rules, do you?”
“No.”
“Who does then?”
“My Arrow makes the rules.”
Still, he doesn’t move, making me wait and wait and wait…
“Arrow, please…”
“It hurts, doesn’t it?” he asks, his chain pooling on my throat, over my madly pulsing vein. “It hurts to wait. Is your pouty, bratty pussy hurting, Salem?”
I squirm my ass on his desk. “Yes.”
His dick lurches inside of me, throbs like my soppy channel, and yet he’s stubbornly stationary.
“Who’s making it hurt, baby?” he whispers, going for my lip, nipping the fat curve of it.
“You,” I reply. “My Arrow is making my pussy hurt.”
As soon as I’ve said it, he gives me what I want.
He resumes his movements and I close my eyes in relief.
“And who’s making your pussy feel good now?” He licks the spot on my lip that he’s just nicked with his sharp teeth.
“My Arrow.” I grab his sweaty hips, urging him to move faster. “My Arrow is making my pussy feel good.”
When he makes me come a few minutes later and empties himself inside of me – or the condom actually – almost simultaneously, I wonder again.
How can I stop?
He needs me.
He needs me to love him.
Because if I don’t, then his rage will eat him alive.
His rules and aggression. His pursuit for perfection.
His anger.
So yeah, I can’t stop.
I have to tempt fate.
For him.
***
It’s way past midnight and I’ve just woken up after my coma-like after-sex nap.
I’m at the foot of his bed and I blink my eyes open to find him directly opposite to me, propped up on the pillows, chest bare and one of his knees bent.
He’s reading something on his iPad that’s resting on his folded leg, a frown of concentration between his brows.
Well, at least he isn’t killing himself down on the floor like he usually does.
I watch him for a second, absorbed in whatever he’s reading, all lit up and sexy under the yellow light of his lamp.
This is exactly how he used to look back when we lived together while he did his homework or studied for a test. I’d watch him, hiding behind a wall or a piece of furniture, wishing I could go talk to him. I could tell him good luck or I know you’ll do great on the test or something.
Which makes me realize that I can do that now. I can tell him things.
At least, some things.
So I move.
I get under the sheet and slither toward him in the yellowed darkness. I kiss his foot, the naked calf of his leg that’s stretched out.
Getting on all fours, I shower kisses on his pretty dick. It was flaccid before, but now it’s hard and radiating his signature heat.
Every time my lips touch his hot flesh, he tightens, his muscles strain and his dick becomes even harder.
I smell it and moan.
I suck his head into my mouth and hum, my body writhing on its own, reveling in his taste. I’m about to dig my tongue into the little slit up top to bring out more of his juices, but his hand creeps inside the sheet and fists my hair.
He jerks me away and forces me to crawl over his sexy, muscular body. Until I’m out of the sheets and straddling his tight abdomen, his cock in the crease of my ass.
“Hi,” I whisper, smiling.
Arrow takes his time studying me, my naked form. His hooded eyes sweep over my face as he counts my freckles before moving down. He stares at my pointed dark berry-like nipples – he calls them pouty too – before twisting one with his fingers, making them harder and achier.
He smirks. “Hey.”
I put my hands on his chest and play with his chain. “Why’d you make me stop?”
“Because we need to go in a little while.”
“Can’t I stay with you?” I pout.
Moving away from my breast, he brings both his hands to my ass and grabs the flesh. “No.”
“Maybe a little longer?”
“No.”
I pout harder. “Why not?”
“Because I don’t need a needy girl clinging on my back.”
I slap his chest and he swats my ass. Then, “And because I’ve got something to say.”
At this, I completely sober up.
Arrow never has something to say. Never.
I’m the one with all the things to say.
So I frown and look into his eyes; they’re slightly amused. “You’ve got something to say?”
“Yeah.”
I lick my lips and his eyes take in the movement like they always do. He asked me what my lipstick was called as soon as I met him at his motorcycle. When I replied Good Bad Girl, he