Page 43 of Use Me Up

She is still shaking her head, but her scent has changed.

I lean over. “You were really committed, and I liked that. You took me so deep. Such a good girl, Hannah.”

“Fuck you.” Her voice is trembling. “Fuck you, Ellis, you are the worst thing that ever happened to me.” She gets out the keys and jams them into the ignition. “Your place or mine?”

hannah

Does part of me want to believe that I was so good at giving Ellis a blow job that he rejected Calliope for me because of it?

Obviously.

I know this is actually just part of his little scheme to get back at her.

I know it’s not even a scheme. He’s improvising. He doesn’t know what he wants to accomplish. He’s doing whatever he wants to do in the moment, and what he wants to do, usually, is make her jealous, and I am perfect for that.

I steal glances at him in the passenger seat as we drive back to his house. He says we should go there because it’s bigger and I have already packed a bag and I have a feeling I’m going to be spending my third night in a row in his bed, and he still hasn’t fucked me face-to-face, and I am ashamed of myself and my terrible life choices, but I seem to be helpless to make better ones.

He’s so fucking gorgeous over there, his dark curls hanging against his thick dark eyebrows. He didn’t shave this morning, and there’s a dark shadow against his chin and above his upper lip, and it makes him look rakish and dangerous—even more than he already looks this way. He’s jaggedly masculine, and yet beautiful, lithely draped all over the passenger seat of my car. He’s right at home there, as if he belongs there, as if he believes he has the right to take up space anywhere.

I wish I believed that I had the right to take up space.

He makes me blow him on the stairs in his house.

We get in there, and I start going up the stairs, and he stops me, takes my bag off my shoulder, lays it down and tells me to sit down.

I sit on the stairs and he climbs up until his crotch is eye level with me, and he takes himself out, and he’s still hard, and he smells like a thunderstorm in June, steam rising up from every newly soaked surface, and I take him into my mouth and he hums out his approval, stroking my hair, murmuring that I’m a good girl.

He urges me to take him deep, and it makes my eyes water, and he likes that, wiping my tears away and telling me I look good with his cock in my mouth. “Hold still, okay, Hannah, let me just fuck your throat for a little bit. Tap me if it’s too much, but try to let me do it as long as you can stand, okay? I’d really like it.”

It’s a lot. I can’t breathe. I gag on him, but he likes that. He thrusts into my throat, cutting everything off, and I don’t tap him and don’t tap him and don’t tap him and—

He pulls forward to let me breathe. Tears are streaming down my face, and I’m gasping for air.

“So good, Hannah,” he says, smiling down at me, real affection all over him. “God, you’re good to me. A little more, okay? I’m close, I promise. Take me again, that’s a good girl, get your mouth nice and fucked.” He thrusts into me again, and it’s all that intensity again, and…

My pussy clenches.

Fuck, I’m wet as all hell, I realize.

I squeeze my legs together around my swollen clitoris, and I can’t breathe, and I think about erotic asphyxiation, and is this what that is, because I’m taking flight here, climbing for something, and I reach for it, squeezing my thighs and releasing, stimulating myself, and—

He’s coming, right down my throat, and I’m reflexively swallowing.

He pulls out of my mouth and climbs down to kiss me, his mouth fierce on mine. He’s out of breath. “Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, aren’t you? Just the sexiest thing, Hannah. Fuck.” He keeps kissing me.

I want to come.

But he drags me up the stairs and throws himself on his bed and groans about too many breakfast martinis, that he is drunk, and then he… falls asleep.

I glare down at him. I guess I knew this about men. I had heard about it. Wow, is it more annoying in actual life that I had ever imagined, though.

I climb onto the bed and start playing with myself. I look at him, look at his pretty face and his muscled body and I think of the way it felt to have his cock jamming my throat, and it doesn’t take me very long to come.

After that, I perch on the bed and run my fingers over the bedspread, which is really silky, but what else would I expect from an omega, really? I try to convince myself to leave.

He’s proven again and again what he thinks of me, how he intends to treat me, and I have to have some kind of self-respect, don’t I?

Leave, Hannah, leave, I tell myself.