For Him: The Complete Series: A Dark Romance

by Marissa Farrar

  Alarm ran jagged through my veins. “Angel. What are you doing?”

  I still wore the panties, but he yanked them down, rolling the slip of material down my thighs. I wriggled again, but he held me down, his forearm across my back. Who was this man? Where had my Angel gone?

  A whip of air behind me, and his palm landed on my bare bottom with a crack. There was a white hot sting of pain and then a flare of heat from where his hand had landed.

  “One,” he growled.

  I sucked in a breath of shock, tears pricking my eyes. I hadn’t expected him to do that. But he didn’t even give me a moment to recover. He pulled back his hand and spanked me again.

  “Two.”

  I bucked in his lap at the contact, and I was sure his erection grew even harder, digging into the soft flesh of my lower belly. Did he enjoy this? Did men enjoy this? Did women?

  He spanked me again, my skin flaring hot.

  “Three.”

  I remembered things I’d seen and heard from the rooms of the other women, often sounds of smacks and slaps. Sometimes the women would emerge with bloodied noses or blackened eyes, but other times they were smiling, with no visible signs of injury.

  “You need to learn to behave,” he growled from above me. “Do you want to get hurt for real?”

  I was ready for the next spank, bracing myself. His hand made contact, and instead of only the pain, pleasure condensed low in my core, not far from where his erection prodded me.

  “Four.”

  I gasped at the pain, but on the exhale a low groan emanated from my throat. I squirmed against him, trying to scratch the itch that had suddenly made itself known.

  I didn’t understand. How could something that hurt also feel good? He said he was punishing me, but then why did he seem to enjoy doing it?

  The spanking continued, and I counted the rest—five, six, seven.

  He stopped there. Why seven?

  I was breathing heavily, and so was he, both of us panting as though we’d run a race. Or had sex. Though we’d done neither of those things. My bottom burned from where he’d spanked me, and I was wet, certain I’d left a mark on his suit pants. What would he say if he saw it? Was it something he’d punish me for again? Had I enjoyed that? Did I want more?

  So many thoughts ran through my head. I trembled with anticipation, unsure what I was supposed to do now, terrified to move in case it was the wrong thing. Only moments before, I’d felt comfortable in Angel’s presence, confident in what I was doing because this was Angel.

  Even though I’d wanted him to see me as a woman, I’d always felt safe with him because I also knew he saw me as that same child. By doing what I had and showing him that I was no longer that child, he’d done the same to me and showed me that he also wasn’t the boy I’d grown up with.

  He had another side to him—dark and hard—and he wasn’t to be messed with.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Present Day

  CATALINA LAY ACROSS my lap, her panties rolled to the tops of those smooth thighs. I admired the red glow of my handprint on that pert ass, and my palm stung from the spanking I’d just delivered. Her entire body trembled as she continued to lie across my lap, her upper torso resting on the bed. Long, dark hair splayed across the mattress as she kept her face down, not looking at me. My cock was so hard, I worried the slightest of movements would make me come. The idea humiliated me. I wasn’t some teenage boy who couldn’t control himself, and though Catalina hadn’t touched me, my balls were practically blue for her.

  Shit. This was even harder than I’d thought it would be.

  She was so beautiful. Where many of the women I’d had sex with had some part of their skin tattooed, hers was utterly flawless. My palms itched to stroke her hair, to run down its length and smooth my hands down the creamy skin of her back to her beautifully pinked-up ass. But I held myself back, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stop there. More than anything, I wanted more of her. I’d run my finger down between the valley of her buttocks and over her asshole, and then between her folds. I wanted to duck my head and bury my face in her pussy, to lick her until she was writhing and moaning and coming all over my tongue.

  But this wasn’t about her pleasure.

  I needed to remember that. If I made her come, she’d only grow more attached to me, and that would be bad for the both of us. Sex was like a drug, and it could make you feel things you had no place in feeling. She had no experience, and giving her orgasms would make her think she felt something for me, when actually the only thing she felt was the high from all the endorphins racing through her system. She’d want to come back for more, and we both knew she couldn’t. She belonged to Torres, and her believing she needed me would only make the separation harder.

  Roughly, I pushed her off my lap. “That’s enough for now.”

  She tumbled off the bed and onto her knees. The position was dangerous. Her hair fell over her shoulders, only partially obscuring the swell of her tits and those dusky pink nipples. She lifted her gaze to mine, and tears shimmered in their depths. The sight sparked anger in me. It was another one of the rules she was about to break.

  “No crying, Catalina. Remember that. The things I do to you will only be a taste of what Torres will do. You have to stay strong. If you fall apart around me, you won’t last a day with him.”

  She gazed down at her hands cupped in her lap. “What did I do wrong?”

  “You tried to control how this was going. You’re not the one in charge here, I am. Do you understand?”

  She blinked back the tears and sat straighter, and my heart swelled with pride for her. “Yes, Angel.”

  “And it’s sir while you’re in this room with me.”

  Her voice was barely a whisper. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Then get up and get dressed. We’ll reconvene when it suits me.”

  With her head hung, she clambered to her feet. I felt horrible doing this to her, but it was for her own good. Realizing I wasn’t helping things by watching her dress, I stood and went to the door. My erection still hadn’t abated any. I could have gotten her to take care of it, but that felt like too much too soon. Things had already escalated quickly between us, and we had a few days in which to do this.

  I left the room without so much as a backward glance.

  I didn’t know how I felt about what had happened. My emotions were two snakes of opposing species, coiling around one another. There was no way the girl in that room was ready to be handed over to someone like Torres. He would eat her alive.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets to disguise my erection from anyone I might pass, I walked at a quick pace back to the house. I knew I needed to do something about it. There was no way I’d be able to think about anything other than Catalina while I was still sporting this hard-on. Even without the hard-on, I thought she would probably remain at the forefront of my mind.

  How could that gawky little girl have turned into such a sexy young woman? I knew we’d both grown up over the years, but I was still struggling to get my head around it.

  I went straight to my room and shut the door behind me. I flung myself down on my back on the bed, one arm slung over my forehead. Not allowing myself to think any more, I reached to the front of my pants with my other hand, flipping open the button and yanking down the zipper. I freed myself, the cool air of the room hitting my erection but doing nothing to abate it. I wrapped my fist around my cock and groaned. I didn’t want to think of Catalina while I was doing this, and yet she was the first person at the front of my mind. Her, on her knees in front of me. That was a very dangerous position for a woman to be in. My thoughts went to how she’d stood in front of me, her gaze fixed on me as she’d undone the top of her dress and then let it fall from her body. She’d known exactly what she was doing.

  I reached the smooth bell-end of my dick and swiped my thumb over the slit, dragging down the pre-cum. It wouldn’t take me long to come. I’d practically jizzed my pants like a teenage boy when
I’d been spanking her. Fuck. Just thinking about that got my heart beating faster, my breath instantly shallow.

  The hard part of what my father had tasked me with wasn’t just teaching Catalina what she was to expect, and what was to be expected of her, but keeping my hands off her as well. It was vital that she remain a virgin for Torres, and I had to control myself. That was the whole reason my father had given her to me in the first place. He knew he could trust me with her—at least he hoped he could, and I hoped I could, too. That was why I’d fixed on the ‘no pleasure for her’ rule. I figured if I wasn’t allowed to touch her in that way, to see her pleasure spiraling, to want to give her more and take her further, then I was less likely to lose control of myself.

  I worked my cock faster, the thwacking sound of my movements filling the air, together with the salty tang of pre-cum. My balls drew tighter, pulling right from my asshole to my cock. I squeezed my eyes shut, Catalina painted on the backs of my eyelids. My abs were taut, my thighs trembling.

  My orgasm hit me in a sudden eruption, cum rushing up my cock and spurting from my slit in a forceful release. I grunted as I came, my hips lifting off the bed.

  “Ah, fuck.”

  My climax jolted through me, my ass clenching. Creamy ribbons of cum rained down upon the sheets. I’d made a mess, but I didn’t care. The release after holding myself back from Catalina was a huge relief, and I slumped back onto the bed. I let go of my softening dick and rolled to the side to grab some tissues from the nightstand.

  Shit. The next few days were going to be torture.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Seven Years Earlier

  THE MASTER WAS ENTERTAINING this evening.

  I always dreaded these nights. Just like the rest of the women, I was pulled off my normal duties to help entertain his guests. Okay, maybe not just like the rest of the women. They were dressed up for the event in beautiful clothing and high-heeled shoes, poised to flirt with the men and sit on their laps, drinking champagne from tall flute glasses and giggling at the men’s jokes. I was a regular Cinderella, dressed in my normal clothes, darting between them all to clear away dishes, refill empty glasses, and clean up spills. Not that I minded. I was happy to stay invisible, as much as I could. Being at these events always left me feeling uncomfortable, though I couldn’t have quite put my finger on the reason why.

  Tonight was different, though. Angel was home from school, and now he was seventeen years old, and almost a man, the master thought it was time for him to join the other men in one of his dinners.

  I knew I was being stupid, and I was a little embarrassed at even wanting to do such a thing, and unsure why, but for once I wanted to look pretty like the women. I didn’t have much choice in my clothes—I lived in jeans and long-sleeved t-shirts in the winter and had a handful of summer dresses for when the weather got warmer, but that was all.

  I crept into the courtyard. The women were all gathered in Yolanda’s room, getting ready for the evening. Their chatter and girlish giggles drifted across the honeysuckle-scented evening air. Something tightened in my chest, and I paused, suddenly feeling as though I wouldn’t be welcome, that I was interrupting something that had nothing to do with me or was outside my range of understanding. But these were the women I saw every day—the same ones who played with my hair and laughed at my jokes and praised the way I made their beds. They were my friends, weren’t they? So why did I suddenly feel embarrassed and anxious about going to them?

  Exhaling a shaky sigh, I turned around to head back to my room. This was stupid. But then the door opened and one of the women stepped out in a cloud of perfume.

  “Catalina! What are you doing lurking out here?”

  My shoulders sank, cowering, wishing I could vanish. “Oh, hi, Marie. I wasn’t doing anything.”

  Marie pulled a long, thin cigarette out of her purse and glanced back toward the room. “Did you want to come in? We’re all getting ready for tonight.”

  “I don’t want to get in the way.”

  “Don’t be silly. Come in. I bet the girls would love to make you look pretty.”

  “Is that Catalina out there?” another female voice called from inside. “Come in, Catalina. Don’t be shy.”

  None of the women had daughters, and probably never would have children of their own. I gave them an excuse to mother someone.

  I wasn’t going to say anything about Angel being home. I was a kid—I knew that, and I knew he saw me as nothing more than some girl he’d grown up with. I didn’t want to give them a reason to tease me, which they would, with great delight, if they understood for one second just how deep my feelings for Angel ran. I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t expect it to amount to anything. Even if it wasn’t for the fact that he was now almost a grown man and I was still a child, we were two different types of people. He was the master’s son, and I was the daughter of a dead slave, with no father to speak of.

  He was gone longer and longer between visits lately, and I was sure the day would soon arrive when he wouldn’t bother to come here at all. Already, my stupid heart bled for that time, but I had to remind myself that I wouldn’t be here forever either. My eighteenth birthday still felt like a lifetime away, but when it did eventually arrive, I would be taken from the place and delivered to a new life.

  The divide between us was a gulf, but that didn’t stop me wanting to look pretty for him.

  I allowed the women to pull me into the room and sit me down in front of one of the mirrors. They crowded around me, fluffing out my hair.

  Marie assessed me, pouting behind me in the mirror. “She doesn’t need much. Her skin is already perfect.”

  “Just a little mascara to bring out the blue in her eyes,” Carla agreed. “Maybe a little highlighter on those cheekbones and a pink eye shadow.”

  “And some lip gloss. You don’t need a full lipstick. We don’t want you looking like one of us, now, do we?” Marie let out a tinkle of laughter, and the others joined in.

  I didn’t understand the laughter. They all looked beautiful to me. Glamorous and elegant. Though I didn’t want to have to do what they did when they were with the men, I still longed to be grown up, for my breasts to have developed and for my skinny hips to at least have some curve from my waist. Right now I was all long, scrawny limbs. I always felt like I had too much arm and leg, and I never quite knew how to position myself.

  I sat rigid in the chair while they brushed different powders and creams onto my face, and someone sprayed me with a cloud of perfume.

  “There, all done,” Marie said, and I admired my reflection. My newly thickened eyelashes, my pink cheeks, my glossy lips. I looked pretty, even if I thought so myself.

  “Now, you’d better get back to the house.” She shooed me away. “I bet you’ve got jobs to do.”

  She was right, I did, and I didn’t want to get in trouble.

  I left the women to their pampering, knowing I’d see them all later after the men arrived. These dinners tended to start with business talk, which meant nothing to me, followed by their three courses, and drinks, and then onward to more drinks and the women.

  I got to work, helping the kitchen staff lay out the table. I felt self-conscious with my newly made-up face, wondering if everyone had noticed and was talking about me, but I didn’t wipe it off.

  The men started to arrive, all well dressed in suits, greeting each other with handshakes and claps on the back. I kept my head down, slipping around them to add a missed fork or napkin to the table. If something was spilled, or a drink knocked over, I was there with a cloth before anyone could even call for assistance. Though I kept my head down, the whole time I watched out for any sign of Angelo. So far, he hadn’t made an appearance, and stupidly, my stomach dipped with disappointment. He wasn’t coming, and I’d gone to all this effort for nothing. It was for nothing anyway. It wasn’t as though he’d notice me. I was a child. An immature, silly child.

  The men took their seats at the table. The chair beside the maste
r was empty.

  I refilled water glasses while the rest of the staff took care of the alcohol.

  Suddenly, Angel slunk into the room, and my heart leaped. Sullenly, he took the seat beside his father. He wasn’t wearing a suit, but the top button of his smart shirt was left open.

  “You’re late,” the master murmured from the side of his mouth.

  “Sorry, Father.” He didn’t offer up an explanation but slid lower in his seat. I definitely felt as though he didn’t want to be here.

  Most of the other men were people who worked for the master, and who were here, watching over the compound, on a regular basis. But there were others who I didn’t recognize.

  The first course was brought in, and the men were left to eat and talk. When they were done, I slipped back into the room with the rest of the staff to remove the empty plates.

  I leaned in and lifted up Angel’s plate. He glanced over at me and caught my eye and gave me a half smile and an eye-roll, a conspiratorial moment to show me he didn’t want to be there. I’d been taught not to make eye contact with the men, but this was Angel, and he didn’t count—at least in my mind. But the moment of intimacy made me blush, and heat burned my cheeks. Could he see that I’d made an effort? Did he think I looked any different? Older, perhaps?

  No, I doubted he thought anything at all.

  I kept working, ignoring the conversation happening around me. None of it involved me.

  I went to where Bruno, the head of the master’s employees, was seated at the far end of the table. I reached out to pick up his empty plate at the exact same time he lifted his drink. Our hands clashed, and I watched in slow motion horror as the wine he’d been about to drink tipped over and splashed straight into his lap.

  Bruno jumped to his feet, his crotch dark with spilled wine. “You stupid little bitch! Look what you’ve done!”

  One of the other men jeered. “You look like you’ve pissed yourself, Bruno!”