Page 64 of The Karma Project
Sucking my teeth in annoyance, I decided to answer him, “So I can keep in touch with all of you. Like right now, I’d like to tell Teddy about what we are bringing home.”
“That would be redundant, considering I’ve already told him.” Max shrugs and doesn’t peel his eyes from his own phone screen.
I scoff and slam my back into the seat, purposely throwing a fit. “Well, I took care of the problem, and it was my idea to let Teddy finish him off. It’s a gift for Teddy from me, not work like if it comes from you.” I grumble out, and the cherry on top is when I kick the back of his seat… accidentally-on-purpose.
“I’ll think about it.” He barely gives a reaction. He might think that trying to ignore my behavior will make me quit. But he has no idea just how petty I can be.
I have only just begun.
33
Relativity
Zoe
We are back to the manor in no time. I know Teddy and Brandon would be back already, and I can’t wait to see Teddy’s face when he sees that I have a delivery for him.
“Teddy bear!” I shriek and jump into Teddy’s waiting arms, and he spins me a few times in the foyer before putting me back on my own two feet.
“I missed you too, little devil. Max told me you brought me a new play thing.” His eyes darken in a way that has me clenching my thighs together.
The last two weeks I haven’t been able to get enough of them, Teddy and Brandon that is. Both at the same time, by themselves, or one of them watching the other… I can’t be sated. But my true focus is Dean. I have this overwhelming need to be fucked by Dean, and until then I know it won't quiet down.
I explained to Teddy what Tiger had already told us, and he’s willing to put in some extra work to get us some more answers; especially after the bits about a girl Tigerbought.
Brandon only gave me a quick peck on the cheek before dragging Max away for something he found this morning. I wentto follow them, but they suggested I stick around with Dean for the time being.
Dean and I are just standing awkwardly in the foyer, both clearly unsure what to do with our hands. Look, I talk a lot of game, but actually initiating something with someone can be… Daunting. When my eyes meet Dean’s, his are dark and hungry and filled with something I can’t break apart. Lust is too simple of a word. When I gulp, and his eyes follow the movement down the column of my throat it clicks, not lust: starvation.
I once described the natural instinct to cower when you know you’re in a room with a predator. This is the first time I’ve felt this pure power roll off of Dean’s aura. I didn’t feel this energy radiating from him when we were sparring on the mat, or even the moments when he seemed to resent me for no reason. Instinctively I take a step back, then Dean matches the step with a single advance, I try to retreat again but I bump against the wall.
In my moment of panic, I look both left and right, to my left are the stairs, and to the right is the entry way towards the kitchen. When my gaze lands back on Dean he rushes me and I’m suddenly trapped between his tree trunk arms, he’s caged me by putting his hands on both sides of my head.
“You know,” He growls, a rumble deep in his chest, “How frustrating it is to see you prancing around in these little scraps you call clothes?” He pops the strap on my cropped halter top. His hand slides down my side, tracing the swollen curve of my breast to my rips, the dip of my waist, and his fingers hook at the hem of my pants. “And these tight little pants that show off every dip of your body. It’s like you’re begging to be ruined.”
My mouth opens and closes, trying to form words, but everything I want to say seems to get lodged in my throat. “Wha-.” And once again, the words fail me. Dean takes one step back, and I can see his cock already hard in his pants, fighting for an escape, and my mouth instantly dries out when I’m reminded of the size.
Shit, I remembered it being big, but not that big.
“I… I- Uh.” I sputter out, sounding utterly pathetic.
A dark chuckle escapes his mouth, and his chin is tucked down as he stares at me from under his strong brows. “Run.”
I run like hunted prey, I turn to my right with only a breaths hesitation, bolting through the kitchen and down a hall that I’ve only entered once. Without any sort of plan at all I jump into the theater, I panic for a brief second, flinching when I hear Dean’s thunderous steps pound against the floor closing in on me.
I jolt behind the small snack counter at the back of the room, quickly pushing the small fridge to the side and squeezing myself in next to it. I realize that my breathing is ragged and shaky, so I yank my hand up to cover my mouth.
It’s quiet, for a long moment, and I could have sworn Dean was hot on my heels. But I realize I thought wrong the second the door flies open and crashes against the wall. “I can hear you, Zoe.” Dean's voice fills the room, it makes me jump as he fills the painfully silent room. “I can hear your breathing.” I hold my breath on instinct. “I can even smell your fear.” His voice is predatory, strong, and intimidating. “I can smell your cunt, already weeping for me.”
It’s doubtful that he can actually smell me, but I question my own doubt the second I can feel the wetness pooling in my panties and leaking down my thigh. I didn’t even know it was possible to get wet like this.
“There you are.” It’s a whisper, but it's so deep I am almost scared to look up at him. My heart is beating and rattling itself so hard against my chest that I know he can hear it, the erratic beat of it is flooding my ears.
Slowly, I let my eyes climb up his figure from his boots, his hardened cock, then landing on his eyes that are showing me just how ready he is to feast on me. Before I can get a chance to try to say something, he reaches his hand out and tangles his fingers into my hair at the crown of my head, and tugs hard enough to pull me from my hiding spot.
Pain prickles across my scalp, and I hiss at the sudden jolt of pain. “Ah!” I cry, as he continues to drag me across my room by my hair, making me stumble over my own feet. He pushes me over the back of one of the viewing chairs, his hand still in my hair with a death grip.
“Dean, I-.”
