by Hannah Ford
“I need to make sure you’re wet and ready, angel,” he murmured, and his breath on my clit made me arch up.
He slid his finger inside of me. “Still so tight. “
I looked at him, down there, between my legs, and watched as his tongue disappeared inside of me, his powerful jaw working.
“Your pussy tastes so sweet. I could eat you all day.” His finger slid inside of me again and curved around, rubbing against my walls. “You’re still so tight. I’m going to have to fuck you anyway.”
He slid his body up so that he was on top of me, and he stared down at me, our eyes locking.
I could feel his cock, hard and big, poised at my opening, and I was thankful I couldn’t see it, knowing it would be so big that I might freak out.
“It’s going to hurt,” he breathed, and I saw how much it was turning him on.
“I want it to,” I said. “I want you buried inside of me, want you to own my pussy, to be the first one in there.”
“Forever,” he whispered, so softly I wasn’t sure he’d even said it. And then his lips were on mine, muffling my cries as the tip of his cock pushed the tiniest bit inside of me.
I immediately clenched up, and he pulled back from the kiss, his hand moving to my breast, rubbing gently over my nipple.
“Just relax,” he said. “Relax and let me in, angel.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He brushed my hair back from my forehead, gazing down at me. “God, Aven. You are so beautiful.”
He pushed into me more, and there was a sharp bite of pain as I felt him pushing through my resistance, through my virginity, and I gasped and tried to relax as I let him in.
“Landon.”
“Fuck, you’re tight.” He groaned and reached down, thumbing my clit, rubbing my wetness over his shaft as he pulled out and then pushed back into me.
The pain was aching and raw, and the tears that had pricked my eyes before came back, hot and insistent.
He kissed me again, muffling my moans and gasps of pain.
He got me used to him with a few more gentle thrusts, breaking me in.
Then he pulled back, gazing at me with such raw emotion, that for one moment, I let myself believe this was real, that it wasn’t just having sex with him because he was hot and because it felt oh-so-amazing, but because there was something real between us, something true.
“Aven,” he whispered.
“Landon.”
He cupped my face and ran his thumb over my cheekbone. The whole time he was rocking his hips gently, pushing into me, his other hand rubbing my clit, getting me so turned on that the pain I felt from him popping my cherry was starting to dissipate.
“I’m getting used to it,” I said softly. “It ‘s starting to feel good.”
He froze.
I watched his face, watched it change.
Watched the look of softness and affection he’d just had morph into one of hardness.
His jaw clenched, his blue eyes turning dark and torrid.
He moved his hand from my cheek to my chin, and his finger slid up over my bottom lip and squeezed.
“I told you I wasn’t going to be gentle,” he said, his voice rough and ragged. “And I meant it.”
My eyes widened.
“I –”
“Your tight little cunt needs to be used, Aven. I might have been soft with you, but I need to fuck you raw now. Do you understand?”
He didn’t give me a chance to answer before he pulled back and plunged into me, hard and fast.
It was so different from how he’d just been fucking me, that familiar pinch of pain coming back as he began to fuck me, really fuck me, his hips bucking as he broke me in.
This was different, the fucking.
It was primal, desperate.
The metal of the handcuffs clanged against the headboard with every thrust.
He was using my body, and I knew that shouldn’t turn me on, but it did, just as much as when he was holding me and whispering into my ear.
He moved inside of me, pushing, stroking, fucking my pussy.
He pulled my leg up so he could get a better angle on me, pushing into me, taking me.
“I’m going to come, sir,” I said.
“Where?”
“On your cock. All over your cock,” I whispered, and saying the words pushed me over the edge, and I felt myself coming, the hardest, most intense orgasm I could have imagined.
The pleasure was instantaneous, like every sexual thought and feeling I’d ever had coming together in one exquisite moment, exploding as I came, climaxing over him.
As my pussy spasmed and clenched, I felt Landon’s cock pulse inside of me as he groaned.
“I’m going to shoot my load right in you, Aven,” he growled. “Shoot a load come inside your pussy for the first time.”
And then he shot off, coming inside of me, and I could feel it coating me, hot and thick.
As soon as it happened, my orgasm, which had started to diminish, started a new wave of pleasure, clenching him, milking the rest of his load.
When he finally settled, he raised himself up on his arms and gazed down at me.
“That was…” He swallowed and that look was back on his face again, the one that was filled with emotion.
He pulled out of me slowly, then wrapped me in his arms.
“I’m on the pill,” I blurted. “I mean, I should have told you that before. Um, but I’m on the pill. Just in case.”
“I know.”
“How…’’ I trailed off, deciding I didn’t want to know.
And when he pulled me close, and his arms were wrapped around me, and I somehow, inexplicably, felt safe and taken care of, I shut off the voice that reminded me I knew nothing about him, that I’d just lost my virginity to a man that could be a stalker or worse.
The sound of the phone ringing broke through my sleep.
I sat up suddenly.
It all came rushing back to me.
I was in Landon’s hotel suite at the Belmont.
I glanced at the bed next to me.
He was gone, the sheets next to me a messy tangle.
I grappled for my phone, making note of the time on the display.
6:30 am.
But weren’t we supposed to be leaving for Vermont at 6?
Emma’s name disappeared from the caller ID. I’d missed the call.
I got out of bed and picked up the robe I’d dropped on the floor the night before, shrugged it on.
The curtains were drawn closed, with just a tiny strip of morning sunlight appearing between the two pieces of heavy black fabric. Besides that and the meager light from my phone screen, the room was dark.
My phone started ringing again immediately.
Emma.
“Hello?” I opened the door to the bedroom as I answered the call, and my phone greeting also served as a greeting into the main room of the suite, calling for Landon.
But I knew even before I said it that there would be no answer from Landon. The air around me felt still and quiet, and I could tell I was alone.
“Aven!” Emma said, her voice frantic and hyper through the phone. “Thank God!”
“Thank God?” I said. “Since when are you so desperate to hear from me?” She’d practically shoved me out the door the night before. I hoped she’d gotten my suitcase from outside like I’d told her to. “Hey, did you get my suitcase?”
I was in the living room of the suite now, and I checked the tables and the top of the bar to see if Landon had left me a note. But there was nothing.
A sick feeling settled over my stomach, wondering if I’d been played for a fool. Was it possible he was gone? Possible that he’d made a deal with me – that I would be his and he would help me find my sister – and then just took off?
That didn’t seem like him.
How do you know? You don’t even know him.
“A woman just showed up here looking for you,” Emma said, ominously ignoring my
question about the suitcase. “She was practically pounding on the door.”
“What woman?” I was over by the keypad next to the elevator now, scrolling through the touchscreen that was mounted on the wall. Finally I found the screen that had the level the penthouse elevator was currently located on – Level GM.
It was below the lobby, right above B, which must have stood for basement.
What did GM stand for? Ground? But there was already a G for ground.
“A reporter,” Emma said, and I froze.
“Brown hair, messenger bag?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Yes! How did you know?”
“She was here last night, wanting to talk to Landon.”
“Well, tis morning she wanted to talk to you,” Emma said. “She, um… she told me Landon’s been arrested for stalking, and she’s writing a story about it. She wanted to make sure you were okay and see if you had any comment.”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
Pause.
“She left her card,” Emma continued. “She’s with the New York Herald, and her name is Misty Bryant.”
There was a silence on the end of the line, while Emma waited for me to say something.
But I wasn’t going to. There was nothing I could say to justify this to Emma. Or to myself, for that matter.
What I needed was answers.
And the person I needed to get them from was Landon.
“Let me call you back,” I said to Emma, and I hung up before she could answer.
I pushed the button for the elevator, and waited for it to return to the penthouse.
When it got there, I got inside and pushed the button for GM.
When the elevator doors opened, I was in a gym.
Of course. GM = Gym.
It was sleek and shiny, huge and open. There were treadmills and ellipticals and rowing machines and rows and rows of free weights and Nautilus machines.
The room was shaped like an octagon, and the walls were mirrored but tinted, giving the illusion of walking with a shadow of yourself as you moved through the room.
Landon was in the corner, wailing away on a heavy bag that swung from the ceiling.
He wore black shorts and a black t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his biceps and chest. He grunted with each movement, hitting the bag with the force of what seemed like a thousand man.
I walked toward him, admiring his athleticism, how his punches were graceful and powerful at the same time, how he shifted his weight from side to side as he went, jabbing, countering, upper cutting, hooking.
I walked closer, close enough so that he had to have known I was there.
He didn’t acknowledge me – instead, he just continued punching, the heavy black bag swinging with the force. This was a man whose muscles weren’t just for show – he was physically strong, the kind of man you wouldn’t want to be in a fight with.
“That reporter was at my apartment last night,” I said, deciding I didn’t have time to bother with pleasantries. “Her name is Misty Bryant.”
Landon ceased punching, letting the bag swing to a stop before he replied.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“What?”
“I’ll take care of it,” he repeated.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that she won’t bother you anymore.” He reached down and grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head.
His abs glistened with a sheen of sweat, and he used the shirt to wipe it off before tossing it into the corner.
Good Lord, he was all man.
I was so distracted by the perfection that was his body that it took me a second to realize he hadn’t been wearing boxing gloves.
His knuckles were raw and bloody.
He saw me looking and he held my gaze, daring me to say something or mention it. I swallowed and averted my eyes. Why the hell would he be boxing with no gloves on?
“What does that mean, she’s not going to bother me anymore?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
“Relax. I’m not going to have her killed or anything.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“It means she won’t bother you anymore.”
“And why is that? Are you afraid of what she might tell me?”
“No. But you should be.”
“I should be afraid of what she might tell me?”
“Yes.”
“Meaning?” Frustration crept into my voice at the way he was talking, how he was making me sound like a broken record by having to repeatedly ask him for clarification on his cryptic, ambiguous language.
“It means our deal is off, princess.”
He’d never called me princess before, and I didn’t like it. My mouth hung open. “What do you mean, our deal is off?”
“I mean it’s off. Cancelled. Null and void.” His voice was steady, rough, his eyes devoid of any emotion.
I shook my head. “Wow. So that it’s, huh? You use me for sex and then just decide that the deal is off? I might not have my MBA yet, but it’s pretty much Business 101 that you don’t do shit like that.”
I turned back toward the elevator, furious at him, and furious at myself for believing he was anything but what he was – a rich asshole, a prick who didn’t care about anyone but himself.
I jammed at the button, waiting for the elevator to return so I could go back up to the penthouse and get my things. There was no way I was going to leave my purse here again, not after what happened last time.
The elevator doors opened with an annoying ding, but before I could get in, he was there, behind me, putting his arm out and stopping the door.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked, trying to duck under his arm and failing.
“I didn’t use you,” he breathed, his voice heavy and dark with emotion.
I turned around and he was right there, so close I could feel his body heat.
“Then what would you call it?” I tried to turn back away from him, but he grabbed my wrists, his strong hands keeping me from moving.
“What would I call it? I’d call it protecting you,” he spit.
“Protecting me? Protecting me from what? From finding my sister? That’s completely ridiculous and if you know anything about –”
“From me, Aven. Goddammit, I’m protecting you from me.”
He let me go, his chest heaving with the emotion of what he’d just said.
I swallowed. “Why would I need to be protected from you? Are you dangerous?” I demanded. “Did you stalk that girl the way that woman said?”
Landon laughed bitterly. “Does it matter?”
It was the same thing he’d said last night. “Of course it matters! Did you do it or not?”
“No.” He shook his head.
“Then why do I need to be protected from you?”
“Because the way it was last night, Aven, that’s not…” His eyes hooded and he scrubbed at his face with his hand. “That’s not how it’s going to be.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Last night. When I told you I wasn’t going to be soft and then I was, that’s not how it’s going to be. Ever.”
“Jesus, you are arrogant, aren’t you?” I couldn’t believe that’s what he was so worried about. “You think I’m just some silly little wilting flower? Some girl who’s going to fall in love with you just because we had sex?” My hands clenched into fists around the sleeves of the robe I was wearing, twisting the material until it pulled tight. “Newsflash, Landon. You weren’t soft for that long. And I wanted that, Landon. I wanted you, and I wanted it rough.” I remembered how he’d been with me last night, how he’d been rough, yes, but how he’d been soft at first, and I remembered too how I’d had moments where I’d felt so connected to him, that I wanted it to be real, that I wanted to be the one to get through to him. But my righteous indignation at what he’d said, how he’d decided to go back on our deal b
ecause he thought I couldn’t handle having sex with him, quickly blocked all of that out.
Landon stepped back from me, his blue eyes like two summer storms. For a moment, a look of longing crossed his face, that same look he’d had on his face when he’d first entered me.
“I think you’re the one who needs protection,” I said. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs it at all.” I spit out the words, not quite believing them, but he didn’t refute them, either. “I think you’re scared because maybe last night you actually felt something.”
This seemed to enrage him. “You want to know what I need, Aven?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I want to tell you what I need. And what I need isn’t protection. It’s for you to get over yourself and be straight with me.”
He crossed the space between us in a second, his movements quick like a fox, and he took me by the tie of my robe and yanked me toward him.
“You want me to be straight with you, little girl? Fine. This is what I need.” He grabbed the tie on my robe and tore thin piece of material off me, then pushed his hand up under my robe and thrust two fingers inside of me, hard and fast, not waiting for me to get aroused, not caring. Of course, I was already wet. I’d been wet since I’d seen him hitting that punching bag.
“Landon,” I gasped. I grabbed at his hand, and he released me.
“Exactly,” he said. “You think you can handle this? You want to keep up our deal?” He licked his upper lip, his jaw clenching. “Then get on your knees.”
It was a standoff.
The two of us, staring at each other, wanting things from each other the other one couldn’t give.
“Landon – ”
“No.” He shook his head. “No questions. No talking. This is what you said you wanted, right? Hard? Rough? Then drop the fucking robe, Aven.”
I hesitated for just a second.
But his eyes weren’t the only things that were like a summer storm. His orbit was overwhelming, sweeping up everything in its wake. He was unpredictable and controlled at the same time, and I was afraid that if he did call off our deal, I would never feel the way he made me feel again. He was like my drug dealer, and I needed one more hit.
So I slid off my robe, leaving myself naked and exposed under the lights of the gym, my body completely on display to him.
