so soon.
“Fuck!” he grunted as he pulsed against my tongue. I swallowed over and over, not letting a drop escape. Was Mimic the type of guy who would discipline me if I wasted his cum? Or was he the type that found it erotic watching it seep from the corners of my mouth?
He pulled away and looked down at me. I stared at him from my knees, waiting for what he would do next. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what I should do. I should scream; I should run. If there weren’t something broken in me, I wouldn’t sit here and hope for more.
We stared at each other. Neither of us moved. It was as if he didn’t know what to do next. There was confusion in his eyes. So I took the next step for him.
I removed my sports bra and tossed it on the floor. His eyes dropped to my breasts, and he groaned. Taking my hand, he helped me stand but kept me caged in against the door.
“Take it all off,” he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. I slid my shorts down my legs and kicked them away. His eyes roamed over my naked body, and a shiver tore through me. His gaze was hungry, but more. My eyes roamed over him. He still wore all his clothes, though his jeans were pushed down to hisknees. His once limp cock was thick and full again, reaching out to me, and I lifted my hand, wrapping it around the hard length and sliding my hand up and down.
His eyes closed, and his breathing quickened. My other hand went to his face. I cradled his cheek and whispered, “Mimic.” He didn’t answer, but his hips began to move with my hand. I stroked him, watching his reaction. His forehead leaned against mine as his hips sped up. I knew he was close; he was about to come again when he opened his eyes and stared into mine.
I sped up my hand. Something stirred inside me. Something powerful. Something fierce. He was mine. I was in charge of his pleasure. I could stop right now, pull my hand away and leave him wanting. But the desire to watch him lose control, the way he did downstairs, was addicting.
Holding him in my hand, squeezing him. Hearing his grunts and groans of pleasure was a new experience for me. It was a first I would cherish. The first time I desired a man’s release. The first time I didn’t think about my own.
