“I want to fuck your tits,” I say palming my cock, stroking it. “Are you wet, Bexley?” I ask standing in front of her now. She looks up and nods, and she bites her lip. Wanting what I can give her, fucking her until she sees stars.
“Lean back on your hands, push your chest up.” She does and I bring both her tits together and lean down sucking on each nipple, paying close attention to each one. I grab the lube from the table next to the bed and lather myself up, then her tits. She shivers from the coldness when I apply it to her chest. I place my cock in the middle, squeezing her tits to suffocate around my cock. She leans forward and licks the top of my cock and I fuck harder, she repeats this a few times until I’m coming all over her, her skirt now ruined, with my evidence all over it.
“I have a rule, Bexley, think about this rule before you walk out that door tonight. You are mine. While you’re here, no one is to touch you. I am not yours, don’t think otherwise. But the rule…the rule I want you to remember is never ask for more. Don’t ask for more than what I can give you. If you do, you leave.” She stands in front of me, her mouth agape. Her eyes widen with shock.
“Why?” she asks leaning down for a towel and wiping her chest roughly while pulling her shirt on to cover her naked breasts.
“I give you what you need, Bexley, do I not? I give you a home, I give you money, and I give you orgasms like no one else can. That is all you will get. Do not expect more, or don’t come back.” I turn my back to her and walk into the shower. I hear her leave the bedroom not knowing if I will see her again. Probably not. I know she wants more, she’s made that quite clear in the past. But I’m a selfish bastard and need her, need my own desires met. They aren’t all met. I could keep her longer, use her longer than anyone else. She has that redeeming feature about her.
I scrub my face in the shower, my hands running along my jaw wondering what she will do, but trying to not to care. A person like me doesn’t care, shouldn’t care. I haven’t known her long, but I know every inch of her body. The way to make her scream, to make her happy, to make her sad.
A towel is wrapped around my hips when I enter the bedroom. Bexley is sitting on the bed, biting her fingernails. “Bexley,” I say, her eyes shoot to mine. She’s a bit more broken than she was before. Chip by chip she’s coming apart.
“I don’t want to want you,” she says her eyes dropping to her hands that are in her lap now, her leg shaking up and down in nervousness.
“I want what we have, but when I want more. I’m leaving you,” she says straightening her spine, sitting up like she actually believes what she’s saying. I smirk, knowing I get to keep playing with her longer. Keep all those pieces that I’m chipping away at.
“If you say so,” I say to her climbing into bed.
“I don’t need or want your money, Zeke, I don’t need or want any possessions. I have a lot of money, I just chose not to flaunt it,” she says, which surprises me.
“What are you talking about, Bexley”?
“I mean, the only reason I’m here is because of you. When I feel I can’t do this anymore, or that I’m less of a person than I’ve already have become, I’m gone. I know what you’re doing to me. You degrade me, chip pieces of me away. Though in actuality you don’t, you force me store everything you do in my memory. Waiting for it to explode, waiting for the time bomb I will unleash once it’s all too much. Don’t think for a second I won’t. I may think I love you, but there’s only so much one person can take. And then, I may ruin you,” she says and walks out the door, still dressed. Leaving me impressed and turned on by her words.
Who is this girl?
Love means not ever having to say you’re sorry.
~Erich Segal~
You’re thinking right now I’m an idiot and that I should just leave. I’m right, aren’t I? Well, I am, as well. I want to leave, I want to be me. But I also want him, for reasons I can’t quite understand yet. He has this weird and strange hold on me. I think I’m falling in love with him, which would be the most stupid thing I could possibly do. But the way I feel when he’s around me, in me, makes me think that maybe, just a little bit, he may actually be worth it. Maybe, I can chop away at his rule; perhaps he will make an exception for me. I didn’t chase him, he chased me. So he’s lying to himself if he thinks he won’t break that rule. He will…he will for me. I know it.
I was expecting to go out for dinner tonight, but that didn’t go as planned. As I step into the living room my phone rings. I groan, it’s the last person I least want to talk to – my father. Though I have ignored him for long enough so I pick it up.
“Papa,” I say, as soon as I answer the phone. He immediately starts yelling at me in Italian. I wait for his tirade to finish before I say anything. Ignoring him, I always speak in English.
“Did you hear a thing I just said, Bexley,” he huffs into the phone.
“Yes and no, Papa. You want me home. As soon as you said that, I may have tuned out.”
I hear his heavy breathing, indicating he’s getting frustrated with me. “I haven’t heard from you in over a month, Bexley, this is not appropriate. I raised you better than to disrespect me.”
“Look, I’ll call tomorrow. I’m busy right now.”
“Don’t you dare hang up on me, young lady,” he yells in Italian. So I do exactly that, I hang up.
My good mood has been shut down, Zeke now Papa. I want to scream at them. Why don’t any men in my life put me first? I pull my blonde hair through my hand and decide to go back to the bedroom. I know Zeke is awake when I enter, his breathing isn’t deep. His eyes are open when I meet them and they’re on me.
“Who are you?” he asks sounding interested in me.
“Whoever I want to be,” I say stripping out of my clothes and climbing into bed next to him. There’s a dull light coming from the full moon outside, so when he climbs on top and pins me with his weight, I can see all his facial features. His eyes are always so blue like the Mediterranean Ocean, that’s how I would describe them. His forehead is crinkled in thought as he looks down at me.
“You think you love me?” he asks, his facial features tight, not wanting to hear the words.
“I’m not answering that,” I say staring at him, trying not to show him the emotion on my face. How could I give love to someone that clearly can’t return it?
“Who are you?” he says with a warmth I’ve ever seen from him.
“You know who I am, Zeke.”
His face scrunches again and he shakes his head at me. “I think I know what you choose to give me, I guess it’s only fair I do the same,” he says which earns a smile from me. I lean up and place my lips on his; wanting the warmth he’s showing me. His lips touch mine and they’re slow and sensual. I taste the minty toothpaste on his lips and slide my tongue in, wanting access. Access to whatever he’ll give me.
“Will you come with me tomorrow?” he asks breaking away, but his lips just barely move away from mine.
“Yes,” I say not caring where, I would go anywhere with him.
His lips make their way back to mine, and his large warm hands slide down my side, owning me. I run mine over his chest, feeling the scars and bullet wounds, loving all the roughness this man has to offer. His hands dig into my hips, more than likely bruising me. My hands come up to wrap around him, working their way down to his ass. My other favorite feature of this man. He stops my hands and pins them above my head, holding them there with one hand. His other slides between my breasts, slowly moving down my stomach, then to his cock, which is pressing against me. He slides himself in, making me arch and find his mouth. My hands are glued by his, not moving as he starts sliding in and out, slow at first, then faster and faster. His lips touch mine; I bite his lip and open my mouth wide. He moves faster, making me come and he isn’t far behind, and when he does he collapses on top me. Releasing my hands, so they can touch him, feel him, he lets me and he’s not moving. I trace his back and feel the exit wound of one of his scars as I move my fingers gently across the mark.