Take (Need #2) (12 page)

June 13th, 2015

“I love you, and I’m doing everything I can to make you see it. To see how much I can’t live without you.”

He can’t live without me. Yeah-fucking-right. After years of doing such a great job at it, he expects me to believe that now.

And he did do a great job. We all know that.

Brayden says he was miserable while we were separated.

I honestly wish I could believe that.

But I don’t. I never will. So whatever he has to say doesn’t matter.

Speaking of the devil himself, my text notification tone rings out.

Let me see your costume.

I stare at said costume laid out on my bed and swallow.

It’s provocative. Beyond sexy. I know that. I knew that when I picked it. No, I hadn’t known Brayden would be at the party the day I bought the costume, but now I know he will.

He’s going to see me in it.

Damn it. I’m so fucking horny. I’ve been like this forever.

Thinking about his reaction the moment he sees me in my costume shouldn’t turn me on more.

It does.

Fuck, I
need
him.

I can’t have him.

This shit has to end already.

I don’t want to show you my costume. As a matter of fact, I don’t want you at the party at all.

It crosses my mind that I should put my phone down before he responds and I’m tempted to continue interacting with him.

Too late.

I’ll let you see a peek of mine if you show me a peek of yours, baby.

I’m smart enough to drop the phone on the bed. I know what’s coming through next—a picture.

Not smart enough to stop myself from wondering what his costume could possibly be. Knowing him, he’ll look devastating in it.

My mouth waters.

My pussy pounds.

God, what the fuck? I’m even more out of control than usual. It’s a good thing he’s in Columbus right now.

I fucked myself earlier in the shower. The same shower he jerked off in days ago. Up against the wet tiles, I rode my fingers until I had no choice but to scream out.

I despise the fact that it was his name I yelled out.

Thank God the house was empty.

My phone vibrates on my bed. I try to ignore it, stripping out of my clothes so I can start changing.

But getting naked only makes it worse. Nowadays, I can’t take off a single stitch of clothing without immediately imagining his hands on me.

Son of a bitch.

I grab my phone off my bed, frustrated that I’m such a slave to my impulses.

No stopping this. I tell myself I won’t do more than look. I won’t respond, it’ll be just this.

It’s a picture of his lower abs. That motherfucking V. He’s wearing light jeans, unbuttoned, and his hand is holding them open to better show off his abs.

The leather cuff is on his wrist, but it doesn’t matter. I know what’s beneath it now.

Want
. Christ, how am I supposed to get fucking past this level of desire?

He enrages me to no end.

My legs weak, I walk over to my bed. I can’t even think of putting on my costume. I want to send him a picture, tease him back, but I can’t do that either.

The beat of my heart is so powerful through my body that it worries me.
Want. Want. Want.

I sit on my bed, shaking.

My inner walls throb, my clit aching, in desperate need of attention.

I want his tongue all over my clit again, his lips sucking on it hard.

What’s wrong with me today? Why is it worse than before?

But I know why. This madness has been building for weeks.

No, lies. This has been building for years.

How am I going to resist him tonight of all nights when the insanity is stronger than ever?

Trembling, miserable, I pick up my phone. I can barely even type.
Don’t come to the party tonight. Please.

There’s no waiting for his response. This pain has turned me into an animal. There’s only one thought. I need to come again, and my fingers won’t be enough this time.

I reach under my bed and pull out the case I bought to keep my vibrator in. I purchased it weeks ago, needing something thicker than my fingers to fuck myself with.

Because I can’t stop wanting Brayden’s thick cock pounding inside me.

My phone vibrates on my bed; I continue to ignore it, leaning back, spreading my trembling thighs.

My pussy lips are swollen and wet enough that I feel them slowly part with the movement.

Another notification from my phone.

I play with my hard nipple, pinching it, and slide the head of my silicone dildo across my clit.

My head falls back and my hips arch, my body hungry for that length inside me.

I slide it up and down, letting my juices cover it.

My phone starts ringing.

A small moan leaves me, and my pussy ripples. I know who it is without looking. I can almost feel him on the other line.

Always feeling him. Always sensing him.

God, I want him.

I know where this is heading as I reach for my phone—don’t care. Fucking him is impossible. Having phone sex with him will only make things worse in the long run.

My thumb swipes across the screen and I accept the call. At the same time, I turn the vibrator on, pressing it back to my clit.

“Kira—” Brayden’s sharp intake of breath tells me he picked up on the sound of my vibrator.

Just the sound of that breath makes goose bumps break out all over me.

“Tell me to come over,” he demands in a hoarse voice.

I moan. “No. This is all you’re getting.” The sound of my own voice surprises me.

“
Oh really?” An utterly masculine chuckle leaves him. I can hear the cockiness in it, and I want to be mad at him for it.

Instead, all I want to do is ride his fucking beautiful face. Come all over his gorgeous lips.

Cover him in my scent so that if any other girl tries to go near his mouth, she’ll know he’s taken.

“This is all I’m getting? Huh, Kira?” He purposely moans my name, drawing the sound out. “Is that why you’re fucking yourself with that little bullet vibrator while imagining it’s me?”

His voice. Lord help me, I’m hooked.

“It’s not a bullet.” I slide the tip inside me, slowly, letting myself feel how it parts me open.

Brayden falls silent, breathing harshly in my ear.

I slip the vibrator in deeper.

“Kira, are you . . . are you fucking yourself with a dildo right now?”

I bite my lip, but it’s not enough to hold back my whimper. “
Yes
.”

The sound he makes is indescribable. I don’t know if it’s a grunt or a growl, or maybe an angry combination of both. All I know is that he’s not pleased.

“Why?” I ask. “Jealous?”

“How big is it?” he grits out.

Still biting my lip, I let out a little giggle and rock against the head my dildo, teasing myself. “Almost as big as you.”

That sound again. Rough. Horny. Aggravated.

“What?” I moan out the word purposely, pushing the vibrator halfway in. “You don’t like knowing I’m fucking myself?”

He hums; another frustration-filled sound. “My dick is the only dick that belongs inside you.”

That statement shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does, but it’s too fucking delicious to resist. His dick.
My
dick. The only one with the right to pound into me. The only cock to spurt in me.

I love that thought. I really, really do.

Not that I’ll admit that to him. “That’s your opinion. I . . . ” My breath catches as the dildo slips fully in me and my hand presses into my clit.

“You what, Kira?” His breath races, faster, louder.

Closing my eyes, I let myself get lost in the visual of him thrusting into his fist while he hears me fucking myself. “I beg to differ,” I whisper, lost in sensation.

“You do, do you?” The soft, implied deadliness in his voice. That barely leashed fury.

Why do I love it when he’s jealous?
Why
? “Uh-huh.” My legs shake harder.

“I’m going to ask you again, baby: is that why you’re thinking about my dick inside you right now?”

I want to hurt him.

Want to fuck him.

God, I want him to keep talking but at the same time, I just want him to shut the fuck up.

I hate when he reaches inside me, grasping at bitter truths I don’t want to acknowledge.

Brayden groans, and the sound is so blatantly sexual that I know he’s doing it on purpose again. Fucking with me. Proving once more the power he has over my body. “Slide it back in, Kira. No, only halfway, baby. Soft, shallow thrusts.”

It’s like he’s in the room, watching every move I make.

“Now slide it back out. Go slow. All the way to the tip.”

I do as he says, feeling my walls clench around the dildo. My body doesn’t want to let it go. It’s not Brayden, but with his voice in my ear, I can almost pretend it is.

“Don’t thrust it in, yet. Hold it there. Right at the tip.”

“No.” My head thrashes side to side. I want to disobey him. Slam the cock in my hand into me. “I need more.”

“Not . . . yet. Pulsate on the tip. I’m squeezing mine right now, imagining it’s your tight pussy.”

The way this man talks undoes me. A fresh wave of resentment floods me as I think about all the women who have had that cock in them, his sexy voice talking dirty in their ear.

I could have it if I wanted to take it.

But I hate him too much to give him that.

My chest convulses and a pained cry leaves me.

“Baby,” Brayden whispers in a sad tone.

“Let me fuck myself.” Why am I not doing it? Why am I still obeying him?

“Not yet, Kitty. Just a little more.”

“It hurts,” I whine,
aching
.

“I know, baby. But I’m going to make it all better. I promise.”

“You can’t!” It boggles my mind that he can’t understand it. This heartbreak has become warped. Misshapen. It not longer even resembles heartbreak, but something more akin to trauma.

It’s unfixable.

I’m
unfixable.

There’s no going back.

And yet my body is hungrier than ever, my soul grasping at the tattered connection between us.

“Kira, listen to me.”

“
Please
,” I beg, and there are tears in my eyes. I need him to make me come, to moan in my ear while the orgasm tears through me.

Then, I have to hang up the phone on him and sever this connection once more.

“Then do it. Slam it into you. Use all your strength like I would if I was there fucking you with my cock.”

I do as he says, thrusting the dildo deep.

My back arches, body locked up. I’m coming so hard I can’t control the loud moans leaving me.

“Say my name, Kira. Say it!”

I do, repeatedly, my hips churning to meet each thrust.

“Oh God, baby. The way you say my name. You ready for me? Ready for my come?”

He’ll never know how fucking much.

Brayden yells out. “Fuck, baby! Fuck, I love you.”

Pain.

Pleasure.

My soul grasps at the flimsy remnants of that connection again, trying to rebuild it somehow.

“I love you, Kira. I fucking love you. So much.
God
, I need your pussy.”

I’m still coming as I hang up the phone on him, cutting off his rambling.