Underestimated (13 page)

“Lay down on the bed, Morgan,” he whispered in

my ear. He walked me forward when I didn’t move.

Was I supposed to lie on my stomach? I didn’t

know what he wanted me to do, so I did nothing, nothing

except notice my heart beating out of my chest, and the dull

pain on my cheek bone. He turned me around and moved

me back so that I had to sit. He wasn’t modest at all and

didn’t care that his dick was right in front of me. He

grabbed himself and made a hissing sound as he moved it,

trying to get some relief in the now too tight dress slacks.

He picked up both my legs, willing me to lay back.

I scooted back on my elbows, not wanting to be exposed

to him. He had the most lustful, crazed look in his eyes as

he engrossed in my naked body beneath him. He slid both

his hands up my legs and to the edges of my vagina. He

still didn’t touch me where I felt I needed touched.

“Spread your legs,” he said as he grabbed himself

again.

“I don’t want to,” I said weakly.

“But you are going to, so you should take heed in

my warning and listen to me now.”

I was afraid of the warning he spoke of, and

slowly raised both of my legs. He hissed again as he

stared at my extremely open sex. He took both of his

thumbs and opened me more. I closed my eyes, trying to

shut out the humiliation.

“You’re very wet, your pussy wants to be touched,

doesn’t it, Morgan?”

Yes…Yes it does, like now.

“No,” I said through my rapid breaths.

“I am not touching you until you tell me to.”

Great.

He continued to tease my outer folds, but wouldn’t

go anywhere close to my inner core. He would get close,

very close, and after what seemed like hours that I was

sure were only minutes, I twisted my hips, hoping his

fingers would slip and find my throbbing nub, but he

stopped moving altogether.

“Do you want me to touch you now?”

“Yes,” I said in a panting breath and noticed the

winning, smirk on his face. I wanted to kick it right off of

him, but I wanted him to touch me more.

He turned his hand, palm side up, and ran his

middle finger from my opening up to my clit. I squirmed

beneath his fingers, and closed my eyes, trying not to

moan. He never slid his fingers inside of me like I was

hoping he would, and focused on my slippery juices,

massaging the slipperiness into my clit. He placed his

thumb on the throbbing sensation, circling it with just the

right amount of pressure. I knew I was going to explode,

and my hips moved with him. I was almost there, so close

to the crest when he slowed his pace and pressure.

“Do you want to come, Morgan?” he asked,

towering over me.

I did want to come, and I wanted to come right that

second. I knew I was going to have to play his game, and

he wasn’t going to do anything without me telling him.

“Yes,” I whispered.

He picked up his speed and pressure again. Just

when I was right there, ready to be relieved, he abruptly

stopped. My eyes opened, and he pulled me up, pushing

me down to kneel in front of him.

“You can come when you learn to listen and watch

your mouth.”

I started to panic again when he undid his belt and

freed himself. He placed the head right on my tightly,

squeezed lips.

“Open your mouth, Morgan.”

“Uh-uh,” I moaned as he moved his head from one

side of my lips to the other, applying his pre-come to my

lips like lipstick. He continued this, enjoying it, I was sure

until he wanted in my mouth.

“Open your mouth, Morgan,” he demanded again,

but I still wasn’t doing it. No way was he was putting that

thing in my mouth.

He brought his hand up and rubbed my already

bruised cheek, and then plugged off my only source of

breathing with his fingers. I still didn’t care. I would pass

out before I opened my mouth for his dick. That only

lasted for about a minute and my survival instincts

betrayed me, causing me to gasp for air. I tried to do it

quickly, but he was faster and shoved himself inside my

mouth with a gratifying moan.

“Oh fuck yeah,” he muttered, sliding in and out of

my mouth. He held my head by the top of my hair and

thrust in and out of me, sometimes causing my gag reflex to

engage. He moved rapidly, and when I felt the pulsating

and knew he was about to come in my mouth, I swiftly

jerked away from him. He continued to stroke himself and

held my nose again.

“Awe, open up, baby,” he moaned, close to

release.

No way, fuck you, dude.

Again, the stupid survival instinct kicked in, and I

was forced to take a breath, allowing him access again,

but this time he held my jaw open with his fingers. He

pulled out again and stroked himself ferociously on my

lips, and just like that he was spewing out, moaning as his

eyes, watched the show. He managed to get his head in

just enough to insure that I did get it in my mouth and then

smeared the rest of it around, moistening my lips with his

come. Every time I tried to push it out of my mouth with

my tongue he used his head and pushed it back. I finally

swallowed what was in my mouth just to get it out.

He picked up the towel that I had around me,

wiped himself off, and put himself away. He tossed me the

towel and I instantly spit into it, wiping as much of him

away as I could. He squatted to me on the floor and ran his

middle finger up my glistening wet folds again and

whispered to my lips.

“You’re not allowed to touch yourself,” he said,

quietly. He dialed a number from the phone by my bed.

“Mrs. Kelley is going to need an icepack,” he said

and left me confused and frustrated.

Rebecca brought me an icepack and whispered

close to my ear.

“Save yourself from this, Mrs. Kelley, just do as

you’re told.”

I didn’t even realize that I was masturbating myself

when my cellphone rang, breaking me from my past with

Drew. I didn’t take my hand from inside my panties when I

answered Dawson’s call.

“Hello,” I said, realizing that my breathing was a

little erratic.

“Hi, you okay?”

“Yes, why?” I asked confused for a second.

“You just sound like you were running or

something.”

I slowed the pace of my fingers, knowing exactly

what was causing my over exerted breathing.

“I’m fine, just went to bed.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay after

what happened.”

“You mean, you kissing me?”

Dawson laughed. “Yeah that.”

I snickered a little too. “I’m fine, but I would

advise you to keep your distance from me, sheriff. I’m

kind of fucked up in the head, and it’s probably something

that you don’t want to deal with.”

“What does that mean, Ry?”

“Nothing that I can talk to you about.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“Both.”

“You can talk to me, Riley. You’re not going to

scare me away.”

“Hmm, you don’t know what you are saying. Trust

me.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Dawson,” I said, not so

much that I didn’t want to talk to him, but I had another

project manifesting, and I was dying to finish it.

“Good night, Ry.”

“Night, sheriff.”

I continued to please myself and was moaning in

pleasure moments later.

I actually slept with no bad dreams. Maybe release

was what I needed.

I woke to Lauren yelling from my kitchen too early

the next morning.

“I’m eating the pizza,” she called.

Why the hell did I give her a key?

I brushed my teeth and met her in the kitchen, still

feeling tired. I knew I could have slept for at least another

two hours when I saw that the time was only seven in the

morning.

“I want a new friend, one that can sleep in,” I

pouted, sitting at the table.

Lauren brought me a cup of coffee. She had been

there longer than I thought. She kissed me on the cheek

from behind.

“You love me, and you know it.”

I groaned. “Yeah, yeah,” I said, sipping the coffee.

Lauren hung around, watching television for a

couple of hours. She decided she had to go when Dawson

showed up, unannounced.

“Call me later,” she said and bounced her happy

ass across the yard.

“That girl is way over ardent,” Dawson said,

walking in. He had been home and showered, replacing

his uniform with jeans and a t-shirt.

Dawson and I spent the entire day together. He

didn’t mention our kiss, nor did he kiss me all day. We

walked along the beach, and he did reach for my hand,

entwining our fingers. I thought about Drew touching me,

and could only remember a few times that he had ever

held my hand, and it was just for show for his dinner

parties.

Dawson left around ten, tired from working the

night shift. I actually didn’t want him to leave. I wanted

more than the kiss that he was going to leave me with. I

needed more. I was so used to the sex that Drew and I

shared for six years. I was having a harder time not having

it than I thought I would.

I again went to bed and pleased myself, thinking

about Drew. I hated him. I never loved him, and here I

was miles away, fantasizing about sex with him.

Our second sex encounter had come the very next

morning, or I should say his sex encounter. I was being

punished. He wasn’t about to let me have any pleasure.

He came into my room the next morning carrying

his laptop. I was still sleeping when he sat on the side of

the bed. I jumped to a sitting position.

“I thought that I made it clear that you weren’t

allowed to touch yourself, Morgan,” he said, running the

back of his hand down my cheek.

I flinched and pulled away from his touch. “I

didn’t,” I lied. I thought that he wouldn’t be able to notice

if he was watching. I had lain on my stomach and used the

weight of my body to control the movement of my arm.

He turned the laptop so that we could both see it.

You couldn’t tell that I was doing anything, not until my

hips thrust into my fingers. The look on my face as I came

was undeniable, and the soft moan, that was abundantly

clear, made it impossible to deny.

I looked up to his dark eyes, and he wore the same

smirk. “You know that I am going to punish you for this,

don’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

He moved my covers back and told me to get up.

I listened, afraid not to.

He raised my nightgown and rubbed my silky

panties, covering my butt. He pulled them down just

below my cheeks and rubbed soft and gentle.

“I am going to spank you, Morgan,” he rasped.

What the fuck?

My eyes darted quickly to his, and I hated the

constant smirk that he wore.

“Bend over my lap,” he said, pushing himself back

on the bed a little.

My heart began to pick up instantly. I was afraid

not to listen just as much as I was afraid to listen.

He pulled my arm and I was over his lap, resting

my top half on the bed. At first he just rubbed my back

side and then I felt three very quick slaps that promptly

stung. He rubbed my butt again, causing, satisfying relief

before repeating his steps three more times. The fourth

time while he rubbed away the pain, I tensed, waiting for

the next swat. He didn’t hit me again, and instead ran his

hand up the folds of my vagina.

Oh, sweet pleasure
.

“Your pussy is wet. You like getting spanked,

don’t you, Morgan?”

I didn’t know if it was a question that I was

supposed to answer or if it was for his benefit only. I

didn’t reply.

“You need to answer me when I ask you a

question,” he demanded.

How the hell do I answer that?

“Yes,” I almost moaned as his fingers teased my

throbbing clit. I wondered how long he was going to keep

me bent over his lap, and then his hands spread my ass

cheeks, exposing my anus. I flinched when he ran my slick

juices from the front all the way back to my sphincter,