Chapter 5

5

Caleb

Iwait until she’s in the shower to roll over, bury my face in her pillow and beat off.

My erection didn’t subside all night, pressed up tight to her bare, smooth ass, but I know fucking her again is going to take work. She might have had mercy and forgiven me, but there’s a line in the sand between us now. If I cross it again before she’s ready, a brick wall will replace the line and that will be unacceptable to me. I want nothing between us. Nothing.

Facedown, I buck into my fist, imagining it’s her tight little pussy.

Imagining she’s not only forgiven me, but shyly asked me if we can fuck again.

She blushes and spreads her thighs for my cock, her middle finger busily stroking her clit, whimpers tripping over her lips. Her red nipples jiggle up and down as I drive into her wet fuck hole, the glazing of her green eyes telling me she’s going to come fast. Good girl. So am I. I can’t last longer than a minute in her ripe little body, my spine already beginning to tighten. Slick, she’s so fucking slick, starting to orgasm around me, her breathy moans of my name driving me over the edge.

“Christ. Shit. Yes, yes, yes,” I groan into the pillow, jerking my load into the sheets. “Take it, princess. Please no more crying. Please. No more.”

I’m still panting when the shower shuts off. My dick remains half-hard because my fist doesn’t even come close to comparing to her pussy. And though it hurts, I zip it into a pair of jeans and go to make coffee. My mug pauses halfway to my mouth when she walks out in one of the dresses I bought her. A pink one with white dots all over it that buttons up the front. It’s short as hell and molds to her tits. Not going to lie, both of those things were a real selling point for me.

“You look pretty,” I say, my voice sounding gruff to my own ears.

“Thanks.” She smooths her hands down the skirt. “You, um…didn’t buy me any bras.”

“Oops.” I sip my coffee.

Humor twitches her lips.

And I love that she can smile at me, even though we both know I need to get back into her good graces. I hired Sarah so I could learn about women, but I only care about this woman now. I’ll be taking notes on her. Careful, detailed ones.

So far, I’ve learned that she’s tougher than she looks. Her feet are bruised and still she walks without a limp, as if refusing to betray weakness.

She’s merciful. Forgiving. I can still feel her fingers stroking my neck last night, granting me absolution I didn’t deserve.

She’s cunning. Trading me information about her so I wouldn’t tie her up.

I can’t wait to find out more about her today.

I will know everything soon.

It’s almost unbearable to exist in a state where things about her remain a mystery.

“What are we going to do today?” she asks, biting her lip and looking around.

One word of encouragement and I’d spend the day licking her pussy. That thought must be pretty apparent on my face, because she turns pink. “You decide,” I almost groan. “I’m going to observe you.”

“Right.” Her eyes light up. “I’m going to bake a cake.”

A laugh catches me off guard. “A cake? What’s the occasion?”

“The occasion is wanting to eat cake.” She starts opening cabinets, going up on her tiptoes to search for ingredients, her sweet ass peeking out beneath the hem of the dress. “I haven’t had anything sugary in so long.”

My heart drops into my stomach, dislodging the surge of lust. Where has this girl been?

What has she gone through?

When I find out who has hurt this girl, my vengeance is going to be swift and deadly.

Never mind that I hurt her, too.

Swallowing the fist-sized lump in my throat, I open my notebook on the table and click my pen, ready to take notes as she bakes. I’m a little surprised I have all the necessary ingredients. Eggs, milk, sugar, butter, vanilla extract. There is no frosting and I curse myself for not buying the whole damn store last night.

She moves like something out of a dream, her face alight with simple pleasure as she cracks eggs, mixes everything in a bowl. My pen scratches over the blank paper, writing down everything I observe. She’s neat, cleaning the counter after adding each ingredient. She’s left-handed. When she pulls her hair back, the ponytail lands mid-back and the sunlight picks out different colors. Reddish brown and buttermilk blonde. There’s a dimple in her cheek, but it only appears when she’s concentrating, pursing her lips. Her lips move when she’s reading the backs of packages. She makes me so hard, I have to ease my zipper down quietly to give my cock some breathing room. And that steel staff stands straight up, brushing the underside of the table as I continue to take notes. Notes that grow more obsessive by the moment.

There’s a freckle on the back of her left knee. Medium brown.

She cocks a hip when she stirs.

Breathes approximately twenty-seven times per minute.

And when she bends forward to slide the pan into the oven, her sassy bottom flashes at me and I grit my teeth, on the verge of climax.

“It will be ready in half an hour,” she says, setting the timer.

I wince, zipping myself back up. “We should take a walk. Eat outside.”

“Like a picnic?” she breathes, excited.

I nod.

She eyes my notebook curiously. “What did you write down?”

“I’ll tell you one thing I wrote if you answer another personal question.”

Her smile wavers. “Ask the question first and I’ll decide.”

“No. That’s not how it works.”

“You’re not in a position to make the rules.”

After last night, she means. I incline my head to acknowledge that.

I’m accustomed to giving orders, not taking them, but I’m starting to understand that there’s strength in conceding sometimes when it comes to this girl. For instance, if I’d followed through and tied her up last night, I seriously doubt she would be smiling now and baking us a cake.

“How old are you?”

She relaxes a little. “I turned eighteen two months ago.”

I release a breath I wasn’t aware of holding. “I wasn’t sure. You were…”

Red stains her cheeks. “Inexperienced?”

“Oh yeah.” I run my eyes down to her hem. “Tight as a fucking bolt, too.”

“Oh,” she whispers shakily. “That’s a…good thing?”

“Ah, princess. It’s a very good thing.” Need twists inside me, dark and hungry. Demanding to be satisfied. “We need to stop talking about your perfect pussy or I’ll get worked up over it again.”

Her throat works. “Tell me one thing you wrote down.”

I don’t have to consult the page. “You’re forgiving.”

She arches an eyebrow. “Only the first time.”

My nod is slow, measured. “That’s why I’m waiting for a green light, girl. No matter how painful it gets.” Acute discomfort prods my gut, biting and twisting. “The worst part is knowing you didn’t have an orgasm. It’s fucking killing me.”

We’re both breathing hard, facing off across the table.

Her nipples are hard, pushing at the bodice of her dress.

“You won’t take me again until I say? No matter how painful it gets?”

“That’s right,” I say through clenched teeth.

That dark mischief I witnessed in her last night drifts to the fore, turning her eyes a vivid green. She saunters slowly around the table, trailing her index finger along the surface, hips swaying seductively. When the girl reaches me, she leans down and whispers right against my ear. “Who says I didn’t have an orgasm?”

My spine snaps straight, my hand closing around her elbow. “Did you?”

Her sexy mouth is almost on mine. “That sounds like a personal question.”

I lunge to my feet, my hip sending the table skidding across the floor. “There’s an end to my patience, girl. You’re very close to reaching it.”

“Yes.” She’s trembling, winded, backing away. “I had one.”

Unbelievable. Relief, triumph and scorching heat surge in my veins. I was so lost in the adrenaline, in her, in the remnants of the dream, I couldn’t be sure.

I yank her up against me. “You like it rough.”

Her eyelids fall, her nod subtle. “I think so. But…”

“But you need time?”

“Yes.”

I press my open mouth to her neck, licking her pulse, unable to stop my hands from cupping her braless tits, sliding my touch up down her ribcage and kneading her hips, before I tear myself away and step back, my cock hard as a crowbar behind my zipper. God. God, she’s everything. My obsession. MINE. That’s why I have to do this right. I swipe an agitated hand over my hair and curse. “Let’s go have a fucking picnic then.”