Page 46 of Their Cruel Love

“The last rule, the rule that rules all the rules, is that we can change them, any time we want to,” he tells her, slamming into her again. His teeth are showing. Marcus is looking nicely demonic.

She tries to get loose and writhes under him, twisting, her arm muscles straining. It gets her nowhere. Finally she huffs and gives up, subsides, breathing hard.

“There. And not one, real protest from you.” His assurance sounds evil, even to me. Then he covers her mouth and keeps his palm there, watching her while he keeps, leisurely, fucking her. And she’s watching him back as if compelled to, making muffled pitiful grunts. When he slips that hand lowerto pin her throat to the bed, she still watches him, her breasts upthrust by the position of her hands above.

They have a past these two. It makes me wonder what is going through their heads. It used to be revenge in his. Revenge mixed with lust and nostalgia. Not anymore? It can be hard to tell with him.

Watching them, I’m getting jealous.

Sometimes, she reminds me of a pretty, delicate doll, while at other times, like a second ago, when he switched positions and trapped her under him, a fury surfaces that throws everything to the winds. She looked like a warrior ready to kill.

It’s a contrast I like. The predictable is boring.

I rise and shove at Marcus until he pulls out of her, leans to the side, and gifts me her wrists. We swap places. Once I’m between her legs, I penetrate her slowly until I’m fully seated inside her. She’s whimpering, clearly wanting more. Only then do I take her fast and hard—making her gasp when I go extra deep, and moan and flex her fingers. I switch and hold those wrists in one hand like Marcus did, then I carefully brush some hair from her eyes.

I wait for her to come down from the high of fucking.

After a while she asks, quietly, her chest heaving, “I thought, we weren’t really?—”

“Coming? Having full-on sex? We’re not.” I’m messing with her, even if orgasms are off the plate.

The plans on that paper for the dinner mean I want to wait. Playing later, only making her hot and aroused now, is enough. I pull out and slip down her, making sure to keep her wrists trapped either side of her butt.

Then I kneel and give her clit some quiet but thorough attention with my tongue. Her thighs clamp in on me, squeezing.

“If you do that much longer…” Her face screws up then she shuts her eyes and shudders, as I keep sucking on her swollen clit. “I will be, you know?”

“Coming? You won’t.” I rise, free her hands and wipe my mouth.

She lies on her back and her tongue dips out. She’s panting, watching both of us, back and forth. Marcus is being lazy and pulling on his dick, but without much dedication.

The swell and heavy muscles of her thighs—for a woman—remind me. “I’d like to see you kickboxing, one day.” And I really would. It’d be like death ballet and elegant, I figure.

“Oh?” Her eyebrows rise. “It’s a date.”

“Good. Now, go shower. We’re all doing it together.” Same as that night in Spain. The shower is big and an open one with no screens or doors. I can soap her up. Once in the shower, I think I’ll suck on her a few more times, to get her really horny before the dinner. Marcus can play with her other end, that pretty mouth. I’ll let him hear the moans and kiss her while I finger-fuck her and tongue-tease her clit. My cock swells some more at the thought.

I wait for her to obey, and she leaps up then pads ahead.

She puts a hand on the front glass wall, half-turns. “I have to pee first.”

I watch her ass sway as she moves away with the shine of her arousal showing on her thighs. Marcus has turned over in bed and is doing the same—watching her.

“Nice fuckable ass.” I cock my head, and for the first time I notice the glass outer wall extends into the bathroom. This place really loves voyeurism.

Without looking back, Phoebe stops to hold up a hand then one finger to us and I laugh.

“Our ass,” Marcus adds, then quietly, “Our fucktoy.”

I like the sound of that, with theouradded. “Want to watch her pee?”

“No!” she shouts.

Marcus laughs silently, chest shaking. “If it fucks with her head, I’ll try most things.”

“Youarea bad boy.”

“Guilty.” He flexes his stomach and jack-knifes forward, bouncing off the bed onto his feet. “Incoming!”

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