But I was all for having fun. So I bit down again.
His hand moved to the other side of my chest, knocking the second strap off my shoulder in the process. The top of my dress fell down to my waist. In the mirror, I could see his glove stretch taut as he grabbed my other tit roughly and twisted the peak of it between his fingers.
“Fuck,” I gasped, releasing his thumb, my entire body jerking again.
“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet?”
“I’m not great at following orders.”
His head tilted down, and the brim of his hat hid even his eyes from view. Our reflection showed nothing but a faceless man, clad in black, gripping my exposed flesh, and it sent another hot shiver through me. He traced one languid finger down my spine, only to come back up and wrap the hand around the back of my neck. He pushed down, my hips jutting backward automatically as I bent.
“Take your panties off,” he ordered.
“Do it your fucking self,” I countered and earned myself another rough push downwards until my cheek brushed the cool granite countertop. Oh, he was good. An inch further and I would have walked out of here with an angry bump on my temple. Apparently spatial awareness was now one of my turn-ons. This man was ruining me.
“Take them off, princess.”
I reached down, too impatient to keep protesting. I wanted this. Wanted him. Both versions of him. The rough one he’d never show the rest of the world and the perfectly controlled one that knew every limit. With his hand on my neck still keeping me bent down, I only managed to wriggle my underwear a few inches down my ass. The second I struggled to push further, he grabbed hold of my panties and ripped them off.
“Those were new,” I whined.
“Don’t worry, I’ll treasure them even if they’re broken.” He pulled my hips back. My tits slid across the countertop, the cold stone sharp against my oversensitized nipples. I gasped and tried to get my hands under me, but he pressed me down again, not a pocket of air between my chest and the counter.
He shifted behind me. I blinked up through some fallenstrands of hair, trying to catch a glimpse of his reflection, but the mirror hung a few inches too high for me to see from this angle. Hadn’t he promised me that I got to watch him fuck me? And now he had me bent down with his hips pressing into my ass? That was not what I’d signed up for.
I blew out an angry breath. “Is that your gun or are you excited to see me?”
“If you can’t tell the difference, we have an issue.” He turned me around and hoisted me on to the center of the counter in one smooth move. Instead of seating me on the edge though, where I could easily spread my legs around his hips, he pushed me to the very back until my shoulders aligned with the mirror. He grabbed both my ankles and hooked my feet into the twin sinks, spreading me wide.
Dress bunched around my middle, I was completely exposed in front of him.
And the way his eyes raked over my center just added to the wetness already pooling for him.
“Hand,” he demanded, a split second before grabbing my left wrist, the uninjured one, and pulling my fingers to his groin. At least he was as turned on as I was. He didn’t just do this to fulfill some sort of fantasy for me. He pushed himself into my palm and let out a low growl. “That’s what excitement feels like.”
He jerked my palm up to the smooth handle on his holster. With his hand over mine, he wrapped my fingers around the revolver and made me pull it out.
“This is what a gun feels like,” he growled as he pushed our entwined hands, and the pistol by extension, toward my pussy.
It was pointed right at me.
“Please,” I hissed, not sure what I was pleading for.
I knew it was a prop. I knew it only had a little compartment in the back that, if loaded, produced nothing but a pop and a bit of smoke right by the trigger. A pretty toy. That knowledge didn’t stop the surge of panic as the cold metal kissed the hot skin of my inner thigh.
Every instinct told me that guns were dangerous. And yet, I didn’t try to pull my hand away or use my leverage on the grip to fight him. I knew he’d stop if I did. He wouldn’t push me further than I was willing.
I let his hand steer the barrel. The metal scraped a winding path up my leg. Inch by inch my heart beat faster. It was so close. My breath stopped when the tip of it bit into the soft flesh of my outer lips, nudging them apart. He had to have a prime view of the pulsing heat between my legs, half instinctive fear, half arousal.
The barrel kissed my clit. The hole at its tip slotted right over my swollen bundle of nerves, and I couldn’t keep down my whimper.
“Look at how fucking wet you are for my gun.” He lowered the cool metal to my entrance, sending another pulse through my inner walls. “I’m starting to think you’re just a princess on the outside.”
“I… hmm…” Words were impossible with the gun swirling slow circles around and around my sensitive opening.
“I think you’re an outlaw on the inside.” He held my gaze, and pushed the barrel in. It wasn’t thick, but it was cold and ridged andentirely wrong.
“Oh fuck.” My head dropped back against the mirror. My core squeezed tight around the metal shaft.So right.
