Tilly Ann
(Warning: R18! Sexual content)
I turned to leave. Truthfully, I couldn't wait to leave.
I almost made it to the door when a strong arm hooked around my waist and yanked me back.
"Mr. Dubois!" I gasped as my back hit the wall.
He didn't answer. His eyes—gods, his eyes—had gone dark, something wild flickering behind them, something wicked and possibly deranged. Something seductive.
I knew instantly that I was in trouble.
Don't give in, Tilly! Don't you dare fall for his whore-ish proclivity!
But his smile was gone. In its place was something that looked dangerously close to hunger.
"I should warn you, Mr. Dubois. I am a princess not one of your usual skirts. Your charms won't work on..."
He shoved open a door I hadn't noticed—my father's storeroom—and pulled us inside.
The door clicked shut.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then it hit me instantly. I was trapped behind closed door with a notorious rake.
I looked around.
The space was small, crowded with old furniture and dust-covered trunks. But nothing heavy enough to knock that look off of his stupid face.
His body pinned me against the door, chest heaving, hands braced on either side of my head.
I should have been frightened. This man—this Lycan—was anything but noble.
"Don't even dare" I warned him.
"...do what, Winchester? Touch you?"
My pulse raced.
"Kiss you?" he said, low and rough. Like an accusation. "Like you kissed me. I'd say it's only fair"
"I kissed you because you needed taking down a peg. Because I hate your face, your smirk. Your expensive clothes. Your foolish charm and the way you think you can get away with anything because of your pretty little face. Long story...short, I hate you, Chase Dubois!"
"Then you should have slapped me like a normal human girl, Winchester" He was closer now. "But you didn't. You chose to kiss me instead"
Okay.
I see the error on my part now. One doesn't go about kissing a whore on the lips to spite them.
"Well, it wasn't a thought out plan. And I regret my..." I started to say but he cut me off.
"Too late. Because now I can't think about anything else."
Before I could respond—before I could breathe—his mouth crashed down on mine.
This was not the sweet, deliberate kiss I'd given him. This was possession. His tongue swept into my mouth without warning, and I made a sound I'd never heard myself make before—something between a gasp and a whimper.
I had kissed boys before. Made them blush, made them stutter. Nothing—nothing—had prepared me for this.
One of his hands slid down my back, over my butt, gripping hard and pulling me tight against him.
I felt everything—I mean everything.
The hard planes of his chest, the rapid thud of his heart, and the unmistakable pressure of his cock pressing into my stomach.
God, it was just a little spiteful kiss! Now, I am going to lose my virginity in my father dirty storeroom to the whore of Troita!
Alarm should have gone off in my head.
The perverted kind. It should have been loud and big.
But nothing.
This is Chase Dubois, I tried to remind myself. The whore of Troita. The man you hate.
But my body wasn't listening to reason. It was curious.
His other hand pushed up my dress, gathering the fabric in a fist at my waist. Cool air hit my thighs.
This is Chase! Panic, please!
His hand slid up my thigh, and I noticed—absurdly, inappropriately—the calluses on his palms. Not from holding swords or reins. These were rougher.
"What," I gasped finding it difficult to hate him, "do you do all fucking day?"
He paused, something flickering in those dark eyes. "Fix things." Then his fingers found me again "Fuck...things" He added and kissed me.
Son of a bloody bitch did not just say that to me.
"Chase!"
He tore his lips from mine, breathing ragged.
"What? Never claimed to be a saint, Winchester." His forehead pressed against mine, eyes wild. "Fuck!" He cussed, taking his hand away from my dress and grabbing my face with both hands.
"I am going to be something I have never claimed to be before, Winchester..." He closed his eyes momentarily before opening them. "A gentlemmmm" He mumbled.
It was hard to hear.
"A what?" I asked him.
"A gentlemmmm" He exhaled loudly like it was a big strain on him.
"A gentleman? Are you trying to say gentleman?" I asked him, dimming my eyes at him.
"Yeah. That. Awful word. Shouldn't be a word at all" He agreed.
It wasn't planned. I just started laughing. If Chase Dubois was a gentleman then the Devil was God and the world was going to hell.
"You are not a gentleman—"
I hardly finished my statement when his fingers pushed aside the seam of my drawers and touched me right on my bare cunt.
I cried out.
He clamped his other hand over my mouth.
"You are right. I'm not. Finally, something we can agree on, princess but feel free to stop me at anytime."
Then his fingers moved.
They were slick, sliding through my wetness—when had I gotten so wet?—finding that swollen, desperate spot. He rubbed hard, in tight circles, and my legs... my legs buckled.
He held me up easily, pinning me to the door with his body, never stopping that relentless pressure.
Then his fingers stopped.
"Last chance, Winchester. Say stop"
I made a sound I'm not proud of. A whimper. A please caught in my throat. "Don't you dare"
He smiled slowly, watching me squirm on the edge of something I'd never felt before.
"Good girl"
He pushed one finger inside me.
He was inside me. Chase Dubois's finger was inside me, and I was so tight, so full, and then he added a second finger and I saw stars.
I bit down on his shoulder to stop myself from screaming.
He fucked me with his fingers. His thumb rubbing my clit. Pleasure raised in my belly, tighter and tighter, and I was panting against his shoulder, almost begging for something I couldn't find words for, my head thrashing against the door.
This is Chase Dubois, something whispered. The man you hate.
Just as that coil was about to snap— a sound came from outside. It was a footstep. Followed by a cough.
"Tilly Ann?"
Chase froze. I stopped breathing altogether.
Mamas were not supposed to find their daughters in a closet with a stranger's finger inside them. Aurora Winchester would explode into tiny pieces.
"Tilly, are you in there?"
I held my breath. Afraid to breathe.
"Breathe, sweetheart. You are getting tighter and it's going straight to my cock" Chase whispered.
I covered his mouth with my hand. Wishing he would spontaneously die.
"Matilda!"
It was my full name. I was in trouble.
"I'm fine, Mama!" My voice cracked like I was fifteen again. "Just—looking for something!"
I paused. Long enough that sweat slid down my spine.
"Find it?" She asked.
Did I? I wasn't sure.
I expected Chase to pull his fingers out of me at the very least.
What I didn't expect was the conversation that followed. "How close are you?"
"To what?" I whispered, barely breathing from fear and pleasure.
"Cumming"
"Coming?" I asked him, in agonizing voice. "What's that?"
He held my gaze as he went back to fucking me with his finger with my mother on the other side of the damn door.
"Chase..."
"Give it a minute."
"Chase... please! Something is happening to me!"
"Good. I am a professional, sweetheart"
I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn't too busy erupting.
I shook. Like I have never shaken before. Is that even a word? Shaken?
It was this intense pleasure that left me breathless and shaky.
My very first orgasm.
He pulled his wet fingers from inside me—slow, deliberate, watching my face the entire time. Then he brought them to his mouth, and I watched him suck every last of it off.
His tongue moved deliberately, cleaning every last drop, and the look on his face said more.
"Matilda Evangeline Winchester! Come out or I'm coming in!" It was my mother again.
"I will be right out, Mama! Give me a fucking a minute"
"Don't cuss at me, little girl"
I was unsteady. And he was a lunatic and my mother was just outside the door.
"Time to..." He gestured at the window.
"Don't you dare leave me looking like—"
He kissed me one last time, soft and quick, that wicked smile spreading across his face.
"Until next time, Winchester."
"There is no next time!"
"Oh come on. I'm not that bad"
I gave him a look.
"Okay. Maybe, I am that bad. But a goat can't give you the orgasm I just gave you, dear bride"
I closed my eyes and said a prayer—out loud. "Please, kill him already! Please"
In a flash, he was at the small window. He shoved it open, climbed onto the sill, and jumped.
"Later, Winchester"
"Chase! Chase!" I called in a hushed voice.
And just like that he was gone.
That was Chase Dubois—an infuriating finger-fucking bastard!
"Coward!"
I slid down the door, my skirts a tangled mess around my waist, my body throbbing and aching.
My mother's footsteps outside grew closer.
"Don't make me marry him, Mama. Please!" It was half cry, half plead.
Then it stopped.
"Tilly? Everything alright?"
I took a shaky breath.
I looked down at myself. Ripped dress. Drawers around my ankles. Hair somehow more disastrous than when I'd wrestled a boar. No exit but the one Chase had taken—and I'd be damned if I followed him anywhere.
I thought of Chase's face when he tasted me. Thought of his fingers inside me. Thought of how I'd hated him for eight years and now hated him even more—for leaving me looking like this.
"No," I whispered."No, Mama. Everything is definitely not okay. You can't marry me to a mad man"
"Change out of the dirty dress and stop hiding from Chase. He just wants to get to know. Is all"
"Oh, I know exactly what he wants, mother! He's a snake! A rotten and very... slippery serpent!"
Silence. Then Mama's footsteps retreated down the hall. "Out of the storeroom, Matilda. Now!"
I stayed against that door for a long time, still slick, still aching—and I had never hated anyone as much as I hated Chase Dubois in that moment.
I also, God help me, couldn't wait to see him again. Though when I did, he was a dead man. I'd kill him right after I figured out what his fingers would feel like without the interruption. Without the door. Without the fucking footsteps.
Chase fucking Dubois was a dead man.