When Art Falls

by Lorrain Allen

  “What the fuck does that have to do with you and Adrian?”

  “Everything.”

  She sits beside me. “What happened?”

  “Art owns the nonprofit organization where Adrian volunteers.”

  “Did he threaten you? Is that why you ended it?”

  “No.”

  “You blindsided him without explanation! He’s a good man, Cin!”

  “Art offered me half a million dollars to sleep with him for six months.”

  “The fuck?” she whispers.

  “Do you know what that money could mean for my mom, Sebastian, and me? They’re worth more to me than Adrian. We only just started dating and it may not lead anywhere.”

  “Oh my God. That’s a lot of fucking money.”

  “Exactly. He’s going to pay for my mom’s medical expenses too. I’d be a fool to pass up an opportunity like this.”

  “But are you willing to sell your soul for it? You’re a fish swimming around in the river, having the time of your life, and he’s the fisherman who dangles a big fat juicy worm right before your eyes. The prize is too irresistible to pass up, so you latch on, not realizing you’ll be gutted and eaten. Do you have any clue what he’s capable of?”

  “No, I don’t, but my decision is final.”

  “You need to think about your safety.”

  “He’s just hurt. That’s all. I’ve helped him overcome his pain before.”

  “Oh my God, stop being so fucking stupid. The big difference is he believes you caused his hurt this time around. He’ll destroy you.”

  “It’s a chance I’m willing to take.”

  “Can I come in?” Mom calls.

  “Keep your lips zipped about this in front of my mom. I haven’t told her yet.”

  “I should, so she can talk some sense into you.”

  “Anneli,” I say in exasperation.

  “Okay, fine.”

  “Come in, Mom.”

  She enters the bedroom carrying three boxes with a huge smile on her face. “These were just delivered for you.”

  “I didn’t order anything,” I say, confused.

  “There’s an envelope with your name on it. I’m sure it’s from Adrian,” Mom says, delighted.

  I take the boxes and place them on the bed beside me before opening the envelope.

  The packages contain your required attire for tonight. Wear your hair down. Refusal to follow the instructions provided will result in severe punishments.

  Sincerely,

  Your Owner, a.k.a. Pussy Connoisseur

  P.S. Don’t fuck with me.

  “What does it say?” Mom asks.

  “Nothing important.” I stuff the card back in the envelope before sliding it into my pocket.

  “Oh, it must be private.” Mom winks.

  I open the first package and find a pair of black I’m-going-to-break-my-fucking-neck stilettos.

  “Oh, those are nice.” Mom picks one up for further inspection.

  Anneli whistles. “Those are red bottoms.”

  “What?”

  She rolls her eyes. “How can you be so fashion deficient? They’re designed by Christian Louboutin and are very expensive.”

  “Well, I’m going to kill myself in them.”

  “Don’t be so melodramatic. Just walk very, very slowly.”

  “Gee, thanks for the advice,” I say sarcastically.

  “You are most welcome, dumpling,” Anneli replies sweetly.

  Package number two has a barely there, skimpy-as-fuck red lace bra and G-string set. The tiny triangle bottoms will give me little coverage.

  “Oh my goodness.” Mom fans herself.

  “Damn, it looks like you’re going to have a lot of fun tonight. I can’t wait to see what’s behind door number three.”

  I hesitate to open the last package. Art will probably have me looking like a cheap hooker. I’m pleasantly surprised to discover a simple yet elegant, thigh-length black satin dress with skinny straps.

  “It’s beautiful,” I say.

  “What time is your date?” Mom asks.

  “I’m supposed to be there at eight.”

  “But it’s almost seven o’clock. Shouldn’t you shower and get dressed?” Anneli asks.

  “Oh shit.” I flee to the bathroom.

  This is so not good.

  The driver stops in front of the luxury building twenty minutes past the time I was directed to arrive. I nearly fall out of the car in my hurry to get inside. At my approach the doorman greets me with a friendly smile and opens the door.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Enjoy your night.”

  “You do the same.”

  Surprisingly, Art hasn’t called or texted, but I’m not relieved. His silence speaks volumes. There’s no telling what kind of evil thoughts are running through his mind this very second. With the killer stilettos in my hands, I make a mad dash pass the concierge desk towards the elevators, barefoot.

  “Excuse me,” a woman sitting behind the desk calls.

  “Yes?”

  “You have to show ID and sign in.”

  “I’m really in a rush. Can you make an exception?”

  “I’m sorry, unfortunately that won’t be possible. It’s policy for nonresidents to show identification and sign in.”

  I grudgingly walk over and hand her my driver’s license before writing my information in the visitor’s log.

  “Ms. Belo, an access badge for the penthouse elevator has been left for you. It’s the last one on the right.”

  I nod, taking the offered badge. Clutching the death traps and handbag to my chest like a protective shield, I step onto the elevator that’ll deliver me to the gates of hell. Goose bumps break out over my flesh when the doors open. Art is nowhere in sight, but I know he’s out there, waiting. What will he do to me? The not knowing causes tremors to wrack my body.

  “What are you waiting for? Come out and play, little birdie.” His voice echoes, so it’s hard to discern which direction it’s coming from.

  “I lost track of time.”

  “Excuses, excuses.”

  Slowly, I emerge into the dimly lit foyer, glancing around for any sign of danger. Suddenly, my body is flung to the floor. My teeth sink into my tongue on impact, filling my mouth with blood. The stilettos and handbag scatter across the glossy marble.

  I attempt to get up, but Art places his foot in the middle of my back, forcing me down.

  “Why aren’t the shoes on your fucking feet?”

  “They’re difficult to walk in.”

  “I don’t give a fuck! I instructed you to wear them!” He removes his foot. “Crawl.”

  Art kicks me in the ass as I move along, causing me to crash to the floor again.

  “Bastard,” I mumble.

  “What the fuck did you call me?” he shouts.

  “Bastard!”

  He latches onto my hair and drags me into the living room.

  “Let me go!” I yell, biting his ankle.

  “Fuck!”

  He hauls me up and seizes my throat in a brutal hold as I beat on his chest.

  “A fighter until the very end, I see.”

  “Damn right,” I choke out.

  He slams me against the wall, rattling my brain.

  “Give up,” he says, squeezing harder.

  My arms become weaker, eventually falling to my sides due to lack of oxygen. Blackness dances at the edge of my vision.

  “That’s right, little birdie. Give up. You’ll never be able to beat me, but it’s entertaining when you try.”

  Air fills my starving lungs when he releases my throat.

  “I want you naked, now.”

  Art pulls his belt off when I don’t obey. “Try me.”

  I’m not ready to find out if he would really spank me, so instead of defying him like my instincts demand, I take the dress off. I tremble under his intense gaze. Art’s erection is visible through his pants. Next, I unhook my bra and b
ring the straps down my arms to fall the floor. He reaches out and slides his hand over my skin in feather-light touches before dropping to his knees.

  “I’ll take these off.” He rips the G-string from my body.

  “Damn, these are soaked. Does fighting me make you horny?”

  It does, but I refuse to admit the truth to him. “No.”

  He smacks me hard on the ass. “Don’t lie.”

  Standing, he brings the fabric to his nose and inhales deeply.

  “I’ve missed this smell,” he groans. “Did you shave for me?” He glides his fingers through my bare pussy.

  “No, I did it for Adrian.” I smirk.

  Another lie, but I needed at least one small victory in the game of cat and mouse we’re playing. Art’s body begins to shake ever so slightly, and his facial features transform into granite. Fury lurks in the depths of his bright green eyes. He caresses the side of my face with the back of his hand.

  “People disappear every day without a trace, never to be found again, little birdie.”

  Shivers run down my spine at the ominous threat.

  “Accidents happen every day too. It would be a shame if something happened to this pretty face. Who would want you then?”

  “You don’t scare me,” I say with false bravado.

  “If that were the truth, you wouldn’t be shaking.” He smirks.

  The dangerous aura that surrounded Art in high school has increased tenfold. He is not a man anyone would be stupid enough to cross.

  “Put your shoes on. I’ll be back.”

  I eye the monstrosities with contempt as I walk to where they lie on the floor. I pick them up, seriously contemplating throwing them out the fucking window until I remember the belt. It couldn’t hurt that badly. In the end, I choose to slip them on my feet. Despite my best efforts to stay completely still, my legs wobble. He returns with a lit cigar in one hand and a glass filled with amber-colored liquor in the other. Art’s gaze roams my body as he takes a long puff of his cigar, then slowly releases the smoke from his nostrils and mouth.

  He sits on the sofa. “Come over here.”

  It takes considerable strength and balance not to fall on my ass as I gradually stumble over. I stop directly in front of him.

  “On occasion, you will be required to wear heels when you’re with me, so it’s time for you to practice. Walk back and forth in a straight line.”

  “And if I break my ankle?”

  “Practice will still continue until I say otherwise, so you better hope you don’t. You may begin.” He sips the dark liquid.

  Fuck, I should’ve thrown these motherfuckers out the damn window. I turn, stumbling across the length of the living room. Shit, this is the most strenuous exercise I’ve ever done. My left ankle gives out, and I fall hard to the floor.

  “The way your ass jiggled at impact was fucking amazing, baby.”

  “Fuck you,” I say, pushing to my feet.

  My eyes connect with Art’s as I double back. He places the glass on the floor before pulling his dick from his pants and leisurely moving his hand up and down his thick length. My mouth waters at the raw erotic sight. I remember the feel of his manhood deliciously filling and stretching me. I switch directions again, only taking a few steps before being grabbed from behind, one hand clutching my breast while the other grasps my cunt. I moan, biting my bottom lip.

  “Do you know what goes perfect with a cigar and whiskey?” He kisses my ear.

  I shake my head.

  “Pussy.”

  He throws me roughly to the floor. “Lie on your back and spread your legs.”

  I roll over, opening myself up for him. My pussy clenches in anticipation as he undresses, then descends to his knees and buries his face between my thighs. He devours my pussy. There’s no other word to describe it. My hips gyrate against his mouth as he sucks and flicks his tongue across my clit. I lose myself in the tornado building inside me until finally I reach climax, screaming out in pleasure. Art crawls up my body, capturing my lips in a kiss. No, not a kiss—a branding. Our tongues battle for supremacy as we cling to each other. He lifts my legs over his shoulders before driving his length inside me, stretching my pussy to capacity.

  “Oh my God,” I whisper as he groans.

  He starts fucking me uncontrollably, not giving my body time to adjust to his intrusion.

  It’s heaven and hell.

  “So warm and wet,” he growls.

  Art relentlessly pummels through my tight hole, stroking deeper with each thrust forward. Our moans along with the sound of flesh hitting flesh creates sensual music. I’m losing my mind to this passion and I don’t give a damn. He fucks me with a ferocity that should scare me shitless, but it doesn’t. Instead, I dig my nails into his ass, encouraging him.

  “You can’t come in me. I’m not on birth control.”

  “Fuck that, I’m not pulling out.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I haven’t fucked you in eight years. There’s no way in hell I’m pulling out.”

  As he pumps his hips faster, another orgasm tears through me, causing my pussy to spasm. It’s a wonderful torment.

  “Cin,” Art shouts, reaching his climax. “Fuck you for making me feel this way.”

  “You could’ve just left me alone.”

  “If only I had the fucking willpower, but you have this hold over me. Maybe if you told the truth, I could move on.”

  “You don’t believe the truth.”

  He stands, violently yanking me up with him. He tugs me across the living room towards the spiral staircase. “I’m not done with you.”

  I trip several times as he drags me up the stairs. “Slow down!”

  He pulls me into a scarcely furnished but huge bedroom with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach. He leads me to a wooden plank mounted to the wall with straps attached.

  “What are you doing?” I struggle vehemently to get away.

  “Don’t be afraid, little birdie.”

  The big strong bastard has both my wrists secured to the straps in less than two minutes.

  He’s going to torture me now.

  I’m facing the wall, so I have no idea what’s coming next.

  Art gets on his knees and slips the stilettos from my feet. Without the added height, only the tips of my toes touch the floor. He stuns me by spreading my butt cheeks and licking the puckered hole found there.

  “I remember when my fingers explored back here in high school.” He places a kiss on the virgin area. “Have you ever had anal sex?”

  “No and I don’t want to.”

  “That’s too bad.” He stands.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’re about to find out.” He walks away.

  “Where are you going?”

  Art returns, startling me when he rubs a cool gel between my ass cheeks.

  “What is that?”

  “Lubricant.”

  “Please don’t!” I shout.

  “Don’t tense up. It’ll be easier for you.”

  “No!”

  He positions his dick at my entrance and begins to penetrate me slowly.

  “I’m begging you not to do this!”

  “Calm down and take deep breaths.” He slides in farther, stretching me painfully.

  “Please,” I cry.

  “Shhh, it’s okay.” His hand skims down my quivering belly and stops to knead and pinch my clit.

  Art presses my face against the wall, kissing down the side of my neck as he fully impales me. My mouth opens in a silent scream. The pleasure and pain is exquisite. He groans, pausing for a moment before fucking my ass in deep long strokes. I close my eyes, losing myself in the whirlwind gaining momentum inside my body.

  “See? It’s not so bad,” he murmurs.

  I angle my head to capture Art’s lips in a passionate kiss, causing his control to snap. He starts fucking me like a man possessed—wild and ferocious. My toes leave the floor with each savage thru
st. Our moans of ecstasy and heavy breathing echo throughout the bedroom. The scent of sex permeates the air around us. My orgasm takes over my body with such intensity, I become incoherent. This feeling is beyond words. Art gives one final thrust, filling me with his cum. I slump against him when he frees me from the leather straps. He picks me up and carries me to the en suite bathroom. Art places me on unsteady legs before switching on the light. Damn, it’s half the size of my apartment. Art grasps my hand and leads me to the shower stall, which takes up an entire wall. He slides the glass door open and turns the valve, then waits, allowing the water to heat. A large square stainless-steel structure is attached to the ceiling in the center of the stall, hanging from short beams.

  “What is that called?”

  “It’s a rainfall shower head.”

  “I’ve never heard of it before.”

  “Then get prepared for a mind-blowing experience.”

  He pulls me inside with him, and hot water cascades over me, soothing my sore limbs. “This feels so amazing.”

  “It’ll be the best shower you’ve ever had.” He moves behind me, gliding a bar of soap over my breasts, then down my stomach.

  “I think I can manage washing myself. Thank you very much.”

  “But I’ll do it so much better,” he murmurs, pinching my left nipple.

  I drop my head back against his chest, groaning in rapture as he briskly circles the soap around my clit.

  “Art!” I shout, digging sharp nails into his forearm as my climax tears through me, leaving me weak.

  I slump against him, depleted and thoroughly sated.

  “I told you I’d do it better.”

  Twenty minutes later, we lie together on the king-sized bed while my head rests on his chest.

  “When did you open your nonprofit?”

  “A year ago.”

  “That’s an awesome way to honor Cole’s memory.”

  “My long-term goal is to open multiple locations. Every child should be taught how to swim. Mason has been in the water since he was old enough to crawl. He’s still not advanced, but he’s getting there.”

  “Is he your son?”

  “No, my brother. I’m his legal guardian.”

  “Where’s your mom?”

  “I don’t know, nor do I give a fuck. Mason is better off without her. She became a millionaire after my father died and split.”