Page 13

Indie’s voice carried through the house as she walked in through the front door, the loud snick of the door closing echoed, but I stood, silent, as she dropped her keys into the bowl atop the table next to the door.

I stayed in the shadows, waiting in the darkened hallway for her to walk through the door.

I was done playing this game where she thought she might have the upper hand.

She might hate me, and rightfully so, and she might get under my skin and piss me off, but there was no point in denying the attraction between us any longer.

I was going to show her what happened when she pushed me too far.

Before she took one step and made her way out of the foyer, I blocked her.

She made a sound as her body collided with mine, a squeak as her eyes darted up to glare at me.

Fire and ice and all Indie. The spark that ignited in her when she showed those boys she could do the same trick on her bike they did and she nailed it.

When she used her hatred from me walking away to not let the near assault hinder her.

Simmering heat lived in her eyes living next to the hatred she used to mask the attraction burning between us.

Did we have to like each other? No. But if we were going to live together and pretend to be engaged, then this attraction/push/pull war brewing over the last few months. The intensity ratcheted up the last week to a boiling point, especially with her night time shenanigans.

I brought my hand up, caressing her collarbone for a brief second and then dropped my hand, and stepped closer to her. The scent of her perfume and whatever shampoo she used filled my nostrils. Her back hit the front door but I didn’t stop until our bodies were scant inches apart.

“What are you doing?” Her breathy response belied the glare she shot me, the rise and fall of her chest evident as her breathing increased.

The low cut neckline of the dress she wore offered a view of her tits that looked even better in person.

My dick jumped in my pants, and I returned the glare but with less ferocity.

If she thought she could tease me nonstop and I wouldn’t break she had another thing coming.

But my ‘break’ was not a ‘blowing apart’ like she was pushing for. It was a ‘take what I want. A claiming that had nothing to do with love or feelings.

“You know I hate you,” she whispered.

I nodded, even if I wasn’t sure she really did. Not all the way, at any rate. “You know I don’t care.”

Her eyes flared, lips parting as I stared down at her, savoring every reaction of her body that her mind rebelled at with every fiber of her being. “And if you touch me, it won’t be because I care.”

“What do you want, Indie? Tell me now, or I’ll take this exactly where you’ve pushed it to.”

She hesitated, then squared her shoulders.

Skin flushed, pupils dilated, and defiant as ever.

Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips and drawing my attention.

“The only way this is happening is you fuck me like you hate me,” she said with a determination and intention that told me she thought about us fucking more than once.

“Is that what you were imagining last night when you were making yourself come, Trouble?”

Her eyes flared at the nickname I hadn’t used in years. White teeth bit into her lower lip, as if she refused to admit it out loud.

I smirked, and leaned in. I whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. One confession is enough. This time.”

She shivered and turned her head away, eyes shut closed.

She huffed out a breath, then she bit out, “This is nothing, Theo. My body might want you, but it doesn’t change anything.

I still won't crawl for you.” There it was again, the fire and passion that made Indie impossible to forget when I should’ve.

“Tssk tssk, little girl.” I let her have a breadth of space.

“What now?” she asked with a toss of her ponytail, hair long and thick that would soon be wrapped around my fist while I put her exactly where I wanted.

“What do you think you did wrong?”

Her brow knit together, then she narrowed her eyes. “Am I a bad girl, Theo?”

I gripped her chin in my hand, just enough to hold her in place, and yes, to remind her how much she wanted this. “Try again, little girl. And get it right this time.”

She exhaled, and said with a wicked tone, breathy and definitely aroused, “Fuck me like you hate me…Daddy.”

“Fine.” I released her and growled, my cock impossibly hard and straining against the zipper so hard I was sure I’d have a fucking imprint after.

Fuck, hearing her say those words did something to me.

Awakened a beast from deep inside me only she ever could.

With every sassy comment, wicked tease, and fuck, those late night toy sessions she made sure I overheard, she had to have known this was coming.

That a man could only take so much before he fucking broke and took what she offered.

“You want me to fuck you like I hate you, Indie, I will.” Her eyes widened with surprise as if she half expected me to back down.

But the fire lit in their depths and roared to inferno levels.

Defiant and relentless. Gauntlet thrown.

A challenge she issued without the thought of what the consequences would be.

And I never backed down from a challenge.

I slid my belt slowly out of my black dress pants, the sound filling the air as the leather rasped against every loop until it swung free.

With a dark chuckle, I gripped her chin again with the other hand.

Indie looked up at me, a mixture of fear, hate and something even more dangerous in her depths.

Need. Want. Desire. “Kneel, now, like the little slut I know you are, little girl. Show me how much you hate that you want my cock. Now.” A gasp escaped from her perfect lips, but I didn’t release her.

Not yet. The command hung in the air between us, waiting to be followed because there was no other choice. No backing down.

She complied, but only after I applied the slightest pressure. Eyes stared up at me, breasts heaving against the low cut neckline. Only the flush of desire in her cheeks and her dilated pupils gave her away. Her hair was still swept up, leaving her neck bare.

“Fucking perfect,” I murmured as I fit the belt around her neck, and slid the end into the metal buckle, until it was just snug enough but not limiting her breathing in anyway.

Collaring her. “And now, you're going to crawl for me, all the way to the bedroom. Up the stairs. The hallway, and kneel in front of the bed. And I am going to use your body. Fuck you like I hate you, but you’re going to scream my name.”

She whimpered, a picture of perfection. Better in real life than the hastily taken picture she sent me earlier. I pulled my phone out and snapped a picture of her, immortalizing the moment. “Don’t you dare-”

I tugged at the leather end in my hand, applying enough pressure to get her attention and nothing else.

“No one else sees what’s mine, understood?

But this moment, the first time on your knees, ready to take my cock?

Not that I’d ever forget how you look right now, but anytime I need to get off, you’ll know I’m fucking my fist and imagining this moment.

” I smirked. “And every time you decide to make yourself come with one of your ‘toys’ little girl, you’ll be thinking of it, too. ”

With slow deliberation I led Indie, on her hands and knees behind me, as she crawled next to me, her dress hitched up, white creamy skin of her upper thighs peaked out with every inch of ground we covered.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, offering me a fucking gorgeous view of her tits, and my cock twitched as she licked her lips with a devastatingly wicked and defiantly heated death glare.

The flush in her cheeks, the way the leather heated in my hand as I led her, on her hands knees, shot straight to my dick.

Did part of me feel guilty as she climbed, glare never ceasing, up the stairs to my bedroom?

Yes. But that minuscule guilt ridden part quickly was overruled by the part that loved watching her like this. After all, she kept teasing and tempting me, playing her game of midnight self-induced orgasms and texts calling me ‘daddy’, thinking she would win. And there would be no consequences.

Indie was no longer the young girl who didn’t need some asshole taking advantage of her in a vulnerable moment. No, the woman taking each step and tempting my self control with every sway of her hips deserve what she asking for.

At the top of the landing she stopped. Her lips were parted, eyes dark, and I knew without a doubt, if I touched her panties, I’d find them soaked with her arousal. I jerked my head at the door to my room. “Open the door.”

Her glare, vicious and heavy with the kind of emotion that could only be described as a cross between wanting to kill me and do every filthy thing we’d both imagined. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind she had been thinking of me when she used her vibrator, leaving the door open, not once, but twice.

It might’ve been to torture me on the surface, but she came, hard, thinking about me nonetheless.

The door creaked open, the only light filtering in from the large window overlooking the backyard.

Her labored breathing filled the air, her scent enveloped me and ravaged my senses.

The scent of her perfume and her arousal, begging me to make good on the promise I made her just minutes before.

I led her to the foot of the bed. On the opposite side, resting against the wall, was the oversized mirror I checked my suit in before every game walk-in.

The heavy frame in stark contrast to the pale grey walls.

But what captivated me was the way she looked, kneeling at the edge of the bed.

Belt around her pretty neck. Dress bunched up, breasts threatening to spill free as they rose and fell with each desire ladened breath she took.

The belt taut, she rested back on her heels as I reached down and unzipped the fabric.

It fell from her shoulders, pooled around her waist. The neon green push-up bra offering her tits up like a fucking feast. Barely contained and begging for attention.

I pushed at the nape of her neck until she leaned down on all fours once again.

“What? Hoping for a matching set?” she snarked, although her tone held more want than fire.

A sharp smack to her round ass made her yelp.

Red bloomed on her pale skin. I yanked the dress to her knees, revealing a tiny matching thing.

“That mouth, Indie. I can’t wait to fuck it for every smart comment you’ve made.

” She moved forward as I used the belt to bring her closer to the side of the bed with the mirror.

Shoes, bra, and panties. Fuck, her ass looked amazing with my handprint on one cheek.

Her eyes caught mine in the reflection as I landed another sharp smack on the other side.

Lips parted with a moan. “Little girls who mouth off get punished, Indra. Don’t you remember?

But this time, I won't put you over my knee. I think I’ll make you watch and count. ”

Green eyes widened as she sputtered. “I’m not count-”

SMACK.

She wiggled, but I used the belt to keep her in place. “Count. Or I’ll keep adding. Understood? Then, I’m going to fuck you like I hate you and make you watch how much your cunt loves coming all over my cock. Nod if you understand?”

There was a split second I thought she was going to fight, but when I slid the dress down, her thighs were slick and wet.

She wanted this as much as I did. Indie might think she hated me, but her body wanted the release she’d been teasing me with since the haunted house as much as I did.

When she nodded, I tugged until her head came back just enough that I could stroke her hair.

“Such a good little brat for me. Ten. Count. Watch. Look away, close your eyes? I’ll add another. ”

SMACK. “One.”

SMACK. “Two.”

A fine sheen of sweat broke out on her skin as I delivered four more blows, alternating from one round cheek to the other. Her breath came quicker and quicker, the smell of sex filling the air. Gasps fell from her lips with each number.

SMACK. This time she moaned, fighting to not look away. “Se-seven.”

I stroked her hair, and leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Can you take three more, Indra?” She shivered and nodded. “Good girl. Then you’ll get your reward for taking your punishment so well.”

SMACK. “Eight.”

SMACK. Squirming, she whimpered, “Nine.”

“One more.”

SMACK. “Ten.”

The word sounded more like a benediction than a punishment.

Tears streaked along her cheeks, tracks of mascara traced her flushed cheeks.

“Such a good girl. Up on the bed. Kneeling.” She obeyed and climbed up, legs shaking.

I made quick use of her panties, and made her face the mirror as I positioned myself behind her.

Finally freeing my tortured cock, I angled at her entrance, so wet and glistening that when I slid in, obscene noises filled the air along with her pants and whimpers.

I released the belt, yanked her back flushed to my front and watched her in the mirror as I fucked her.

Hard. Incoherent noises and skin slapping, a cacophony and the sexiest noises I’d ever fucking heard surrounded us.

She fell forward when I released her, gripping her hips.

But she locked her gaze on mine as I gave no quarter until her pussy clenched around my cock.

“Good girls who take their punishments get to come around Daddy’s cock, little brat.

Fuck, feel how much you cunt loves my cock?

You may hate me, but you take my cock so fucking well,” I growled, and she whimpered and fell apart I let myself go, spilling inside her.

Filling her with my cum, marking her cunt as mine.

Her mind might hate me, and she might be my fake what the fuck ever, but her cunt was mine.

And I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to make sure she felt me everywhere tomorrow when I asked her to be my wife.

Fake or not, I owned her now.