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He adds a third finger, filling me, stretching me with each stroke, touching the place deep inside me that has me spinning higher and higher while his thumb works my clit so perfectly that I’m delirious, writhing against him. Panting into his open mouth. Clawing at his skin, my hips pumping to meet each thrust, pushing against the rock-hard length of his cock. I want it inside me, thrusting and pounding into my pussy. I move my hands to his waist, my trembling fingers fumbling with the button of his pants, trying to tear them off. “Please…” I’m whimpering, desperate to get him inside me. “Please, I need—”
His hand tightens in my hair, giving me a quick jerk, hard enough to make me gasp. “No.” He breaks our kiss to press his face to my neck, his breath harsh and uneven against my feverish skin. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.” He sounds angry, his hand in my hair pulling my head back, baring my neck, the thrill of it shoots straight down my spine when I feel his teeth graze the soft skin of my throat. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
I don’t know what to say and I’m too far gone to think right now. “I need…” I whimper. “Please, Patrick…”
“You need me to make you come?” he says in my ear, his thumb rolling over my clit, the pressure of it so exquisitely relentless it boards on cruel.
“Yes.”
“Say it.” His fingers stroke me, filling me until my knees give and the only thing keeping me from sliding to the floor is the hand in my hair and his hand between my legs.
I moan. “I want…” the thought spins away from me. “Please...”
He pushes his erection against the inside of my thigh, the head of it straining against my belly, “Not until you say it, Cari.”
“Oh, my god—” I can feel tears forming behind my closed lids. Need and frustration tearing down the last of my defenses.
“Say it,” he growls at me, his mouth against mine. “I want to hear you say it. Say, I need you to make me come, Patrick.”
“I—” I gasp, his teeth closing over my bottom lip, nipping so hard I almost give in to the orgasm threatening to tear me in half. “I need you to make me come, Patrick.”
The hand between my legs push deeper, his fingers buried, his palm cups my pussy, the tips of them stroking the spot that makes me forget my own name. “Come for me, Cari,” he says quietly, his voice tight and straining.
Like his words flip a switch, I give in. “Patrick.” I scream his name, coming so hard, bolts of light and shadow streaking across my vision while my pussy clamping down on his fingers like a fist, heaving and shuttering as my orgasm rockets through my body.
His hands loosen in my hair, the hand running down the length of my bare back. “Shhh…” He keeps fucking me, gently now, my tender flesh quivering around his fingers, his lips pressed against the hammering pulse at my neck while his other hand glides slowly along my spine. “Shhh…”
For a moment, I feel cherished. Special. The way I imagined being with Patrick would make me feel and I smile.
He slides his fingers free, cupping my pussy for a moment before sighing, his warm breath against my bare skin stirring something inside me. Lifting his head, Patrick straightens himself enough to look me in the eye, the ridged length of him pressed against my thigh.
Moving his hand from between my legs, he lifts it to my mouth slowly and I catch the scent of my arousal in the air between us. Gaze locked on mine, Patrick touches his glossy fingers to my lips and they part, letting him push them into my mouth. The taste of my juices on his skin against my tongue sends a flush of heat radiating from my belly, stiffening my nipples.
“That’s what your hate tastes like,” he tells me, his tone measured. Calm.
He steps away from me, putting enough distance between us so he can bend down and pick up my towel to clean his hand. “You should finish getting ready. You don’t want to be late.” He drops the towel in my hamper and starts to walk away. “Sure you don’t need any help?”
I shake my head, my chest tightening painfully. “I think you’ve helped enough.”
“Okay.” He laughs, holding up what he has in his hand. My dress. “But if you try to leave the building in this dress, I’ll rip it the fuck off you before you clear the stairs,” he tells me, tossing the dress on the bed before walking out the door.
Twenty-nine
Patrick
I expect Conner totalk shit when I come back down stairs but he doesn’t. He just looks up from the taps where he’s drawing a round of domestic pitchers and gives me a look. “Got it all worked out?” he says, lining the bar with pitchers. In the back of the bar I can see a large party—local guys, wearing baseball jerseys from some park league.
“Yup,” I say even though my dick is hard enough to cut glass. Walking over to the bar sink, I start washing glasses, getting ready for tonight. It’s Saturday and we’re gonna get slammed. After washing and drying every glass I can find, I stock the well and garnish stations. Keeping myself busy so I don’t have to talk to Conner about what happened upstairs.
He thinks I went upstairs to fuck Cari. If I’m honest, that exactly what I went up there to do. I wanted to fuck her. To claim every inch of her. To ruin her for every other guy on the planet.
That’s what I wanted to do—it was what I was going to do. But then she pulled that goddamned dress out of the closet. Acted like she was actually considering wearing it again, even after what happened last night, and I lost it.
I was too keyed up. Too angry. Too dangerous. I’d been angry last night and a part of me fucked her to get even with her. To prove she wanted me just as much as I wanted her. To punish her for making a fool of me. To make her feel just as out of control as I do. As angry as I was then, it’s nothing compared to how I’m feeling now. That’s why I didn’t fuck her.
Because this isn’t me. None of it. I’m not this guy. The guy who takes his fingers out of a girl’s pussy and pushes them into her mouth so she can taste just how much she wants me. Who keeps going, even after she says no—no matter how wet she is or how hard her nipples are for me. I’m not this guy. I’m not.
I’m totally fucked up and Cari Faraday is the reason why.