Page 83 of Chad's Chase

“Fuck you,” I venomously spewed.

He lunged for me, but I was quick in shifting and rolling off the bed, landing soundly on my back. I ignored the pain, and when he leaped off the bed and came at me, I pressed my palms flat on the ground to keep firm, brought my feet together in anticipation of his descent, so when he reached for me I drove my feet upward and slammed them to his chest, the force knocking him backward.

That gave me enough time to frog jump back to my feet and assume a defensive stance. Chad was standing upright by then.

Making the first move, I swung a punch at him, but he ducked so easily and slightly, my hand swinging through thin air, hitting nothing.

Chad’s eyes lit up with a mixture of rancor and humor. “You’ve got to do better than that if you want to take me down, Tweety Byrd.”

Gloriously, fantastically, gratifyingly naked, he was standing so calm and tall, imperturbable, like I was no match for him, and my nude jumping around was some form of entertainment. This pissed me off, and with an unwomanly growl I charged forward in thoughtless rage.

Chad moved in a blur, and before I knew what was going down, he was pressed up against me, his chest to my back, both my wrists held tightly behind me by one of his strong hands, and his other hand hooked around my neck.

Hot, peppermint breath down my ear made my stomach flip and the butterflies inside whistle. “You really think you can fight me, Tweety Byrd?”

I felt weak. Stupid. Vulnerable. Powerless. “Go fuck yourself.”

“You want to know why I’m always so calm, Jhay?” The question was rhetorical. “Because it’s easiernotto get pissed off than it is to control myself after I get pissed off. Rage kills, it consumes you and makes you do impulsive shit. Calmness allows you to think clearly, which prevents you from makingstupiddecisions.” His lips were touching my ears now, his voice but a breath as he said, “Like engaging a fight you know you can’t win.”

“I.Hate. You.”

Keeping my hands in a firm hold behind me, he unhooked his other arm from around my neck, and slow and deliberate, he dragged it down the front of my body, before dipping said hand between my thighs.

I closed my eyes and cursed, because I knew my vagina was doing anything but hating him right then.

“These lips down here are singing a different song,” he breathed down my neck.

“You sicken me,” I hissed.

“If you get this amazingly wet for someone who sickens you…”—he slipped a finger inside—”I’d pay any amount to see what happens for someone who…turns you on.”

As his finger slid in and out of me, in and out, in and out, I lost all sensible thoughts, my body giving up the fight and sagging into him, soft moans floating from my lips.

I felt his mouth on my neck as he moved backwards with me, in the opposite direction of the bed. Maybe I should have been paying attention, but with his tongue on my neck and his finger inside me, I chose the overpowering sensations instead of cognition.

Then that thrusting finger was gone, my hands were released, and Chad was in front of me instead of behind. Too late, I semi-consciously realized we were at his bedroom door, and before I could think to react, he pushed me across the threshold and slammed the door in my face.

The sharp snap of the lock came next, and I cursed myself. I was such a clown. Letting my fucking vagina control me.

Pounding my fists on the door, I yelled, “Open the goddamn door, you shithead!”

Nothing.

I pounded it, I kicked it, I kneed it.

Still nothing.

Then I resorted to begging, because he finger-fucked me right out of his room and left me hanging on the edge, the weight between my legs like a frigging kettlebell. Resting my forehead to the door, I begged, “Please, Chad, you can’t leave me like this. I need you.”

Nothing.

Then I got mad all over again and banged and kicked until I was tired. “Shithead psycho killer on crack! I hate you!”BangBangBang. “You’re gay and you suck big black dicks.”BangBangBang. “I hate you.”Bang.

Then I went back to begging and pleading. “Open the door, Chad. I’m sorry. I meant none of it…”

After fifteen minutes of alternating between hating him and needing him, I finally resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to drag me back in and fuck me ten shades of purple. So I hauled my pathetic ass off to my room, flung myself on the bed, buried my fingers inside me, and finished what he started.