Dried and Dying Roses (BWWM)

Ten: Hand Jobs

Ten

If Isa had a short tolerance for Adrian before he threw her across her kitchen, she had no tolerance for him days later, glaring at where he sat at her island as she cooked, back to her as he typed away on his phone.

Without a second thought, she threw the empty pot in her hand at him, watching him wince as it bounced off of his neck.

"Are you finished?" He asked, his voice ringing with disinterest, though he didn't turn to look at where she was standing by the oven, shaking in her silent anger, "Throw another. Hell, throw all of them at me." He shrugged, still refusing to turn to her, "Throw anything you want at me, just let me fuck you afterwards."

Isa flinched then, her heated glare burning into his back as she spoke, her voice quiet with her soft rage, "Because the only thing I've got going for me is what's between my legs, right?"

"Right. You forgot the tightness, though, and the responsiveness. I wish you could see your face when you come, it's so-"

Isa's sobs cut him off, her gaze focused on him, but she stared through him, hot tears falling down her cheeks in clear, warm tracks. Lost in her feelings, in her hurt, bitter thoughts, Isa leaned back, placing her hand on what she thought was the counter, but instead, landing on the heated eye of her gas stove, the white flame licking at her fingers. She took a deep breath, shocked as she pulled her hand away from the restricted flame, staring at her now red, and blistering skin, already peeling as she stared at in shock.

I've got to pay better attention.

His large hand enveloped hers, pulling her gently to her sink, "Let's run some cold water over that," He cooed, making Isa look up at his beautiful face in confusion.

Wasn't he just telling her she was good for nothing but her sex?

"Get off of me," She said firmly, her voice still holding the shaking of her now bad nerves, "I can take care of myself."

Adrian scoffed at that, pulling her hand under the running, cold water of her sink, "Obviously not. You r stupid ass just put your hand on a hot eye."

"I can do it," Isa insisted, trying to wrench her wrist from his grip, then whimpering when he tightened his hand painfully, "And I'm not stupid. Let me go!"

"Hmm," Adrian murmured, turning the water off, "I bet if I squeezed that little hand of yours, you'd-

"Adrian please don't!" She pleaded, looking up at him in fear, "Don't h-hurt me anymore! I'm sorry!"

"I told you what I'd do if you kept fucking with me," He murmured, those steel orbs landing on hers, before dropping down her body, "But I think I'll just lay you down on the floor, pull that soft little robe off and get what I've been wanting for these past few weeks, since you won't give it to me."

Her robe was already on the ground, leaving Isa in the nightshirt she had worn to sleep, that barely brushed the tops of her thighs, exposing the pink, lace boy cut panties with the little black bows resting against her ample hips.

Adrian groaned deeply in his throat, Isa watched him as a new type of fear overtook her, as she tried to back away from the intimidating man, even as her body started to heat with arousal. "Adrian, please! That's rape, d-don't do that to me? I just want you to like me!"

He was unfazed, "It's only rape if it's not consensual, Isaline." He spoke quietly, cupping her traitorous, weeping sex gently, rubbing her through her panties, "I can smell your need to have me, you're trembling. You want me inside you just as bad as I want to bad as I need to be inside of you. No rape at all. I'll be gentle."