Текст книги "Rebel"
Автор книги: Callie Hart
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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 15 страниц)
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He cocks his head to one side, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “Because you wouldn’t have believed me.”
“I might have.”
He doesn’t say anything. I keep eating the other half of his sandwich, thinking really hard. Wondering if what I’m considering is actually madness on my part. It probably is, but after him telling me he’s going to let me go, my conversation with Leah and the subsequent encounter I had with his father, I’m beginning to…oh god, I’m beginning to trust him.
“Are you going to take me to the bus station now?” I ask.
He pulls in a deep breath, bracing himself against the cool marble. “I guess so.”
And so he does. Carl brings the Humvee around, and Rebel drives me back into the closest town of Grove Hill. He’s silent as he drives. Outside a café called The Sweet Spot, he pulls over and kills the engine. My heart skips a beat when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a roll of money.
“This will get you back to Seattle. You’ll be able to grab some more clothes and…shampoo or whatever. They sell tickets inside the café. If you hurry, you’ll be able to make the midday bus.”
I look at him, at the money he’s holding out in his hand. I close my eyes, allowing my head to fall back against the headrest. “Take me back,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Take me back.”
Rebel, always so self-assured and cocky, now looks confused. My heart beats faster, suddenly scared. What the hell am I doing? My parents flash into my head—how sick with worry they must be. Sloane, too. This isn’t just madness. It’s cruel. If I stay here and I don’t contact them, even just to let them know I’m alive, then what kind of person does that make me? Rebel leans over and presses the money into my hand. “You need to go,” he says. His eyes flash, as though he can read what’s going on inside my head. I close my hand around the money.
“It’s okay. I’ll stay. I’m not happy about it but I’ll do it. I’ll testify.”
Rebel pulls his lower lip into his mouth. If I’m not mistaken, he does it to hide the fact that he’s trying not to smile. I can see it in his eyes, though. “This is because you wanna sleep with me, isn’t it?”
“No!”
“Admit it. You’re only lying to yourself.” He’s not even trying to hide his smirk now. I thump him as hard as I can on the top of his arm.
“I’m doing it because you were right back at your cabin. You said you were going to show me you weren’t the man I thought you were, and you have. But mostly, I decided to stay because your father said he didn’t want me at his party tonight. And you may have noticed, but your father is a massive asshole. Displeasing him will make me one incredibly happy woman.”
Rebel tips his head back and laughs. I’ve never heard it before, his laughter. It sends electricity snapping through my torso, my arms, my legs, my head; it’s the most amazing sound. “The Widow Makers say I’m stone-cold, Soph. They say I’m made of ice. When the rest of the club meets you, I’m pretty sure they’re gonna say you’re made of fire.”
My chest tightens at the thought of meeting the other Widow Makers. God knows how I’m going to handle that. Not well, probably. Rebel twists in his seat, staring at me. His hand lifts from the steering wheel, reaching slowly toward me. My breath catches in my throat as he grazes his fingertips along the line of my jaw, his eyes fixed firmly on the point where his skin meets mine. “I swear nothing will happen to you, sugar. I’ll keep you safe, no matter what. Your family, too. From here on out, from now until you decide you need to leave, you’re under the Widow Makers’ protection, and so are they.”
******
REBEL
Soph stares anxiously at the payphone, chewing on her lip. She shouldn’t be worried, but she is. “Just do it. Pick up the phone and make the call,” I tell her.
Panic flashes in her eyes. “I’m going to break down. I won’t be able to stop myself,” she whispers.
“It’ll be okay. They’ll know you’re alive and well. They’ll stop worrying that you might be dead, and that’s the most important thing, right?”
“Yeah, I...I guess you’re right.” She moves mechanically as she picks up the handset and dials slowly, her finger hovering over each key before she presses it. The dial tone changes, turning into a ringing that I can hear standing two feet away. I watch her face as she waits for someone to pick up.
She grimaces when the ringing ceases and a male voice says, “Dr. Alan Romera.” Her whole body locks up. I turn around, gritting my teeth together. I’m a selfish son of a bitch and I know it. Sophia lets out a strangled sob, gripping hold of the side of the payphone. Her eyes look wild when she turns to me.
“Hello?” the guy says on the other end of the phone. A fat tear rolls down Soph’s cheek. She swallows hard and then shakes her head, slamming down the receiver.
“Was that your dad?
She nods.
“Why?” I ask. “Why didn’t you speak to him?”
“I can’t. I just can’t,” she whispers. Her voice sounds thick with emotion. “If I do, if I speak to him, then I won’t be able to stop. I’ll ask him to come get me. I won’t be strong enough to stay.”
She starts crying even harder, and no matter how badly I might want her to think I’m a completely heartless jackass, I can’t do it anymore. I move quickly, before I can change my mind, shifting to stand behind her. I wrap my arms around her body, her back to my chest, and I hold her as she cries. She doesn’t push me away.
I can feel her heart bang, bang, banging, its tempo fast and furious around her body. My hands are over her stomach, one resting on her hip, but I can feel her pulse beating there even, through the material of her shirt. She slumps back against me so that I’m the only thing keeping her upright. I’m not sure that it’s even a conscious decision to lean on me, but I hold onto her. I hold onto her tight.
Standing on the street in Grove Hill, the place where Cade and I grew up, I’m assaulted by a million different memories as I hold this broken, crying girl in my arms. She turns and buries her face in my chest, and my head is racing. I heard her father say his name on the phone: Dr. Alan Romera. I know this about her now, at least. Her last name isn’t Marne. It has to be Romera, like her father. A father who’s going out of his head, wondering where his daughter is.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m really so sorry that you’ve had to do this for me. Can you forgive me?”
Sophia holds her arms in, close to her sides, not wrapping them around me. She’s still leaning on me, though, still needing me in some small way. “Maybe.” She gasps the word in between breaths. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
I should ask her again if she’s sure she wants to do this, but I don’t because I’m a bastard and I need her. I feel like shit. Hollowed-out, evil shit. But still, a brief spark of hope flickers inside me, too. She didn’t say no. She said maybe, and maybe will have to be good enough for me right now.
It shouldn’t matter. I’ve done some incredibly shitty things in the past to get what I want, and I haven’t batted an eyelid. But this, with her…it’s different. She’s not from the awful, damned world that I call home. She was on her way to being something better than I’ll ever be, before my family and my shit messed everything up for her. So now here she is, neck deep in this crap, danger surrounding her at every turn. It’s within my power to send her back to safety, but I’m choosing not to. So yeah, it feels like I really need her forgiveness. And I’m sure as hell going to make sure I earn it.
SOPHIA
I couldn’t bring myself to phone Matt. The hesitation wasn’t the same as my reluctance to call my father. I’d just been afraid of falling to pieces as soon as I heard Dad’s voice, knowing that still I wasn’t going to see him for a while. But with Matt…
I just didn’t want to hear his voice, period.
I know Rebel plays a big part in that. As much as I don’t want him to, he’s somehow worked his way into my head. And, if I’m being honest, into my heart, too. He’s secretive and closed off from the world, but he’s also in pain. I see it all the time, in the moments when he doesn’t think I’m looking. His arrogance fades, leaving him staring off into space with a deep sadness shadowed in his eyes. I have no idea why, but I want to know. I feel the desperate need to find out.
Rebel takes me back to Ebony Briar, the mansion even statelier on approach during daylight hours. He drives the Hummer around the back to a vast garage where he stows the truck, and then he takes my hand, guiding me behind the low-lying building, out toward the trees at the very edge of the property.
I’m grateful. I feel exhausted, and facing Louis Aubertin again before it’s absolutely necessary is something that I can do without. I guess Rebel feels the same way. After walking another ten minutes once we’ve crossed the boundaries of the Aubertin property into the next, Rebel leads me to a twisted live oak, monstrous in size and jacketed in Kudzu. We both sit down. He takes off his suit jacket and rolls up his shirtsleeves, exposing the brightly colored ink on his skin.
“You shouldn’t hide who you are from him, y’know,” I say. “You should show up to this event tonight in jeans and a T-shirt and fuck whatever he thinks.”
Rebel lies back in the grass, his hands underneath his head. “Don’t think I don’t want to,” he says. “But if he’s mad at me, he’ll punish everyone around him as well as me for it. Leah’ll lose her job. And having her here is very, very convenient for me.”
“Is she…have you—?”
He laughs softly, shaking his head. “She spies on Louis for me. Passes along information. The old man’s about as dirty as they come. On the receiving end of so many bribes it’s a wonder how he keeps everything straight in his head. Information like that can be really valuable. Who wants what bill to go through. Who’s involved in insider trading. Who’s addicted to drugs. Who’s cheating on their wives. My father has a stream of information coming in at all times, and Leah gathers it all for me.”
"And you use that information to get what you want.”
“When I can.”
“And when you can’t?”
Rebel casts a steely look in my direction. “Then I use other means.”
I lie back into the long grass, lacing my hands over my chest. “Is this who you thought you’d end up being when you graduated from MIT?”
“No. I thought I was going to be a solider forever. But things don’t always work out the way you intend them to, do they?”
“Obviously not.”
Neither of us says anything else. The wind blows through the tree branches overhead, rustling leaves and grass and teasing strands of my hair up into the air. I fall asleep. When I wake up, Rebel’s sitting with his back against the tree, watching me.
“Getting involved with me is the worst thing you can possibly do,” he says.
The words are gripping me by the throat—I don’t want to get involved with you. I’m not going to—but the intensity of his expression prevents me from lying. Even to myself. “I get the feeling it might somehow be too late now,” I say, my voice quiet. “Don’t…don’t you feel that, too?”
He looks away, clenching his hands tightly into fists. “Yeah. Well. I was kind of hoping you were smarter than me.”
“From your math problems and the diploma hanging on your father’s wall, I don’t think I know anyone smarter than you, Jamie.”
I don’t know why I call him that. His forehead creases into lines of…worry? “You can’t call me that outside of this place, Soph. You need to remember that. It’s important.”
“I’ll remember.” I sit up, every part of me focused on him. “I won’t do it again. Will that make you happy?”
That small crease in his cheek reappears, completing his rueful expression. “Yes, ma’am.” He leans forward, his body close to mine, the smell of him filling my head. Carefully, he plucks a blade of dried grass from my hair. “I kissed you before, sugar. You pushed me away. Next time you want that to happen, you’re gonna have to make it happen yourself. You understand?”
I look away, tucking my knees up underneath my chin. Hiding from him. He ducks down, searching for my eyes, but I’m a coward. I close them.
“Sophia?”
“What if I’m too scared? What if I want that now, but I’m too afraid of what comes after?” I feel dizzy as I speak, not sure where I’m drawing the courage from.
“Look at me, Soph.”
I don’t. I can’t.
“Sophia.” He shifts his body so that his side is pressed up against mine; his warmth makes my head spin. I feel his fingers underneath my jaw, lifting and turning my head so that I’m facing him. I keep my eyes tightly closed, though, still too paralyzed by the fear that I’m losing myself entirely to acknowledge this. To acknowledge him.
I might not be able to see him, but I can sense him drawing even closer. My heart stops altogether when I feel the rough stubble of his cheeks grazing against mine as he presses himself against me and whispers in my ear. “The moment you give yourself to me, it won’t be because I’ve bought you. It won’t be because you’re afraid of me, or because you want something in return. It’ll be because you need me. Because you need me inside you. Because you can’t stand this torture a second more. Then, you won’t be afraid of what comes next. You’ll be begging for it.”
His heat suddenly vanishes, leaving me breathless. With his close proximity making my head spin a moment ago, now that he’s moved away I feel abruptly alone. I open my eyes and Rebel has stood up. His eyes are so filled with hunger that I don’t know where to look. Holding out his hand to me, he jerks his head in the direction of the house. “Come on, sugar. We have to go get ready for my father’s circle jerk of a party.”
******
The dress probably isn’t something I would have picked out for myself, but it’s still beautiful. Cream, almost white, with lace around the midsection, it falls gracefully to the floor as I pour the silky material over my head. I feel like a different person entirely in this dress. Someone I would be if I went home and finished my degree. Someone I would be if I had a normal life. Someone I would have been if I’d let him put me on that bus.
With my hair swept to one side, pinned in place and curling down over my shoulder, I feel like I belong in some sort of Grecian legend. I have no jewelry, but I don’t need it. The single splash of color I’m wearing—bold, bright red lipstick that I found in amongst the toiletries Rebel brought for me—is embellishment enough.
Rebel, in yet another beautifully tailored black suit, is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs when I come down to meet him. The smile falls from his face as he watches me approach. I think he approves. The guy he’s talking to turns and looks over his shoulder, smiling politely as I stop at Rebel’s side. “This is Sophia Marne,” Rebel says, introducing me to the older man. “Sophia, this is Drew McKinney. He’s my father’s campaign manager and our family’s oldest friend.”
I shake Drew’s hand, mirroring the frown that develops on his face when he takes a closer look at me. “Why, how strange,” he says, his accent by far the most southern I’ve heard since arriving last night. “I swear I’ve seen your face before. Are you…do you work in television?” he asks, breaking out into a grin, elbowing me as though he’s caught me out in some grand deception.
“No, no,” I laugh. “I’ve just got one of those faces.”
“A beautiful face, I’m sure. Either way, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Marne. I hope this young man is remembering his manners around you?”
I hear Rebel’s voice in my head—it’ll be because you need me. Because you need me inside you. Because you can’t stand this torture a second more—and I can’t help but smile. “I assure you, he’s been the perfect gentleman.”
“That’s mighty good to hear, my girl. Our Jamie’s always been a bit of a rebel. I’m reassured to know he can at least treat a beautiful woman the way she deserves to be treated.”
Rebel nearly chokes on the flute of champagne he was drinking from. Obviously the rebel reference just hit a little too close to home. “I think I see my father. We should probably go say hello,” he says, clearing his throat. “It was a pleasure to see you again, Drew.” Pulling me away through the crowd of people who have already arrived and are milling around the foyer and formal reception rooms, Rebel growls under his breath. “This is my worst fucking nightmare.”
His mood doesn’t improve. As the night progresses and we’re forced to make nice with progressively stuffier, drunker, more passive aggressive people, my escort gets ruder and ruder. His final breaking point comes when his father joins us, as a morbidly obese oiler from Texas is praising Rebel in his service to his country.
“Louis, you must be pretty damn proud of this boy of yours. One tour in Afghanistan is one thing, but two? That’s damn patriotism right there, if ever I saw it.”
“Yes, my son, the war hero,” Louis says. To an outsider, it might look like he’s agreeing with the Texan’s comment, but Rebel hears the sarcasm just as well as I do. He stiffens, his back ramrod straight.
“I only ever turned out to be the man my father intended me to be,” he tells the Texan. “I was sent off to military school on my thirteenth birthday. It was natural that I’d want to enlist properly once my education was complete.”
“Yes, that’s right. And what did you do when you were in the army, James?”
“I was a Marine.” He hardens his jaw, lifting his chin, daring his father to say anything about that.
“Hoo-rah,” the Texan roars, laughing. He’s so drunk he’s completely missing the antagonism taking place between the other two men. “Marines are the backbone of the US Armed Forces.”
“Yes, of course. Though, coming summa cum laude in his class probably should have meant he was the brainpower of the US Armed Forces instead of a glorified grunt.”
The governor’s tone catches the Texan’s attention now. “Oh, come on now. Some people don’t like taking an officer’s promotion without feeling like they earned it. I respect that.”
“You’re too kind, Mason. But my son’s had an easy upbringing. I’m afraid he’s all too used to having things handed to him.”
Rebel’s eyes flash with hatred and he thrusts his drink into his father’s chest. Louis automatically catches hold of it, a look of murder in his own eyes. “Fuck. You,” Rebel grinds out. “I suppose I became a Marine and put myself in danger every single day I was out there just to spite you, then? Is that it?”
Louis raises his eyebrows, his mouth drawing downward in that sour, unimpressed way of his. “You’re not calculating enough for that, son. You’re just like your mother was—reckless and…and foolish,” he says, taking a deep pause in between words. After all that he’s said, after all that he warned, he is the one starting trouble at his own event.
Rebel makes a disgusted sound at the back of his throat. “You’re pathetic,” he tells his father as he pushes past him. I can feel the Texan gawping at us as I hurry after Rebel, pushing through the crowd of men. Their hungry eyes and wolfish smiles feel like they’re burning into my skin, making me feel dirty. I catch sight of Rebel heading through a door at the rear of the formal dining room, vanishing from sight as the door closes behind him. He’s waiting for me when I follow after him. His hands are on me the second I step through the door.
“Fuck what I said earlier. Fuck waiting for you to make the first move. I can’t do it.” His lips crash down on mine, his hands tightening on my waist. My breath feels like it’s being pulled from my lungs, making me dizzy as I let him walk me backward, pressing up against the wall behind me. I was expecting him to be angry. I was expecting him to need calming down. I was not expecting this.
“Rebel, I don’t…I’m not sure this is the best—”
He grabs hold of my hair, winding it around his fist and drawing my head back. “Do you want me to stop, sugar? Do you not want me to sink myself inside you?” I can feel just how badly he wants to do that when he presses his hips up against mine, his solid hard on digging into my stomach. He pulls my hair back further, so that my neck is there for his taking. He lowers his mouth halfway to my skin, his eyes never leaving mine. They spark with fury and lust, combining to create something powerful and overwhelming. “Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you ’til you’re screaming and I’ll let you go right now.”
A hot shiver travels through me, making my body feel suddenly weak. God, this can’t be happening. Here? Now? It doesn’t seem right. I look over his shoulder, seeing that we’re in an empty corridor, completely and utterly alone.
“Well?” Rebel growls.
“Fine. I do. I do want you,” I gasp. Admitting that is the final breaking point. I’ve crossed a line, a dangerous one, but right now, here in this moment with his body flush against mine and my skin burning up, I can’t seem to make myself care. Rebel growls again, the rumble vibrating through me as he descends on me, licking and biting at my neck. My head’s pounding, my blood surging through me, filled with adrenalin and endorphins.
His mouth on me feels amazing. His hands roaming all over my body, his powerful arms bracketing me in place against the wall. The pressure of his cock, demanding and hard against me as he grinds his hips upward. All of it feels incredible and wrong and I don’t want it to stop.
“Take off your dress,” he commands.
“I…I can’t. Someone might come.”
“They won’t,” he says. His voice is heavy with need, his hands already pulling at the material of my dress. “This is a servant’s walkway. Everyone’s out on the floor, doing their jobs. No one will come.” I don’t get any further say in the matter. Rebel rips the dress up over my head, leaving me standing in front of him in nothing but my underwear. He makes a stifled groaning noise as he leans back and takes me in.
“You’re fucking perfect. So fucking perfect.” Dipping down, he runs his tongue along the swell of my cleavage, his mouth hot on my body. “Do you want me?” he asks, his breathing coming even quicker than before.
I tell the truth, because it’s all I can do. “Yes.”
“Do you want me to possess you? To make you mine?”
“Yes. Yes, I do.” The very prospect has been the one thing I’ve been afraid of since he took ownership of me from Julio, but now I’m desperate for it. Begging him, just like he said I would underneath that oak tree.
He’s upset. He’s pissed off and boiling with anger, but that just seems to add to this undeniable attraction I feel coursing through my veins. “How badly do you want to touch me?” he rumbles.
“Really…really badly.”
“Then undress me.” He steps back, tilting his head back, challenging me yet again, not just to allow this to happen but to participate. To prove to myself that I do want this. I slide my hands over his chest, up the front of his white dress shirt, and then underneath his black suit jacket. His mouth twitches, either with the beginnings of a smile or with amusement at the way my hands are shaking. He doesn’t tease me, though. If anything, the look in his eyes is keen with curiosity, waiting to see just how far I really will go. I pull his suit jacket over his shoulders, my heart slamming erratically as I feel the hard ridges and planes of his muscular back underneath my fingertips. His physique is hard won. Five years at military school, two tours in Afghanistan and the years he’s been running the Widow Makers can’t have been easy. I’m definitely reaping the rewards of his labor.
His suit jacket hits the floor. I start working on the buttons of his shirt, aware of his eyes burning into my flesh. Another bolt of adrenalin zigzags through me when he leans into my neck again and whispers, “If you don’t hurry up, I’m gonna have to take you fully dressed.”
My hands move like lightning, ripping at the remaining buttons, then at the material of his shirt. I’ve been covertly checking him out for days now, trying not to, trying not to get caught at least, but once his shirt is gone now I can’t help myself. I drink him in the same way he’s been drinking me in, eyes hungry, barely able to look away.
He is perfection. There isn’t a spare inch of fat anywhere on him. I run my hands up and over the bird tattoos on his chest, hesitant but determined at the same time. His breath blows hard across my cleavage, making me break out in goose bumps. “I need to feel your tits up against me, Soph. God, they’re fucking amazing.” He makes quick work of freeing my breasts from my bra; his fingers barely skate over the clasp before he’s ripping the straps down my arms and throwing my underwear to the ground. I’m almost naked; only my panties remain. Rebel grinds his body against mine, pushing me even harder into the wall. He dips down, his mouth moving over the skin of my neck, my collarbone, my chest and then my breasts. I gasp as he takes my left nipple into his mouth.
Fire ignites in the pit of my belly, roaring, sending flames in every direction, burning me up from the inside out. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Rebel, I need you.” My head rocks back, my body feeling boneless. Rebel’s hands work their way over me, investigating and exploring every last inch of me. His fingers move down, down, down until they’re hovering over the lacy material of my panties.
“Are you ready for me, Soph? Am I gonna find you soaking wet and desperate when I play with your pussy?”
No one’s ever referred to it that way before. Only certain men can say pussy and own it without it sounding sleazy or plain weird coming out of their mouths. When Rebel says it, the word sends heat and electricity charging in between my legs. “Yes. I’m wet for you,” I whisper. “Please, Rebel. Please.”
I can feel him getting harder against me, his cock straining at his pants. Rebel lifts one eyebrow, a ruinous smile teasing at his lips. “If you’re lying, sugar, you should know…you will be punished.”
I have no idea what form of punishment he has in mind but I’m not sure if it’s the bad kind or the good kind. Is there such a thing as a good kind? My head says no, but by the way my body reacts, it might just know something I don’t. “I’m ready. I want you, Rebel. Please. I can’t…” I can’t wait much longer. I’ve never reacted to anyone like this before.
With Matt it’s always felt nice, but in the same vein it has felt rote. Like we’re going through the motions, having sex every three days because that’s an appropriate amount of time between adventures. With Rebel…fuck, with Rebel, I feel like I’m going out of my mind. I don’t think any more of Matt. Alexis was the girl who belonged with him. I haven’t wanted to admit it, but Alexis is gone. She might as well have died right alongside Rebel’s cousin in the alleyway back in Seattle. Now, I’m Sophia, and there’s no way she and Matt would have a future together. She belongs to Rebel, the man standing in front of me, looking at me like he’s about to screw me into oblivion.
I start fumbling with his belt, determined to get his pants off him. Rebel slips his hand down the front of my panties, and my hands suddenly still. I can’t move, can’t react, can’t breathe. His fingers find my clit right away—no fumbling around, searching. He makes a guttural, animalistic sound at the back of his throat.
“Oh, sugar. You weren’t joking, huh?” Sliding his fingers back, he draws his pointer finger and his middle finger through the slick folds of my pussy, and then he brings his hand up to his mouth. I’m paralyzed as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, humming, the vibration of his vocal chords traveling through his chest into mine. “You taste fucking amazing, Soph. I can’t fucking take this anymore.”
Unfastening his belt and tearing down his pants, Rebel does what I couldn’t do the second his fingers touched me between my legs. His cock springs free, swollen and way bigger that I’d anticipated. I’m no prude. I’ve not exactly had a vast number of lovers, but I’ve seen a cock before. And Rebel’s is way above average. I feel dizzy just looking at it.
Rebel takes himself into his hand and slowly pumps up and down. He hasn’t removed his shoes, so his pants remain around his ankles. That would look ridiculous on someone else, but somehow he pulls it off. I can’t take my eyes off his hand working up and down his smooth, slicked flesh. “See something you like?” he asks.
I look up at him, not trusting myself to speak. I can only nod my head.
“Take your panties off, Sophia.” Complying, I shimmy the small, barely there material down my legs, kicking them off. While I’m losing my underwear, Rebel’s still stroking himself; he pauses for a moment to roll a condom down over his hard-on, completing the movement with practiced ease. His eyes scour my body, taking every inch of it in. “Now press your back against the wall again.”
I step back, doing as he tells me, my chest heaving. Rebel comes for me, then. There’s no more foreplay, no more talking. He moves up against me and places his hands directly under my thighs, lifting me from the ground. My legs wrap instinctively around his waist, tightening when I feel his cock press up against my pussy. God, I want him. I need him so bad. His hands are everywhere, all over my skin, in my hair. He grinds himself upward, rubbing against my sensitive clit. His lips finds mine, and the two of us breathe our need into each others mouths, panting, tongues skating over each other as we kiss.
He takes hold of my jaw lightly in one hand, holding my head in place so that I’m looking at him. “Look me in the eyes, sugar. I wanna see into you,” he says.
I can’t take it. The intimacy of staring into his eyes as he slides himself up against me is too much to bear. I can’t look away, though. I could close my eyes, but there’s something in the way he’s staring at me, so intense and focused, as though I’m the only thing he sees or cares about in this moment. I already know, deep down in my bones, that being looked at like that by him will be an addiction I won’t be able to shake. “You ready to get fucked?” Rebel growls.
“Oh, god. Holy fucking shi—” I cut off when he pushes into me. My mind goes utterly blank. He feels…he feels huge for that first few seconds. Way too big, I feel like I’m going to burst. Rebel freezes, stilling himself, allowing me to get used to the feeling of him inside me. My nipples burn in the best way, my breasts crushed up against his naked chest. It feels amazing. My whole body feels amazing. I feel my pussy tighten around him, reacting to his presence, and Rebel growls.
