Part One: The Middle
1.
Vixen…
The bed dipped and a warm hard body pressed against my back. I felt his hot hand run down the side of my body and under my silky nightgown. His thumb traced along the edge of my panties.
“Baby,” he whispered, his voice low. “I missed you.”
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, praying he’d stop if he didn’t think I’d woken up. It was foolish thinking, but I kept waiting for the day he’d lose interest in me and leave me deserted on the bed.
He didn’t stop his touching. He traced my panties for several moments. I felt him hover over me, watching the side of my face. Always watching me. Always gauging my reaction. I tried to play it cool. Let him think I was still asleep. Maybe, just maybe, he would leave me alone.
But then his finger slipped under the hem of my panties and I felt him at my core, swirling his thumb at the nub of nerves, masterfully triggering a spark of pleasure in me. My body betrayed me as my thighs squeezed around his hand, begging for more.
He laughed deep in his chest.
The show was over.
He knew I was awake.
I hated him.
I hated him.
I hated him.
And yet my thighs parted now, and my hips bucked at his touch, at the rhythm of pleasure he was pulling out of me. I bit my bottom lip, refusing to moan, refusing to let him know how good it felt.
Pleasure did that. Fucking messed with your head. The second you were under the spell of pleasure, it didn’t matter who was giving it to you. It only mattered that you got fucked to orgasm.
And Nixon…
Nixon knew every inch of my body.
Knew what made me tick.
What made me scream.
What made me beg.
He played me like a fiddle.
And I hated him.
I hated him.
Oh, God.
A whimper escaped my mouth.
“Ah, there she is,” he groaned in my ear, biting at my earlobe as he swirled that thumb in circles over my clit. “Did you miss me, Vix?”
I didn’t answer, but my eyes parted open. The room was dark still, and I didn’t care there was a gun on the nightstand, the end of it pointed in our direction. He was always so sloppy with his firearms. It was like he threw his shit down as fast as he could just so he could slide into bed with me.
His index finger slid into me, and I sucked in a breath. Oh, God. He rubbed me as he pumped his finger slowly in and out of me, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
“I think you missed me,” he went on, amused.
I ground my hips, lost to the feeling, grating out, “No, I didn’t.”
He chuckled. “I think you’re lying. Your body’s telling me something different, baby.”
“No.”
“Yes. Listen to it. You’re soaking wet, you can hear me fuck you with my hand.”
And he was right. The sloppy sounds of his movements filled the room, and he went quiet just to make his point.
I gritted my teeth, pissed off that he was so fucking cocky and right. “Not wet for you, Nixon.”
“No?” he questioned lightly. “What then?”
“Could be anyone.”
I kept waiting for the day these words would piss him off. I tried so hard to let him know how insignificant he was to me. How little his touches affected me.
But Nixon barked out a laugh and took it all in stride.
He didn’t care. Because my body was telling him otherwise, and that was all he minded.
He removed his hand and pushed me on my back. Propped on his elbow, he looked down at me in the dark with the cockiest smile. I looked over his face, annoyed at how gorgeous he was. His dark hair fell inches over his forehead, there was stubble on his cheeks, but it didn’t hide how cut his jaw was, or how raised his cheekbones were. His lips were soft and full, though right now his bottom lip was sporting a cut.
Another fight.
Another sucker punch to his face.
He deserved it. I was sure he’d enticed whoever had hit him, and I was sure the other person looked far worse.
Just as I was lapping his face up, he was doing the same. Always that look of utter reverence accompanying him as he looked me over, his smile turning wicked.
I was his toy.
Still fresh and new.
Still unbroken.
“Do you think,” he wondered, playfully, “if I sucked your cunt, you wouldn’t scream my name?”
My heart thumped hard in my chest. I was never immune to his dirty talk. To his dirty fucking. To his dirty, cut mouth.
I glowered at his arrogance, but I played along, feigning a yawn. “I think it could be anyone’s mouth on my cunt.”
He groaned deep in his throat as a dark look crossed his expression. “Fuck, when you talk like that, baby, it takes everything inside me not to split your pussy wide open around my cock.”
My body warmed. I felt the flush in my cheeks as my body zinged with anticipation. I could let him fuck me, toy with me, suck me to orgasm – it didn’t mean I cared for the bastard. It just meant I wasn’t a victim in all this mess, and I liked that. I liked that I didn’t let him ruin me a long time ago when he fucked me that first time as I cried in his arms, pleading for him not to kill me.
I’d never told him to stop then.
I wouldn’t tell him to stop now.
That wasn’t how this was going to work.
I wasn’t going to walk free from this by playing the victim.
Sometimes I believed so heartily that I would find a way out of this prison.
Other times, it felt like I’d die in it.
And then there were times, times like now, when all that mattered was his cock buried in me. I often forgot who I was, where I was, who he was.
Did I mention he could fuck for hours?
Forgetting for hours was sweet bliss.
“I won’t scream your name,” I told him, defiantly.
His eyes came alive and his lips twisted into a sexy smirk. Nixon loved a challenge. He pulled my night gown up and over my head and then slid my panties down. I stared up at the ceiling, pretending none of this mattered. But my heart was stampeding in my chest, and every inch of me was buzzed with energy. His large body slid down the bed. He pulled apart my legs and kissed along my inner thighs. I swallowed hard, aware he couldn’t see me now that he was buried between my legs. My eyes glazed and my mouth parted, tiny little breaths coming in and out as he left tingles behind every kiss.
He blew hot breaths on my pussy, taking his time now. I almost growled at him to just fuck me with his mouth already, but I went through the steps, opting to grit my teeth than to beg.
When I felt his tongue run up my slit, my body jolted, as though I’d been struck by lightning. I felt his laughter vibrate through me, and I didn’t care now. I groaned at his tongue strokes, at his teasing light flicks to my clit.
“Say my name, Vix,” he demanded, sucking at my clit.
I shook my head, tears stinging my eyes. “No.”
He sucked at my clit harder, adding the perfect pressure to make my eyes roll to the back of my head. My hips quaked and my feet dug into the mattress. My hand almost flew to the back of his head, but I gripped the pillows instead, squeezing them tightly as he brought me to the cusp of pleasure…and then retreated again.
Fuck, I hated him.
Playing me.