Page 157 of Unorthodox
His breathing is ragged as he rests his head against my chest when he’s done, still inside of me, his fingers still around my wrists, gun still against my cheek.
For a moment, we lay there, and I feel sore all over as hard as he fucked me, but the rum seems to have dulled some of my senses. As tears track silently down my cheek, I’m not sure if I’m crying from pain, from the words he said, or from what comes after this. For some reason, I don’t think he’s done. I don’t thinkthatwas the thing he wanted to try.
Before I can think about it, he pulls out of me, and that hurts almost as much as when he went in.
He lets go of my wrists, instead wrapping his arms around me, sliding them underneath my back to hold me close to him after he sets the gun beside us.
His weight is on me, his body flush against mine, and I can hardly breathe, but even still, the gesture is shockingly tender.
He presses his brow to mine, looking down at me, his eyes tracking my tears.
“Why are you crying?” he asks quietly, and for a moment, I can’t answer him.
I swallow down the lump in my throat, not wanting to break down completely. “I just…” I close my eyes a second, bite my lip.
“Look at me.” His mouth brushes mine with those words.
I take a steadying breath, keeping my arms over my head, and open my eyes to find him still studying me. “I just don’t want to leave here.” That confession makes my stomach flip, my chest tighten, but I don’t look away from him and I don’t move, scared that if I touch him, he’ll walk away from me.
For a long moment, he just keeps staring. I hold my breath, waiting for him to cut me down. But all he asks is, “You don’t want to leavehere, or you don’t want to leaveme?”
That lump in my throat grows bigger. I swallow it down, try to stop more tears from falling as I blink up at him. “You,” I tell him truthfully. Even if I plan to run. Even if this is a fantasy, and even if I know girls like me don’t get anything they want. In this moment, this little stolen pocket of time, I’m honest with him. “I don’t want to leave you.”
He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he angles his head, and his mouth comes to mine. As always, it’s a possessive sort of kiss. There’s nothing romantic about it, nothing tender. But it’s consuming, devouring. His teeth clash with mine, and he bites my lip before pushing his tongue into my mouth, twirling it with my own. It’s messy, chaotic, but I like to think it’s his way of letting me know that no matter what happens next, he doesn’t want me to leave him, either.
But all too soon, it’s over, and maybe that’s not what he meant at all.
He pulls away, pushes off of me, sliding his arms out from underneath me as he sits back on his heels.
I start to move my arms down, but he picks up the gun and gestures toward me with it.
“Stay where you are.”
I swallow back my fear and do as he asks. He’s already punished me, what more could he possibly do?
He smiles at me, almost as if he’s reading my mind.
I hold my breath, say nothing as I keep my eyes on his.
He drags his hand down my torso and I shiver under his rough touch. When his hand gets to my thigh, he nudges my legs apart, his hand between them.
Carefully, he rubs my clit with the pad of his thumb, his eyes on mine as I struggle to keep my arms back, over my head.
With his other hand, he lifts up the gun, caught between the palm of his hand and his thumb. “We’re not done yet, baby girl. I’m going to make you come, too, because when you remember this…” He lowers the gun, his fingers curled around the grip. “I don’t want you to be able to separate how bad it felt fromhow fucking good it was.”
Still circling my clit with his thumb, he brings the gun to my pussy, and I know the second before he does it what it is he’s going to do. What he wanted to try with me.
His finger is on the trigger as he looks at me with a devilish smile, and just as my arms come down, just as I try to sit up, he’s got the barrel against my entrance.
“Lie back down,” he says softly, nudging the tip of the gun against me, pushing it into my swollen pussy. “I’ll be careful. Trust me, Addison.”
I bite my lip, but do as he says, my knees shaking as I keep my eyes on his, unable to watch what he’s doing to me.
“Just breathe.” His words are strangely comforting, even if what he’s doing is anything but.
I do as he says, taking a deep breath in, and when I exhale, he pushes the gun further against me and it stings as the muzzle stretches me.
I tense, glancing down. I see my peaked nipples, my body stretched taut with my arms overhead. I see his thumb circling my pink, swollen flesh. And I see the gun, his finger still on the fucking trigger.
