Page 315 of Hell Hath No Fury
I shove from my chair and run, my pin skirt making it impossible to lengthen my stride. My pantyhose slip against the tile, almost causing me to fall.
“Careful, little fox. If you hurt yourself, I won’t be calling an ambulance until my cum is inside you.” He chases after me, his footsteps thumping, threatening.
I reach the stairs, taking them two at a time.
“Gotcha.” His hand latches onto my ankle, his grip unrelenting.
I squeal and grasp the railing, panting as I peer over my shoulder at him staring up at me from the bottom step.
“You should’ve run sooner.” His free hand finger-walks up my calf, past my knee. “The wine you had all alone in that quaint bar that can’t be named has worked against you.”
Shit. He doesn’t believe me.
He wouldn’t keep bringing it up otherwise.
“Is that distrust I hear in your voice?” I attempt to drag my leg away but he holds tighter, those walking fingers clawing into my pantyhose.
He gives a vicious yank, ripping a hole straight up my thigh to the cotton crotch. “Out alone,” he growls. “Drinking at a bar without your cell.” He yanks harder, tearing farther. “And not wearing any fucking panties?”
“Is that another one of your rules?”
He snarls and lunges up the stairs, shifting me off-balance to topple to the carpeted landing.
He flips me onto my back with rough hands. “This sweet cunt is mine.” He drops to his knees and spreads my thighs.
My core clenches. Tight and needy. I barely have time to scramble upward onto my elbows before my skirt is shoved to my hips and his mouth descends on my pussy.
His dark eyes lock onto me as he sucks my clit, dragging a moan from my lips.
He slides his hands beneath me to palm my ass, his fingers digging deep. Vicious. Punishing.
I’ll never wear underwear again.
“Don’t forget who you belong to,” he grates.
“Don’t stop reminding me.” I throw my head back and grind against his face, eager for penetration.
His tongue parts my folds. “I shouldn’t have to.”
But I love when he does. When my feminism is thrown to the dirt and stomped upon by his authority.
“We’re not fighting anymore.” He licks again. “Not arguing.” And again. “You will obey me.” And over again.
I groan, my hand sliding into his hair to grip tight as I shake my head. “I’m not the obeying kind.”
He growls, the vibration sinking into my core. “After tonight you will be.”
I whimper, my elbows trembling. I fall back to rest against the landing, clinging tighter to his hair, holding him to my pussy.
“Look at me,” he demands. “I want you to know who’s between these thighs. Who’s fucking you with their tongue.”
“I know.” I whimper. “I always know.”
“Look at me.”
I drag myself back onto my elbows, meeting his hard stare.
God, I love him.
