Troy's lips suck at mine. His tongue tastes and claims. One hand slides up my skirt until his fingers meet my wet panties.
"You never fail to surprise me," he murmurs, sliding his thumb up and down the slit of my panties.
"You can take them off, but everything else stays on."
Troy gives me a naughty smile. "You're bossy when wet."
I share his grin while lifting my hips so he can slide off the panties. Troy tosses them on his shoulder before leaning forward and sucking at my lips. I slide farther down on the couch, my wet center searching for the fingers I feel crawling lazily up my thighs.
A moan escapes my lips as his knuckle grazes my clit. Troy smiles, his mouth on my jaw before skimming the flesh of my neck. He latches onto my pulse and sucks deeply. My eyes close as his index and middle fingers slide deeper inside me.
"Troy," I whimper.
"No one sees you this way ever again. I'm claiming you, Darla. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I say without believing him.
His thumb makes perfect little circles against my clit while his fingers press into me faster and deeper until my hips fuck his hand wildly. The pleasure is so close that I nearly reach out to grab it. Troy doesn't relent. Thrusting harder, he forces me over the edge and gives me my first orgasm in years.
Panting with relief, I pull him closer and devour his lips. He's gorgeous and sexy as hell, but Troy is more. He's the man I always dreamed of yet never truly believed was real. Locke made me hate touch, and now I feel starved for it.
Releasing his lips, I push Troy back. "Lie down," I whisper, running my hands over his chest.
Troy looks uncertain. Is he afraid? Does my hunger frighten this trained killer? My smile infects Troy, making him pliable under my hands. I tug open his jeans, surprised he hasn't broken himself loose already. His cock springs free, desperate for my touch. I stroke him steadily until the thick muscle is unbearably rigid.
Leaning down, I nibble at his ribcage. My tongue licks at his stomach impatiently.
"Enough," I mumble to myself.
I don't want foreplay. Straddling Troy, I bite my bottom lip and steady myself over his waiting cock. He remains very still as if afraid to spook me. Will I run from the room, leaving him to deal with this raging hard on alone? I laugh at the thought. Troy can't know how much I need him inside me. My laughter shifts into a relieved moan as I take more and more of him into my body.
Filled perfectly with his hot flesh, I rest my hands on his chest and rock my hips.
"You kill people," I murmur, staring down at him. "You have blood on your hands. I see the real you, and it's so beautiful."
Troy flinches at my words. His hands instantly reach for me, but I refuse to let him pull me down or change positions. I want him under me. I like imagining Locke seeing me like this with Troy. In charge, I'm free to fuck anyone I want. With my freedom, I choose this man.
I never take my eyes off Troy. Moving steadily, my hips work him closer to filling me with his seed. My pussy aches with long forgotten pleasure. I've gone a lifetime without desiring anything like I want Troy.
His hands cup my breasts, teasing them through my shirt. Even with clothes between us, I feel the heat of his touch. Moving faster, I understand Troy isn't the only impatient one. I can't wait any longer either.
I come hard, groaning as if in pain. Embracing my freedom and power, I smile when Troy comes too. His cock thickens inside me while his hips thrust upward. His pleasure empowers me. Soon, I laugh at how Locke tried to destroy me yet failed. I'm still alive, and I know what I want.
29
~~~
Troy
Push/Pull
Darla awakes from the darkness, hungry and demanding. I push her, touching her deep and forcing her to let go. Rather than be satisfied, Darla craves more. I watch her lead, afraid if I'm too greedy that she'll run.
Her body accepts my cock and rides me wildly. She's laughing and coming like a woman unleashed. Her mind isn't so accommodating.
I feel her pulling away as soon as she crawls off me. Nearly expecting her to break into a run and hide, I even imagine her in the shower washing away the feel of me. Darla only finds her panties and slides them up her long legs.
"Are you okay?" I ask.
Darla only glances at me, already hiding in her head. I hate when she hides from me. A part of me understands her history and the darkness she craves. That part wants to give her space, so she can cope slowly with her trauma.
Another stronger part of me needs to claim her completely so she can never hide from me again. That part has no patience for her past and pain. That part nearly carries her into the bedroom and strips off every inch of clothing.
Minka's call breaks me from my greedy need. Darla watches me take the call, and I swear she's judging me.
Minka sounds tired and rather irritated when I answer. "You should know the cops tracked down the guy from today at a hotel on the south side. Fucker came out blazing as if he planned to take out a dozen cops and make his way to Mexico. Real amateur shit."