Threat (20 page)

My chest rises like mountains as I lay there waiting to feel his lips
against mine. Our eyes connect the second he kisses me down below. My
body reacts on it's own, arching up off the table and grinding
against his mouth.

One long, slow drag of his tongue over my slit and I'm spent.
“Fuck...Threat..,” I moan. I've never considered myself
to be a particularly sex crazed person, but right now I need to feel
him inside me like my lungs need air.

He licks me again, deeper now, pushing his tongue between my folds
and flicking my clit. God, why is he moving so slow? I look up to see
that wicked look has returned to his eyes, and I know he's just
trying to torture me. It's working. And I can't say shit about it
because my mind has turned to mush.

With hands gripping my thighs, he pushes his face deeper between my
legs, his tongue winding around my clit like a cyclone. Fuck—is
it possible for pleasure to be
too
intense? I've been with
guys before—well,
a
guy, but not like this. Not like
this at all.

I lightly grip his hair, panting as he sucks. He presses his tongue
inside of me, his hands trailing up my waist and over my bra. I can't
help but cry out he swirls inside of me, lapping up every last drop
of the juices that flood my cave.

The second he pulls out I collapse against the table, breathing hard
as I stare up at the ceiling. I hear Threat chuckle, his warm hand
still stroking my thigh. “What the hell...did you do to me?!”
I ask through ragged breaths.

“Nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you next.”

Shit.

He tugs on my panties, ripping them clean off my legs. I hear him
unzip his pants and undo his buckle and my eyes shoot wide open—am
I ready for this?

When I prop myself up on my elbows I see him standing between my
knees, holding his cock.

His stiff, glistening,
curved
cock.

“Holy shit,” I whisper.

He looks pleased by my reaction at first. But my mind goes back and
forth between wanting him to fuck the shit out of me and thinking I'm
about to be impaled. And apparently, that shows on my face.

His features twist. “Have you ever seen a dick before?”

For some reason, I'm insulted. “Yes!”

“In person?”

I roll my eyes. “Yes, I've seen a dick before.”

“Touch it,” he commands.

He's testing me. But touching him isn't what I'm worried about right
now.

I reach out and wrap my hand around his rigid shaft. He takes my
hand, forcing it tighter around him and guiding me up and down his
length. His eyes flutter as I stroke him. I flick my thumb over his
head, to which he responds with a groan that bellows through the
cabin.

“Still don't believe me?” I'm acting way more experienced
than I actually am and I have a feeling it's going to backfire later.

“So you know how to give a hand job,” he say, biting his
lip between sentences. “Have you ever
taken
a dick
before?”

I blink and pause. “Once?” And it was the absolute
worst
.
If being with Threat is anything like that...no, forget that. Being
with Threat will be
nothing
like that.

“And here I thought you were a virgin.”

My brow crooks. “Are you disappointed?”

He shakes his head, pulling our mouths together, his lips forcing
mine apart to make room for his trespassing tongue. It's unexpected
and it steals my breath. He rests his forehead against mine as I
continue to stroke. “Like I said, I don't fucking do gentle.”

My whole body tenses. What if I really can't handle him?

He flicks my hand away from him and slides his between my thighs. In
one swift motion he pushes his index finger inside. “Mmph,”
I yelp, my muscles constricting around him.

“Did that hurt?” he asks me.

“Would you care if it did?”

He kisses me again, nibbling at my lower lip. “I said I don't
do gentle. I didn't say I wanted to hurt you.”

He moves within me, in a short, pulsating rhythm, and then slips his
middle finger in beside the other. I shift my hips to take them
deeper. He scissors his fingers inside me, loosening and stretching
my walls before sliding out.

Before I can fully react he rips off my bra and pushes me back,
pinning me against the table, his hands sliding over my torso at an
excruciatingly slow speed. My heart races, which I'm sure he can feel
as he drags his palms up over the curve of my breasts. I moan and
tighten my thighs around his hips, wanting to grind against him and
ease the desperate craving between them. But he takes his time,
kneading me, molding my mounds like they're clay in his heated hands.
He runs my nipples between his fingers and plants a kiss between
them.

I'm nearly breathless when he caresses my sides, his hands finally
landing on my hips, which he pulls closer to his. “One more
thing,” he says as he digs around in the pocket of his low
slung jeans. Out he pulls his wallet, and from that, a condom which
he opens way too quickly with his teeth. Just how many times has he
practiced that?

With baited breath I watch him sheath his erection with the rubber.
And then, with his cock in one hand, he teases my entrance with his
head. God, I want him inside me more than anything and it takes all
my strength not to cry out and beg him to impale me with his cock. I
can't think of anything outside these walls besides him and I, right
here and right now.

“Are you ready for me, baby?” he asks, his voice low and
gravelly.

“Mmhm,” I mumble and nod.

He pushes just his tip inside—my chest rises. He takes my legs,
hooking them higher around his waist before he slides the rest of the
way in. It's so much thicker than his fingers, so much warmer. He
stretches me more than I've ever felt myself expand before, but he
doesn't hurt me.

His flesh is tight against my flesh when he can't possibly dig any
deeper inside me. He begins to roll his hips against me, feeding me
slow, shallow pumps. A tiny cry escapes my throat, my thighs
clutching him almost as tight as my pussy.

“You can take it, baby,” he says. Oh God, I can take it,
but can I handle it? My eyes roll back. His pumps become thrusts,
long and lengthy strides that land deep within my core.

When he said he wasn't gentle, he meant it. His palms slide over
mine, our fingers interlocking against the surface of the table and
he holds me down against it. His brows are low over his eyes, which
appear even darker than usual. He never once breaks eye contact with
me. Not with every hard thrust, not with each guttural grunt that
accompanies them, and not when he hits that special spot that makes
me writhe with passion beneath him.

The carnal lust, mixed with rage and unending desire in his eyes is
more than enough to consume me.

“God, Threat...I—I'm gonna...” I think I've
forgotten how to speak. I dig my nails into his hands, holding him
between my legs like he'll disappear if I don't. He twitches and
jerks between my walls. He brings me to an unbelievable high. Stars
burst behind my eyes, my body exploding with otherworldly sensation.
And here I thought the way he touched me last night was mind
blowing—little did I know, I hadn't seen a
thing
yet.

He comes to a howling climax, bursting deep inside me. His body falls
against mine—I feel spent, mentally and physically, but he
barely seems out of breath with his chest pressed against mine. He
lets my hands go free, his own running through my messy locks while
he kisses me wildly over my neck and cheek.

“Fuckin' hell, Leah,” he pants softly with his lips
pressed against my ear. “I think your body was made for me. I
could fuck you until the end of time.”

Those words are more than enough to make my pussy tighten around his
half-hard cock. Was that a threat? Good God, I hope it was another
promise.

He sits me up, with my legs still tight around him. Our lips lock
into a deep and forceful kiss, his rough tongue pushing against mine.
“You didn't think I was done with you yet...did you?” he
mumbles into me.

Hmm?

Before I can react to his words, he pulls me off the surface and
spins me around, shoving my hips against the table's edge. It happens
so fast I can barely process it, much less respond with anything
other than slack jawed wonder.

“Down, baby,” he commands, pushing me forward until my
palms hit the tabletop, bent over in the perfect position for his
taking.

Shit.
This is happening again. And I don't know if I'm ready.

But I sure as hell want it.

He takes me roughly by the waist and kicks my heels wide apart. His
hand is on my ass seconds later, groping my cheek between his
forefinger and thumb. He reaches back and swats me hard on the cheek.

“Aaye,” I yelp. It stings so fucking good that I clench
around nothing, practically begging for his cock.

And he gives it to me. He gives it to me hard, and rough, just like
he promised. There's no slow but steady build up this time. He slams
his full length into me with one forceful thrust. My hips hit the
edge of the table each time he pushes into me. They'll bruise by
morning, but I don't give a shit. I want every single inch of him, as
hard and fast as he can give it to me.

He grabs my breast from behind, clutching me tight against his
muscled chest, which heaves in time with his heavy breathing. He
rolls his hips against my ass, burying himself over and over again
inside of me. With each and every pump I let out a whine, my hands
clutching his arm, pleading for release. It comes like a searing
flash of white hot light, blinding me and washing over me with a
mixture of heat and chills.

My legs feel like jelly. My arms quiver and I fall on to my elbows as
I float down from my high once more. I feel him soften inside of me
and pull out, leaving me gasping for air and bracing myself against
the table. The boat sways and creaks beneath us—it's the first
time I've noticed it in a while.

Threat stays behind me, messaging my hips. The only other sound is
him, chuckling darkly. What the hell? Does the man ever tire?

He spins me around, his skin brushing against mine. “Let's go
to bed, baby,” he says he walks me backwards into the bedroom.

Bed sounds good. So does cuddling up against his body.

But the way he's looking me up and down tells me we're not exactly
going to get much sleep.

THREAT

The boat rocks gently beneath us, so subtle that you wouldn't notice
unless you were absolutely still. She is curled up and tucked neatly
against my side, hand draped over my stomach, still fast asleep. She
looks so peaceful, her pink pouty lips moving in her slumber. I can’t
help but wonder if she's dreaming about me and all the ways I touched
her last night, or the way I made her come over and over again. I
know I sure did.

The last thing I want to do is wake her, so it's just my luck that my
fucking phone goes off right beside the bed.

Bzzzzzz

Damn it.

She stirs next to me, rolling on to her stomach, but ultimately
doesn't wake. I carefully reach over the edge and retrieve my jeans
from where I threw them late last night. I pull the phone from the
pocket and right on the screen is a text message.

From my Pop.

Sealed the deal yet son?

“Shit,” I whisper low.

Leah stirs again, murmuring in her sleep.

I look back at my phone and read the words again. There's an
unfamiliar tightening in my stomach and I don't like it. Does he have
a fucking sixth sense or something?

The bet was the last thing on my mind last night. Sex with Leah just
sort of...happened. It wasn't part of any plan or scheme. I almost
told her about the whole ruse when we were on the pier, but what was
the point? She had been through enough, most of it inadvertently
caused by me. That bet ended a long time ago, as far as I'm
concerned. Whether my father was made aware of it or not.

I quickly open my iMessenger with the intent of deleting the message.
As my finger hovers over the button, I hear my father's voice in my
head. “Where would you be without me, huh?” is what he
would say if he knew what I was about to do. He's said it a million
times.

And he was right everytime.

It's not like I have options, or a full ride scholarship to an Ivy
League. I don't have any other skills or talent. Hell I don't think
I'm even capable of learning something new at this point. The only
shot I have in this world of making something of myself is as a
tattoo artist. I loved it and hated it in a way I would never truly
admit. With the tattoo shop, my future would be set. I practically
run the thing already, I just don't earn a fraction of what I should.

I gaze over at the beautiful, naked, sleeping girl next me. She could
never know. Not ever. Even if she forgave me—who am I kidding,
Leah would never forgive something like that and I already knew it.

What she doesn't know won't hurt her.

I bring my thumb down against the screen, erasing any trace of it's
existence. I let out a relieved breath and smile knowing that it's
gone.

Today is a new day, and a chance to do shit right for once. It feels
like a burden I never knew was there has been lifted from my
shoulders.

The bed shifts next to me. “What are you smiling about?”
Leah asks in a playfully groggy voice.

I look over at her. She's tangled up in white sheets, her bold locks
tousled, thanks to me. All I can do is smile wider and think about
how much I'd love to pin here down and fuck her into the mattress.
Again. Or maybe take her in the shower. The table was fun and so was
the bed, but there's so many other surfaces I'd love to try her body
out on.

Maybe I will after all.

I roll on to my side, draping myself half over her body with mine.
All it takes is a single touch for her to squirm beneath me.