They say that little boys pick on the girls they like. If a boy steals your favourite dolly, he's really trying to steal your heart.
Ash Carlyle wasn't the kind of boy to steal your doll. He was the kind of boy that would take the doll, burn it and hand back the smoking remains. I find it easier not to speculate on how that corresponds to his heart-related intentions.
He and I first met in school at the tender age of five. Even then he looked like trouble, all tousled dark hair and wild grey eyes. It took him one week and several unsavory incidents (including, but not limited to, the legendary theft of the class hamster) to gain a reputation as the school firebrand. Looking back on it now, I'm surprised it took that long.
I was a shy and fumbling little thing back then, lacking even so much as an ounce of the self-assurance that Ash possessed. I had just one friend - Lucy Carlyle, Ash's twin sister. She, unlike her brother, was a quiet and self-contained soul, and she shared my discomfort in social situations. We clicked immediately, our mutual awkwardness somehow resulting in a lifelong friendship. I met Ash through Lucy. Little upstart though he was, he always took the time to check up on his sister. On the third day of mine and Lucy's friendship, Ash plonked himself unceremoniously down at our table during lunch break and helped himself to a bite of my sandwich.
I stunned myself by outright telling him off. "That's rude!" I hissed.
He flashed a careless grin. "Sorry, Carrot Top." He tugged on a strand of my (admittedly, at the time) hideous orange hair and snickered.
And that was how it began. After that Ash would visit our lunch table every day, always armed with a cheeky smirk and a new taunt for me. What had begun with ginger jokes evolved into jabs at my shyness, my freckles, my clumsiness. Lucy soon grew weary of his behavior and began demanding that he stop, but this only increased his zeal and before long he was sitting with me in class too, just to throw wadded up bits of paper at me or knock my pens off my desk. At first I endured his behaviour with scandalised awe and flares of temper, though my terminal shyness would continually interfere with that. I'd end up red-cheeked and stammering like a moron and he'd chalk up another victory for himself. After a while, I simply gave up on responding. It took me several years to achieve complete aloofness, not an easy feat while simmering with hatred, but that more than anything seemed to drive him mad.
As time went by, Ash's teasing remained an unfortunate constant in my life. Lucy and I spent our educational years wearily awaiting his next onslaught - there were times when Lucy would find me close to tears after one of his taunts. Every single time, she'd give me the apology that I'd never get from her twin and then she'd sit quietly at my side until I was ready to face the world again. Some days she'd say that she felt more like my sister than Ash's.
As much as I'd like to say I outgrew my hatred of Ash, I never did. I did, however, eventually outgrow my habitual stammer, shedding my nervous shell as my confidence increased. Puberty was kind to me; after the expected lashings of pimples and hormones, my gangly body grew into something resembling a feminine form, all curves and breasts and long legs. My hair left its ginger roots behind and deepened into a much-welcomed shade of red. By the time I left school, I'd had several boyfriends - much to Ash's well-vocalised befuddlement.
By age twenty, I was living in a flat with Lucy and attending University. I studied Literature while Lucy followed her passion for Psychology. Ash lived nearby with several of his friends and consequently I still was not free of him. He made a habit of dropping by uninvited every now and then, ostensibly to visit his beloved sister, though he spent most of that time finding new ways to irritate me. One particular summer day, he invited himself into the house as I was attempting to write an essay. I was curled on the sofa, my laptop perched on the coffee table in front of me, when I heard the familiar sound of his footsteps coming up the stairs.
I didn't glance up from the screen of my laptop as he sauntered through the door, bringing with him a welcome waft of fresh air. Even with a popsicle stuck in my mouth and every window in the flat open I was overheating. Consequently I was dressed only in shorts and a tank top.
"Lucy home?" Ash's voice interrupted my essay musings.
I removed the popsicle from my mouth. In a bored drawl I asked, "What day is it, Ash?"
"Tuesday," he answered promptly. "Has your brain fried in the heat, Carrots?"
I gritted my teeth but very maturely did not rise to the bait. "And how many times have you been told now that Lucy has classes all day Tuesday?"
A brief pause. "You might have mentioned it. Can't honestly say I pay much attention to you."
Finally, I glanced up. As always, the sight of Ash provoked an instinctive response from me. One look at his stormy grey eyes and I wanted to hit something; one look at his artfully messed-up dark hair and I wanted to tear my own out. The same old mischief lingered in his expression, from the slight arching of one dark brow to the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. Even I had to grudgingly admit that he was handsome in a bad boy-ish kind of way, with his tattooed arms and his nose ring. He'd hinted once that his body modifications continued beneath his clothes, but I tended to actively block that thought. The fact of the matter remained that he was a smart-mouthed nuisance.
I dragged my gaze off him and made a show of typing away on the laptop. "Well, you know now. Lucy's not here; I recommend that you follow her example," I said curtly.
As usual, Ash ignored my obvious lack of patience with him and dropped onto the sofa next to me. He wore jeans and a tee with some band logo on it, and he was obviously too warm. He blew out a breath and fanned himself with one hand. "If I didn't know you better, Olivia, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me," he grinned. The use of my actual name was a once-in-a-blue-moon phenomenon. I stifled the urge to comment on it.
"I'm working; go away." Of course, it was entirely impossible to concentrate now with him just inches away from me. A breeze, invited in by the open windows, coaxed the delicious scent of him toward me. I could feel his body heat from where I sat. I stuck the popsicle back in my mouth, in drastic need of a cool-down.
Ash made no reply. When I flicked a glance his way, I found that his gaze was riveted to my mouth. He licked his lower lip. Puzzled, I removed my icy treat from between my lips. His eyes flared, following the movement with hazy intensity, as if he were only half-aware of what he was doing.
"Want one?" I ventured.
He blinked, swallowed hard. His gaze found mine. "I - what?"
I waved the popsicle in his face. "There's plenty in the freezer. You look a bit flushed."
"Oh." His dreamy expression shut down. He seemed to struggle for words for a moment before recovering. "I see what's going on now - luring me in with phallic-shaped ice products, all the while hoping to seduce me. I'm sorry, Foxy Locks, but I'm just not interested in you." He flashed a smug grin, evidently pleased with the new nickname.
I rolled my eyes and shut the laptop, giving up on my misguided idea of getting him to leave. He'd hang around until he got bored or until Lucy came home and ousted him. "Am I that transparent?" I asked, dripping with sarcasm. "Please, take me now."
"Don't you wish." He paused, a contemplative look crossing his handsome features. "Bet I'd be better than that last boyfriend of yours - Mick, was it? He looked like a one-thrust wonder. That is, of course, assuming he could get it up."
I bristled. Ash had absolutely no conversational boundaries. He especially loved to provide unwanted commentary on my past boyfriends. "It's Mark," I corrected automatically.
Ash made a dismissive gesture. "Is that why you broke up? He was shit in bed?" he pressed. His eyes glinted.
"Ash," I said warningly.
"What? I'm just curious. Your relationship escapades are a source of great entertainment for me. Now tell me how shit he was in bed."
I pressed my eyes shut. Maybe when I opened them he'd be gone. Nope, still there. "Your face is a source of great entertainment for me," I shot back with venom.
He was undeterred. Leaning in close, he invaded my personal space. I inhaled the smoke-and-peppermint smell of him and edged away. Ash smirked. "It's okay; I'll show you a good time if you beg for it."
My temper broke free of what meagre restraints I'd held it under. "Never in a million fucking years," I snapped, launching to my feet. I paced when I was angry; the sudden and savage rage that only Ash could inspire in me was near impossible to control but pacing helped.
Ash surged up and prowled after me, each step annoyingly graceful in comparison to my own jerky movements. His expression was a study in opposites, triumphant and yet enraged at the same time. His gaze dragged downward from my face, clinging to the arch of my neck and the curve of my waist and sliding south to my exposed legs. I felt the weight of those smoky eyes on me like a tangible thing, as if he'd trailed a finger down my skin. I didn't know how to deal with these lingering gazes, didn't want to know how I should interpret them. All I knew was that there was a hungry look on Ash's face and it was doing strange things to my heartbeat.
My mouth felt suddenly dry. I backed away from him, striving to return to my calm indifference, but my world felt off balance and calmness eluded me. I was angry and confused and then angry some more. I let out a shaky breath.
Ash looked similarly affected; he was breathing hard, his jaw tight and his hands clenched at his sides. "Never?" he asked in a low voice that sent flutters to my stomach.
"Never," I confirmed, with more conviction than I felt in that moment.
A moment of silence stretched between us, the tension thick and unruly. Neither of us moved. The moment broke abruptly when my melting popsicle dripped blue water onto my foot with an audible sound. The rising heat in the room had given form to several slick droplets, which trembled their way down the length of the ice. I skittered to the side, caught off guard, and let out a yelp. "Fuck!"
Ash chuckled, amused at my expense, and the tension dissipated. "Graceful as ever. I'm off home - you coming to the party on Friday?"
His flatmate, Seth, had invited me to the upcoming party at their shared flat several weeks ago. They hosted several parties a year for no other reason than 'because we can', and Lucy and I usually showed our faces for a while.
"Probably," I answered hastily, still dodging dripping water as I made my way to the kitchen in search of a cloth.
Ash made a noncommittal sound. "Fine." For someone who could barely take his eyes off my legs, he did an awfully good job of acting like he didn't give a shit. Without even so much as a goodbye, he headed to the door and walked casually out.
The second he was gone I took several deep breaths and leaned against the nearest wall. What the fuck had all of that been about? The staring, the heat, the tension... It had happened before, usually while Ash was drunk, but never like that. It had never been more clear that Ash was attracted to me. Lucy had insisted as much hundreds of times over the years, but I'd always protested - how could a guy so good at winding me up be attracted to me? Why hadn't he just acted like it, instead of all the years of taunts? He'd done a damn good job of making me resent him and now this?
It just wasn't right. I deserved better treatment.
It was with this in mind that the plan slowly formed. Now I'm not one for being bad usually, but by the time I'd settled all the details in my head, I felt like all that was missing from my evil genius persona was a wicked cackle and a cat to stroke.*
"You clean up nice," Lucy commented from the doorway to my bedroom on Friday night. She was dressed modestly in a teal off the shoulder top and skinny jeans, which complimented her slim frame. Her dark hair was, as usual, styled neatly. Her grey eyes, so like her brother's, were thoughtful as she scanned my outfit.
She'd helped me pick it out, though she remained unaware of my plans regarding her nuisance of a brother. I rarely wore dresses, preferring to stick to the comfort of jeans and shorts, and Lucy had picked up on that. I told her that I wanted a confidence boost, which was entirely true. The thought of what I planned was making me nervous - I'd second-guessed myself all day. Ultimately I wanted to feel sexy and this certainly fit the bill. The corset of the dress was white and it molded to my curves, highlighting them subtly. A slim belt around the waist marked the point where the material became black and silky, falling delicately to mid-thigh. My hair was a riot of loose waves, a flash of colour amidst the black and white.
I added a spritz of perfume to my throat and wrists, smiling at Lucy. "You're not so bad yourself." Understatement. She was stunning.
She gave an indulgent chuckle, still eyeing me. "Ash asked me what time we'd be at the party. He also asked if we wanted a ride over and if we wanted to stay the night afterward." Her voice carried undertones of significance. She'd more or less given up on last year's insane quest to pair me off with her brother, but that didn't stop her from slipping various implications into conversation.
I shot her an 'I know what you're doing' sort of look and she held up both hands in surrender but didn't vocally acknowledge it. Instead she said, "You ready to go? Drunken frivolity awaits."
Was I ready? I dragged in a shaky breath. "Bring it on."*
The party was in full swing by the time we arrived. The thumping music - mostly indie rock with a few heavier songs thrown into the mix - could probably be heard all the way up the street. And if it couldn't, then the drunken laughter echoing from each room of the flat certainly could be.
There were people everywhere - squashed on the leather sofa, sharing the mismatched chairs, dancing in the living room, grinding against the walls, dashing off to the bathroom, mixing drinks in the kitchen... It was a hive of activity fueled by alcohol, and within seconds of entering the flat Lucy and I found ourselves thrust into it.
The warm weight of an arm settled around my shoulders and I glanced up to see Seth, Ash's flatmate. Seth was tall, blond and, at that moment, extremely topless. His broad chest was covered in what looked like written instructions, scrawled in thick black ink.
"If found, please return to Ash Carlyle," I read from his chest, my brow furrowed. A mobile number was scribbled below the name, along with a smiley face.
Seth grinned down at me. "I wander off and go on adventures when I'm drunk."
And that, apparently, was all the explanation we were going to get. With his arms firmly around Lucy and I, Seth marched us off toward the kitchen. It later occurred to me that we were probably all that was keeping him upright. We certainly weren't enough to keep him walking in a straight line but he did his best.
The kitchen was seemed smaller than usual, filled as it was with people. Bottles and cans covered almost every available surface and a giggling girl lay across the table, which creaked ominously. Someone was making a doomed attempt at cooking, which involved pouring random things from the fridge into a pan, and I swiftly leaned in to turn off the hob. Didn't need the house exploding before I managed to go through with my plan. I angled a nervous look at my handbag, where the tell-tale clink of items announced the presence of the special item I'd bought yesterday, and I swallowed nervously.
"Drinks!" Seth announced, and, in a great display of how even the drastically drunk can operate their basic motor functions if alcohol is involved, opened bottles for Lucy and I. He pressed them into our hands. Lucy took hers and sipped delicately, while I took a fortifying swig.
"Fire in the hole!" a familiar voice called out from behind me.
I rolled my eyes. Ash's varying ginger jokes were a great source of pride for him and a great source of annoyance for me. I whirled and found him standing right behind me, wearing jeans that hung low on his hips and a v-necked shirt that exposed glimpses of his chest tattoo. His scent rushed at me in a delicious wave.
I opened my mouth to snap back some (hopefully) witty retort, but the look on his face struck me dumb.
Ash was looking at me like he was drowning and I was oxygen. His eyes darkened rapidly as they swept over the form-fitting material of my dress and I couldn't help but shift nervously under such scrutiny. He opened his mouth, made a soft sound, shook his head and raked one hand through his hair in an oddly helpless gesture. His eyes never left me, never stopped drifting up and down my body, my face, my hair. At my side, Lucy smiled secretly to herself.
"You look... Wow," Ash mumbled, stepping closer to me like he was following an instinct. He shook his head again as if to clear it. "You... You should stay over tonight. After the party." His voice was slightly slurred, his expression faintly dazed, cluing me in that he was already inebriated. Good. I needed him out of his right mind. I'd half expected to have to get him drunk tonight but he seemed to have done that part of my job for me.
Lucy snickered and shot me a look. "Seth, let's dance," she said slyly and led him away, leaving Ash and I alone.
Alone. I was alone with Ash. Ash, who was looking ridiculously attractive. I drained the last of my drink almost desperately. God, I couldn't do this. This was a stupid idea, it'd never work anyway.
Ash, who was still looking dazed, reached out to play with a strand of my hair. He still hadn't managed to form a coherent sentence, but that was probably the booze. He swallowed, capturing my gaze with wide grey eyes. "Beautiful," he said quietly, forming the word very deliberately, as if determined not to slur it.
My heart stuttered. He wasn't supposed to be saying nice things! He was supposed to be smirking smugly and throwing infuriating jokes my way and laughing at my expense. He was supposed to be driving me mad. I couldn't seem to meet his eyes.
I forced myself to think back to school. All the tears I'd shed over him, all the times I'd screamed at him to leave me alone, all the ways he'd wormed his way into my life when I didn't want him there. I thought of the time he'd told my date I had herpes and the time he'd spent an entire night prank calling me. I thought of his infuriating laugh. I felt the old resentment spark to life.
I could do this. Never again would Ash get one up on me.
I fixed him with what I hoped was an alluring smile and leaned in close to his ear. "Ash, would you come to your room with me? I need to show you something," I murmured. He shivered as my breath touched his ear.
"I - yeah," he agreed, eager but clearly puzzled by my behaviour. I'd never asked to spend time alone with him in my life. He swayed slightly as he walked but stayed on a wavering course toward his bedroom, weaving through people and ignoring every one of them until he was ushering me through the door and closing it behind me.
While Ash ambled over to his bed, I quietly locked the door.
I'd never actually been in his room. I'd sort of expected it to be full of naked posters or used condoms, but it was surprisingly nice. A large bed dominated the space, covered by dark sheets and several pillows. Posters of various bands adorned the walls. A TV and several game systems sat on a desk, while a guitar leaned against one wall. Ash kicked a few stray pairs of boxers under his bed when he thought I wasn't looking.
"Why did you want to come in here?" he asked almost hesitantly.
This was it. I took a deep breath and turned off the light. Enough illumination seeped in through the window that I could still see well enough, but the shadows lent a more mysterious edge to the situation. Ash drew a surprised breath. I stepped carefully toward him, using his moment of surprise to reach discreetly into my handbag. Then, while he was still off guard, I placed both hands on his chest, feeling the wild beat of his heart, and slid them beneath the hem of his shirt. Before he could say a word I'd slipped the shirt over his head, exposing the toned muscles of his torso. In the dark, the details of his tattoos were vague but beautiful.
"Olivia..." Ash began, his voice quiet, and reached toward me.
I stepped deftly out of his reach and pushed him onto the bed instead. Alcohol had robbed him of enough balance that he fell easily, bouncing slightly. He levered himself onto his elbows and tried again to touch me, but I moved so that I straddled him and took hold of both of his hands, drawing them above his head.
"Olivia," he repeated softly, his eyes beseeching, but he stopped abruptly when he heard the click.
I gave him a calm smile as the handcuffs clicked shut over his wrists, anchoring him to the bed.
"What...?" Ash began. A moment of confusion ensued, during which he tugged fruitlessly at his bindings, shifting around until it became clear that he wasn't going anywhere. His eyes sought mine, wild and unsure, and I struggled to keep from shaking as I got off the bed and stood straight.
Ash looked delicious when he was at my mercy. I watched his muscles strain and bit my lip.
"You're going to shut up and you're going to lay still, and I'm going to do whatever the hell I want to you," I told him. My voice came out strong and sure, full of authority. I hoped. "Do you understand?"
Ash stared at me, breathing hard. His stunned fury had faded and he seemed to be weighing his options. Finally, he gave a quick nod.
I hadn't expected him to agree so readily, or to surrender so easily. I'd expected swearing and taunting and anger and struggling but here he was, almost placid as he watched for my next move.
There was no backing out now. I licked my lips and, slowly, ran my hands over my own body. From outside the room, the party's music provided a beat for me to sway my hips to. I let the rhythm guide me, half wishing for a more sensual song, but I'd take what I could get. My hands shifted my hair off my shoulders and then followed the soft swell of my breasts. I'd never done a sexy dance for anyone, but if Ash's expression was anything to go by I was doing a good job. I reached around and caught hold of my zipper, drawing it steadily down. I turned so that Ash could watch it come apart, so that he could watch as more skin was bared each second. He sucked in a breath as it became clear that I wasn't wearing a bra.
I waited, my breath held, for him to make a sarcastic comment but there was only awed silence. I turned to face him again, holding the dress to me with one hand. Ash's jaw tightened. His eyes fixed on that hand as if willing it to drop. I complied, ever so slowly. The dress slid down my body, silken material slipping away to reveal perky breasts, flat stomach and curvy hips. I shimmied my hips slowly and the dress dropped altogether, pooling on the floor and leaving me clad only in silk underwear and black heels.
I hardly dared to look at Ash's face. Would I see disappointment? Boredom?
"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he said, in the kind of husky voice that made my skin tingle. His gaze, when I met it, was scorching and enraptured. I felt the heat of it like a living thing, as if someone had struck a match between us.
"I told you to shut up," I reminded him, successfully keeping my voice steady and commanding.
He looked like he had a thousand more things to say, but reluctantly he fell silent.
To reward him for obeying, I hooked my thumbs into my underwear and pulled, stepping out of the material and at last exposing my smooth pussy. I ran a finger teasingly over my slit, finding that I was already slick with arousal, and then for Ash's benefit I raised that finger to my lips and sucked. He groaned quietly and I stifled a grin. I wanted him driven wild and he seemed only to eager to let me do it.
Now was the time to up my game. I stepped closer to the bed and crawled onto it, over the top of his body but carefully not touching any part of him. My knees rested either side of his thighs. Ash shifted, aligning his body with mine in the attempt to touch me, and I avoided it.
"Stay still or I stop," I warned.
"Don't stop," he breathed.
"Shut up." I leaned in close, breathing against his neck, and he shuddered. I pressed a kiss there, my lips barely brushing the heated skin, and then I traced a line to his collarbone with the tip of my tongue. My hair tickled his skin as I moved, the strands vibrant even in the darkness. Ash's fingers wrapped tightly around the headboard of his bed. I grinned to myself and slid one finger teasingly down his chest, tracing the lines of his tattoo. I followed my finger's path with my lips and tongue, careful to keep each touch as light as possible. My questing lips discovered small bars pierced through his nipples and grazed feathery kisses there. Ash held himself rigid, tense with the effort of remaining still.
God, it was fun to have him under my control.
My exploratory kisses reached his hips, where more tattoos emblazoned the skin, and slid along the line of his jeans. The bulge in them was obvious, straining against the material in a way that had to be painful. I let him suffer for a moment before unbuttoning and unzipping the jeans, sliding them off his hips but leaving them at his calves, the better to keep him still. He wore dark boxer briefs, thin enough to provide a clear outline of the throbbing erection beneath. Just the sight of it, the solid evidence of my effect on him, turned me on beyond anything I'd imagined could happen in a situation with Ash. I had to work so very hard to keep from diving in and worshipping his body. I could have made him feel so good. This was Ash, I reminded myself hastily. I was here to get revenge, not to connect sexually.
I forced myself to bypass that area altogether and instead worked my way up the inside of his thighs with my fingers, dragging my nails slightly. Ash shivered and groaned. He was biting his lip to keep from speaking, but that didn't stop him from begging me with his eyes. All the words he might have said were right there in those smoky grey depths, burning with need.
Satisfied that I'd worked him to a near frenzy, I took hold of his briefs and drew them down to join his jeans at his calves. Inch by inch, his manhood was revealed and damn, what a sight it was. Rock hard and ready, smooth skin highlighted by the moonlight filtering in through the window. He was just the right size, big enough that I knew he'd fit snugly within me and hit all the right spots. Beads of precum gathered at his swollen tip. I craved a taste.
Ash watched my reactions intently, his eyes dark. He opened his mouth to speak, so I quickly ducked my head and kissed the tip of his cock, flicking my tongue out to catch a few drops of precum. Ash's words seemed to get caught in his throat and he made a strangled groaning sound instead, arching toward me. The moment his hips moved, I drew away, biting my lip to stifle a laugh at the look on his face. He realised his mistake and hastily stilled, breathing hard. He was desperate for a real touch.
God, this was turning me on. My inner thighs were slick with my own arousal. My skin buzzed with it. I felt powerful and triumphant, basking in the warmth of finally having something over Ash. Finally, I'd win.
I smiled deviously to myself and took one more lick of his cock, savouring the taste, before moving so that I straddled his hips. I sat so that his cock was in front of my pussy, almost touching but not quite. Ash twitched, his eyes fixing on my wet core, and I could see the mental battle he waged with himself in order to stay still. One wrong move and he knew I'd edge away. I taunted him mercilessly by slipping two fingers into my depths, playing with myself. The fingers of my other hand squeezed my breasts and circled my nipples, touching what Ash couldn't. He was making quiet sounds of desperation now, his eyes wild with longing. His mouth silently formed words - "Please, let me... Oh fuck, please..." - but he knew better than to say them. I took my fingers from my dripping pussy and held them to his lips. With a fervent groan he sucked and licked them, ecstasy flashing across his features as he finally got a taste. When I took my fingers away he moaned quietly, his lips parted. I leaned down and closed my teeth around his lower lip, tugging slightly. I tasted alcohol and myself on his mouth. He tipped his face up and attempted to turn the contact into a kiss, but I drew away before he could. Disappointment clouded his expression.
I shifted, hovering my pussy over the twitching head of his cock. "What do you want?" I taunted.
"You," Ash panted. "Only you."
My heart thudded. I blanked my mind before I could analyse those words. "What do you want me to do to you?" I specified, firmly driving the topic.
He groaned. "Fuck me. Ride me. Use me for whatever you want. Bite me, kiss me, slide my dick into your wet little pussy and screw me until the bed breaks. I want you so bad." His voice was low and dangerously alluring, painting a word picture of all the unspeakable things I could do to him. It wasn't fair that I was in control and he still had such a profound effect on me.
I needed to remind myself who was boss. I recalled his words from the other day, in my flat. "It's okay; I'll show you a good time if you beg for it," I quoted slyly, circling my hips so close to him that he could feel the heat from my pussy.
His breath left him in a fierce rush. "Please. Please. I'm begging you, please, I need you."
"That's right. Beg for it. Beg for my pussy," I breathed.
Ash bit his lip hard. "Please, please, please," he cried out. "Fuck, I want it so much. Please
, Olivia. Give it to me, please -" He was cut off abruptly when my pussy sank down onto his cock in one deliciously smooth motion. "Oh fuck, yes
!" His back arched, his arms strained against the cuffs, his face transformed with sheer pleasure and he let out a low sound that almost made me cum then and there.
I moaned too, when his cock was buried in me. I'd been right; he fit perfectly, nestling inside me like he was meant to be there. My pussy clung to the hard, hot length of him, loving the way it felt. Ash's eyes met mine in a delirious haze, bright with passion, and he looked like there was nowhere else he'd rather be. I wanted to go with the desire, run rampant and give in to that animalistic urge to claim him and never let go, but... But.
This was the boy who'd made me cry and it didn't matter that he was staring up at me like I was a goddess, come tomorrow he'd be back to making ginger jokes and driving me insane.
I raised myself so that just the tip of him remained inside me and circled my hips, teasing once more, avoiding his gaze and denying connection. I rocked back down onto him, enveloping him until he was balls deep, and then I repeated the move several times until his hips were twitching with the need to set a rhythm. He moaned deeply with every new movement, the sounds gaining volume as his need spiraled higher. He whispered my name like a prayer. Whenever he tried to move his hips, I raised myself off him in reprimand until he was still and begging again.
My pussy ached sweetly, filled up and yet somehow empty. I needed more, needed that release that hovered at the edge of my reach. It flitted close with each thrust and then danced away, a delicious tingling pressure deep within. No other cock had ever felt so good in me. I'd never been so close to cumming so quickly. I altered my angle, leaning back slightly so that his cock grazed against my inner wall as I moved, and then I rode him hard. Ash moaned unintelligibly. The bed creaked beneath us. Heat built up. I loved this.
With one finger I traced my clit, increasing in pressure as my insides quivered. I was close, so very close, teetering over the edge. I rubbed my clit with abandon, momentarily losing myself to the smell of Ash and the sloppy sounds of his cock moving in my soaked pussy. I captured my elusive orgasm at last. It rushed over my entire body in a wave and I came alive, writhing and moaning, riding it out. My pussy contracted and gushed. I'd never experienced an orgasm so powerful. Head spinning, body shaking, I could only close my eyes and let it take me over.
Ash was whispering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck," and I knew he was close to his own peak. His cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving, his voice husky from moaning. I knew the head of his cock would be red and swollen, ready to explode. I gathered my wits. Here came my finale.
With a slow, taunting smile, I raised myself off his dick, letting it flop to his stomach, and I hopped lightly off the bed.
Ash gaped. "Where are you going? I haven't..."
I summoned up a copy of his smug smirk, eyeing his madly twitching cock, and stepped into my underwear. I had to work to hide how my legs shook. "You haven't gotten to cum? Isn't that a shame." I made a faux-sympathetic little sound.
Ash tugged madly at the cuffs. "Olivia," he pleaded, staring at me. "Fuck
, please come back. I'm begging you, get back over here. God, I'm so close, please let me cum. I need you so bad." His voice was rough with strain.
I slipped back into my dress and zipped it calmly up. I stood over him, powerful and aloof and out of his reach. "This is for all the times you've made me cry, Ash Carlyle," I told him. Horror swept over his face. I dug in my handbag, fished out the keys to the cuffs and then placed them on his bedside table.
Then, ignoring his pleas and moans, I turned my back and walked out the door, leaving him naked, hard and handcuffed to his bed.
Revenge was sweet. To be continued...
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