by J. L. Beck
The chair scrapes across the tile as he shoves it backward and stands. It takes everything in me not to cower. My knees wobble, knocking together. He’s such a large man that it would take little effort for him to hurt me, and even if he hasn’t done so yet, I need to remember that he has the power to.
He takes one mammoth step toward me, and his massive hand reaches out and wraps around my wrist. The contact of his skin on mine sends a zing of heat across my flesh. His touch is branding, like flames of fire licking at my flesh.
“You don’t have to hold onto me. I already told you I will not run,” I spit when he stalking back toward the bedroom, dragging me behind him.
“I don’t care what you told me. I don’t trust you,” he snaps back almost angrily.
Uneasiness churns in my gut and becomes full-fledged apprehension when we reach the bedroom. Releasing my wrist, he turns on me and narrows his gaze. I can almost see his thoughts processing right before my eyes.
What’s he going to do to me?
“I want you to strip out of your clothes and turn around to face the door.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from asking a question that will most likely get me backhanded into next week. With shaking fingers, I slip my fingers into the waistband of my sleep shorts and shove them down my legs slowly. I’ve gotten used to being naked. At first, when I was taken off the street, it took me a while to grow accustomed to it. I used my hands to cover my most intimate parts, but that didn’t last long. The men would threaten to beat me if I tried to cover myself, so I got used to being naked quickly.
But being used to it and liking it are two different things, and all over again, I find myself feeling exposed. I move slowly to remove my shirt. Having sex with a man I don’t know, who will most likely kill me or throw me away like I’m trash when this is all over, isn’t what I wanted to be doing, but I have no choice.
I’m not sure why I do it, maybe to torture myself a little more. I don’t know, or maybe to see if he’s really as cruel as I think he is, but I glance up at Markus as I grab the hem of my shirt. Our gazes lock just as they did when I was on that stage, and I see something in them, something that is hidden, locked away in the dark amber waters.
It’s a carnal need, a want, and fascination.
He doesn’t want to hurt me; he wants to possess me, to own me, and that’s just as scary of a thought. His nostrils flare, and his eyes dilate while impatience fills the rest of his rugged features. I drag my gaze back down his body, trying not to check him out in the process—chiseled muscles and an eight pack. He’s obviously committed to a rigorous workout schedule. I can’t deny that he is attractive, but he’s dangerous too.
“Are you going to remove the shirt, or would you like me to rip it from your body? When I tell you to do something, I want it done immediately.” The deep growl he admits makes me shiver. My nipples harden at the sound, becoming tight little peaks.
I hate that even as I tremble with fear swirling in my belly, my body is still attracted to him. Clearly, the body doesn’t understand the fear that the mind does.
I tug the material off and over my head without a word and toss it to the floor. Letting my arms hang down at my sides, I do the one thing I shouldn’t. I turn my back on the enemy and face the door. I can only pray he doesn’t beat me or hurt me in any way.
A breath passes, and then another. I wonder what he’s going to do next. What will happen? The anticipation is killing me.
Finally, Markus moves. I can hear his feet shuffling over the floor, and then he’s directly behind me, the heat of his body laps against mine like waves against the shore.
Grabbing both my wrists, he pulls them together, twisting my arms at an angle as he ties them behind my back with the rope all over again. It feels like a knife is being plunged into my stomach, and I cannot stop myself from asking the most important question of all,
“What are you going to do to me?”
With the rope digging into my skin, and my hands bound behind my back, he grabs me by the shoulder and leads me over to the bed.
“I bought you for a purpose, so don’t you think I should use you?”
Use me. That’s what he’s going to do. Use my body.
“Yes, I suppose.” I gulp, trying not to sound as worried as I feel.
A man like him will take my fears and twist them, turning them into the truest of nightmares. Spinning me around, so I’m facing him again, he lifts me by the hips and places me on the edge of the bed. My throat tightens when his hands remain at my hips and trail down my sides slowly.
His hot breath caresses my cheek, and the smell of soap and cinnamon clings to my nostrils. Clean, intoxicating. I stare at a spot on the floor, waiting for the inevitable to happen, for him to take me and use me as he sees fit. I brace myself for the pain that I know will come.
“Are you scared of me?” His voice is gentle, like a soft breeze.
I look up and directly into his eyes. “Should I be?”
There is a pregnant pause as if he is unsure as well. His gaze catches on something behind me before returning. “Yes, you probably should, and you should definitely fear the things I want to do to you. The things I will do to you.”
“Will you hurt me?”
“That depends on you. Are you really a virgin?” He grabs me by the chin, forcing me to look at him.
The lie sits heavy on the tip of my tongue. I could lie and tell him yes since it’s been a while, and I’ve only been with two guys. I’m sure I could pull it off. Maybe then he would be gentle with me? Take his time?
Somehow, I doubt it, but there is a sliver of hope.
I’m afraid to speak the truth but know the truth will get me closer to him. A man like him will see through my lie, so even as afraid as I am of him knowing I’m not, I’m more afraid of what lying will bring me.
“No,” I tell him, feeling defeated.
He gives me a smirk that looks more devious than happy. “Good. Because there’s no way I can be gentle with you. I want your mouth around my cock. Have you ever sucked a cock before?”
All I can do is nod my head as I’m left completely speechless when he reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants and shoves them down his legs.
My gaze widens and travels down his torso and over two thighs of steel, stopping on his hardening cock. It’s impressive in size and girth, and I worry if I’m going to be able to fit it in my mouth.
Before I can get lost in that sea of worry, I feel his hand trailing down over my thigh.
My legs seem to spread all on their own, giving him access while my core tightens with anticipation of the unknown.
I’m at his complete mercy, and though I’m afraid, I’m curious enough to want more. My attraction to him is instant, and even if I were to fight and beg him not to touch me, he still would. He bought me, and I wasn’t at all naive about what would happen if I was bought. I knew my body would be used.
Warmth fills my belly, and in an instant, he’s cupping my sex. I wince, biting my lip to stop myself from reacting as two thick fingers enter me at once. My channel stretches to accommodate his digits. A light sting and fullness follow but soon disappear when he pumps in and out of me slowly.
With one hand between my legs, he takes his other hand and fists my hair, tipping my head backward.
Leaning into my face, he growls, “I’d apologize for what I’m about to do, but we both know I’m not sorry. I paid a million dollars for you, and I’m going to make it worth every fucking penny.”
Fear licks my insides at the coldness of his voice and the iciness in his eyes as he removes his fingers, leaving me needy and hot, as he guides me to my knees in front of him. I feel ashamed at the way he makes me feel, and my cheeks burn with heat.
He pulls my face to his groin, and I open as wide as I can. He gives me no warning as he slides inside, barely fitting, forcing me to open wider. My jaw aches at the intrusion, and when the head of his cock nears the back of my throat, I gag.
Tears well in the corner of my eyes and break free, trailing down my cheeks in tiny rivulets. We’ve only just begun, and I already feel completely used.
“Fuck. Don’t you dare stop.” He bares his perfectly straight white teeth, looking more animal than human.
All I can do is remain where I am, bound, and at his mercy. With his hand in my hair, he fucks my face, roughly pressing his cock to the back of my throat over and over again. I plead with my eyes, wondering if he would stop if I asked him to, while knowing he’s going to take from me until there is nothing more to take.
“Yes, just like that. Suck harder,” he snarls and tightens his grip. It’s unbreakable but doesn’t hurt, which surprises me. I want to shut off the feelings rushing through me, but it feels like he’s reaching inside of me and grabbing onto them, pulling them out of me with his fingers.
Using my tongue, I run it on the underside of his cock, causing him to groan with pleasure. My heart skips a beat, and I’m not sure what it says about me, but I want to hear him make that sound again. I want to please him. I want him to keep me, want me.
Focusing all my attention on him, I hollow my cheeks out and suck harder, continuing to move my tongue at the same tempo as before. His hips move faster, and from the way his body tightens like a bow, I know he’s getting close to his release.
“I bet your fucking wet, wishing my cock was inside you, filling your tight cunt.”
“Mmm,” I mumble around his length.
Staring down at me, his gaze darkens, the cool amber in his eyes becoming almost black. His top lip curls as if he’s going to release a roar, and a second later, he stops mid-thrust, holding his cock at the back of my throat. It’s like someone has overtaken my body because I shouldn’t enjoy this, not one bit. I should be pushing him away, crying, and pleading, but I’m not. There is something wrong with me for enjoying this.
Tears slide down my cheeks, and saliva dribbles out the corner of my mouth and down my chin. I must look like a mess, but somehow, Markus looks at me like I’m the hottest thing he’s ever seen.
“Swallow,” he demands, and a moment later, I feel his hot release fill my mouth.
The salty tang of it burns against my tongue, and swallowing it is the last thing I want to do, but I wouldn’t dare disobey him.
Pushing my pride aside, I do just that. I swallow around the tip of his mushroom-shaped head and look up at him as I do. He looks thoroughly satisfied.
After he empties every drop of his release into my throat, he drags his cock slowly out of my mouth, rubbing the tip over my lips before pulling away.
I suck in a shaky breath, feeling lightheaded.
As if I’m a child, he grabs me under my arms and picks me up, laying me on my stomach on the edge of the bed. Squeezing my eyes closed, I’m not sure what is going to happen next. I’m ashamed that I wanted to please him, and even more ashamed that a part of me liked it.
With my ass now exposed to him, I’m pretty sure he is going to fuck me, but instead, I feel his fingers slip between my legs and over my wet folds.
“Fuck, I knew you’d be wet. You like being my fuck toy, don’t you?”
I shake my head, burying my face into the mattress, wanting to deny him as long as I can. He merely chuckles at my reaction and slips two fingers inside my tight channel again.
Warmth fills low in my belly at the intrusion. Before, I winced when he entered me, but this time, I’m soaked, my core tightening, basically begging to be fucked.
Like a musician playing his favorite song, his fingers work dutifully, moving in and out of me at a relentless pace. They’re slippery as they enter me, and the glide of his thumb over my clit draws me closer to the inevitable.
In that singular moment, I forget about everything.
My body becomes soft, melting on his hand as if I’m butter. I can hear how wet I am, and I both love and hate it. I don’t even know this man. He could be a serial killer for all I know, but caution gets thrown to the wind because all I care about is reaching the finish line.
“Come for me. I know you want to. I can feel it, feel your tiny pussy trying to push me out.” The deep, robust baritone in his voice makes my toes curl, and my entire body tightens. Like a firework, my fuse is lit, and I’m headed toward the sky.
Exploding around his finger, I clench down, letting the warmth and pleasure consume me. I allow myself to let go. However, as fast as the pleasure came, it also leaves, taking with it the fog that clouded my mind.
Markus must feel the change in me because he gently removes his fingers. My folds are slick with my release, and I hate the feeling. Hate knowing he was the one who did this. Part of me wants to cry, and the other part of me wants to lash out.
Why would he touch me like that? Why not just use me? It would be so much easier for me to hate him if he didn’t touch me, if he didn’t give back to me.
There is a tug against the rope binding my wrists, and then I’m free. My arms fall uselessly beside me on the bed, and I let out a heavy breath.
My heart aches in my chest, and my cheeks burn.
“Go clean yourself up,” he says, dismissing me.
It takes me a moment to gather my wits and get my arms to work, but when I do, I scurry to the bathroom like the floor is on fire while holding back tears I know will surely come.
6
Markus
Guilt. An emotion I don’t often experience. I’ve done things in my life, bad things. I’ve killed people, hurt, and tortured them. I’ve stolen, lied, and cheated. I’ve ruined people’s lives, and I’ve rarely felt guilt over any of that, but here I stand, feeling guilty over using the woman I spent one million dollars on.
As if she didn’t know what was coming. As if I didn’t realize I’d react the way I did.
It’s been so long since I’ve been with a woman, so long since I touched one or allowed one to touch me. As soon as I felt her fiery mouth around my cock, and the wetness between her thighs, I lost it. The carnal want and need overtook me.
The pleasure was all-consuming, and being the gentleman I am, I thought returning the favor was the right thing to do. Now, I think that was a mistake. She can’t think I care about her or her feelings. Because I don’t, I can’t, I won’t.
I need to keep the line drawn. To make sure she knows her place and purpose with me. I’ve never gone soft on anyone or anything in my life, and she will not be an exception.
Pulling some random clothes out of the closet, I hold them and wait for her to finish in the bathroom. As soon as she steps back out, I shove the pile of fabric into her hands.
“I have some shit to do. Come with me,” I tell her, but before she can move on her own, I grab her upper arm and pull her along with me. My patience is running thin, and I don’t have it in me to wait around.
Ignoring the heat and softness of her skin, I drag her through the house, down the stairs, and into the basement. Her entire body is shaking when we get downstairs. That shaking only intensifies when we reach the cell.
It’s stupid, but glancing over at her, I notice how pale she is. All the blood has drained from her face as she surveys the small concrete, windowless room. Looking so scared and pitiful, I almost spin around and walk her back upstairs. Almost.
Then I remember how important it is to prove my point, to show her she is nothing but my property. Nothing but my possession, something I will do as I please with.
“It’s soundproof, so no one will hear your screams,” I say like she needs anything else to scare her.
Patience isn’t my strong suit, so when she doesn’t enter the cell straight away, I push her through the doorway and watch as she stumbles forward, barely catching herself. Turning around quickly like I might attack her, our gazes collide. She’s pleading with me without words. Begging me not to leave her here.
As if it were going to be that easy.
Ignoring her p
uppy dog eyes, I slam the door in her face. I lock her in and force myself to climb up the stairs, putting as much distance between us as I can get. Damn her! Her tempting body and soft eyes. She’s a reminder of everything I will never have.
Feeling like I’m about to come apart at the seams, I know I need to find something to do. This aggression needs to come out somehow, and I don’t trust myself to let it out on her yet, not without doing some serious damage. I don’t want to hurt her, not really, but I’m not myself right now. What are you doing, Markus?
When I told Julian I was going to take some vacation time, I wasn’t even sure what that entailed. All I knew was that I wanted the girl on that stage, and I wanted to go somewhere away from people with her.
However, now that I’m here, I’m questioning everything. I wonder if I can even handle this. It’s been years since I was with a woman and even longer since I slept beside one. I’m not good at being kind, and I’ve never had to care for anyone but myself.
Walking into the kitchen, I stop in front of the sink and stare out the window that overlooks the backyard. There are a bunch of logs that lay unsplit on the ground just a few yards away from the house.
A little fresh air would do me good and help clear my head. Physical exertion usually helps relieve the aggression, but there is nothing and no one but Fallon out here. I suppose I could find an ax and finish cutting up the logs scattered outside.
You didn’t come all the way here to be an outdoorsman.
Nevertheless, I walk over to the door and slip my feet into my boots.
I find the ax easily, hanging up on the side of the house above a stack of already cut firewood. I grab it and start working. One log after the next, I chop through the wood like it’s nothing but butter.
I work through the whole pile, the muscles in my arms starting to burn, my heart rate picking up, I channel all of my anger into each strike, and I finally feel like I’m getting a bit tired.
