Sick Like Me (Sick Like #1)

Chapter 41

FORTY-ONE

How the fuck had I gotten myself into this this mess, I thought as he pushed my back against the closed door of his hotel room, his lips finding mine once again as the light in the hallway of his room shone bright above us.

His hands snaked their way up my sides, gripping my hips tightly for a second before he tried to pull my lower half closer to his body.

I felt his hard cock through the material of our clothes pushing into my stomach, and I had to bite back a moan. He wanted me, and I had to try to remember that. There was no point in basking in the fact he hadn’t rejected the idea of Gwen as a prospective romantic interest.

I was still sour about that, since he had rejected the idea of every dating me when we had first began talking again.

I focused on the feeling of his fingers digging into my sides, his grip almost bruising. It was as if he needed me as close as possible, as if I was the only thing keeping his heart beating and his lungs breathing.

And I couldn’t help but bask in that feeling.

One of his hands moved to wrap around my waist as he kept my body in place, while his other hand made it’s way between my legs. He pushed his hand between my thighs, and I cringed as I realised they had been sweaty from the exhausting heat of the club.

But he either didn’t seem to notice, or care as nudged my legs apart. The dress was a stretchy material, but I still couldn’t quite part my legs far enough. But he made do with the minimal space offered.

His hand slowly slid up the inside of my thighs, his touch light and his fingers almost tickling before his fingertips brushed against the cotton of my black underwear. He pulled back from our kiss, and I took in a gasp of breath.

He leant down again, his face close to mine. I gasped in as much air as I could before he kissed me aggressively again, however his face stilled as his lips brushed against mine. He then pulled back enough to stare at me, his eyes locked in on me darkly.

His fingers moved my underwear to the side, and I felt my whole body flush with heat. I looked into his eyes, and wondered what was on his mind.

For the briefest of moments, I let that pesky voice in my head question if he was imagining I was Gwen, or if he had done the same thing with her that very day. It was hard, but I managed to muffle the voice.

His fingers slipped past my lower lips, gliding slowly. I could feel how wet I was, and he hadn’t even done anything. I felt beyond embarrassed and went to close my eyes. But I heard a sharp intake of breath through his closed teeth in warning and rushed to open them once again.

His lips curved up into a smirk, his voice low and taunting almost. “What a good pathetic whore.”

My mouth turned dry from his words. My lips parted, trying to find a defence. But before I could tell him to fuck off for calling me pathetic, I felt his finger brush against my clit. The shock of excitement made my knees feel weak within an instant. I had no doubt that if his arm wasn’t supporting me, I would have fallen to my knees.

He hummed, daring to lean his head closer to mine by barely an inch. I wanted to feel his lips against mine. I wanted to be consumed by him in every sense of the word.

His finger moved down towards my entrance. His finger brushed along the outside gently, not once pushing in. I basked in the feeling, anticipating more. But then he pulled his hand back and pushed away from my body.

I slid down the door to my knees, looking up at him in surprise. But he said nothing as he kept his eyes on me. He raised his hand to his lips and stuck his middle finger out. I noticed the faintest of gloss, then watched as he stuck his finger into his mouth and sucked it.

I was confused for the briefest of seconds, then I realised what he had done. He had caught some of my juices, then fucking sucked the taste of me off of his finger.

If my whole body wasn’t already warm enough, I felt like my skin was on fire with the need at feeling his touch once again. The air conditioning was on in the room, but it did nothing to snuff out the heat.

“Get out of that dress and lie down on the bed, arse up,” He commanded, then turned and walked to the closed door behind him. I watched the door open, revealing it to be the bathroom. It then closed, and I was left in my puddle on the floor.

I blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then I registered his words. I had better do what he commended before he came out, as I sensed he was in the mood to dish out punishment had I failed one of his requests.

I reached behind me and grabbed some form of furniture, it seemed like some draws or a shoe race. I pulled myself up from the floor, then kicked my shoes off messily at the front door.

I made my way to the bed and turned to look around the room. In the far corner, his suitcase sat open and on full display under the desk. I noted some bottles of perfume dotted on top of the desk, and I wanted to reach out to find what he wore.

But as I heard the rush of water from the wall between us, I decided to rush and follow his command. I reached down and grabbed the bottom of the dress which he had bunched up at my thighs. I pulled the dress up and off my body, then threw it down on the floor somewhere. I would just have to find it later.

I then looked down at my plain black bra and underwear set, and debated if I should take them off too. He had said to get out of the dress, but said nothing about my underwear. Would he punish me if I kept it on? But then again, he seemed to be the type that neither was the right answer. An excuse to punish me no matter what I did.

I decided to just strip from them, to make it easier for him. I wrapped my fingers in the top of my underwear and pushed them down, then I kicked them in the direction of my dress. I then reached one hand behind my back and unclipped my bra, freeing my chest from the confines.

I threw the bra on top of the pile of my clothes, then I moved to crawl onto the bed. I tried to lie down, but the duvet was so soft and fluffy it was almost suffocating me. So I moved to remain in the crawling position.

I stared at the grey stained wood headboard of his bed, waiting patiently as I heard noises from the bathroom of running water and splashing. It felt I had been waiting hours, when it had likely only been a few minutes at most.

The sound of water and splashing ceased. There was then silence for several minutes, and I wondered if he was ever going to come out of the bathroom. What the fuck was he doing in then?

The door to the bathroom finally opened with a slow squeak, the noise almost adding to the anticipation I was already feeling.

I heard the soft padding of footsteps, then silence. I wanted to look around, but I had the sense he wanted me to remain in position and so I used all my strength to ensure I didn’t give in to the temptation.

Finally, as if a reward, I heard a low hum from behind me. “I only told you to take your dress off,” He began, his voice sounding near and far all in one. “My pretty little whore is that desperate for me, is she?” He asked, his voice holding a taunting playful tone to it.

I wanted to reject his claim, I wanted to tell him I got undressed so the sooner he used his tiny cock to fuck me the sooner I could leave. But I would have been lying. And I also got the sense not to push his buttons that night.

Something felt strange about the whole atmosphere between us. Somehow, it felt as if we were saying ‘this is the last time’, and so he was trying to delay and extend the whole thing.

His hands finally reached out and touched me, and he had been closer than I first thought. His hands run up my thighs from the backs of my knees, then they grabbed each of my arse cheeks in each of his hands.

His hands squeezed slightly, as if he were massaging the skin. Then I felt a sharp sting to my right cheek. I blinked in surprise, not even sure what the hell had just happened. My arse felt warmer, and then I felt his hand massaging the skin once again.

I shot a look over my shoulder at him to find his growing hair wet and pushed back out of his face, a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Did you just spank me?” I asked in mild disbelief, to which his eyes shot from his hand to my face. There was something hidden behind them. Something dark and threatening.

“I did,” He finally confirmed. I stared back at him, not sure how to respond. Then, as if trying to push my buttons, his other hand raised and spanked the other cheek.

I jerked forward in surprise, my head falling down to the bed as I closed my eyes. I felt the sting form, but it disappeared soon after.

I had never been spanked before. I had imagined rough, hard sex and I liked the images it gave me. But spanking was a whole new ball game to me. And dare I say, I quite liked it. The moment of pain, the authority he held over me, the idea of it being punishment for whatever crime I had committed against him. All factors were a combination that made the acton favourable to me somehow.

His hand massaged the cheek gently, his skin slightly rough against my own. I closed my eyes as I tried to focus on the feeling, almost wishing to feel it again.

I hated that my mind and my body wanted to feel it again. I felt humiliated, on display for him in the position I was in. But the idea of him taking his frustrations out on me appealed to me. It made me feel wanted, if even for just a second.

His hands spanked each cheek twice more in alternate. One hand caused a cheek to sting, while the other massaged the hot skin to try and soothe it. Once he was done with the spanks, I felt the edge of the bed dip and the sound of material hit the floor.

I felt his skin brush against my own, then a faint gust of air as he leant down to whisper into my ear, “You may want to hold on to the headboard.”

I moved to lean up on my knees, then I reached my hands out to grab the top of the headboard. I held on tight, and then waiting whatever punishment he had for me next.

He pushed his way past my thighs, parting them wider than I thought my hips would allow me. I felt a faint pull, but I tried my best to ignore it as I felt something slipping between my folds.

I shot a quick look behind me to find Kota’s hand wrapped around his thick cock, running the tip along my folds. He moved to my entrance and dared to push in ever so slightly, then he pulled back out and went back to running his tip along my cunt.

He kept doing that, barely pushing in an inch before pulling back out. It was getting me wetter in preparation to take him, and it was causing my blood to boil as frustration consumed me.

I finally shot him a look, my skin feeling unbearably hot as I snapped at him. “Just fucking push in already.”

“Like this?” His voice held a daunting tone as I felt pressure. He pushed into me, but only an extra inch or two before he pulled back out. “But do you deserve it?”

I nodded my head quickly, my body feeling weak from the tension building. “Please, fuck me,” I gave in to what I knew he wanted. He wanted me to beg, he wanted to feel wanted. And I would do it for him. Whatever he wanted. Like some mindless dumb bitch.

I could sense his smirk and closed my eyes, my hands tightening on the headboard as I felt his tip at my entrance. Then without further warning or complaint, he pushed all the way in with a single force.

I felt suddenly full, letting out a gasp as I screwed my eyes shut. I let my head hand, letting out a few more gaspy breaths.

He was pushed in as much as he could go, and I felt his ab muscles twitch as if he was trying to compose himself. In let out a few more breaths, then I faintly nodded my head. I hoped he saw it, taking the sign.

And of course, he did. His hips pulled back before they drilled forward again. He was slow, but hard with his thrust. He kept the slow pace. He pulled out, then slammed back in. Out, in. Out, in.

I wanted to reach a hand down to rub at my clit, the bundle of nerves throbbing from the need of release. “Please,” I began, my voice barely audible.

“Please what?” He asked. I could hear the smirk in his words. His hands grabbed at my hips as he tried to push as far inside me as both our bodies would allow.

“Faster,” I gave a one word answer for fear of my words betraying me. He stilled once fully inside me for a second, and I felt as if I was fucking panting.

But before I began begging, he pulled out of me and then thrust back in almost immediately. He set a brutal pace, his cock thrusting in and out harshly, briskly.

My gasps turned into the odd moan every then and now. But the more he drilled into me, the more my moans escaped. Soon enough, all I could was moan with my eyes screwed shut.

I felt a hand wrap around the ends of my hair, then twisted before I felt a tug on my scalp. My head raised, my neck bending back at an uncomfortable angle.

It was ever so slightly harder to breathe with my neck extended as such, but that didn’t stop my body from wanting to tell him just how good he was making me feel.

I kept my eyes closed, but allowed him to hold my head up as my body bounced. I tried my best to keep hold of the headboard, but the sweat forming all over my body including the palms of my hands was making it harder for me.

I could tell by the morning my body would ache in all ways it never had before.

“God,” I heard him grunt, and I wished I could have seen how he looked. Did he have his eyes closed? Was he staring at the place where we met so he could commit the sight to memory?

“I can feel your greedy cunt strangling my cock, dumb little whore. Do you really think I’ll let you come first?” His voice sounded unreasonably in control, not like how I sounded. He sounded clear and composed, while I sounded wanton and begging.

“Please,” I let out, my voice not even sounding like my own.

“Only if you tell me you love me,” He spoke so casually, so coolly.

My lips parted and I wondered how the fuck to respond to such a request. But after his words, he began to thrust almost inhumanely quick. The sound of our skin slapping was lewd and made my cheeks flush from embarrassment.

I didn’t love him. I didn’t know enough about him to love him. Could I maybe love him in the future? I had no doubt. I was already addicted from the few things I knew about him and the limited interaction he gave me.

So I gave in to his command.

“I love you,” I gasped out, my voice barely there.

I felt his hand let go of my hair and my head dropped down. His hand then wrapped around my body and his fingers began to rub aggressively at my clit.

The mixed sensations became to much, and I let out an endless stream of gasps and moans. My pitch raised more than I thought possible, and without warning, the knot in my stomach felt as if it formed and snapped all in the matter of mere seconds.

I heard him let out some groans from behind me, sounding deeper than I had ever heard his voice before. “Fuck, I’m going to come,” I heard him threaten.

It seemed as if he was going to try to pull out, to come over my no-doubt red arse cheeks. I felt him almost remove himself fully, but then I heard him whisper, “Fuck it,” Before he drilled back in all the way.

I felt warmth inside me, and I knew he had come inside me. I was on birth control so it didn’t matter all that much. Thankfully.

Our bodies stilled as we came down from our orgasms. I felt stickiness between my legs and cringed as he pulled out. I rushed to roll onto my back, my muscles burning from being in the position for too long.

I tried my best to regulate my breathing, my hand coming to my stomach as I stared up at the ceiling. I felt the bed beside me dip, and noticed from my peripheral a naked Kota lying beside me.

I turned my head to look at him, and he did the same. We looked into one another’s eyes, and I felt as if there had been a switch between us.

I parted my lips, about to reject the love I claimed I had for him as per his command. But he looked back up at the ceiling with an expressionless face.

And I got the sinking feeling that it was going to be the end of us.

Dakota’s hotel was a short walk away from the one I was staying at. He had half heartedly offered to walk me back, but I denied his offer and claimed I was going to be going off to bar street to drink some more since I had begun to sober up.

In reality, that was far from my plan. I walked to the hotel with my bag swinging, and my body aching. I felt bubbling anger in my chest and wanted to scream, but I surprisingly kept my calm.

He was having an absolute fucking joke, right? He told me to say that with his cock buried deep inside me, then he seemed in a rush to kick me out once we were done.

It stung. More than I cared to admit. I knew I didn’t love him, and I hoped he did too. But for some reason, I got the sense the words were a meaning for something else. As if he needed to hear those words to fully detach himself from me.

I swiped my key card against the door and it buzzed. I opened the door, and inside I found a very drunk Stefan sat on the floor with his arms wrapped around a bottle of champagne, heart breakingly slow music playing from his phone a few meters away.

I looked at him in surprise. I then looked around the living area to ensure he was alone. When I found no one else, I looked back at him. I carefully made my way to him, holding my hands out .

“Hey butty, are you good?” I asked, as he hummed along to the tune of “Champagne Problems” by Taylor Swift.

“I’m so lonely,” He mumbled, his voice sounding tired and very, very drunk.

I let out a sigh, daring to crouch down before him. I was in a foul mood, but he needed me more. I had to pull myself together to at least get him to bed. Then once he was off in dreamland, I could focus on my own crisis.

“How about we get you to bed, yeah?” I asked, holding my hand out to him to grab.

Stefan opened his eyes and stared into my own. He blinked, his brown eyes reminding me of those of an innocent puppy begging to be picked to come home with you. To be loved by you.

“I didn’t mean it,” He spoke, looking through me as if I were a ghost. His words made no sense as he placed his hand in my own. He seemed to be apologising for something, to someone who was unknown.

For as long as I had known Stefan, he had only ever been sunshines and rainbows. He had never hurt anyone to my knowledge. He had never done anything worth a heartbrokenly drunken sorry.

I stood and then used all my strength to pull the drunken man off the floor. He stood, slouched over. He wrapped his arms around me in a hug, resting his nose in my hair. I felt him breathing, then his chest was racked with shakes.

I tried to get a look at him, to see if he was crying to laughing. But it seemed to be neither as finally he stated much louder than necessary, “You smell like man.”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” I stated as I managed to get him to move his feet towards his bedroom. I didn’t have to carry much of his weight, thank God, otherwise I would have had to leave him on the floor and just get him his pillows and blanket so he could at least get semi comfortable .

We stumbled through his bedroom door, and I wasted no time in basically throwing him in the direction of his bed. Thankfully he stumbled right into it, falling onto it on his side.

I rushed over to make sure he was safe, and to push him further from the bed to ensure he didn’t drunkenly fall off in the middle of the night.

I let out a sigh of relief once he was near the middle of the bed. He wore his shoes, and I couldn’t help but remember that being one of his biggest pet peeves—wearing shoes while on a bed.

I reached down and grabbed his shoes one by one, pulling them off with much force. I went to throw them on the floor in random piles, but I decided it best not to as I gently placed them by the foot of his bed instead.

I walked over to Stefan and grabbed the throw from the bottom of the bed and used that to drape over him since he was lying atop the duvet. As I finished placing the blanket over him, he let out a little shaky sob sound as his eyes opened and he looked at me once again.

“You got fucked,” He sounded more as if he was making a statement more so than a question.

“We can talk about the gossip tomorrow,” I smiled gently as my hand rubbed his bicep over the blanket. “You need some sleep. Are you okay?” I asked.

I had seen Stefan drunk many times before, but I had never seen him sad drunk. It was a weird and out of character thing for him.

He nodded slowly, closing his eyes. “I just want you to be happy, okay Tony?” He used a nickname our old team lead used for us when we first started at the company.

I cringed, having almost forgotten the name until he reminded me of it. “Shut up and get some sleep, okay?”

“I love you, Tony,” He mumbled, then he cut my further words off with a loud and singular snore .

“What the fuck?” I mumbled to myself, pulling away from the bed. I walked backwards, my eyes trained on him to ensure he was okay. He seemed fast asleep in the second his head had hit the pillow, and so I finally turned and left the room.

I made my way to my own room, and felt a weight on my chest that hadn’t been there when the night had begun. And it was in the same of Dakota fucking Vernon.

I kicked my shoes off, then made my way to the bathroom. I walked past the mirror towards the shower, but then I stopped when I caught a glimpse of myself.

No wonder why Stefan had caught me out in seconds, I noted as I looked at my own reflection.

My hair was a mess, standing in all directions and covered in knots. I moved to the sink sat under the mirror. My hands reached out and rest on the marble, the material cool under my skin.

I looked at my face, wondering what had caused that look from Kota after we had finished fucking.

I looked like me. My face was the same, my hair was mostly the same save for the mess. Nothing about me looked out of place or different.

So why had I spooked him so much? Why had his whole behaviour changed once he had pulled out of me.

I raised a hand to my face and rubbed my cheek, allowing myself to slip into the self conscious thoughts for a second.

I caught a whiff of his perfume, then I realised how Stefan had caught on so much from the off set. I cringed, wanting nothing more than to wash the memory of him from my skin. He had upset me and pissed me off, and so I wanted the touch washed away.

So I turned from the mirror and made my way to my shower. I stripped from my clothes and as I stood inside the shower, and I turned the cold water on as some kind of personal punishment for my own actions.

“Stupid fucking girl.”