Sitting up in the bed, the sheet falls and I’m graced with her naked beauty.
Her beautiful eyes are now sad and misting. Her face is pure fury. So angry she’s shaking, she whispers, “Get out.”
I chuckle low in my throat and roll my eyes at the show she’s putting on. My laughter is cut short when the bedside lamp flies by me and smashes into the wall by my head. Broken glass falls to the floor by my feet.
I turn my glare on her, “You could’ve taken my eye out, Lexi. Fuck!”
Standing and walking across the room, she picks up a crystal vase and throws it at me, hard. I catch it mid-air as she shrieks, “I said get the fuck out, Twitch!”
Tears fall down her angry face; her body trembles in anger, and I feel like an asshole.
I can’t let that show though. It’s not part of who I am. Not anymore, anyways.
Placing the vase on the desk by the door, I wordlessly slip on my slacks, then my shoes; I take my shirt and jacket in my hands and leave.
Closing the door behind me, Lexi lets out a pained wail.
And there it is.
Just a reminder of why we can’t ever be together.
I thought long and hard about what happened with Twitch last night. I thought for hours and hours about how I feel, and thought even more about what needs to be done.
My mind made up, I decide to visit him at work. And it’s only when I approach his office that I still in front of the door and realize how stupid I must be.
But if I don’t do this now, I’ll never do it. So I have to do this. Right now.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.
Entering without knocking, his irritated face looks to see who has interrupted him. When he sees me, his brows rise in surprise, but he covers it all too quickly. Looking back down at the computer, he types and mutters, “Kinda busy here. What do you need, Lexi?”
Lexi. Not Angel.
I close the door behind me and move two steps forward. My bravado runs out of the open window. “I-I think you need to get some help,” I say weakly.
His face hardens. His eyes turn cold.
Losing what little courage I think I have, my voice wavers. “Seeing a psychiatrist isn’t a bad thing, Twitch. I do myself.”
He stands suddenly. His chair hits the wall with a bang. I jolt. He orders, “Get out.”
When he sees I don’t mean to move, he stalks around his desk slowly, like a predator.
A lion going in for the kill.
And I’m just as petrified as I’m sure the antelope would be.
When he’s a foot away from me, I whisper, “You don’t have to live like this, Twitch.”
His eyes close. “I said get out.”
“It’s a means to an end.”
His jaw tics. “Get out, Alexa.”
“You’ll feel like a new person.”
His eyes snap open. Leaning in until we’re nose-to-nose, he grits his teeth and hisses, “Get the fuck out, bitch.”
The insult slides right off me. Being a case worker, I know how people’s defence systems work, and besides, I’ve been called worse. Trembling, I decide to try something.
Something incredibly stupid.
Slowly reaching up with shaking hands, I cup his cheeks gently. His jaw spasms under my palms, and his cold, narrowed eyes meet mine. I whisper, “You don’t want to hurt me.”
He spits, “If anyone gets to hurt you, it should be me.”
My heart skips a beat. A cruel smirk spreads across his face. “What’s the matter, Lexi? Are you scared?”
I blink.
My breath stutters. “You’re terrifying.”
“Then why are you still here?”
“Because you need help.”
“Not from you.”
“If I don’t, who will?”
His eyes flash once more before he closes his eyes and lowers his forehead to mine. He says hoarsely, “I’m gonna hurt you.” A statement.
My heart races, but my hands grip his cheeks tighter. “You won’t. I have faith in you.”
I watch him squeeze his eyes shut further. “Then you’re dumber than I thought.”
He lowers his demanding mouth to mine and I slump into him. He forces brutal, punishing kisses on me. And I take them, kissing back just as fiercely. His tongue strokes my lower lip as he grinds his erection into my hip.
Heat singes my insides.
My hands slide down his cheeks and back, to circle his neck. I need to get closer to him.
Pulling his head, I connect our mouths again and moan. He tastes so good. Like candy and scotch. I’ve never tasted anything more intoxicating in my life.
I’m beginning to understand the term love-drunk.
Without warning, his muscular arms wrap around my waist, lifting me. My legs circle his lean, muscular hips, and he walks me over to his desk.
I know what’s coming. I should stop it. I really should.
But I can’t.
I want it. Really bad.
My core floods. Twitch has that sordid effect on me.
Turning me almost harshly, he pushes on my back, hard, and my stomach meets the desk. My hands, having a mind of their own, meet behind my back, and he grips them tightly in one of his own. Lifting my skirt, he tugs on my panties and they’re gone. Just like that.
Although I can’t see him, I feel him. His free palm slides down my back to my ass, squeezing before I hear him expel a heavy breath while his fingertips trail the backs of my thighs. Letting go of my hands, he orders a gruff, “Keep ‘em there. Don’t fucking move, Lexi.”
Linking my pinkie fingers behind my back, my pussy clenches when his fingertip trails my wet slit. I shiver. I hear him suck his finger while making a mmm sound. My hips jerk.
I need him so bad. And I know he can feel it. He’s torturing me purposely.
I pout. His power display is unnecessary.
Suddenly, my ass cheeks spread and I feel a tongue swipe my folds. Clenching my hands together tightly, my eyes widen and I gasp, “Oh God!”
He barks, “Not a fucking word. Or I stop.”
Biting my lip, I whimper but obey. As always.
Gripping my butt tighter, he pulls me apart; his tongue prods my entrance and my legs shake. The wet heat from his tongue is almost too much to bear. Pushing further into me, his nose bumps my puckered back entrance as he laps away at my slit.
He’s making out with my pussy as if he would my mouth.
So enthusiastically. So determinedly. So demandingly.
It’s heaven. I’ve never felt more wanted in all my life.
He asks, “You like that, baby?”
Immediately, I still. This is a trap.
I’ve come to know Twitch. He’s a trickster. A cheat and a swindler.
But I’m suddenly nervous and sweating bullets.
When I don’t answer, he utters approvingly, “Good girl.”
And even though I hate that term, coming from him, it means something to me. My body slumps into the desk in relief, and he continues to eat me as if I were his last meal.
This is what oral sex should be. Uninhibited and freeing. Not awkward and clumsy, as I’ve always had.
His tongue slides up my pussy until the firm, wet warmth meets a place I haven’t yet explored sexually, and he licks again and again. This is new to me. I’m not sure how I should be feeling, but my stomach is clenched and my back is rigid. I whisper, “Stop.”
But, of course, he doesn’t. What he does do is massage my ass cheek with one hand, and reach around with the other. His fingers meet my clit, and he strokes it slowly and gently. Almost lovingly.
The sensations start to change. I’m no longer uncomfortable. In fact, I’m burning up.
My breathing deepens, and I begin to move against his fingers. He stiffens his tongue and presses into me.
My insides flip and twist.