Spiked Roses: The Complete Top Shelf Series

by Alta Hensley

  “No, I don’t,” she panted, but squeezed the bedspread even tighter. Her white knuckles exposed how she struggled for control.

  “Yes, you do. I can see it. I can feel it. I can smell it.”

  “I hate you,” she said but never once tried to move her pussy away from my jabbing cock.

  “Good,” I said. “You are about to hate me more.”

  I gave a harder tug on her hair, pulling her head back in order to place my palm at the front of her neck and hold firmly. I wanted her to know I could take her life at any moment I chose, just as I could take her body.

  “Fuck you,” she said. The vile words were breathless.

  “Say it again.” I squeezed her throat tighter.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Say it one more time so I can be sure I heard your words correctly.”

  She paused, swallowing hard against my palm. “Fuck you,” she said in almost a whisper.

  I placed the head of my dick at the opening of her pussy, fighting every urge to bury myself balls deep. “Do you want me to fuck this pussy of yours?”

  She shook her head. “No! I fucking hate you!”

  I smiled, liking that she answered correctly. “Very well. The choice was yours. I told you that if you ever said those words to me again, I would fuck you. So, since you don’t want me to fuck your pussy, I will fuck your ass.”

  I took hold of my slick cock, placed it at the entrance of her puckered hole, and slowly eased in, breaking the surface slightly. I had stretched her anus less than an hour earlier, but I knew this was still going to hurt. Yet, by the delicious moan that escaped her lips, she knew that as well… and wanted it. She wanted the biting pain in her ass. Luckily, her wetness coated on my cock helped ease my way in, and I would go slow, but this was still going to hurt like hell.

  She cried out as I eased my way in deeper, but she didn’t scream for me to stop. I wasn’t going to go light on her—there was no way of doing so with my size—and a twinge of sympathy on my conscience had me pause so she could catch her breath and allow her tight little hole to get used to the stretching.

  “Have you ever had your ass fucked?”

  She shook her head and tightened her grip on the bedspread.

  “Well then, I’m going to have great pleasure in being the first to fuck this ass of yours.” I think that fact was pretty obvious, but I still wanted her to hear the words from my mouth. A virgin ass. There was something special about an anal virgin. They cried more. They tightened more. But they also wanted it more. Their curiosity made it so.

  She didn’t reply, but she never resisted or put up a fight like I had really expected her to do. I had a lesson to teach her.

  I plunged my dick in all the way. I could no longer hold back. I had to have her ass. I had to make it mine. She cried out, which made me want even more. I began thrusting in and out, driven by her whimpers of pain and pleasure. She bucked against me, silently demanding for me to go deeper with each push. The harder I was, the more she demanded.

  In and out, moan after moan, her ass was mine. She was fucking mine.

  And just as my control was wavering, and I was about to explode, Anita turned her head and made eye contact with me. Her eyes. I was undone.

  With one final thrust, I spilled my seed inside of her, claiming her as mine, just as she had claimed me as hers with that one look in her eyes. I became her captive. Motherfucker, I became her captive.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kenneth

  I awoke with a start, my mind still a fog from the heavy sleep I’d been in. It wasn’t like me to sleep so soundly, but the stressful search when I had a million other things to take care of at Spiked Roses, not to mention my neglected practice, and everything about this woman and her behavior… my behavior… our behavior… had certainly worn me out. Frantically, I looked in the direction where Anita slept, needing to reassure myself that she was safe.

  She was gone… not that it surprised me.

  Motherfucker.

  I bounded to my feet, looking around at the small hotel room as if she would somehow be sitting in the old chair staring at me while I slept or walking out of the bathroom after a shower, but nothing. There was nothing missing, and even her shoes were still in the room. She wouldn’t have fled barefoot… and if Marco’s men had found us and entered the room, surely I would have heard them or even the slightest struggle. I hadn’t been in a coma. Sex induced slumber, but not a damn coma.

  The shadows of the night were still fading into light of day, so I knew she couldn’t have gone too far… and again—I glanced at her boots—she was barefoot! Anxiety filled me as I thought that maybe she had run away again, though I had anticipated after what had happened last night, she would have been smart enough to understand how serious I was when I said I expected obedience. And had she no concern that she was a hunted woman? Marco’s men would be far less gentle than I.

  I strained to think which way she would have run. But then a thought came to mind that maybe she had walked down to the lobby to get some coffee. A quick glance around the cheap room, and I could see that there wasn’t a coffee pot, and maybe she was as much of a caffeine junkie as I was.

  Pulling on my clothes, and then my shoes, I charged out of the room in hopes of finding her innocently sipping out of a chipped mug at some sort of complimentary continental breakfast bar. I desperately hoped that I would find her before she was stupid enough to hitch a ride somewhere. As I exited the elevator and walked down the hallway by the indoor pool, I froze.

  Sitting at the edge of the pool kicking her feet in the water was an image that knocked the breath right out of me. Anita slowly eased her way in at the shallow end of the pool, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, though to any random observer, the garments gave the illusion she was wearing a bikini. But I knew better. She was in nothing but her bra and panties and I wanted to remove them… all the way. Water droplets ran down her body, glistening on her skin as she walked slowly to the middle of the pool. My mouth watered as the water rose along the small of her back and over the curve of her heart-shaped ass. The water dripped down her erect nipples that weren’t concealed enough by the thin cotton fabric. I didn’t want her to go any deeper. I wanted to see all of her body and not have the chlorinated water cover even an inch of it. She was tiny in frame, yet muscular at the same time. Frail and resilient, delicate and powerful—a paradox indeed.

  I had claimed her ass last night, but I wanted more. I wanted so much more. I wanted her to know she was mine—to never doubt it for a single moment. I fucking wanted her. Her. Her.

  Fuck me.

  I wanted her.

  She was a picture of perfection, and I was quickly entranced by the splendor swimming only a few feet away. I had seen many a woman—nudity not being anything new in my life and my profession with Spiked Roses. I had touched many a woman, claimed many more, but nothing compared… nothing compared to this woman before me. My cock throbbed and grew painfully hard against my pants.

  I closed my eyes, taking a deep cleansing breath, needing to clear my mind and calm my raging libido. I couldn’t think like this, especially not about a woman contractually owned by someone else. A very powerful and ruthless someone else. She was just an employee, and I needed to remember that. An employee. Nothing more.

  Still… she was hypnotizing in her allure, and so fucking infuriating in her stubbornness. I had never been attacked, cursed at and fought with like I had been with her. Women lusted after me. Wanted me. Seduced me. Even feared me. None were ever brave enough to try to push my boundaries such as Anita had. But Anita was no ordinary woman, that much was for sure. She had already tried to escape, and I had no doubt that she would attempt to do so again if given the opportunity… yet right now she was just going for an innocent dip in the pool to start her day. To a hotel guest, no one would guess that she had just sold her body to a killer who would use and abuse her however he chose.

  Was it her tattoos that hypnotized me? Se
eing her in nothing but her underwear and the color of the flowers and vines going up her entire body contrasting with the black lacy lingerie reminded me of the most expensive art in any gallery. She was walking art. Walking dark and delicious art.

  As she finally dove deep into the water, I gathered my composure and walked into the room that housed the pool and sat down on a cheap plastic chair. The room smelled of chemicals, and I worried that it may not be safe for Anita to be inhaling the fumes. I was pretty sure the pool boy had an IQ of nothing or didn’t give a fuck. Hell, Anita’s skin may burn off from some lazy ass just pouring a gallon of shit in there without a care in the world.

  Trying not to overthink, or even consider the legalities of a possible lawsuit for poor pool maintenance, which unfortunately was in my nature, my eyes focused on the erotically enchanting performance before me. It was like a goddamn dance watching the way she swam—her lean body slicing through the blue water with such graceful ease. If she didn’t belong to someone else, at least for two weeks, I would have stripped down and fucked her right there in the pool—bystanders be damned. But things were different. She was different. Anita Kyle was owned by Marco Nunez. Plain and simple. Black and white, and I operated in black and white. So, I needed to listen to my fucking mind and not my fucking cock. My cock demanded, painfully so, but my mind and my business ethics now won the battle. So, I sat in this piece of shit chair and observed instead.

  “Are you watching me? Really? Do you think I’m going to run away in my bra and panties while barefoot?”

  The words pierced through my lustful thoughts, which with the raging hard on that I had, was welcomed.

  “I told you last night when your dick was buried in my ass that I wouldn’t run away again. So why are you here watching me like some crazy stalker?” Anita demanded yet again, her voice louder than before.

  I steadied my glare on her, not allowing her to gain control, even though my body felt like a fifteen-year-old boy’s about to have a wet dream he couldn’t control. “I didn’t give you permission to leave the room.”

  “I didn’t know I had to ask. You said not to run away again. I agreed to that. Nothing more.”

  “That may be. But I advise you, unless you want to feel my wrath again, to ask permission to leave my sight. Don’t make me have to hunt you down even if that means looking for you in the goddamn ladies’ room.” I tried to sound stern and domineering even though the mere presence of this woman stole almost all coherent thought from me. Amazing what a hard dick does to a man.

  “Fine.” She paused. “Are you just going to sit there staring at me?”

  I raised my brow, amused by her words. “Maybe I like what I see. You can’t blame a man for admiring. Spiked Roses is built on that concept. Admiring beautiful things.”

  “No, Spiked Roses is built on giving rich men whatever the fuck they want. Whatever. The. Fuck. They. Want.”

  I couldn’t help but chuckle with the way she mimicked how I’d recited my hiring speech. “You remember my lecture when I hired you I see.”

  She pushed her legs up and floated onto her back, staring up at the concrete ceiling. Her tits bobbed above the water just beckoning my touch, my lips, my tongue caressing those perky nipples. I wanted to trace my fingertips along the colors of her tattoo that ran along the side of her flat stomach and curvy hips. Jesus, those tattoos were going to be the death of me. They were so beautiful, so artistic, so rebellious, and so fucking sexy.

  Fuck!

  “I remember what you said.” Her arms moved gracefully under the water, propelling her body further away from me. “But I saw it first hand. I saw that the men got what they wanted, or they took it. Not necessarily by force, but by the power of money, gifts, compliments, promises of a future of never having to work again. They hung a carrot of a new life only girls like me dream of, which meant that yes, they got whatever they wanted. You were all nothing but a room full of bastards and whiskey.” She flipped over onto her stomach and swam back in my direction, locking her eyes with mine. “But at the same time, we were nothing but a room full of harlots and diamonds. So who’s to judge?”

  Would she blame me if I yanked her out of the pool, threw her against the wall and fucked her brains out right then and there? Her insight and words were just as stunning as her body.

  I needed to regain control. She was getting into my head. I never allowed anyone to get into my head. It’s how I won. It’s how I mastered every situation. I got in the heads of others. Not the other way around.

  “Get out of the pool now,” I said firmly.

  “Go to hell.”

  “Now. We need to get on the road.”

  Her annoyance was plain to see, though I really didn’t care. I was here on a mission, and I wouldn’t let this little vixen dictate a thing. If she even got a whiff that I was losing my resolve, the battle would be lost.

  Hearing a distinct huff of irritation, I watched as Anita climbed out of the pool, beads of water dripping down her barely concealed body. The swell of her breasts were so obvious with her wet bra exposing enough that it invited my darkest thoughts, her erect nipples pleading to be sucked while I plunged my cock balls deep into her while stretching that perfect pussy that was so beautifully accentuated by the soaking black lace that molded against her folds. I could feel my dick hardening even more—if that were possible—and my control softening again.

  I shouldn’t have claimed her ass last night. What had I been thinking? It had just given me a sip of what I now knew I wanted to indulge in. I wanted it all. I wanted her. I wanted her like no one I had ever wanted before.

  But she wasn’t mine.

  I had to keep telling myself that. Beat that into my stubborn mind.

  She. Wasn’t. Mine.

  For the first time in my adult life, I couldn’t have what I wanted. It made me want to kill someone. It made me want to kill Marco Nunez.

  When Anita stood in front of me, reaching to the plastic table beside me to collect her clothing, I couldn’t help but let my gaze fall to a tattoo of a poppy curving its way from her hip to her most intimate self, the reddish-pink of the ink playing peek a boo around the thin strap of her black panties. I wanted to reach out to her, rip those panties effortlessly off her, thrust my fingers past her velvety folds, making her cry out in pleasure. I wanted to pull her to me, my lips caressing hers, tasting the sweetness of her kiss, licking the desire beyond her mouth. I wanted to hear my name come out in pants, moans, whispers and pleas for more of what I so desperately wanted to give her.

  Anita stood before me then, her clothing in one hand as she reached for a white towel with the other. As if unaware of what she had just put me through, she slowly pulled the fabric around her, covering herself from my watchful eye, and began rubbing her body dry. Only when she went to walk past me and back in the direction of our hotel room, did I reach out to her, my roughened fingers grasping around her throat. I squeezed just enough to show I meant business. Just enough to dominate. Just enough to remind her that I had the power, the strength and the control, even though I was fucking lying to myself. I was weak. She made me fucking weak.

  “Do not push me today. I don’t have the patience. Understand?”

  Anita stared up to me with wide eyes. Big brown eyes of shock rather than fear. She parted her sensual lips to help her gain the air that I restricted, but she never struggled or seemed afraid. It was almost as if my hand belonged on her neck and it somehow gave her comfort.

  “Yes,” she squeaked out.

  Slowly I leaned into her, kissed her full on the lips, hungry for the taste of her. Squeezing her neck a little tighter, but making sure her breaths could escape her pouty lips, I danced my greedy tongue with hers.

  Hesitantly, I pulled away, releasing my choke hold on her. I placed my hand on her lower back and silently led her in the direction of our hotel room, trying to not overthink what I’d just done.

  Drawing on the last of my waning control, I reminded myself she was just
a cigar-girl at Spiked Roses and there were many of those waiting for me back home. As she put it… there was a room full of harlots and diamonds, and that is where this bastard belonged.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Anita

  I stood in the bathroom naked, staring at my reflection in the mirror, my fingertips touching my neck where Kenneth had just choked me again. Again. I should be outraged, and yet… My breath caught in my throat when I realized that moisture of arousal blended with the remnants of the chlorinated water on my silky folds, throbbing in need. His show of power caused my body to betray me. My body was a deceitful bitch, but a bitch who knew what she wanted.

  And she wanted.

  Believe me, she wanted.

  A tiny pulse thumped within my pussy, demanding more of what Kenneth had just given a glimpse of. He’d cracked the spine of a book that had yet to be opened, and chapter one had left me so hungry so see what would come. I was hooked. Hooked.

  I had heard many stories from the other women at work about the passions a wealthy and powerful man could create in a woman, emotions that would cause her to want to offer her full submission if it meant she could be seized in his arms. Captured in his world… a world every woman at Spiked Roses so desperately wanted to be a part of. Many women at Spiked Roses I knew welcomed the role of dominance and submission willingly, some even craved it. Most spoke of how natural the dynamic was since these men exuded dominance from their pores. You only had to look at them and feel their control over you. You wanted their control. You prayed that you would be the lucky one chosen. The same women found me odd in that I didn’t necessarily agree. It wasn’t that I was some hard-core feminist or believed that women should never give a man power. It was simply the fact that I didn’t see it happening. I was prepared to fake it, however, for the sake of making good money. But I was not going to be like them. I didn’t have one submissive bone in my body. I was a damn good liar though. I could fake the arousal from blatant displays of dominance… until Kenneth that is.