Slick as Ides (7 page)

“You really don’t like thieves—and I get that. He was sponging off the top, but that’s not my style. When I steal something from you, you’ll know it—like your pussy. When I take that, it’s not gonna be a surprise or a secret.” His hand glides up my thigh, and when he gets to my panties his fingers rim the bottom edge and get dangerously close to my moistened pussy. “By the way, I always thought it was really dumb for a father to do something like that. But not as stupid as you, keeping his handcuffs you used to restrain him when he attacked you.” He tsks, and my heart goes cold.

“How can you know all this? I had those records sealed,” I cry, pulling at my wrists, the metal biting into my flesh.

“You’re not the only one that can hack into records.”

“But why would you follow
my
records?”

His hand settles right above my pubic bone, and the tip of what feels like his thumb, works little circles right above my panty’s waistline.

“You really don’t remember me, do you?” He exhales like he’s disgusted with me. “Jesus—apparently the girl I considered my best friend from so long ago didn’t feel the same in return.” His voice breaks.

“What’re you talking about?” My head shifts in his direction, and my neck is sore from holding my head up, so I finally rest it back on my pillow. “I barely met you a little over a month ago online.”
It’s. Not. Him
, my mind screams at me.
It’s not that kid from high school!

It can’t be him . . . It just can’t be! Christ, is it?

My heart pounds at the thought that it could be
him
.

I squirm, my panties even wetter now.
Nick . . . Touch me more. A little lower.

“God, Dena. I looked for you. For years—I was trying to find you. You disappeared when you were fourteen, and this was all the information I could find on you. I missed you like crazy while you were away from me.”

“Who. The. Hell. Are. You? And why do you think I should know you?” I say through gritted teeth, my heart pounding.

“Well, fuuuuuck,” he groans. He shifts off the bed, the heat of his hand now leaving a cold, icy-feeling in place over my undies, and my heart drops.

“What the hell is happening?” I yank at my hands again, but once more, I’m unable to break free.

“Fan-fucking-tastic,” he says. “Here, I thought you’d know as soon as I kissed you.” His breath is suddenly fanning out over my lips, and a flame shoots through my body, making my fingers and toes flex.

Soft lips mold into mine, and hands drive into my hair, fisting at the scalp.

“Do you fucking remember me
now
?” he growls into my mouth, then kisses me again more fiercely, before I can answer him.

My mouth drops open, and his tongue delves inside.

And that’s when it hits me. It’s impossible—but it
is
him.

His flavor assaults me.

When he pulls away, I moan, “Nick—I, God . . . It’s
you
! Holy shit!”

“Finally. Thank God,” he breathes, stroking my cheeks with a softness that makes me damn near shiver from head to toe. “Remember me now, gorgeous? God, you’ve become so insanely beautiful, I can barely stand to think I was missing this for all these years—seeing you.”

I can almost feel his eyes roaming hungrily all over my body. Dear God, that’s hot!

“You were my first kiss . . .” And my first huge crush.

And the first and last reason I need to change my panties from getting too slippery. I hated that back then, too. Never could keep dry around him.

He chuckles. “You were mine, too.” His fingers drift over my jaw gently.

“I was?” My voice cracks and goes hoarse.

“Why is that so shocking? You think I was kissing a lot of girls back then? Fuck, my voice hadn’t even dropped at that point.”

“Uh, ‘cause you’re two years older than I am and you’re gorgeous. Always have been, but I didn’t remember your hair being this dark. Did you dye it or something?” My lips press together as I recall a skinny boy, with his voice barely starting to lower and sandy-blond hair, kissing me at a party after we’d both been drinking. Then I remember something else disturbing, and I gasp. “You’re the reason . . .”

“The
reason
?”

“One of the reasons I’m paranoid about germs. You vomited all of over my feet right after you kissed me.” I squirm from the memory.

“First of all”—some weight shifts on the bed, making me dip to my right—“
you
kissed
me
. And second of all—if I’m the reason you’re too scared to face a single virus”—I snort at his choice of computer terminology, and he smacks my leg—“then you’re to blame for me becoming a hacker, and the reason I started stealing.”

“Oh, no . . . You can’t blame me for those fucked up things.”

The weight shifts once more, and his lips tickle at my ear. “Can’t I? I first hacked into computers to find you, and I stole information for the exact same reason . . .” His teeth nip at my ear. “I wanted you then, and I want you even more now. Do you know how long I’ve fantasized about touching you?” His fingers drift over the side of my right breast and down my ribs. “How long I’ve been dying to fuck you? A ten-year-boner isn’t funny. I put Viagra to shame.”

I shudder for a moment, but not because of the thought of bacteria, but because I like it. I like it a whole hell of a lot—the idea of him doing any damned thing he wants to me. Along with him having an unending hard-on.

“And now that I have you, and know what you changed your name to—”

I gasp louder this time. “Goddammit, I changed it for a reason! You can’t let anyone know.”

“Who would I tell, Dena Blaaaaack?” he drones.

“Fuck, you’re doing this on purpose,” I whimper, struggling once more to tear my hands free.

My wrists are getting raw.

“Doing what? And how fucked up is it that you changed your name all because it’s your favorite color?” His fingers move up my body and start over at the hollow of my throat, then walk their way down my center, toward my navel.

Something wet drags up my ribs.

I jerk away from it, from the ticklish, sensation that makes my skin do funny things.

“I just like the color black. What’s the big deal?”

“I like black, too . . . Mmm . . . A lot,” he purrs. My black bra straps are toyed with on my shoulders, and he snaps them, making them smack my skin.

“H-how did you get in here?”

“
Where
? In
here
?” he asks and then cups my groin.

“Jesus!” I yelp, and then whimper with a dying moan as my body begins to levitate off the bed, my back arching like the damned Lucky Charm’s rainbow I study on my cereal box every morning. “P-please. Mooore . . .”

Cool metal slips across my skin between my panties and my heated flesh. I exhale, and he’s cut through the cotton fabric at my right hip and then at my left, and he snatches it off my body. “The tighter, the better, I always say. I’m good at disappearing in cramped, warm places.”

My thighs slam together, and another pathetic, wallowing moan rips out of my chest.

“But you know all about tight, cramped, warm places, don’t you, Dena?”

“Mmm . . . I . . . I-I d-doooon’t know what you m-mean.” I can barely form a sentence he’s got me so turned-on.

His fingers wrap around my knees and part them slowly, but so powerfully, there’s no way I can stop him. “Oh, don’t lie to me. Tell me, or I’ll stop.”

“Okay, dammit. W-what do you want to know?” My breath catches in my throat as my mind goes blank.

“When you made a move on me so long ago . . . You and I were in a closet, and you pretended to be scared, until you had me backed up against the corner, where I couldn’t escape. That’s when you kissed me. I had nowhere to go, no means of escape, and I knew you did it on purpose.”

“That wasn’t a question, and I didn’t do th—”

“Oh, but you did, you naughty girl,” he says, and then something warm, wet and stiff, rims my slit, making my legs shake and my heart pound so hard, I can barely hear what he’s saying anymore. “You wanted me to do more than kiss you, even back then, didn’t you? You wanted my cock. You still do.” His voice is gruff and so sexy I can barely keep still.

“Yes, I mean n-no, I was a kiiid.” My legs shamelessly roll open, splaying my body to him. If that isn’t enough, my breasts jut forward, equally as obnoxious.

I can’t see, so I have no idea if he’s grossed out by my pubic hairs. I don’t wax or shave down there. Women have it wrong. Those hairs keep things cleaner and more sanitary—keeps the germs away from the vagina. If I take them away, I could get a UTI, or some other hideous infection.

I bite my lip and try desperately to see out the bottom of the blindfold, but there’s no way to see past it. It’s like a huge, fucking blast-shield over my face.

“You’re a pervert, that’s what you are. I saw some of the porn you had opened on your phone. Naked women tied up”—and hairless, unlike me—“and men ejaculating all over them.” I want to say his come would be full of germs, but it’s not true. I found out a long time ago there are antibacterial and antifungal properties in semen. I had to know because I wanted to give my ex-boyfriend, Tyson, a blowjob. Unfortunately, he stole one of my biggest ideas yet and took off before I ever got a chance to put my tongue on him down there.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Mmm . . . Yes, such a fucking tease—keeping these handcuffs in your nightstand drawer, right next to your bed, just waiting for me to come and use them on you.” He’s moving, shifting around on the bed.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper coming down has my breath caught in my throat and my fingernails digging into my palms. My head jerks toward him again.

“You wouldn’t,” I say, my voice low and scratchy, all the while my legs roll open as wide as they can, and I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life.
Please do, Vapor. Please! God, I’ve been dying to have you for weeks now.

More movement. I may come from sheer anticipation.

Or from the scent of him.

Both are killing me and have made me forget to breathe.

My head goes fuzzy.

Chapter 5

“Wouldn’t I? You’re on the pill. I saw the opened packet in your drawer next to your cuffs. Besides, I don’t sleep around—never have, never will. I’m clean. And I know you’re not a sleazy whore or a drug addict.” He yanks on my bindings. “Oh, fuck. You need to quit yanking like that.” In the next moment something soft is wrapped around my wrists, shoved in between my now raw flesh and the metal. “If you keep still, you’ll be glad you did. You’re gonna enjoy this almost as much I will.”

I exhale and buck my hips, my legs flailing out.

He smacks my outer thigh, closest to him.

“Snnuuuuuuhhhhhhuhh,” he inhales deeply, and my pubic hairs move with his large, sweeping breath.

“Fuck!” I whisper. He likes my curls. He just fucking inhaled them like they smelled better than cinnamon rolls baking in the oven. “Oh my God . . . More, please, Nick . . .”
Please, pretend I’m tasty like cinnamon rolls . . .

Does he like cinnamon rolls? What if he thinks they’re disgusting? But that’s silly. Nothing smells or tastes better than them, except him of course.

“Yeah, I love them, too, but no . . . You definitely smell and taste”—
liiiiiiick—
“better, sweetheart. Way better than me. Though, a little cinnamon might be nice on those nipples right about now. I think I’d really enjoy that. God, you’re sexy as fuck. I knew you would be. And I was dying to see and talk to you. Now here I am. Dream come true.”

Oh, God, I said that out loud about goddamn cinnamon rolls? My face heats, and my pussy convulses. He thinks I smell and taste better. He’s wrong, but—

Riiiiiiip.

The next thing I know, my bra has been shredded off me, most likely by the same metal implement that took away my panties.

Is he using a knife to dismantle my wardrobe? Is that safe? Did he clean it properly first? Knives can harbor a lot of germs.

“Do you know how fucking long I searched for you—and dreamed about this moment? The moment I could kiss you, and taste you and devour every inch of you?” he growls.

A hot, wet line drags up my leg, and then I realize he’s hovering over me, and his damp tip is moistening my body with his pre-come.

“Wouldn’t want to leave behind any germs, now would we?” he taunts, and something even wetter than before, retraces the path his tip left behind on my body. His tongue? He lapped at his pre-come—removed it from my body?

Oh sweet Jesus, that’s insanely hot. I think I say some more gibberish, begging him to touch me again, maybe I ask him to fuck me somewhere in there? I can’t think straight, so who the hell knows what I’ve said.