Being called sir will always get my dick hard, but from her pouty lips… yeah, the cock’s a steel pipe. In the cool dark room, I gather what I want, starting with nipple clamps.
As I tighten them on her taupe nipples that are as firm as cherries, her gasps and the way she arches her back stoke my lust.
“Ow,” she mumbles against my mouth.
I kiss her until her hand goes to a clamp.
“Not allowed.” Grabbing her wrists, I hold them away from her chest. “But as long as you’re sweet, you can talk to me. Need the rings off?”
Her teeth sink into her lower lip. “The throbbing is intense.”
“Mmm hmm.” Removing a clamp, I suck the tip of her breast in my mouth, teasing roughly. I follow suit with the other side until she’s whimpering and clutching at my shoulders. “A little more.” The clamps go back on, pinching like fingers, decorating her to suit my tastes.
Whispering my pleasure at how sexy she is makes her coat my fingers with moisture. My cock throbs, restless for the pretty pussy that’s seduced and ready to be claimed. I’m tempted as hell to fuck her immediately, but the calculating part of my brain is still functioning and urges me to play a better long game.
A vibrator buzzing against her clit makes her writhe and cry out. I tease her tits and her clit until she comes. Then I use my fingers to force her to come again, so she’s shaking from the relentless arousal.
“You’re mine.”
When I put her on her belly with some pillows under her hips, Laurel shivers, but she doesn’t resist. Only when I put her arms into a leather hind restraint is she startled back to reality.
“Wait—” Her voice has an edge of panic.
Stroking her hair, I lean over her. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
Rubbing my knuckles along her lower back to soothe her, I say, “Then be good.”
She shudders, her voice a soft rasp when she speaks. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m gonna treat you like I own you.”
Exhaling a shaky breath, she nods, then licks her lips. Blinking her eyes makes her long lashes flutter. Rewarding her with a deep kiss, I savor the taste of her and of her submission. My fingers squeeze her breast. If she’s pregnant, they’ll get even bigger and fill with milk to feed my baby. My cock throbs, attracted to that idea for the first time.
Rolling on a condom, I move between her legs. She’s in a helpless position, which arouses her on some level since she’s grinding her hips in small circles.
A memory hits me of her ass raised for discipline, of watching her squirm and cry in contrition for having been caught in a betrayal. The memories are more satisfying now, and more of an aphrodisiac. Because now she’s giving herself to me.
Pushing into her soft heat, I groan. My left hand slides under her body to claim her clit, stroking and teasing until her body’s movements turn wild and frantic. She pushes back against me, her sore ass forgotten.
Dropping lower, I stretch, cupping her neck from behind with my right hand while my left rubs roughly against her where she’s most sensitive. I squeeze her neck enough to make her feel my possession of her. My hips thrust harder and harder, banging against her bruised ass until she cries out over and over, caught between anguish and arousal.
Laurel comes first, spasming and clenching around my cock in a way that feels incredible. I use her relentlessly until she’s crying and then I empty my balls again. Panting, I rest my forehead between her shoulder blades, feeling sated all the way to my bones.
Go ahead. Let her be pregnant. Give me an excuse to never let her go.
Chapter 5
Laurel
When dawn breaks, whispers of light breach the curtains, gilding his hair with streaks of gold. In high school, Scott Patrick was stunningly beautiful, with smooth unblemished skin and the face of an angel. At twenty-seven, it’s the beard stubble, the small scar at the corner of his mouth above his right upper lip, and the faint creases on his forehead that make it impossible to stop staring. His body, too, is more muscular and substantial now. He was tall but lean in school. Always strong and well-built because he was athletic, but now there’s an unmistakable toughness to the sinew. At eighteen, there was a devilish glint in his eye, but he looked innocent. At nearly twenty-eight, he’s made good on his unspoken promise to live hard and take risks and that’s evidenced, however faintly, by the changes to his face and body. Impossibly, his looks are more compelling now than a decade ago, maybe because he’s earned them. Knowing he’s evolved in dark ways, I shouldn’t find him beautiful anymore, but I do.
The wicked sex of the night before comes rushing back. It felt sinfully good… but also dangerous. When we were together, bondage and domination were things he was experimenting with. Back then I would have been exploring too, playing another type of game to see what fun we might have. I thought, naively, that I would have an influence on him and what direction he went in his sex life. Now though, he’s long past the discovery phase. He’s a man who knows what he likes and expects. Being in his bed is reminiscent of exactly the position he was maneuvering me into all those years ago. A slave girl owned by a master. Even as I think about that play scenario, the arousal rushes back, making me wet. But that kind of game is a slippery slope, isn’t it? The words he used last night were,I’m gonna treat you like I own you. It was extremely hot, but then he’s always been an expert at seducing women and getting them to give him whatever he wants sexually. And last night, in the end, being helpless and taken roughly, his hard body banging against my bruised ass brought me to tears. He took my crying in stride at a moment when I felt like my soul was unraveling. And that scares me when I think about an ongoing connection.
The intensity of his entire life is shocking. Wild soul-shattering sex that has to be kept a secret. Mind-altering soul-crushing drugs, blood-soaked car seats, lurking mobsters, creeping FBI agents. This is how Trick lives. It’s how hechoosesto live.
I’m an ordinary person. How could I exist in that chaos and not eventually have a breakdown? Trick’s asleep and holding me. A part of me wants to stay pressed against him, but his life is a spider web and if I want to survive, I think I need to break free of its sticky ties.
