Bait the Hook Page 2

  This is going to happen, this is going to happen, this is going to happen, do not fight…

  “Do you feel this?” he continued, “do you know how rare this is?” he asked. “I felt it the first time I laid eyes on you. And then, when I touched you, I was certain. I knew we would find ourselves right here. Just. Like. This.”

  He punctuated those last three words with a sinuous movement of his hips, grinding that hard, jeans-clad cock into the furrow between my firmly rounded ass cheeks, and pressing my clit down into the couch cushions. Lightning shot through my core just as he bit down on my ear lobe, giving it a tug and flicking it with the wet tip of his tongue.

  I couldn’t help myself. I uttered a groan of pleasure into his hand. This is so wrong, I thought.

  “Do you feel how right this is,” he murmured hotly into my ear, as he ground his hips into me once again, feeding the length of his thick erection deeper into the valley of my ass. He slid the hand that had been covering my mouth down, to gently cup and softly squeeze my throat.

  Some part of my rational brain must have been functioning, because I moaned out a weak, “wrong…” as the realization that he had assaulted me on the street mere hours ago, then broken into my house, and was now holding me down, about to do unspeakable things to my body, came to me.

  He chuckled in my ear, a husky, almost affectionate sound. “You don’t believe that” he told me. I could hear the smile in his voice as he removed his hand from my neck and slid it gently over my collar, tracing the line of my shoulder blade to my armpit, then slid it underneath my body to cup my full, round, breast and squeeze my hardened nipple. “…not really,” he whispered as he continued his assault.

  He placed his mouth on that sensitive bit of flesh where my shoulder and neck converge, and my body immediately broke out into tingly gooseflesh, my cunt throbbed in time with my quickening heartbeat, and I trembled with jittery need.

  I don’t believe it…not really

  “I’m going to stand up,” he informed me, matter-of-factly, “and I want you to turn over,” he continued in a seductive and demanding voice, “because I want to see every single emotion that crosses your beautiful face when I finally get to put this hard meat,’’ he punctuated this with a firm thrust, “inside that tight little pussy I can’t stop thinking about,” he growled into my ear. “I want to see the face you make when I make you cum all over my dick for the first time.”

  I could hear the raw, unrestrained lust in that low, guttural tone as it vibrated through my flesh.

  “And I want to kiss your lips...” he admitted, in a much softer, more yearning tone, as he delivered a long, slow, wet lick to the entire, soft column of my throat.

  This is the tone that spelled my complete undoing. This softness, this vulnerability – it was so at odds with the way he forced himself into my home and onto my body. I shivered uncontrollably as he began to gently nibble and kiss my neck, my throat, my chin, and my ear. I let out a whoosh of air on a long, low, moan.

  “Everything about you is perfect,” he whispered into my ear. “You were made just for me,” he told me with so much conviction that I believed him. “Every single one of your body’s responses confirms it even more,” he continued, tugging on my earlobe once again with gentle teeth. “I am going to make you mine. Now.”

  And with that, he released me, sliding his body in a liquid, graceful movement off of mine, to stand beside the couch. I felt bereft without the heat of his weight on my back. I could feel him standing above and behind me. I could feel those eyes, in all of their burning intensity, staring into my back.

  “Turn,” he whispered, both a command and a plea.

  I could not deny either. I could not refuse the undeniable, inevitability of this. Of us.

  Slowly, I turned over on the couch, resting on my propped arms, pulling my knees up towards my chest defensively, and I forced myself to meet his gaze.

  It lacked the triumph I was sure I would find there, and instead held the most raw, most ferociously un-shuttered look I’ve ever beheld on another human being’s face. It held a magnificent need that was so pure I could not deny its truth. A need that was at the forefront of a million other swirling emotions that all said the same thing: I was his.

  “I’m taking what’s mine, Gemma,” he whispered on one guttural breath, as he whipped his shirt off over his head and stalked towards me. His hand slipped to the base of my skull, cupping my head and brought it up to his face as he bent down to take my lips in a searing and possessive kiss.

  He straddled my body then, pushing me back into the couch, bearing down over me, pressing my head into the pillows with a punishingly needy, greedy, and soul-stealing kiss.

  “This is the end of our search,” he said cryptically, as his mouth broke away from mine so he could take off my shirt. His eyes opened wide with lust as he got a glimpse of my full, round, breasts. Covered in a flimsy, gauzy, and beautiful wisp of an excuse for a bra, the demi cups barely covered my nipples, which didn’t really matter, since the lace of the fabric was completely sheer. I felt his cock swell against me, as his hands reached out to grasp them reverently.

  I moan aloud as soon as his thumbs brushed my nipples. My head tilted back, and my eyes closed.

  “No!” His voice sounded pained. “Look at me when I touch you. Never hide anything from me Gemma. Ever.”

  I felt wide open as I gazed back at him, so vulnerable. He thanked me with his lips, in a gentle, reassuring kiss, while his hands roamed my flesh, caressing me.

  “Tell me you want me,” he demanded, and then kissed me deeply, preventing me from speaking. “Tell me you need me,” he continued, lifting his lips off of mine just long enough to speak. “Tell me to take you. Tell me you want to be mine, Gemma. Forever,” he commanded as he removed his lips from mine and gazed penetratingly into my eyes. He was waiting for me to say the words.

  “Tell me,” he pleaded, “to fuck you. Right here. Right now,” he issued more demands, “or I will stand up, walk out that door and never look to you for anything ever again.”

  Those few words brought an instant, and intense pain to my chest. I didn’t understand why or how, but I needed him like nothing I’ve ever needed before. The thought of him leaving was unbearable, it overpowered my fear, it brushed my logic aside like flimsy cobwebs, and it sent all rational thought scattering with the force of hurricane.

  My dry voice cracked on my first words, “’I want you,” I uttered, amazed to hear how truthful those three hoarse, raw, crackling words sounded to my ears. “I need you,” I continued, as his eyes and ears drank me in. “Take me, Jackson,” I begged, watching the brief instant of confusion wash over his features, at the use of his name. His gaze quickly turned into a triumphant smirk. “I am yours.” I said, and I meant it. “Forever,” I finished.

  Lips crashed down on mine again, stealing my breath away. Too soon, he lifted them away.

  As my gaze found his eyes once more, I read the prompt there. I knew what more you wanted to hear.

  “Fuck me Jackson. Here. Now.” I begged.

  He let out an animalistic grunt, and grabbed my wrists together in one hand, thrusting them above my head as his body forced mine all the way down into the cushions of the couch. His other hand forcefully lifted my skirt up, exposing my creamy thighs and my underwear, which he yanked off in one swift movement, ripping and wrenching them from my body.

  I felt him frantically working on his pants. I heard the zipper, then felt his hot length touch the bare lips of my wet sex, just before he thrust deep inside of me, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful movement. He sank his face into the hollow of my neck, screamed once, and clutched my body in an excruciatingly tight grip.

  I’ve never felt more complete, or more completely filled in my life.

  His teeth bit into my neck almost hard enough to cause pain, which instead spiked my adrenaline and sent another wave of wetness gushing between my legs.

  My legs wrapped around him, he
els digging into his firm backside, as the hand that wasn’t occupied with my wrists clutched my thigh hard enough to bruise it. He began to move, pumping so deeply inside of me that he reached unclaimed territory.

  Both of his hands ceased what they’d been doing so they could thread themselves through my hair. They gripped it, holding my head in place for the most demanding, bruising and beautiful kiss that has ever been bestowed upon me.

  “Cum for me.” He demanded into my mouth, as his hips dis some sort of twist that had me nearly screaming. “Now Gemma!” he commanded again, thrusting even more deeply than he had before, pressing down hard as he pushed the head of his cock into my cervix with a relentless, delicious pressure.

  I felt the ripples of the most intense orgasm I have ever known begin right then and there. My pussy clamped down on his cock, as you held my head in place, and he forced me to meet his eyes.

  The orgasm ripped its way through my entire body, which shuddered and quaked and jerked underneath him. And just as a scream began to tear itself from my throat, his lips covered mine again, capturing it and swallowing the sounds of my orgasm.

  My cunt rippled with spasms, all over his cock, and I felt his own scream force its way into my mouth as he began to pump frantically within me. Strong arms gripped my body tightly in his embrace.

  He pounded into me and tore his lips from mine to inform me, “I’m going to cum inside of you. You are mine, Gemma, and I will never let you go.”

  His speed increased, and his strokes became even harder as his body crashed into mine ruthlessly. My body was still gripped with aftershocks, but I could feel his intensity causing my body to climb back up to the precipice again.

  “There will never be any barriers between us,” he warned me fiercely. “I will always take you just like this. Raw. Pumping my seed deep down inside of you, taking your body, claiming it, marking it from the inside out.”

  “You are mine!” He growled and thrust one last time, harder than ever, and began pouring his seed into me in great, shuddering spasms that wracked his entire body. He looked at me, gazing deeply into my soul, the entire time he was cumming into me. “And I am yours,” he offered up on gilded tongue, before stealing the most gentle, most tender kiss from my lips, a kiss that sent me sliding down into the depths of another, even more powerful orgasm than before.

  Preview: Dot Matrix

  MISTRESS OF THE STAGE

  Dot Matrix: Mistress of the Stage

  Dot Matrix: Chapter 1

  The first time I was almost raped, it was nothing like the secret fantasies I’d been harboring since I was a young girl. Dirty fantasies I knew I could never tell anyone about because they were so wrong and because no one could possibly understand. They painted me as a freak, even in my own sick mind, and I was reluctant to let anyone see into that dark recess. So I let them fester there, hidden away from the world. I let myself feel ashamed to have them, while secretly feeding my sick fascination with books and movies that cultivated that dark aspect of my brain.

  I dreamed about the day some sexy and dangerous man would try to coerce and corrupt my inexperienced body by tempting me with his own. Luring me with the thrilling and forbidden enticements of the flesh, seducing my willpower away, until I was mindless with need and ready to do anything he wanted.

  I dreamed of being pinned beneath his virile body while he gently forced me to accept the inevitable intrusion of his superior strength and dominant will. In this dream, I would plead with him not to, my hands ineffectually pushing against him in a futile show of resistance, even as my legs spread wider to receive him, and my hips writhed against his hardness in a silent plea for completion.

  My body and my mind would be at odds, until my mind was slowly overpowered by the raging passion between my legs and my overwhelming desire to give in to it. I dreamed of being forcefully seduced into letting go of my innocence, after being consumed by the raging inferno of mutual attraction and the wildness of our animal lusts.

  That is nothing like what happened to me.

  When I was eighteen, and still just a silly little girl, I learned the hard way how truly divergent my little world of rape fantasy was from real life, actual rape.

  There is nothing like the awful feeling of being caught completely unaware and unprepared as some disgusting, dirty, ill intentioned, drunk piece of backwoods, redneck filth shoves your face against a brick wall and his slithery body grinds lewdly against yours while he spews vile, hateful, venomous, racist garbage in your ear.

  I was so stupid and naive back then. I believed, like most eighteen-year-olds, that I was invincible and invulnerable. I thought there was nothing out there that could hurt me. I was tough and could take care of myself. The carelessness of youth caused in me a lack of concern for my own safety and wellbeing, one that almost cost me very dearly.

  * * *

  (just about) 20 years earlier...

  “I've got to get going Karl,” I pleaded dramatically, pushing myself up from the couch and away from the hot press of his overly near body.

  “Aww, come on Dee, at least finish the movie with me,” he wheedled, catching my hand in his as I rose, and trying to tug me back down onto the couch with him.

  “You know I've got to be home before my daddy gets off his shift, or the belt’s coming off and I won’t be able to sit for a week.” I told him in an exasperated tone, while tugging my hand back out of his grasp. He knew I’d get in trouble if I didn’t go now. Things were actually a lot worse at home than that, but I didn’t tell anyone how bad it really was. I kept that to myself.

  I hadn’t even wanted to stay this long. The only reason I’d come over in the first place, was that Karl had said there’d be others here. He’d told me Edrice and Cheryl and Ahmad were going to come over too. He said his parents were out of town for the weekend and he had a few VHS tapes and some forties, and we could all hang at his place and kick back.

  I was the first one there, so I had a seat on the couch and made awkward small talk with Karl and waited until the others showed up. But they didn’t. Karl grabbed a couple forty ouncers from the kitchen, sat down next to me on the couch and pressed play on the remote. That was when I knew he’d suckered me into coming over to hang out with him alone.

  When I confronted him about it he made up some lame excuse about the others cancelling at the last minute, and how it was just the two of us. He whined about being bored and needing some company until, against my better judgment, I agreed to stay for a bit longer.

  Over the last few weeks I’d been noticing Karl’s subtle advances and trying to shrug them off. He was good looking enough, with a strong, athletic body, smooth, dark skin and a handsome, dimpled face that had melted at least one or two sets of panties off at Dixon High. I just wasn’t attracted to him though. I found his whiny, wheedling attempts at seduction, his boyish dimples and long lashed glances to be an annoyance, rather than a turn on. I guess I just didn’t see him as manly or mature enough.

  As we sat there watching the uncomfortably adult movie, complete with graphic sex scenes, he kept shifting in his seat, and getting a little closer to me each time he moved. He fidgeted for a while and eventually threw his arm over the back of the couch, nearly around my shoulders, in that classic teenage seduction move.

  By the time we’d watched three quarters of the movie, I’d gotten to the point where I’d become very uncomfortable and could take no more. I stood to leave.

  “Delilahhhhhhhhh...” Karl wheedled some more, getting up to crowd my space as I picked my bag up and headed for the door. He got to the door before me and opened it for me, but didn’t release the knob, so I couldn’t walk through the doorway.

  “I’ve got to go Karl,” I gritted out, getting more annoyed by the minute.

  “Don’t be like that Dee,” he pleaded inching slowly closer. “I know you like me Dee."

  You wish, I thought while giving him my best Gary Coleman look, as if to say whatchutalkinbout?

  "Just let me g
ive you a kiss then I’ll let you go," he coerced while inching his face slowly closer. "When are you going to let me take you out?” he asked in what he must have thought was his most charming and persuasive tone.

  He had never even manned up and asked. He must have sensed my impending rejection, because he lashed out petulantly.

  "You some kind of virgin or something?” he scoffed.

  Yup. But even if I weren’t, I would never go out with Karl. He acted like a spoiled little mama’s boy.

  That was the last straw for me. His charm had no effect on me, other than to raise my ire to a level where I became confrontational.

  “Karl,” I began in a voice that I really tried to make soft and soothing, but that I’m certain my irritation rang out through, clear as a bell, despite my best efforts. “I’m sorry. I just don’t see you that way.” I paused then said, “we’re just friends,” twisting the dagger through his soft, frail, teenage heart. “Now would you please move, so I can leave?”

  Karl’s face became ugly then. His hurt and anger were clearly displayed, but he dropped his arm and let me pass without incident.

  I hurried down the stairs and away from the ugly scene, anxious to get home as quickly as possible, so I wouldn’t be late. It was already well after ten and my dad’s shift would be over at eleven.

  Karl belted out behind me as I scuttled away, “you’re a cold bitch Delilah. We ain’t friends no more.” Seconds later I heard the door slam, with loud finality, behind my quickly retreating form.

  The anger in his voice and the loud crash of the door rattled my nerves and caused my body to jump as I fled. Throughout the long walk home, I replayed all the things I could have, or should have done. Not just today, but over the last few weeks, to avoid just such an ugly confrontation, but it was hopeless to dwell on it. It was done now.