Page 29 of Ruining Hattie

BASTION

I sit on the edge of Hattie’s bed, staring at her sleeping form.

I could’ve had her tonight. She was primed and ready.

But I refuse to take her for the first time when she’s drunk.

When she realizes who I really am, when Carla knows what I’ve done with her daughter and the path I’ve led her down, they both need to know that she chose it willingly.

It’s a shame Hattie is who she is. Otherwise, I could really enjoy our time together. That’s not to say I’m not going to enjoy fucking her, but there’s always that nagging reminder at the back of my head that she got everything I was supposed to have.

The dichotomy of the two ways of thinking is fucking with my head. I find myself forgetting what she’s really doing here, obsessing about her when she’s not around. Jesus Christ, I even jerked off with her underwear.

I blow out a breath and shake my head, forcing myself to walk out of the room. There’s no way I can afford to let Hattie become anything other than what she is—a means to an end.

The following evening, I arrive home earlier than I normally would on a Friday night so that Hattie and I can have a conversation about the previous night.

She mostly ignored me at work today, only speaking to me when spoken to, and I don’t plan on letting her pretend nothing happened.

Not when it puts me that much closer to my goal.

Alcohol might have been the mechanism that got her to open up, but I don’t doubt for one moment that she meant every word.

As I make my way toward the kitchen, the distinct scent of garlic reaches me. There’s music playing in the background—some kind of indie stuff, I think.

When I turn the corner, I find Hattie at the island, sprinkling cheese on what looks to be a lasagna. She startles when she sees me.

Now this is the kind of reaction to me she would have had when we met if she’d had any kind of self-preservation.

“You scared me.” The hand on her chest moves up and down with her breaths.

“What are you doing?” I walk over to where she is, admiring her ass in the tight-fitting cream skirt. She hasn’t changed since she returned from work, and I, for one, am thankful.

She looks away from me, her tell that she’s embarrassed. “I didn’t realize you’d be home so early. It’s not ready.” She rips some foil from the package on the counter beside her and places it over the lasagna pan, then turns and places the pan in the center of the wall oven.

“Why are you making lasagna? You could have ordered in.”

She turns and goes back to the island, beginning to clean up her meal prep. “I wanted to apologize for last night.” She still hasn’t looked at me.

“Why would you need to apologize?” I step closer to her.

“I practically ambushed you because I was tipsy.”

“I think you may have been drunk.” Another step moves me right behind her with only an inch to spare.

She laughs low, but it’s a nervous laugh. “Maybe. I always thought alcohol must taste terrible, but those coolers were like candy.”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Hattie. We were talking about you wanting me to fuck you last night.” I place my hand on her waist and tug her back, forcing her to feel the turgid length of my cock pressing against my dress pants.

She sucks in a breath but doesn’t say a word.

“Did you mean what you said?”

She nods.

“Words, Hattie.”

“Yes, I meant it. But I shouldn’t have forced myself onto you.”

I grind my hips into her, and she leans her head back into my chest. “Babe, if you hadn’t been drinking, I would’ve had you bent over my desk with your pussy wrapped around my cock so fast your head would spin.”

Hattie arches his hips into me, and I groan at the press of her against my hard length.

“Is that what you still want?”

She nods. “Yes.” Her answer feels like triumph through my veins.

“Then you’ll get it. But not tonight.”

“What?” She tries to turn around, but I keep her where she is by pressing my hips forward so she’s pinned between the counter and me.

“I appreciate the lasagna, but what I really want is to taste you.” Reaching down, I gently pull up her pencil skirt until it sits around her waist, then I step back.

With one hand on either side of her hips, I slide down her blue silk panties.

My hand moves to my groin, and I squeeze the head of my erection while I admire her bare ass. “Don’t move.”

Fuck, it’s so perfect I want to take a bite out of it.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road with me?”

I watch from behind as her head moves up and down. “Yes.” Her hands grip the edge of the counter.

“Put your arms in front of you across the counter.”

She does as I say, and I groan, squeezing my cock again. Then I step up to her. With one hand on either side of her hips, I lift her so that her hips are at the edge of the counter, her feet dangling below.

“Is that comfortable enough?”

Her cheek lies against the counter when she nods, and I see the slight tremor in her hands.

“Try to relax. You’re going to enjoy this.” I don’t even have to ask to know that she’s never been eaten out before.

My hand trails a path down her back and over the curve of her ass as I lower to my knees. Then with one hand on each of her ass cheeks, I spread her. She’s already glistening with arousal, and my mouth waters for a taste.

As I lean in and take the first swipe with my tongue, some part of me celebrates the fact that I’m the first one to ever do so. I’m the only one on this earth who knows how this woman tastes. Hattie’s body jolts under my tongue, and I press her against the counter to keep her in place.

“Such a pretty pussy. How long do you think it will take me to make you come? Should I draw it out, or take it easy on you?”

“Please, Bastion…”

“Please what?” I use my tongue to play with her clit.

She moans. “Please, please make me come.”

The desperation in her words undoes some of my control, and I lean in, devouring her, unable to get enough of her sweet taste. I fuck her entrance with my tongue for a bit, then return to her swollen bud. Her breaths grow heavier, her moans louder.

I make a few swipes with my tongue through the whole of her sex, stopping the last time to pay extra attention to her puckered hole. Hattie’s hand slaps the counter in response, but she doesn’t tell me to stop.

“You like that, do you?” I murmur against her skin. “Maybe if you’re lucky, I’ll fuck this ass one day.”

She presses her swollen sex farther back into my face, and my deep chuckle sounds against her wet flesh. I tongue her slit before I trace her entrance, then I slowly, so slowly, push my finger in an inch, then another.

She’s tight. God, she’s so fucking tight I can’t stand it. All I can think about is how she’d feel wrapped around my cock.

As I rock in and out of her, my tongue flicks her clit again and again and again. Hattie cries out, almost there. When I suck hard on her clit, she shouts my name, her pussy clamping down and contracting around my finger.

As much as I don’t want to, I pull myself from her and use both hands on her ass to keep her in place as I continue to suck on her clit while she rides out her orgasm.

When I pull away, Hattie doesn’t move, remaining splayed in front of me, her cunt glistening.

I commit the vision to memory, knowing I’ll revisit it shortly when I jerk off.

“Did you enjoy that as much as I did?” I wipe my mouth and chin with the back of my hand.

She starts moving, so I help her off the counter, letting her find her footing before I let go of her waist. Her eyes are glazed when she turns to face me, and there’s a lazy smile on her face. Gone is the tight-laced, friendly, yet professional veneer she usually displays.

“Yes, that was…” She shakes her head, almost as though she’s in disbelief. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

I tug her into my chest by the waist. “I have so much more to show you.”

Then I bend and bring my lips to hers for our first real kiss since I’m not counting the one last night.

She comes willingly and opens to me when my tongue runs across the seam of her mouth.

Then she stills, likely tasting herself on my tongue.

I don’t let her retreat, pulling her body in closer to mine and devouring her mouth like I just did her pussy.

When I pull away, her eyes are even more glazed. She runs her hand down my chest, but before she can reach my belt, I grasp her wrist.

“I think that’s enough for one night.”

I’d give anything to plunge into her right now, but patience is key. I’m still afraid that if I press her too hard, she’ll pull away. I need her craving more.

She frowns. “Why?”

“Because I don’t think we should do any more tonight. Let you process what’s already happened.”

“But don’t you…” She nods toward the raging hard-on that looks as if it’s about to rip a seam in my pants.

“I’ll take care of myself.” Without thinking, I kiss her forehead as a token of affection.

It’s not the act itself that makes me step away from her. It’s the fact that it wasn’t part of an act to get her to trust me. I just did it because it felt right.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Before she can say anything, I back away and turn toward the hall.

It’s an effort to slow my pace so it doesn’t appear as if I’m running away.