by Ella Goode
They make an empty sound in the small space. No, I don’t need a vacation. I spend enough time alone. At least when I’m working, I’m around people.
My heels make a satisfying clicking noise as I enter the bedroom. I hit the light switch but it doesn’t work. I hit it again. No lights.
Weird.
Did a fuse get blown during the day? The fuse box is out in the garage. I fumble with my phone to find the flashlight app when a dark form rises from the bed.
I scream and turn to flee, but a hand on my hair catches me and drags me back.
“My purse is in the kitchen. Let me get it for you,” I plead.
A tall, broad frame fits itself along my back. “Where you’re going, you won’t need it.”
Chapter 3
Amy
“What do you want from me?” I gasp.
“You know.” He spins me around and muscles me over to the bed. Somehow he has my arms pinned behind me. I tumble facedown onto the mattress.
I squirm under him, straining to free myself, but he climbs on top of me and straddles my waist. With his heavy weight, I can’t even turn over. The only thing he allows me to do is turn my head to the side.
He has both wrists captured in one big hand. “You don’t want to do this,” I tell him. “I’m a lawyer. I know people.”
“How nice. So do I, and I’m guessing the folks I know are a helluvalot more dangerous than the pansy-assed males you hang around with.”
I hear metal strike metal as he unbuckles his belt. I give a renewed effort to buck him off, but it’s impossible. I’m completely under his power. Moments later the leather is around my wrists. I might not be able to compete with him physically, but I’m a lawyer. Surely I can talk myself out of this.
“What do you want? Whatever it is that is in my power, I’ll give it to you. Do you have a friend who needs help? A family member?”
“Oh, you’ll give it to me alright.” The rasp of the zipper is followed by cool air on my butt cheeks. A calloused hand shapes my curve, and then a stinging slap is delivered. I yelp in surprise. “Won’t you?”
“I will if you let me go,” I bargain.
He slaps me again and tears prick my eyes—more in shock than surprise. I haven’t had a spanking…ever. “You don’t have any power here. You’re not in a courtroom or an office or a boardroom. You’re here, under my hand, and you’re going to do what I say.”
His words are harsh and demanding. I renew my futile struggle under him. He laughs, almost cruelly. His fingers dip down between my legs, and I’m mortified at what I know he finds.
“You want this,” he growls. “You want to be treated like this. I’ve seen your books. Your toy chest. If you don’t want this, all you have to do is say no.”
Say no?
He waits, his fingers lightly touching my panties, which are wet with my unwanted arousal.
“Answer me.” He grabs my hair and tugs me back toward his chest. “Yes or no, Amy.”
I bite my tongue and refuse to answer him. He wants an answer, but that’s the one thing I can withhold.
“Have it your way,” he says. His voice is thick with satisfaction. My silence is consent.
He wrenches down my skirt.
“If you ruin my clothes, I’m coming after you.”
“You’ll be panting after me, anyway.” He slaps me across the tops of my thighs, hard enough that the elastic of my thigh highs bite into my skin. “You wear these to the office every day? Who are you hoping comes in to bend you over the desk? Is it a client? Do you have a thing for one of your clients?”
Desire is blooming in my body, stretching its arms out wide. I close my eyes and concentrate on that. It’s almost a foreign feeling, like a body part that fell asleep and is waking with a vengeance. There’s pain, but I know the pleasure isn’t far behind. If I can concentrate on that, keep my eyes on that then—smack!
“What was that for?” I cry.
“I asked you a question. Answer it!” he demands.
“I wear them because I like them. Because they’re cheaper! If I run one stocking then I don’t have to trash the entire pair.”
He pauses, and in the silence I realize how unsexy my answer is. My entire life is run by pragmatic choices.
He chuckles then, a warm one so different than the cruel laugh he’d let out before. “Amy, Amy, you’re going to have to learn that not everything needs to be done because it’s the cheapest or makes the most sense.”
“I’m happy with my life,” I insist. “Now get off me and let me go.”
“No,” he says simply. He reaches underneath my face and wraps a blindfold around my eyes and then pulls me upright. Disoriented and blind, I make it easy for him to drag me to my bedpost. He stands me up against the tall wooden spindle. I feel exposed and ridiculous in my thigh highs, silk blouse, and heels.
“Dammit, Flint. Stop this right now and untie me.”
“Nope,” he says far too cheerfully. “It’d defeat the purpose of tying you up in the first place.”
“And just why did you tie me?” I kick out my legs, but I get only air. I don’t have a good sense of where that bastard is.
“Because you were thinking of running away and then I’d have to chase you, and the Minneapolis police tend to frown on tattooed, leather-wearing biker dudes chasing down tender young females.”
“I’m neither tender nor young.” I punch out in front of me and end up striking my knuckles against the bedframe.
“Careful there, Amy. You’re going to hurt my property.”
I snort. “This is my house.”
“I’m not talking about the bed. I’m referring to you.”
This earns him another kick and punch, which do nothing. Again.
“I’m serious this time. I don’t want you hurting yourself,” he chides me. “If you’re going to keep flailing around, I’ll have to stop and bind you tighter.”
The threat is effective. I slump back and think of a new attack.
“The bindings hurt,” I complain, trying to appeal to his chivalrous side.
He chuckles. I feel the vibration against my back. “No they don’t.”
“Because you’ve tied so many women before?” The sarcastic words slip out before I can stop them.
“Because I’m the Death Lords VP, Amy, and before I was VP, I was an enforcer. I’ve bound a lot of people, very few of them women.”
“You’re no monk, though. Just admit it.” I rub my wrists together. But he’s right because the rope he uses is silky, not rough, and there’s enough slack that I can move comfortably.
“I haven’t had a woman in three years.”
“What?” I jerk my head up and meet his clear-eyed gaze in the mirror.
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
Because you’re so gorgeous that I practically have orgasms just looking at you, and I know that you’re surrounded by women all the time. Every time I’ve ever visited the Death Lords clubhouse, there were always women around, some of them quite young. There was nothing like a little violence with a dash of tattoo to make a girl’s panties wet.
“Because you seem to have a lot of opportunity,” I settle on.
“That’s it? Everyone has opportunity, including you, Amy. How many men have you slept with in, say, the past five years?”
“I’m a woman,” I protest. “And you’re…look at you.”
“You saying I’m good-looking?”
The amusement in his voice makes me want to bop him over the head, but he’s standing behind me and I can’t reach him.
“Fishing for compliments?” I snap.
His response is to laugh. “Always from you, but to answer your previous question, the girls around the club don’t interest me. I’ve had my eye on someone for a while now, and I didn’t want to just dip my dick in some convenient pot because it was there. I’ve got a few standards.”
That last part came out a bit peeved.
“Sorry,” I mutter but I c
an’t believe it. Then again, Flint has no reason to lie to me. The idea that he’s wanted me so much that he’s gone without for three years is sort of mind-blowing, and I can’t deal with that information right now. Fortunately, I don’t have to.
He raises my arms up and somehow attaches the belt to something above my head.
“You know, there are rings at the top of your posts. Why is that, Amy?”
“I don’t know,” I retort. “I bought this at a flea market.”
“Have you used these rings before?” he asks silkily.
I clamp my mouth shut. He doesn’t need to know what I’ve done in my past.
“Answer me!” he snarls.
My chin trembles at the sharp bite of his command, but I turn my face to the side.
“You’re going to be punished for that, Amy. Either answer me or face the consequences.”
I squeeze my legs together to stop the pounding, ease the pressure, soothe the ache, but the tension only builds.
“I can see that,” he says tightly. “I can see you trying to squeeze that cunt, but that cunt is mine.”
He kicks my legs apart and shoves a jean-clad thigh between them. I never realized how weak I am.
Heat sears me when the hard thigh meets the pulsing junction between my legs. Only soaked cotton and rough denim separates my sex from his naked skin. I nearly orgasm at the thought.
Against my will, I buck up against him, trying to get more pressure. I need something.
He lets me ride his leg for a few seconds. The delicious sensations uncoil within me. I squeeze my legs tighter and ride him harder, reaching for that release. Just…a…little—
He steps away.
“No!” I cry. “Come back here, dammit.”
“Tell me,” he demands, that hand in my hair again.
“I was almost finished. Help me!” I pull against the leather belt. If I had my hands free, I could get myself off.
“Tell me what I want to know and I’ll give you what you want,” he snarls in my ear. The heat of his breath sends electric shocks down my spine. I try to wriggle against him, but he’s too far away, and all I feel is empty air.
Empty.
I don’t want to be empty. I want him to fill me up with his tough body and crude words. It doesn’t matter that I can’t see him or that I’ve never done this with him before.
“I’ve never used them before,” I say sullenly. “I thought they were decoration.”
He grunts in satisfaction. His leg returns to that hot, needy place, and even better, his mouth lands on mine. No, that’s not right.
His mouth devours mine. His tongue drives between my lips and he sweeps in to claim every inch. With every jab of his thigh and thrust of his tongue, he establishes his dominance over me. What I want is what he decides to give me. When, where, and how much. I am completely at his mercy.
His hand dips between my legs, and I forget how to breathe.
“You have a hungry cunt, Amy,” the intruder rasps. “You need it full of cock, don’t you?”
I press my lips shut. He might be able to feel my body’s betrayal, but my words are my own. His fingers tunnel into my hair and jerk my head back, a motion that’s just short of painful.
“Answer me,” he demands. The ache between my legs intensifies. I desperately need something, and I know he can give it to me, if only I say what he wants. And so what if I give in? I’m not promising him anything. I’m not even giving in. I’m allowing him to touch me, allowing him to pleasure me.
“I want it,” I relent, but I inject as much authority into those words of submission as possible.
His fingers slide underneath the gusset of my panties. “What? And be specific, Amy. Otherwise, I’ll provide my own interpretation.”
He wants specifics? Fine. I’ll give him specifics. I push against his hand, rubbing my swollen, needy flesh along his firm fingers. “I want you inside me.”
But it’s not enough. He wants everything.
“With what Amy? You want my fingers? My tongue? My cock?”
I inhale sharply at the thought of all those things. His fingers pumping me, his head between my legs, his long, glorious cock working me into a mindless frenzy. But if I give him an inch, he’s going to take a mile.
In my haughtiest tone, I inform him, “I’ve already had your fingers. I want more.”
He laughs, full-bellied and without an ounce of reservation. That’s my Flint. My mind halts. My Flint? Since when have I ever considered him mine? Was it when I first saw him holding up the bar at the converted granary that served as the Death Lords’ compound? I remember the insolent way he looked at me, as if my pencil skirt and blazer didn’t exist. Was it the time I spent with him as he took me around the town of Fortune, interviewing potential witnesses? Or maybe it was more recently when I noticed he was following me from home to the office. Somewhere along the line, he’d become mine, and that’s why I became so restless, dating other men in hopes of driving Flint from my mind.
“And you’re going to get more. I’m going to shove my cock up your tight little cunt until you are dripping.”
His words are so graphic, so crude, yet so arousing. I couldn't stop my body from responding to him even if I wanted to. But I don’t.
I know I’m safe with him and that I can trust him. Why am I holding back? I don’t know. If I keep holding back, I won’t get everything he’s willing to give me, and I get the sense that I only have to ask, and if it’s in his power, he’ll make it happen.
All I want for him is to fill the blank and colorless spaces in my life with his big presence. So I give in. I give up. I give over.
“I want you, Flint. I want your big, fat cock inside me. I want your mouth between my legs. I want to get on my knees and suck you dry. Everything. I want everything.”
He groans and slams my body against his. “You are going to get it all, Amy.”
His mouth covers mine again. He’s still demanding. He still domineering. But this time his kiss is infused with tenderness. I don’t mistake this for love. I don’t believe he loves me. But he lusts after me, and I’ve wanted his big body pressed against mine for so long, I’d take him even if he hated me.
He tugs on my hair to angle me just perfectly for his invasion. His tongue stabs into my mouth and at the same moment, his fingers penetrate me from below. I whimper against his mouth and strain toward those fingers.
“You need more, Amy?”
I nod. With quick and efficient motions, he unties my hands and pushes me backward onto the bed. He steps forward between my legs and with a rough jerk, pulls me to the edge of the mattress.
I lick my lips in anticipation.
He reaches inside the open zipper of his jeans and pulls out his beautiful cock. And it is beautiful. The shaft is engorged with blood, and the veins stand out prominently along the sides. At the end, the head is glistening with his pre-come. He gathers it in his hand and smooths it over the bulbous head and down the strong shaft.
“Are you ready?”
I’ve never been more ready for anything in my entire life.
Chapter 4
Flint
Amy’s eyes are a glittering pool of need. This is a woman who hasn’t had love in a long time, maybe not ever, if I can trust all the intel I’ve gathered about her. She’s cut herself off, and now she’s starving for it.
I part her legs and slide the angry red tip of my cock along her cunt. She shudders at the light touch and falls backward.
“You might want to hang on,” I whisper. “This first time around is going to be hard and fast.”
“Promises, promises,” she chokes out.
Always the ballbuster. I clench my ass cheeks and drive into her. She screams at my invasion, arching up from the bed.
I wasn’t kidding when I told it was going to be rough this go around. I’ve been waiting too long for this, and the way her pussy clenches me at every backstroke like she’s afraid I’m not coming back tells me it’s the same
for her.
My thumb presses down on her clit and she writhes, snakelike, in wild, erotic movements. I have to grab her hips to hold her still so I can thrust into her.
“Your little pussy is sucking hard on my cock. It wants to milk me dry. You ready for me to come all over you?”
She thrashes her head from side to side. “Yes. Come on me, Flint.”
“I am,” I say through gritted teeth. “I’m going to come all over your cunt and your tits, and then we’re going to rub it in until you smell of me. The minute we walk into a place, every man there will know you’re mine.”
She grinds against me, hips bruising hips. “As long as every woman there knows that you belong to me, what do I care?”
I laugh. “Touch your tits, Amy. Pinch those nipples hard, and then I’m going to decorate them with my come.”
Her hands rise to cup her breasts. The sight of her touching herself like that is hot as fuck.
I bite my lower lip and slam into her hard. My head may blow off my shoulders when I come. Her cunt’s tight as a fist. The walls hug me as I retreat, her hidden muscles gripping me as if she doesn’t want me to leave. Fuck, I could spend the rest of my life here.
“You fit like a glove. Your hot, juicy cunt can’t get enough of me, can it?”
Her glossy eyes tell me she’s real close. So am I. I can feel the tension coiling at the base of my spine, waiting for the go signal. I’m taking her with me over that edge into blissful oblivion. I’m taking her so hard, making her come so long that she doesn’t step foot in this bedroom again without shaking from the ball of need that hits her at the memory of what my body could give her.
Back arching like a tightly strung bow, her feet digging against the side of the mattress, she screams as her orgasm takes over her body. Her pussy begins to milk me, and I can only withstand a few of those pulsating waves before pulling out.
I take myself in hand and jack my hand down my angry length, using the juice of her body to lubricate my path. The come erupts from my balls, roiling up like a volcano and bursting out to spend on her wet, swollen pussy and her flushed, heated tits.
