Mind Games - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist Page 6

  “It’s not an action movie, you know, we won’t be on the news,” I said, and started to nibble on her neck, trying to get her to look at me the same way she had just a moment ago.

  “I know, but just in case,” she said, tilting her neck to let me kiss it.

  But then, plain as day, we were on the news. Or at least, she was.

  She cranked up the volume and let the remote fall. I sat up straight and stared in disbelief. A picture of the black-haired version of Nora was pasted right there, on the screen. We listened like hawks as the presenter ran quickly through phrases we both tried to make sense of.

  “Though police are not claiming that Miss Nora Smith is an actual murder suspect at this time, the anonymous website detailing her involvement with Cane claims to have evidence that the woman was behind the stabbing. The website explains how the 42-year-old prostitute had been unstable and had attacked Cane’s wife as a result of untreated addictions and psychological problems…”

  She shot me a panicked look, but before she could say anything another face appeared on screen. A woman with a tiny black hat that, the kind you’d wear to a carnival if you were playing the villain, was speaking matter-of-factly to the camera.

  “We unfortunately have many in the BDSM community who do come with issues, with boundary issues, and they tend to keep their distance from the community.”

  “So can you speak to us a little more about Ms. Smith? What was she like?” the interviewer said.

  “Oh, very standoffish. She never got involved in the community. We all had a suspicion, to be honest, that something wasn’t right there, so none of us are really surprised at this news…”

  Nora’s fingers flew like lightning over the remote and she clicked the TV off. She looked at me, horrified.

  “Who is that?” I asked.

  “Just some bitch. Another Domme. Nobody. I knew I shouldn’t have unsubscribed from that stupid newsletter...”

  “What newsletter? Nora, it’s obvious. He’s finding people to speak out against you. And a website? I can’t believe he would--”

  “I have to see that website,” she whispered.

  “Nora, don’t, it’ll only upset you,” I said, and flung the remote aside. “Besides, you know we can’t use any laptops or—”

  “They called me 42?” she cried. “Forty fucking two years old? What kind of shit is that?”

  “Wait… so that’s the part you take issue with?” I said, laughing drily.

  “Well, obviously the crap about my mental health and my nonexistent addiction hurts too.”

  I felt my face growing hot.

  “And …the prostitution part?” I said. She flashed me a hard look.

  “What about it?”

  “Well, is that part true?”

  The look she gave me was dripping with resentment.

  “I don’t even know what you’re asking me right now,” she spat.

  I rubbed my face.

  Even here. Even now, far away in the middle of nowhere holed up in this piece of shit motel without any phones or laptops, even here my father followed me.

  “Don’t you? I would have thought it was obvious,” I said.

  She frowned.

  “You’ve picked a weird time to start worrying that the woman you’re seeing used to be a dominatrix,” she said, voice cold. “Were you unaware all this time? I mean, thanks, that news report wasn’t making me feel bad enough…”

  I got up to follow her as she went to look out the window again.

  “Nora, come on. Can you give me a break here? This is hard for me too.”

  She pulled her shoulder away from my touch.

  “Oh, I’m sure it’s really tough for you.”

  “Nora…”

  “I thought you didn’t care. I thought you understood.”

  “I do understand.”

  “Then why are you making such a big deal out of this?”

  “I’m not. But I need to know.”

  “Know what?”

  I rubbed my face again.

  “What you did with him,” I said to the floor.

  Silence.

  “That doesn’t matter…”

  “Yes, it does. It matters to me.”

  The thought of my father and her had been a secret illness I’d been nursing for weeks. It didn’t matter, I knew that. And yet, how much it mattered. I had resisted asking because I wasn’t even sure what I’d do with the answer. That I didn’t know what had happened between them was at least a wound I could nurse, something I could stuff away out of mind. But knowing might outright kill me.

  “Well, I won’t tell you,” she said.

  I was flabbergasted. She was standing in front of me now, legs spread, arms crossed, and with a look on her face that could make babies cry.

  “Tell me,” I said, feeling myself skirting the rim of anger. I had never considered this: that even if I asked she wouldn’t tell me. The thought that she could be holding some secret in there, away from where I could get at it… it made me want to hit something. She narrowed her eyes, gave me a sinister little smile and cocked her hip out.

  “And if I don’t?”

  I couldn’t believe my ears.

  “Just tell me. Did you fuck him? That’s all I want to know.”

  “You’re jealous,” she purred, nowhere close to losing her cool.

  A game.

  It was another game.

  Or was it?

  “You want to know if I fucked him? Of course not. I only have eyes for you baby,” she said in a mocking voice. It had to be a game. A sick game. She sidled over to me, laced her arm round my neck and lowered herself down onto my lap like she was a naughty girl trying to convince her daddy to let her off the hook for disobeying him.

  “You’re mine,” I said, voice dark. Could I play along?

  She sighed and stroked a hand down onto my chest.

  “You’re mine, and if I find out you’ve been with anyone else but me…” Her hand paused hovering over my chest. “Yes? What are you going to do, huh?”

  It was a tease.

  A taunt.

  She was trying to get a rise out of me. She was torturing me.

  “Tell me, honestly,” I said. “Have you? I just need to know. I promise I won’t be angry.”

  She pouted and began stroking again.

  “Maybe I like it when you’re a little angry,” she cooed. I instantly stiffened again. Before I could stop myself, before the rational part of my brain could step in, my hands were on her wrist and I was kissing her aggressively. I didn’t know if I did it because I wanted more of that soft, addictive honey on her lips or because she was making me mad and I needed her to shut up.

  “You did, didn’t you?” I said between kisses. She smiled mysteriously.

  “Whore,” I muttered. A single syllable. More like an exhale than the dangerous, game-changing word it was. A simple rounding of the lips to make a sound that meant so much. It was the lit match held to the kindling. She paused and then ignited in my arms, pulling fiercely against my grip on her wrists and kissing me angrily. My cock, so swollen it nearly hurt, jammed against her thigh as she roughly sunk her lips into mine. I grabbed a fistful of the hair on the back of her scalp and yanked down to bring her neck to my lips. I kissed her shuddering skin there, watched as her throat bobbed with her gasp.

  “What did you do with him, huh? Fucking tell me.”

  She moaned.

  “You’re a little slut, and I want to know each and every dirty thing you’ve done. Confess to me, now,” I hissed, all the way down her neck and into the fleshy cleft between her breasts.

  “Or what?” she said, her voice strange. I grasped her waist and flung her hard against the bed, pinned her with my knees again and getting to work roughly tearing her shirt off.

  “Don’t try me. Admit what a little whore you are. You liked it, didn’t you?”

  “Liked what?” she said, playing dumb. We were suddenly two crazy kids in a motel room ha
ving a jealous fight about an ex. Or a possessive guy and his wandering girlfriend. With a few words things instantly became trashy. And dangerous. And hot.

  With her squirming under me, I reached down and tore off her trousers with the same disregard I gave her shirt, then flung it aside. She was naked now except for her underwear, and still staring back at me with that defiance that made me want to do things to her. She lifted her arms high above her head; eyes still glued to mine, and cocked her head at how frenzied I must have looked.

  “Well, if you must know, I did,” she said sweetly.

  I wanted to explode.

  “You fucked him.”

  “A lot.”

  Her gaze never left mine.

  “Does it make you angry?” she said, and started to twirl a blonde lock round her finger. Her voice was all sweetness and light, but her expression was naughty as hell. “He’s very… how should I put this? Very thorough.” Her nipples stood straight up and pink. I was slowly undressing myself now, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her. I didn’t want to break the spell.

  “He fucked you,” I said, trying on the words for size. She writhed underneath me.

  “Yes. In the kitchen. On the floor. He spread my legs open wide and stuck it in me, and I let him, and I liked it.”

  My ears buzzed.

  “You fucking liked it?” I moaned, completely naked now and looking down at her, my cock rock hard and red. She nodded coyly.

  “Slut. Did he fuck your ass?” I had no idea what I was saying. Her eyebrow lifted a little and she paused, but then nodded.

  “He fucked me everywhere.”

  I grabbed her and my hands, my mouth went all over her body, half kissing, half admonishing her. It wasn’t real. None of this was real. But in a way, it was more real than anything else. I kissed her and cursed her, every touch of my lips delivering tenderness and revulsion in equal measure. I muttered the filthiest words against her skin like they were prayers, and she lay back and let me, exposing every inch of her naked body to my lips and tongue.

  “Wait, you’re hurting me,” she said and wriggled in my grasp.

  “Oh, I haven’t even begun,” I growled, and grabbed her off the bed so she came to standing. Her eyes were wild and frightened but the most delicious smile grew on her still-wet lips. For a moment the room hung still and empty around us, a stage waiting for our next move. I could see how deeply she was breathing. Could see by the way her nipples tightened and hardened how turned on she was.

  “Show me how you did it,” I yelled at her, and gestured to her naked, expectant body.

  “How…?”

  “Show me what position you were in when you fucked him like the little tramp you are.”

  A look of understanding passed over her face, then she carefully walked over to the dresser table, put both her knees up on the stool, spread her legs and bent forward, exposing her plump, soaking pussy to me.

  “It was like this,” she said.

  I walked over to her.

  “Go on.”

  She turned to look at me and then closed her eyes as though she was recalling a distant memory.

  “He did it really hard. He grabbed my hips and--”

  She gasped as I grabbed her hips myself and slipped the head of my cock between her thighs, gliding my length across that slick pool hidden inside. I drew my hips back and pushed in again, playing in that deep cushion her soft thighs made. She tried to stand and pull away from my grasp.

  “I don’t want to do this, this is wrong,” she said, but that wicked smile was still plastered across her face. I searched her face for a moment but saw everything I needed to see there. In a heartbeat I shoved her roughly forward, and she staggered on her knees.

  “Did I ask you what you fucking think about it?”

  “No, don’t,” she cried.

  It was another match thrown onto the fire. I clamped my hands down on her hips so firmly that the skin under them went white. When she tried to move again I grabbed her hair and pinned her down, forcing her ass upwards and towards my cock. She made a muffled cry into the upholstered stool.

  “Are you happy now, slut? This is what happens when you misbehave. You force me to punish you.”

  “Please don’t. You’re hurting me,” she whined, and I pulled her hair even harder.

  “I’m going to show you what it really feels like to be fucked hard,” I hissed, and I swear I could feel her pussy swell and drip against me. Hand still in her hair, I guided my tip against that quivering hole and with one single, brutal pump I crammed the full length into her sweet, warm body.

  She cried out.

  “Fuck yes. You like that, little whore? This will teach you. I bet you he didn’t fuck you this hard, did he?” I said and instantly fell into a savage, insistent rhythm, bringing every inch of my cock all the way into her, belly slapping her upturned ass and sending ripples through her whole body. The room filled with the sounds of flesh striking flesh. I pulled her legs wide to reach as deeply into her cunt as possible, and with each thrust she groaned quietly, the slick piston of my cock pounding into her again and again.

  “No,” she mumbled into her clenched hands. “He fucked me much harder!”

  I threw her across the room and she went skidding, finding her feet and then backing away from me, that devilish smile still on her lips.

  “You’re going to apologize for saying that,” I said calmly, fists clenched at my side, my cock pointing veined and throbbing at her. “And I know exactly how you’re going to do it.”

  I went after her but she dashed off. I quickly grabbed her waist, then pinned her violently against the wall, pressing her gorgeous breasts hard against the cold surface.

  “Spread your fucking legs,” I ordered. She was fighting me hard now, squirming and resisting with all her might. But she was easy to dominate. There was enough fire in my veins at that point that I could have wrestled three of her.

  “Stop it!” she yelled, but this only gave me more fire. Breathing heavily, I grabbed her legs and spread them for her, and in an instant had ploughed my way back inside her again.

  I fucked her hard.

  Very hard.

  I held her down easily by her neck and shoulders, so that nothing she did could stop the punishment I was doling out to her down below. She swore and yelled and screamed, but she could do nothing but take it, all of it, every last wet, pulsing inch that I crammed into her. Inside, her beautiful cunt went crazy, clenching and squeezing against me, letting me know that for all her kicking and screaming her body adored being used like this, being dominated and fucked so deeply she had cried herself out now and was simply gasping and struggling to breathe.

  “Don’t have anything to say now, huh?” I breathed into her tangled hair. I was still thrusting, still curling my hips up into hers so forcefully that her toes were beginning to lift off the floor. I slid all the way out of her, grabbed a handful of her perfect flesh and then pulled hard on her butt cheek to open her up.

  “No… not that,” she cried, but I had already pushed her face against the wall. She curled her spine and arched back, her body hungry for me and the dirty things I was about to do to it.

  “Now I’m going to cum all the way up inside that dirty little asshole of yours,” I threatened. She whimpered but said nothing, and in an instant I had pressed the head into that snug pucker, stretching her open and causing her entire body to go limp against me.

  “Dean…”

  “Shhh,” I said and grabbed her wrists even tighter.

  Over the next breath I thrust slow and deep, pushing my way smoothly into that tight hole. Her eyes glazed over and she stopped moving completely. For that moment, it was only me, her, and that deliciously dirty resistance of her body against mine. I could feel her heart beat against my shaft. I looked down to see her hand clutching desperately at my leg, as though for support.

  I’m not sure who came first, but when we did, it was impossible for the other not to follow. Already
so well-fucked in the other hole, she was teetering right there on the edge, shaking and jerking so that all I needed to do was twitch inside her, merely bounce slightly and that smallest movement must have felt like the earth shattering to her. Her body clamped down so hard on me I felt for a second that I had passed out. A deep, full wave beat right through me and soon I was coming freely, squirting hot and wet deep into her belly.

  “Fuck!” I cried.

  Both of her hands where spread wide on the wall in front of her, and I could do nothing but collapse against her, our naked bodies panting and slick together, skin against skin, our chests breathing deeply in unison. Gasping, I pulled slowly out and held out my arms to collect her exhausted body. Her knees buckled and she fell into my arms, sobbing all at once. Alarmed, I lifted her face to mine but saw the most tender, shocked look of appreciation on her face.

  “Dean, what did we just do?”

  I stroked the white filaments of hair from her damp brow.

  “I have no idea. But it felt fucking amazing.”

  I held her close again and we found our way staggering to the bed, where we lay down and gathered our shaking limbs into a pile and hugged one another as closely as we could.

  The intensity of the moment evaporated quickly, and soon she was relaxed in my arms, her breathing coming to normal again. My cock rested gently against the fine bumps of her curled spine, and with my arms right around her, she could lay her head on my arm and curl up in a ball. I could almost feel her body still buzzing. Still resonating from the admittedly brutal treatment she had seemed to relish. It was like I could still feel her.

  “Do we… do we need to discuss what just happened there?” she said quietly.

  ‘I think we just did.”

  She had said ‘no’. I had left red marks on her wrists. I had pulled her hair too hard. It was a new game. A nasty, dangerous one, with subtle rules that felt hard on the body. But who else could I do this with but her? Who else would look at me the way she had, not disgusted, not afraid, not even challenging, but pleased?

  “Dean, I never slept with him. I never would. I don’t even know where that all came from, I think the idea is awful, and I would never want to… nothing like that ever happened with him.”