Page 21 of Executing Malice (Jefferson Rejects #4)

I try to swat at him. I manage a light smack on his forehead that is met with a tightening of his fingers digging into my thighs and the sharp, unexpected assault of teeth .

“Shit!” I yelp, jolting hard enough to hit the underside of the desk with my knees.

Reed spins back around to face me, piercing blue eyes widening with surprise and concern. “What? What’s wrong?”

The asshole at my feet soothes the sting with a lazy flick of his tongue.

“Nothing. I just ... I’m upset for you,” I pant. “No crime. That’s messed up.”

Reed stares for a second too long like he’s trying to determine if I’ve lost my mind.

“I get it’s weird to want crime. I’m just tired of not having anything to do,” he grumbles, folding his arms. “I had to break up a fight this morning over grass length.”

I’m trying to listen. I’m staring hard at Reed’s mouth while a second mouth is latched to my flesh, sucking in a way I know is going to leave a mark.

On my right thigh, the heavy weight of his palm lifts.

It drifts up. My spit makes an audible gulp with the hook of his fingers in the crotch of my panties.

I bite harder on my lip. Taste blood.

Reed is still talking. His lips keep moving and I’m staring at them, unfocused. It’s taking all my effort not to let my lashes fall closed with the first tease of my clit.

Between his earlier punishment on the table and last night, the freshly punctured nub is sore. The light skim has my body flinching. My knees twitch to close and protect me from further abuse. I grunt and cup a hand over my mound.

I think he gets it when he pulls his hand back, but rather than stop, he drifts downwards. His fingertips find my soaked opening and circle. And like a whirlpool dragging ships to their death, he drifts in to just the first knuckle of one finger.

His digit is thicker than mine. Even one has my breath hitching. It stills entirely when he slides in. My moan catches in my throat.

“I measured it and it was the length required. Not that anyone believed me. By the time I left...”

A second finger.

He’s no longer holding my legs apart. I’m doing it for him as he works my channel with the slow, methodical pumps of a man who has nothing but time on his hands.

A third finger and I whine low in my throat.

My hand drops to his wrist. I think to stop him. My thought process gets fuzzy when, rather than shake me off, he leans in and pulls two of my fingers into the hot cave of his mouth and swaddles them in his tongue. Laps their length. Skirts between them. Never once slowing with his pumps.

“Oh...” I remember at the last second to swallow God before it hits my tongue, but it’s ringing in my head as my entire being shakes .

“I wasn’t that shocked,” Reed is saying, scratching the side of his head. “I guess it’s a little weird but ... remember when...?”

I’m nodding, but I’m no longer listening. I can’t. My damp fingers are brought to my clit and I understand the assignment. He wants me to do it. wants me to play with myself. Touch myself while my brother is two feet away talking about bacon.

“Bacon?” I blurt, needing to make some noise so he doesn’t get suspicious when my fingers obey.

When they dance lightly up and around the bar, not touching, but teasing the nerve endings around the slick bundle.

Reed blinks and I realize I fucked up. “Where did you get bacon from that?”

Fighting to regulate my breathing, I force a chuckle. “Sorry. I heard ... I heard bacon.”

Reed cocks his head to the side. “Are you okay? You look ... weird.”

I nod and choke on a moan when the fingers curl. A tremor crashes through me I can barely hide.

“I ate something ... stomach...”

Lips latch into my other thigh. The one he hasn’t marked ... yet, and sucks.

Reed grimaces. “Runny poops? ”

I snort a laugh at the crinkle in his nose, but it dissolves in a groan when the fingers delve deep with a hard thrust that makes me see stars.

Reed jerks a thumb in the direction of the door. “Want me to put the sign up?”

The fingers pull free and I almost think I can breathe again when something cold and hard replaces them. The bulbous shape extends my opening. Stretches me wider than the fingers. Expanding my walls. Filling them. Filling me.

“Oh my ... fuck!” I exclaim, body falling back as I’m forced to take every inch.

“Shit!” Reed’s panicked gaze sweeps over me. “I mean, don’t!”

“Get the fuck out, Reed!” I snarl at him, knuckles white, gripping the seat of my chair, hips bucking as I’m invaded. “Get out!”

Visibly flustered, Reed turns as if to run out but stops. Tentatively glances back.

“Do you need me to run to your house?” He gestures to me. “Get you anything? Underwear?”

“Reed!”

Throwing up his hands, he turns and jogs to the door. I watch him through a blurry haze as he slaps my break sign on the glass, latches the lock and vanishes from sight down the street .

The second he’s out of sight, I wheel my chair back and bunch my skirt up to peer down at the pink, wiggly string dangling out of me.

“What the fuck—?”

My tormentor unfolds from his hiding place, a powerful shadow unspooling into my space. His hulking frame looms over me like a vengeful God ... with a helmet.

The man is quick with that shit.

Strong hands close into my hair and jerks my face back.

But while he started gentle, his hold now tightens.

I’m dragged off the chair. My yelp of pain is ignored as I’m forced to the floor behind the desk with him crouched over me.

Knees wide straddling my stomach. One hand clamps around both my wrists and my arms are wrenched over my head.

The roughness pulls the muscles of my shoulders, arches my spine.

“Hurting me,” I gasp.

“Tell me again how there is no us, ” he threatens with words wrapped in steel.

It takes a heartbeat of a second to realize his meaning, but I’m given zero chance to explain when he pulls out his phone.

My mouth opens. I think to apologize. Maybe to explain. But the second his thumb taps the screen, the toy buried deep inside me ignites.

Not slow.

Not enough to ease me in .

It’s on full. It kicks on with a force that seizes my lungs and locks every muscle in my body. My cry is a scream that echoes through the silence. It’s the sound of desperate torture as my hips jerk violently off the floor.

“Say it,” he taunts over my thrashing. “Say you’re mine.”

“Please...” I sob.

The helmet hides his expression, but I can see the sharp rise and fall of his chest. I can hear the shallow pants behind the visor. He’s enjoying the torture. Enjoys watching me beg and come apart.

“I ... I didn’t mean it,” I whine as the hum reverberates off my already swollen clit.

“That isn’t what I asked.”

I can’t even remember what he asked. There is nothing but white noise blaring between my ears as the threat of an orgasm is forced down on me. As it claws closer.

I try to clamp my thighs closed, hoping to shift the tail off my sensitive nerves, but he’s there, knees forcing mine wide so I can’t move. Can’t breathe. The toy screams against my walls and I feel it throughout my entire body.

“Say it,” he growls again, lower this time, with a deadly calm that leaves no room for disobedience. “Say you’re mine or I’ll make you cum until you pass out. ”

“I’m ... I’m yours. Yours,” I choke out, tears running down my temples to soak into my hair.

My voice breaks with the first wave. That sharp cusp that has my heels digging into rough carpet. Shame and pleasure coat every inch of me as I stare up into my own face reflected back at me. See the raw pleasure and desperation as he lifts his phone again and nudges something on the screen.

I scream.

I wail as the toy kicks up a whole other level of brutality.

The orgasm tears through me like lightning. The sharp violence is pure punishment as I convulse under him, legs trembling, back bowed. Every nerve fried. The tremors never stop. Neither does the toy or its owner.

“Not enough.”

I almost don’t hear him, but I feel his cruelty when the toy doesn’t stop and I’m caught back up in its torture.

“No...” is all the plea I can manage when the next climax crashes over me without warning.

I don’t even realize it’s happening until my scream catches in my throat. My vision whites out. My legs spasm and my body tries to crawl away, but he won’t let me.

My clit feels bruised. It throbs with an agony that has me weeping.

“Please ... please, it hurts,” I sob, words slurred and broken .

“How do you think I felt when you hurt me, Leila? When you broke me.”

I try to ask, but I’m caught in another wave. It coils inside me and I feel the hot rush of heat pooling beneath my thrashing hips. Feel it slickening my thighs as my body fights the overwhelming assault.

“Please ... please, stop...!”

The orgasm hits before I can finish begging.

Then another.

I can’t even cry anymore, just a hoarse whine as I shudder beneath him. My body continues to convulse as currents bolt through every raw nerve.

When I can only lie here and twitch like a broken doll does he silence the toy.

Not that it matters. Even off, I’m shuddering. My entire vagina is numb and soaked. My heart won’t stop thundering in my throat. I can’t close my legs. Can barely move. My body is limp with micro spasms of aftershocks that elicit tiny whimpers.

His boots squeak faintly as he releases me and stands.

The visor stares down at me, black and unreadable, except the reflection of my sprawled and abused body mirrored back at me.

Even in their tinted darkness, I’m not blind to the state of my soaked thighs where the muscles continue to twitch involuntarily .

“Look at you,” his taunt is followed by the crouch of his body next to mine. “Barely five orgasms and you’re done.”

I want to tell him off, but can only stare up at him, watch him as he reaches down in the direction of my sex.

“No...” I whine, willing my body to roll away.

His hand clamps down on my thigh, over the wetness I created. He rubs his palm in it.

“You said there was no us.” The same hand, now glossy with my release, closes down over my mouth, smears across my cheek.

The taste coats my tongue. “But your cunt just made you a fucking liar.” The same fingers lock around my throat with steely warning.

“You’re mine, Leila. If you ever think otherwise, you will wake up tied to your bed and I will remind you who you belong to. ”

I can only whimper.

Something about the sound seems to amuse him. The broad width of his shoulders trembles with his quiet chuckle.

“You still have three hours before your shift ends, don’t you, my sweet, little whore? I’m going to enjoy watching you sit here in your soaked panties, pretending like you didn’t just squirt all over the carpet.”

Embarrassment warms cheeks stained with tears, snot and my own release.

“Asshole,” I croak .

His hand fists in my hair and he drags my head back. “I don’t think we have time for that, but if you’re a good girl, maybe I’ll fuck you there first.”

I’m released and he stands once more. I think he’s going to help me up, but he smooths down his T-shirt and adjusts the collar of his jacket.

“Toy stays in,” he says down to me. “I’m not done being pissed at you.”

Without another word, I watch helplessly as he strolls out.