Page 60 of Crush
“Ouchie,” not-Ember squeaks.
Frowning, I release one of her tits to cover her mouth. “I don’t need you to speak.”
She mutters against my palm, her soft lips forming words, a mouth with perfect suction for my cock.
A low sound of approval vibrates in my throat. I rub my dick against her ass, using my other hand to slide my fingers into her pussy.
She’s wet—Ember’s so fucking wet—that my head falls forward into the back of her neck, and I inhale deeply.
Sickly sweet. Vanilla, cinnamon, and baby powder.
Rearing back, I pull my fingers away with a sneer. “You’re supposed to smell like rainwater and roses.”
Ember—no, Cheetah Junior—tilts her head, showing her profile as much as she can to meet my eye. “What?”
“Shut up.”
I wrap my hand around her delicate throat, feeling the soft tendons, and squeeze hard. “There. That’s how you like it, isn’t it?”
“N-No. Thorne, I don’t—”
“I said shut up, Ember.” I squeeze harder, pulling her against my chest as I do, my cock shoved between her cheeks.
She lets out a strangled sound, then fights against my hold. “I’m not Ember! God, Thorne, fucking stop!”
The girl fights me off, rubbing her throat as she whirls and regards me with round, frightened eyes.
It’s like cold water is doused on my dick. In two blinks, she shape-shifts from Ember to Cheetah Junior. I turn flaccid at the sight.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she cries. “You’re supposed to fuck me, not strangle me!”
I pretend to mull over her words. “I like both. If you truly wanted me to fuck you, you would’ve known that.” And wanted it the way she does.
“You-you—” Cheetah Junior shakes her head while retreating. “You’re sick. I don’t care what my friends think. I’ll let you throw me up against a wall, but I am not about to let you wrap your hands around my throat.”
“My, what standards you have.”
“Fuck you, Thorne.”
“Apparently not.”
I smile as she runs out of the hallway and down the stairs, but I doubt it reaches my eyes.
My grin falls as soon as she’s out of sight. Tonight is usually the night I screw multiple girls, some in groups and others in single conquests, like Cheetah Junior. I should be getting started, not deserted in the west wing of Briar mansion because I scared a girl off with my fetish.
Usually, I keep that side of myself under control. None of the sex with these chicks includes my dominance over their air supply. Not many girls choose to orgasm that way.
Until her.
“Dammit!” I stop just short of punching the wall. My knuckles have bled enough today, but why the fuck couldn’t I control myself with Cheetah Junior? I would’ve gotten the release I needed and gone back to the party more relaxed and willing to play the devil of Briar mansion.
No, you would’ve been just as bored.
Fuck.
Screwing with Ember has also screwed with my head.
I push off the wall and stalk deeper into the hallway. It’s time I reach for the good stuff, the liquor most likely to burn my throat before it wraps my body in silk and malted barley. If my cock can’t get relief, then digging into Father’s special supply of bourbon will help.