Chapter 6 Consumed
A tiny sliver of fear races up my spine as Black stops in front of my apartment's garage door, and it slides open for him.
This is a private garage. Only the people living here are supposed to have access to it. He could kill me at any time. He knows where I live, and somehow, he has access to my building.
I'm fucked if I thought I could run away from him. The only thing I can do is to move back to my parents' house, and then I would have to explain about the dead guy, and the fact that I still got on the back of this guy's bike even after I witnessed him killing someone. I will have to tell them that I, who have always been careful, have been reckless. I can already see the disappointment in my father's eyes.
I squeeze Black's stomach one more time before I reluctantly get off his bike after he parks in front of the elevator. I take off the helmet and leave it on the seat, my long hair falling messily over my breasts. He follows me, and I wait with bated breath for his next move. I don't expect him to slide my bag from my shoulder and retrieve my keys from it.
"Are you coming up?" I don't recognize my voice. I have never sounded so wanton, not even with Ben.
I'm inviting a stranger into my apartment. Maybe I do have a death wish.
Black doesn't answer, but he retrieves my keys from my bag and proceeds to take off my car keys from the bunch and pocket them.
"Are you about to steal my car?" The alcohol is definitely running through my system and making me bolder, because I step up close to Black. My heels give me a slight advantage, but I still only reach his shoulder.
He doesn't answer, not that I expect him to. I'm sure I can come up with some elaborate lie if my car does end up getting stolen. My parents don't have to know that I definitely wasn't thinking with the rational part of my brain.
The suspense is killing me to discover who is behind the hard body and the mysterious black clothing. Could it be another ballet dancer? That would definitely explain the body. It would also explain how he found me so quickly. Maybe he knew where I was all along.
But which dancer? There's nobody I can think of who has shown an immense interest in me at work, or who is straight enough to bother.
"Who are you?" I ask the question once again, and I move closer to him to try to get the helmet off his head, just to have a little peek at the identity of my tormenting savior.
A strong, gloved hand catches my wrist midair, halting the movement of my hand, then he roughly slams me up against the wall, his free hand meeting the wall before my head does.
I smile triumphantly. He doesn't want me to get hurt. That means he cares about me. That means he won't kill me.
"Do I know you?"
For all of my twenty-five years on this earth, I have been relatively sheltered, and I have been so focused on becoming the best ballerina that Benedict has been the only boy I've ever been with.
But not once has my heart galloped in my chest like the way it does when Black's body completely covers mine. Not once has it felt like my breath is caught in my chest, and I might die if this man doesn't touch me the way he caressed my nipple the other night. I have never felt like I might be burning from the inside.
"Do you want to fuck me?" The words come out in a whispered invitation.
I want to be fucked by Black, even if it is only once. Something tells me that it will be fast, hard, and exciting, and nothing like the sex I've had before.
I feel more than hear the rumble from Black's chest at my words, and in an instant, the front of the flimsy fabric of my black dress is torn right through the middle.
There wasn't much of a dress to begin with, and I couldn't wear a bra, so I'm standing there practically naked, wearing a thong in front of him. I don't miss the irony that he's fully dressed.
It is late at night, but we're still outside in the parking garage, and anyone could catch us. That makes this even more exciting.
"I want you to fuck me right here."
I have transformed into the Black Swan, because this girl opening her legs wide and shifting her thong to the side so that he could see her glistening lips is certainly not me. I can't even blame the champagne anymore, because I know exactly what I'm doing.
I'm not under the influence when I part the bare lips of my pussy and rub slow circles on my clit, my lips falling open in pleasure, but my eyes are steadily on the mask of the black helmet.
He suddenly clamps my mouth shut, and then he brutally enters me with two gloved fingers in one go. I scream behind his hand as I have nowhere to go but to clutch his leather jacket in my fists as he fingers me hard and fast.
Just the way I wanted it.
I don't think I've ever been so wet as his fingers go deeper than anyone has ever managed to. It burns and tingles simultaneously as his thumb finds my clit and rubs the bundle of nerves as fast as his fingers are fucking me.
My thighs quiver as my hips hungrily swivel, meeting his brutality in hunger.
I want more of the burning sensation. I want to be impaled by not only his fingers.
Shocks of electricity run up the back of my calves, and I swivel my hips even faster until my pussy clenches so tight around his fingers that I feel like I might break as my orgasm wracks through me.
The words to throw all caution to the wind are on my lips, but Black's fingers exit from my pussy as if I've burned him, and in a speed that is ridicu
lously impressive, he gets on his bike and races out of the garage, leaving me nearly naked.
And wanting so much more.