Suit - Woodruff Jettie - Страница 33
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“Grrr, it’s not snooping,” I said out loud in an agitated voice. The tenth file was the one that caught my eye. Half way down the page.
My Clyde.
My finger hovered above the file while my mind debated on going there. I quickly tapped it with my finger, afraid of chickening out, but I did it.
My heart moved a million beats a minute when I read the first line.
I can see it in her eyes,
A love like no other.
I can feel it in her presence,
A graceful bond forever.
She’s my twin,
My Clyde,
My other half.
My eyes skimmed the pages of poems. One after another. Poems about Clydes, twins, sisters, and severed parts. Some of them were soft and gentle, some not. Like the one about a detached heart. Gruesome details about the blood oozing out, slowly over sharp obstacles.
I closed it before I read another word, knowing how much time I had. I needed a minute to decipher that, anyway. I didn’t even know where to begin to look for something to make for a barbeque. Everything I looked at either called for meat, or looked disgusting. Lucky for me, I knew my way around Pinterest. I didn’t ask myself how because I had no idea. I just knew. I guess the same way I knew that pepper trees would end in a mess on a car. Bird shit.
I knew I had everything to make the cool dessert, and the kids would love it. Paxton, probably not, but he didn’t really like anything. Jesus. I’m provoking him. Why would I want to provoke him? With that, I stood and carried my tablet to the kitchen. I knew the answer before I ever asked the question. The faint throb I felt between my legs knew it, too.
I was a slut, suited for Paxton’s needs.
But...
Were they my needs, too?
By the time Paxton had returned, I’d made a dessert, some sort of pasta with fettuccini sauce, and peas. Also found on Pinterest. The mixed drink was chilling in the refrigerator and I was in the shower.
“Aahhh! Oh, my God. Don’t fucking do that!” I screamed to the top of my lungs. Jesus. Was he trying to give me a heart attack?
“Oh, my God, Gabriella. This isn’t working. You don’t talk to me like that. You don’t say the F word. Ever. Not at me, not to me, not around me.”
“What the hell do you expect? You just waltz right in here and shut the water off when I’m in the shower? Who does that?”
Paxton ran his hand through his hair and breathed a sigh of irritation. For a second, I thought he was done. He turned toward the door and closed it. This was crazy. I wasn’t even allowed to get mad for him scaring the hell out of me.
“Where’s the girls?” I asked while taking a step back.
Paxton ignored the question and walked right in the shower. I came with him by my hair. He pulled me, soaking wet, out of the shower and to the sink.
Paxton placed both my hands flat on the counter and spoke hateful words. “I’m done. I’m so fucking done with this shit, Gabriella. What the fuck do you want? Do you need it branded on your ass?”
I heard the loud crack to my ass before I felt it. It stung way worse than the last time. I was wet, water dripping from me to the floor. A painful grunt escaped my lips, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t talk. Not one word.
“Aahh,” I called out with the next crack, feeling every inch of his hand contacting my ass. It hurt, but it wasn’t like the pain from my accident. The burning on my ass cheeks traveled straight to my sex. Every time Paxton slapped my ass, my throbbing nub grew more and more impatient, swelling with excitement.
With a fistful of hair, Paxton delivered five ghastly slaps to my ass. I called out after every one. I just wasn’t sure if it was from pain or pleasure. More than likely, both.
Paxton jerked me to the floor after the fifth blow. That moan was from the pain. It shot clear up the back of my leg, but it was brief. It subsided as soon as I repositioned it a little. Still holding my hair, Paxton released his erection and shoved it into my mouth, straight to the back of my throat.
“I’m done playing with you, Gabriella. Enough is enough. No more of this nonsense. Okay?” Paxton questioned in a quiet, loving tone while his fingers stroked my face and his dick moved in and out of my mouth.
I hummed on his shaft, tasting saltwater from his fun in the ocean. I purred again when his hand reached to my nipple and he twisted, pulling it into a hard bead. He moaned a few more times while he deep-throated my mouth and played with my wet nipples. My lips made a popping sound when he pulled all the way out and dropped to one knee.
He didn’t have to do much coaxing for my hand to latch on and take over for my mouth. With one hand on the small of my back, he fingered me, sliding his hand from my clit, to the pucker in my ass. My neck arched to a painful position when he yanked my hair back. We kissed while he fingered me. A finger in my ass, one inside me, and a thumb dancing around my clit. My hand pumped hard, jacking him off like never before.
“Fuck, Paxton. Please let me come,” I begged through quick, sporadic breaths. His hand completely stopped. Dammit. It was that F word. The thumb stopped circling my ache, his finger slid out of me, and the third one stayed put. Right in my ass. He pushed in a couple times, letting the feeling of an impending orgasm linger. Of course it didn’t linger long. Paxton slid his finger from my ass and stood again.
My mouth opened for his cock, but he didn’t give it to me. He gave me his balls and told me to suck them. I sucked while he pumped his dick and moaned.
“You’re nothing without me. I gave you this. I gave you all of this, and I can take it all away. Including the girls. You’re nothing. Welfare scum. That’s it, my pretty girl. That’s what you are. You wanted to be mine, remember, sweetie?”
I hummed on his balls that time. I didn’t care at the moment. I would be his slut. If he would let me get off, I would agree to be his slut for the rest of my life. No questions asked. I was that desperate.
Paxton took his balls from my mouth and cocked his leg. He lifted his sack out of my way and told me to lick him. I looked up to him, eyes smoldering with adolescent rebellion, and back to his pucker. I swallowed and prepared myself. I don’t know why. It wasn’t gross at all. The only thing I tasted was saltwater. I’m not sure whether Paxton enjoyed my tongue lashing or not. He didn’t keep me there long. I had a feeling it was part of his game. He used it to humiliate me, degrade me, and put me in my place. Only it didn’t really do that. I didn’t feel reduced at all. I felt liberated, and I was more turned on than ever.
Paxton lasted about four strokes after he moved back to my mouth. I’m sure he would have made more of a show out of it had Ophelia not called from the door.
“Daddy, we’re done with our snacks now. Can we go to the Collins’ house now?”
“I’m coming, baby,” Paxton called back. He was coming. Right down the back of my throat. He jerked himself a couple more times, making sure I got every last drop. At least he was kind enough to help me to my feet. He put himself away, back to his swimming trunks, and ordered me what I was to do next.
“Get ready. I’ll lay your clothes on your bed.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“I know,” he admitted with a kiss to my nose. “That’s why you’re going.” One more crack to my ass and he was gone. I thought about taking care of the ache myself, but I didn’t. I obeyed, feeling the pulsating in my clit when I turned my branded ass toward the mirror. Paxton’s hand prints blanketed my butt cheeks. I could see where every slap had been placed. Every welt.
Chapter Ten
I tried to wear the maxi dress Paxton laid out for me. I couldn’t do it. The thing was hideous. Did I buy that? God, I hoped not. I was sure I didn’t wear animal print. Especially zebra print. No way. To keep from fighting about it, I took a dab of lavender lotion and stained it. He wouldn’t want me wearing a dress with stains. Not Mrs. Pierce.
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