Chasing Kiarra

Kiarra

Aidan straightened back up while I was still coming down from my orgasm. I breathed in heavily as he slowly moved his fingers, which had been inside me just moments ago, to his mouth and licked my juices clean off them.

Normally, I wouldn’t have found that the least bit sexy, but this man made my useless pussy throb with newfound need. Just watching him lick away made me imagine all the pleasures that tongue could bring me.

“I think I finally found something that can make that gorgeous mouth of yours make noises I actually want to hear.” Aidan’s low chuckle sent vibrations all over my body as he leaned into me once again.

“Like you haven’t been enjoying every single thing I’ve said so far. I think it might actually turn you on,” I said. I went to pull him back to me once more, because I was nowhere near finished yet. My arms were on their way around his neck when he went stiff. Another one of those rumbles from his chest sounded in the otherwise quiet room and he straightened back up again.

“What the hell?” I looked up at him, puzzled at his sudden reaction, when he grabbed a hold of my arm right above my wrists, his eyes zooming in on them. I sat up on the table and looked at what he was seeing.

Small bruises had slowly started to form around my wrists where he had held me so tightly earlier. I had to let out a little laugh at that. Somehow, I always ended up bruised.

I was in general not very clumsy, but I always found new small bruises on my body and wondered where the hell I got them from. Mostly it was just a slight bump here or there.

“Guess we got a little bit rough there for a moment,” I smirked at him and went to move my arms around him again. I could still feel the throbbing between my legs and was more than ready for round two. Or, well, a completed round one. But I couldn’t move my arms from his hold; he didn’t budge.

“You bruised because of that?” He spat out the words in anger, and I was left completely stunned for a moment. What the hell was up with the mood change?

Slowly I felt myself come down from the high of lust, and remembered I was still sitting there on the table, half naked. So, I drew my arms back from him and used them to cover up my breasts, suddenly feeling very naked.

“Yeah, I bruise like a peach. Happens all the time,” I explained, trying not to get annoyed. But I felt him starting to pull away as I spoke.

Seriously, what the fuck was his problem? One minute we were all hot and bothered, the next minute only bothered. My earlier lust had faded, and I was getting angry again.

Angry at him for not finishing what he’d started, but mostly at myself for giving in to the jerk and actually enjoying it.

I gave him a little push with my one hand while still covering my exposed breasts with the other as I pushed myself off the table, and started to search for my missing bra and top.

“You have got to be kidding me. That hurt you? You’re so fucking fragile. So fucking ~weak~.” I’d found my shirt and was in the act of pulling it over my head as he spoke.

He hadn’t moved at all. He stood as if frozen in place, looking at his hand. It didn’t even sound as though he was talking to me anymore, but it didn’t matter. I heard it, loud and clear. And it had my blood boiling.

“Don’t you fucking dare. Weak??” I snarled out and that got his attention. He turned his head around and his eyes zoomed in on mine.

“I’m not weak, you fucking asshole! I may bruise easily, but the last thing I am is weak and fragile, you condescending Neanderthal,” I barked as I snatched up the pieces of my ruined lace underwear.

“I don’t want you!” The bastard snarled while looking more furious than I had ever seen him. I cringed at the words. I didn’t know why, but they hurt me.

Deeply. It felt like he was trying to tear apart my heart, and it wasn’t a feeling I was used to. He took a step toward me, but not with the sexy dominance of before. This was intimidating, and for the first time, I began to be afraid.

Of course, I didn’t let any of those emotions show, I wouldn’t let myself lose face and make him believe he had such an effect on me.

“I don’t fucking want you here.”

The sound of the slap resonated in the storage room, and I had to blink a couple of times before I realized my hand had connected with his cheek.

He stood stunned, frozen stock-still, looking at me with big, shocked eyes. I didn’t know where that came from, but I was angry and hurt.

“Well, then do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me!” I tried to sound as furious as he had, but my voice came out a lot shakier than I wanted it to.

My vision blurred, and I realized tears had started to gather in my eyes. I never cried, ever.

The last time I’d cried, I had been eight years old. One of my foster brothers had pulled the head off of my only toy, a doll named Cat. I hadn’t cried since, and often joked about my tear ducts being defective. Glad to know they weren’t.

I blinked fast, trying to make the tears disappear, and before he had a chance to react to my words I stormed out of the room.

I didn’t even bother going back into the bar; I wouldn’t be of any help to Sam anyway. I rushed up the stairs to the apartment, slamming the door shut behind me.