Page 23 of Iris' Lying Eyes
The problem is, Bastion doesn’t fucking care, and he holds on tighter, resulting in an ache that now pulses where he’s got me trapped.
“I don’t like your tone. When I allow you to speak to me, you’ll be fucking respectful.”
Laughing, I roll my eyes. “You really think I care?”
His nostrils flare, and with a slick feeling in my panties, I wait for his next move. Jerking me around by my hair, he pushes me to my knees, and I fight the instinct to bow my head.
He’s not John, and I’m nother. Dammit.
Still, I can’t move with the hold he has. Instead, I watch incredulously as he unbuttons his pants with his other hand and pulls his dick free.
“No fucking way,” I sneer, and he jerks my head back. Our gazes lock, and he stares at me with an expression I can’t define.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch him wrench on his dick, and despite my words, I feel heat building in my core. It’s been a long time since I felt true desire, and part of me wants to give in and beg for the oblivion. But I refuse to give Bastion the satisfaction.
Apparently, he doesn’t need me anyway because he jacks himself off without a single change in expression, and when he’s ready to spew, he pulls me closer and comes on my cheek, pressed against his hard length.
The warm wet pulses slide down my skin, and although his high-handed demeanor repulses me, I’m also aching. What the fuck?
When he’s done, he drops my head and steps back, shoving his dick back in his pants. “Maybe you didn’t understand but you’re mine until that fucker is in the ground. And if you don’t fucking heed me, I will choke you with my seed. I’m in charge. You’re nothing. Stay away from Roman.”
With that, he stalks from the room, and I stare after him, bemused. That was really fucking hot but also disturbing. Bastion was always a fierce lover, but he wasn’t like this.
What happened to steal the fire from his eyes?
∞∞∞
After our altercation, I forgo food and search out the room I was escorted to before. I still suspect it’s Bastion’s, making my escape all the more complicated. If he comes in and I’m not here, it’s gonna be really fucking obvious.
What to do? I eye the bed before stepping into the hall. To the left, past his room, are more open doors, and I walk down the hall, peering inside each one, but they’re all empty.
Dude seriously needs to hire a damn decorator or something. The last door is closed, and I hesitate before wrapping my hand around the knob. But it’s locked, to my chagrin, and with a frown, I stare down the long hall of open doors before looking back at this one.
What’s in here that needs to be kept from everyone? If I’m lucky, it’s Bastion’s fucking room.
But without knowing for sure, I resolve to make my escape in the morning when the dick is otherwise occupied. I can’t afford for him to find me gone without a little bit of lead time.
Back in the room, I check my messages, frowning at the text that came through while I was otherwise occupied.
He’s ready. Message him here
Since I can’t afford to reveal the jerk, I program him in as Tiny-Dicked-Ex. I figure that won’t get many questions. At least the ones I don’t want to answer.
With a sigh, I tap out a short reply. All these assholes want something and I feel like a fucking pincushion. But I know what I agreed to even if maneuvering the mess leaves me ice cold.
The end game is the same and with Bastion’s revelation, the stakes just became that much more important. But what happens when it all collides?
A worry for another day, so I push it aside. Texting my mark tonight won’t matter anyway, but I’m really fucking dreading this. Another bright idea gone really wrong.
The familiar itchy feeling of need razes my skin and I turn in a circle, wishing for oblivion while hating that I do. Although being constantly high has its uses because I’ve never complained of boredom before.
“Whatever,” I mumble, opening the closet doors.
When I see a sea of black suits, black shirts and black fucking ties, I confirm my suspicion. This is his room. Would it kill him to wear a color other than black? Might cheer up his dark fucking soul at that.
I’d rather not sleep in this damn dress and going commando isn’t exactly an option, although my skin heats at the thought.
Right, definitely a bad idea. Hm. He must have something I can wear.