Tormenting me, p.16
Tormenting Me, page 16
“Ohhh, fuck,” I breathe. He leans over me, his tongue licking the shell of my ear. His hard cock presses into my belly as he hovers over me. “Wes…we can’t. I’m…”
“If you think for one second, I won’t fuck you because you’re bleeding. You’re living in a dream world. I will eat and fuck my pussy if I want to. Bleeding or not. The only thing a period stops is a sentence, Layne.”
Hunger in his eyes, Wes grips the waistband of my sleep shorts, hooking his fingers in my underwear. Slowly, he drags them down. “Are you wearing a pad and a disc?”
“Just a -a pad.” I stutter. He tosses the shorts and underwear to the floor. I lay there bare from the waist down.
Wes pulls down his sweats and boxer briefs to under his ass, stroking his cock as he gazes down at me. With his free hand, he runs his hand over my pussy, shoving two fingers inside. I buck against his hand, my clit aching for some friction, as his fingers stroke my front wall. “Fuck, you’re always so fucking tight.” He grips himself tighter, his stomach and forearm muscles flexing as he does.
I feel my orgasm building and if he keeps going; I’m going to come all over his hand. “Wes,” I moan. “Please.”
He takes his hand off his cock, reaching up to pull his shirt over his head. Wes withdraws his fingers from my pussy and tosses his shirt to the side. We both look to see that his entire hand is covered in blood. Parting his lips, he brings his hand to his mouth, pushing the two digits inside, sucking and savoring the taste of my blood. Wes lets out a deep groan of pleasure as he draws his fingers out, the blood now dripping down his chin.
Without saying a word, his hand grips my thigh, dragging me toward him. Positioning himself at my entrance, he thrusts into me in one fluid motion. I gasp, feeling so full in every way possible.
“Listen to me, Ma Petite Mort. You are mine and only mine. If I want to fuck you while you’re bleeding, I will. If you have fantasies you want to explore, then they will be with me. No other man will touch you the way I do. No man will ever touch you, period.“ He drives into me, pushing my head over the edge of the bed. Blood rushes to my head, creating a light tingling sensation.
“I never want anyone else,” I whimper, pressure building deep in my core. Wes pumps in and out of me at an unrelenting pace, filling the room with the wet sound of our bodies colliding, accompanied by a cacophony of groans, grunts, and whimpers.
Wes wraps his hand around my throat, increasing the fuzzy feeling that is already swirling in my head.
“Good, because there will never be another woman for me, Layne. If you die, I die with you.”
When my orgasm breaks, it has me in a free fall, the added pressure from my head hanging off the bed and Wes’s grip on my throat, heightening every pulse. My pussy clenches around him as he groans, spilling himself inside me. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he drags my head back onto the bed and pulls out of me.
“I guess we owe my Ma a new comforter.” He shrugs, looking between our legs. I hold my hand out to him for help. With a firm grip, he pulls me up to a sitting position. I groan when I see the bloody mess all over the cream colored comforter.
“Great, first a set of sheets and now the comforter. We’re going to need to buy bedding every time we visit.” I chuckle.
“Ready to have some turkey, baby? I’m starving.” Wes chuckles as he climbs off the bed, heading to the bathroom to clean up.
Sometimes I don’t know what I am going to do with him.
Chapter twenty-seven
Wes
Back to the daily grind. We’ve been home from Virginia for three days and I am already back to work. I sit at my desk and sift through the files that have piled up, feeling my frustration grow. The chaotic mess is a stark contrast to the organized filing system I meticulously maintain. I can’t help but suspect that Courtney is intentionally creating the chaos as a way to get back at me.
Courtney has been acting like a fucking child. While I was off work, she found out from Davis that I got married, and ever since, she has been intentionally trying to stir shit to get me to pay attention to her. Not that she ever had a chance on any planet in any universe. But hey, she can live in whatever land of delusion she chooses. As long as she doesn’t try anything, I don’t give a shit how she feels.
Though I don’t see how she missed the white gold band on my ring finger, that I have not taken off since the day Layne put it on.
Meanwhile, Davis has already lined up a multitude of fresh cases for me. I search through the pile for the perfect one to occupy my time for the next few weeks. Christmas is just around the corner, and I’ve already secured my three-day vacation, planning to whisk Layne away to Lake Tahoe for a White Christmas.
The hours drone on, I recline back in my chair, getting comfortable. I come across a file on a Russian Bratva member involved in a money laundering bust. It’s clear that Davis wants this case to receive special attention. Clear by his sticky note that says “SPECIAL ATTENTION.” Subtle. Bratva activity in San Francisco has been on the rise lately, and it’s important that we get on top of it. Setting the file aside, I pick up another one.
I delve into the file and read all about Corbin Bannister, a drug dealer and child rapist. Disgust fills me. He’s the type of criminal I’m passionate about getting rid of. I quickly take pictures of the file with my phone and email them to myself. With three weeks of uninterrupted work ahead, it’s the perfect opportunity to ensure this piece of shit faces the consequences of his heinous crimes.
In my mind, it’s not just about personal satisfaction; it’s a public service. By removing one more depraved pedophile from society, I save taxpayers’ money that would have been spent on his imprisonment. It’s a small contribution, but every little bit counts in the fight against such trash humans.
I pull my phone out, Layne’s tattooed body is my screen saver.
Wes: What’s the plan for tonight, Ma Petite Mort?
Layne: I want to watch horror movies with either your hand down my pants or massaging my scalp. I can’t decide.
Fuck me.
Wes: I have two hands, I can do both. I’m great at multi-tasking.
A few seconds later.
Layne: I’ll be waiting for you on the bed. In your favorite shirt. No panties. Bring snacks.
I can already envision Layne on the bed in my head. It’s four-fifteen, and all I have been doing is sitting here reading files. Fuck this place. I’ve got a wife that needs her snacks and a good dicking, so I’m out. Before I leave, I clean up all the files and put them in order. Everything else can be tomorrow’s problem.
The GTO rumbles to life and I pull out of the parking lot, heading to the nearest store. Once inside the little corner shop down the street, I realize Layne didn’t give me a list. I debate texting her back about what she wants. Then I give it some thought.
Layne wants snacks even though both of us know we won’t be watching the movie. If Ma Petite Mort wants her snacks, I’ll bring home a variety of snacks. From chips to cookies, and an assortment of drinks. I head to the drinks aisle and grab a few different sodas, some beer, and my favorite whisky. After checking out, I toss the bags into the passenger seat and begin my journey home. I may or may not have exceeded the speed limit on the city streets to get home in under fifteen minutes.
With the car parked, I sprint up the loft stairs, the excitement building with each step. I hit the last step and enter the room. Layne is on our bed, donning my favorite Metallica shirt that hugs her curves perfectly. She’s sitting up on her knees with the projector screen down and scrolling through a list of horror movies.
She makes eye contact with me. “You brought snacks!” Her tone is excited as she eyes the bags that I put on the coffee table.
“Sit back and spread your legs, baby. Let me see if you’re just teasing me.” I pant, out of breath and burning with lust.
With a mischievous grin, she leans back slightly, opening her legs while remaining on her knees. “Why don’t you come and find out for yourself?”
Such a fucking tease. Fuck. This woman. All she would have to do is text me, “I’m horny.” I would drop everything and come running just so I could bury my cock inside her.
I kick off my boots and sink into the softness of the bed. I position myself behind her, as Layne starts her favorite scary movie, The Exorcist. With a firm grip on the shirt, I pull her towards me, causing her to lean back against me, finding support between my legs. “Now, spread your legs,” I whisper, my lips touching her ear. Layne spreads them and I look down, her bare pussy already glistening with her arousal. I smirk, running my left hand up the back of her neck and up into her hair. The tips of my fingers apply just the right amount of pressure to her scalp.
Layne groans, closing her eyes as she leans her head back. “Eyes on the movie, Layne.” I continue massaging her scalp, and Layne struggles to stay focused. We’re at the part in the movie where the little girl is possessed and the priests are there to help her. Layne’s breathing deepens, becoming slower and more rhythmic. A shiver runs down her spine, causing goosebumps to appear on her arms and legs. Fear. Goddamn, her being afraid is such a turn-on. I tenderly stroke her inner thigh, gradually advancing towards her wet and eager pussy.
“Wes,” Layne whimpers, her body trembling as my middle finger glides into her, eliciting a gasp of pleasure.
“Watch your movie, baby.” I pump my finger inside her, adding in my ring finger, feeling her walls tighten around them. I stroke my fingers against the soft spot on her front wall, feeling her grip onto my fingers tighter as she bucks her hips, her clit seeking stimulation. The palm of my hand helps with that as she grinds against it. Layne’s thighs try to clench together, so I slip my knees under hers, keeping her spread wide open for me.
My other hand’s still in her hair, massaging her scalp. I grasp a fistful at the roots and pull gently, but firmly enough that Layne knows I’m the one that’s in control. Her eyes on mine now that I have tipped her head back, I say, “You’re going to be my good fucking girl, Layne. Aren’t you?”
“Yes—Yes, I’m going to be your good girl. Please, Wes.” Her breathy whimpers go straight to my cock, which is aching for its own release.
“Please, what Ma Petite Mort? What do you need? Tell your husband what you need from him.“ I can feel her walls pulsing around my fingers, but I don’t let up. The pads of my two fingers vigorously stroke and tap that soft spot with an unrelenting pace. She is so close.
Come one baby, squirt for me, I know you can. I can feel it.
“Oh… shit…I…I,” Layne’s eyes fill with tears as she let out a low moan, a gush of fluid releases soaking my hand and the comforter underneath us. God damn, it’s so fucking hot. The sound of her orgasm echoes throughout the warehouse. I’m so hard right now, on the verge of coming in my pants.
“I always knew you were a squirter, baby. So. Fucking. Hot.” I withdraw my fingers and stick them in my mouth, groaning as the taste of her awakens my taste buds. With her gathered release in my mouth, I take my fingers out and tilt her head up. My mouth is on hers and when she parts her lips, I spit her release into her mouth. “You taste fucking delicious, don’t you? Now you know why I’m so addicted to you. Swallow, Layne.”
Layne swallows. “Such a good fucking girl.” I groan.
I push Layne forward. “On your hands and knees, baby.” She props herself up, her pussy and ass on display for me. I let out a breath. Fuck, she’s perfect. Quickly, I undo my belt and drop my slacks, wasting no time and thrusting into her, then reaching forward I grab a fistful of her hair again. “Teasing your husband while he’s at work is a dangerous game to play, Ma Petite Mort.“ The sound of my cock driving in and out of her wet pussy has me leaning into her, fucking her harder.
“Oh, my…” she moans.
“I dare you to say God, Layne. You want someone to pray to, you can pray to me. I’ll be your God, baby. Just like you’re mine.” I give her hair a tug as my other hand slips underneath her and circles her clit. She lets out a whimper that tells me she is getting to the point of overstimulation. I back off.
“No…Wes…please I need to,” she begs, knowing I am denying her.
“You’ve already come, baby. Maybe if you can get me off, I’ll let you come again.”
If she can get me off. Who the fuck am I kidding? I’ve been holding off busting inside her since I shoved my cock in. Fuck it, she can come as many times as she is able to.
“Scratch that, you are going to come for me, Layne. You know I love you, don’t you, baby?” I ask, slowing down my thrusts.
“Uh huh,” she moans, nodding her head.
“Good, because the way I’m about to fuck you won’t sound like it.” I pull out only the head of my cock remaining inside her. I let go of her hair and take hold of her hips, slamming into her.
Layne screams, pain and pleasure coursing through her exhausted body. I relentlessly fuck her, driving my cock deep. There is nothing tender about this. It’s rough. The need to come inside her blinding my vision. I take one hand off her hip and reach down into my pants, pulling my knife out of my pocket. Opening it, I run the blade down the exposed part of her back. I hesitate.
“Do it,” she whimpers, “make me bleed for you.”
The tip of the blade pierces the supple skin between her shoulder blades. I make sure that I don’t cut too deep, just deep enough to bring a thin line of blood to the surface. Layne moans as pull the cold blade away from her skin. Her pussy starts to spasm around me, the flutters have me falling over the edge. “That’s it, Ma Petite Mort, fucking give it to me. Give me what’s only mine“ Layne’s legs shake and I have to hold her up as I chase my release. I lean over her and lick the blood from the cut, soothing the sting with my tongue. I pull out, flip her over, and thrust back inside.
“Wes,” she mumbles, her hands wrapping around the back of my neck, drawing me closer to her. My lips are on hers, blood now all over her face. I let out a breathy groan against her lips, as I can’t hold back anymore. My muscles in my abdomen flex as I spill deep inside her. I wrap my arms around her, holding Layne to me.
After a few more slow, gentle thrusts, I still and stay seated inside of her. Looking down at her, I push her hair out of her face then lean in to tenderly to kiss her lips.
“That didn’t feel like anything but love, Wes.” Layne says, eyeing me with a slight grin on her face.
“I could never hate you, baby. Kiss me, cut me, fuck me, kill me. As long as it’s you, Layne. You’re the poison I would happily drink, knowing it would kill me.” I pull out and scoot my thighs under her ass to keep it elevated.
“Ah, so we’re back to the old raising my hips again, huh?” Layne teases playfully.
“You know it. Then, when we’re done, I’m gonna to clean you up and then feed you. We’ll actually watch a scary movie, then when it’s over, I’ll fuck you some more. How’s that sound?” I caress her thighs, loving the feel of her silky skin against my hands.
“Sounds perfect.” She smiles, biting her lip and her eyes squinting.
After getting Layne showered, cleaning the fresh cut on her back, changing the bedding and getting her comfy clothes, she requested soup for dinner. I place an order for some pho from the restaurant a few buildings up. While she’s finishing up in the bathroom, I grab my keys and shout. “Be back in a few minutes, gonna grab the food.”
“Okay! Grab some extra jalapenos, please.” My girl likes it spicy.
Pho in hand with extra jalapenos, I cross the street back to the property. I lock the door behind me and head upstairs. Layne is in the kitchen, bowls ready and drinks set out.
“Movie time, Wessy.“ Layne says as she rounds the counter to hand me my beer.
Fuck, I knew that nickname was going to come back and bite me in the ass.
Chapter twenty-eight
Layne
The early morning sunrise shines through the balcony doors, waking me. Last night was an amazing experience, leaving me sore in all the right places. After dinner, we vegged out in bed with a movie marathon, starting with my choice, The Conjuring, and then moving on to Ghostbusters, which Wes picked. It was adorable how he could recite the lines almost verbatim, a smile lighting up his face. I love discovering these little quirks about him.
I may relentlessly tease him about being a big ol’ nerd, but I secretly love it.
After we binged movies, true to his word, my husband fucked me again and again until well past midnight. Now, in the early morning, Wes stirs beside me in bed, his body sensing that his alarm is about to go off for work. I have work today, too, but I can stay home until ten-thirty.
“Good morning,” Wes mumbles sleepily into my neck.
I’m caught by surprise. “How did you know I was awake?”
“I could feel you thinking,” stretching his body behind me. I can feel his warmth against my skin, his nakedness sending delightful shivers down my spine. As I sense his cock hardening against my ass, I let out a playful groan.
Wes flips me onto my back, positioning himself between my thighs. “Are you sore, Ma Petite Mort?“ he asks, pressing himself into my eager pussy. It stings slightly, the tender skin still swollen from the intense fuckfest it experienced the past twenty-four hours.
I admit, wincing as the head of his cock slips inside me, “Yes.” I ask, “If I was to say no,” but before I can even finish my question, Wes withdraws.
“If you say no, I stop, baby. You’ll never have to tell me no twice,” he says, then leans down and kisses my forehead. “I have forever to fuck you, Layne. I don’t just think about myself.” He gets off the bed and heads to the bathroom. I contemplate his last words.
I’m probably overthinking, but is he upset? He sounded upset. But he also kissed me, so he can’t be upset. Right?
