Page 9 of His Hellcat
“Good morning, Kitten.”
“Um, thanks for letting me sleep in here.” She pauses, but I can tell by the way her body tenses there is more she wants to say. I put my training to use and stay silent, waiting. “And I want to apologize for last night.”
As she talks she raises her head, resting her chin on my chest so she can look me in the eyes. She is so beautifully mussed from sleep, my cock throbs imagining all the things I could do with her in this bed. I really need to get myself under control before I lose my mind and pin her down right here, right now and fuck her until she can’t walk.
“No need to apologize and you’re welcome. It was nothing. I think I should thank you though. I haven’t slept that well in years.”
“Are you blushing Lt. Hutchinson?” She teases while tickling her fingers over my ribs.
“Hell no, men don’t blush.”
“Ah, well. I won’t tell, but I do think it’s sexy as hell.” She sasses back with a mischievous smile that makes her eyes light up. It’s the kind of smile a person gets right before they do something they know they shouldn’t.
Without giving me time to respond or further think about what’s going on in that mind of hers, she rolls on top of me, her legs straddling my hips, and then she tickles me. I may be a big tough guy—retired from the army—but fuck me, I am and always have been ticklish.
As soon as her fingers make contact with my sides I can’t control my reactions. Going on the defensive, I roll us until she’s pinned underneath me, my body wedged between her thighs. One of my hands pins both of hers above her head, the other returning the tickle assault like a pro. She’s laughing hysterically, bucking into me and squirming, trying to dislodge me. She’s a slip of a thing though, and has no hope of moving me.
Somewhere in our game, things change. Tickling turns to caressing. Erratic squirming turns into purposeful grinding. And then the tip of her pink tongue slips out to swipe against her lips, spreading moisture and beckoning me to taste. I have one moment of thinking that it will just be one quick taste, but as soon as my lips crash against hers and that sweet little tongue of hers immediately pushes into my mouth to fight for the upper hand, I know that it could never be just one taste. I will crave her lips from now on.
Our kiss isn’t a slow burn. There is no build up. No learning each other like most first kisses. This is a clashing of lips, teeth, and tongues. A war for who would dominate. Which one of us would give in first. What she has yet to figure out, I don’t play fair. With her hands still safely restrained in one of mine, I’m free to explore her body. Cupping her breast, I knead the soft flesh. Her hips buck up into mine as I switch from a gentle caress to a hard squeeze. Her breath hitches at the sensation.
Oh yeah, baby. Definitely have the upper hand here.
7
Blake
Someone pinchme because I have got to be dreaming right now. Wait, no don’t you dare fucking pinch me, because in about ten seconds I’m going to have Hutch’s cock buried in my aching pussy and it would be cruel to cock-block me like that. The way his big hard body is pressing into mine as he holds my hands steady above my head is driving me to madness. Any moment I’m going to wake up and remember how everything in my life has turned to shit.
Then he pinches me. Well, my nipple. That’s when I realize I’m not dreaming. I do, in fact, have Hutch’s tongue down my throat, his hard cock rubbing lewdly against my aching pussy, and that hand. It’s rubbing, pinching, and teasing my nipple into a throbbing mass of nerves that’s sending a current of electricity straight to my core.
Finally, he pulls his lips from mine. While he kisses a trail down my neck to my breast, I work hard at catching my breath while. I nearly come unglued when he sucks my nipple into his mouth, shirt and all. No one has ever caused the kind of sensations with skin on skin contact that Hutch is causing through the layer of my shirt. My nipples have never been sensitive to pleasure. I always thought they were defective.
“You like that, Kitten?”
I moan my appreciation and pull against his hold. I want to touch him, to feel all those hard muscles, but it’s clear that’s not on the agenda yet. He lowers his lips to the other breast and gives it the same attention. The wet spot over my nipple turns cold without the heat of his mouth and the sensitive tip gets even tighter than it was, taking it to the edge of painful. His free hand makes its way down to the waistband of my too small shorts; his fingertips lightly tickle just under the edge.
“Are you wet for me?” He asks, as his fingers dip further under the material.
“Yes.” I pant, his fingers inching closer and closer to where I need him. If I didn’t know better I would say he's trying to kill me, the tease is almost too much for me to handle.
His fingers coast across my pussy, just a gentle rub over my mound, but it’s enough to drive me insane. “Oh, Kitten. You’re positively drenched. Is that all for me?”
He dips two fingers into my slit and rubs the wetness through my folds without actually touching where I’m desperate for contact. Without warning, he pulls back giving my hands the freedom I wanted, but his body is no longer pressed against mine. Instead, he’s pacing the small space at the foot of the bed, his fingers shoved into his short locks. He radiates anger.
I was wrong when I thought my wakeup call would come in the form of a pinch. No, my huge dose of reality feels like a bucket of ice water being dumped on me.
How could I have been so stupid? I should have snuck out of his bed first thing. He made it so clear to me last night that he wasn’t interested. I could blame the fact that I spent the night pressed against his hard body as my excuse for why I practically molested him, but it’s not the truth.
I wanted him.
No. I want him.
“I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I shouldn’t have…”
My words are cut short when Hutch sweeps his arm across the top of the dresser, sending everything crashing against the wall and to the floor. Without hesitation I jump out of the bed and I’m securely behind my own door before I can piss him off any more than I already have.
Tears are already welling in my eyes and my lungs burn with the need to release the sob that I’m holding back.