by W Winters
My heart hammers and my dick hardens when my fingers drift lower to her cunt. Her breathing hitches, and her entrance clenches around my fingertips but she gets no reward for lying to me.
I speak softly as I gently lay my hand on her hot cheek, rubbing soothing strokes over the sensitized marks. “Tell me the truth.” My command falls into the silence that mixes with her strangled moans as the pain and pleasure combine. I dip my fingers to her cunt, letting them run through her slick folds. My middle finger trails down to her clit and I circle it once, tempting her and rewarding her obedience as she stays where she is, where she belongs on my lap. “Tell me, Aria.”
With a shaky breath, Aria’s back attempts to bow and her thighs clench. She visibly swallows, and I know she’s going to cum, so I stop. My finger is still pressed against her, but without the movement, she lifts her eyes to mine, breathing heavily with her lips parted.
“I don’t know,” she answers, her mesmerizing hazel eyes begging me to believe her. I don’t wait for her to prepare. I spank her other cheek and then move back to the right before returning to the left repeatedly, feeling a burn that runs up my arm as my hand goes numb.
Aria’s scream echoes in the room as her body stiffens across my lap. She seethes, sucking in air through clenched teeth as tears prick her eyes. My own breathing rages from me as I land the last blow and keep her steady where she is.
Gulping for breath and hanging her head low while attempting to fight the need to struggle against the hold I have on her, she turns her head away from me. But I see the tears.
Instantly, I place my hand over her heated skin, ignoring how she jumps and applying enough pressure to soothe the pain. My heart skips once, then twice as she struggles to maintain her composure, the tears falling freely as her face reddens.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper to her and she turns to glance up at me, a look of pure hate on her expression. “Tell me what happened, and it stops,” I offer her again, and watch as her bottom lip wavers. “I won’t let you go until you tell me.”
Her face crumples and she sobs out, “It’s stupid,” before letting the tears fall again.
I continue rubbing soothing circles, occasionally squeezing her ass to keep the blood flowing and the nerve endings on edge. The endorphins flowing in her blood will make her pleasure that much greater. Both the body and mind always prefer pleasure to pain.
And I’ll give her both. Although she hates me now, she’ll love me when this is over.
My fingers drift to her core this time, pressing inside of her and I’m instantly rewarded with her arching her neck, her eyes closed as a small moan of pleasure drifts from her reddened lips. Her cheeks are tearstained, and a few droplets still linger on her lashes.
Her cunt clamps around my fingertips, begging me for more.
A strangled moan fills the hot air as my cock hardens even more and presses against her belly. Fuck, I want her. I need to have her tonight and claim her again. To remind her of how much she belongs with me.
“Tell me now, Aria,” I demand, my voice deep and rumbling with the need I feel alive in every cell of my body.
She only whimpers, and then defiantly shakes her head. “I don’t know, I swear I--”
Before she can even finish, I slap her ass as hard as I can. The pain that had numbed brightens back to life. Under her ass cheeks, on her ass, on her pussy. I spank her in a new spot each time, rotating between them but the pace is ruthless, the slaps unforgiving. My jaw clenches and the pain rips up my arm as she screams out.
“Stop lying to me,” I barely get the command out through clenched teeth as I stop the punishment, forcing myself to breathe and instantly soothe her reddened skin.
She heaves in a breath and then another. A shudder runs down her body that morphs her sobs to moans. She’s close to this being so much more. But what I want are answers and she won’t cum until I get them. I’ll make damn sure of that.
The hair on the side of her face, wet from her tears, is stuck to her skin as she says, “I saw the date.”
Her upper body rocks and she tries to move away from me, groaning with a pained expression before telling me, “I saw the date on your phone.” Her words are spastic at best, but I know I heard her right.
My breathing is still erratic, my hand stinging with pain and my lungs refusing to move as I take in what she’s telling me.
My fingers loosen on her wrists slowly as I wrap my arm around her waist, careful not to touch her ass until I’m ready to set her on my lap.
She winces and seethes, not moving her arms even though she freely could.
Bringing her into my chest, I let her collapse in my arms. Her hands lift to my shoulders as the tears soak into my shirt. The feel of her cheek on my shoulder as she buries her head in the crook of my neck is already a soothing balm to me.
“You saw the date?” I prompt her to tell me more. To explain it to me as I comfort her.
“The day before was my mother’s--” she gasps, not finishing and I run my hand up and down her back, letting her cling to me.
I shush her, letting my warm breath whisper along her hair and I wait for her to settle.
“You missed the anniversary of your mother’s death?” I ask her, feeling a pain inside me crumple every bit of strength I have.
“Yes,” she croaks and tries to climb closer to me as if she wasn’t already pressed against me. “It was the first time,” she says in between breaths, “that I didn’t go to her grave.”
Holding her while she cries, knowing the pain she’s feeling could have been avoided so easily. I could have done something to help her, even if it meant gathering dozens of men to protect her while she saw to her mother’s grave. I could have done something if only I’d known.
“I’m sorry.” I try to put every ounce of compassion into my apology. “Please believe how sorry I am,” I say and kiss her hair, her shoulder and then pull her away to kiss her swollen red lips.
She buries herself back into the crook of my neck and then cries out as her ass brushes against my pants.
“Thank you for telling me,” I say as I maneuver her on my lap, so I have access to her cunt. “Hold on to me,” I command her, and she does instantly. She needs someone to hold and someone to hold her, I’ve never been more sure of it.
“This will make the pain go away,” I tell her, although my words are hollow. Pleasure can hide only one specific kind of pain. I rub her clit first, letting the intensity from the unique pleasure that comes after both pain and mourning flow through her.
She bites down on my shoulder, her fingernails digging into my skin through my shirt. She writhes on my lap, so close to the edge already, although each time her ass brushes against the fabric of my pants, her voice hitches, and her grip on me tightens.
Pressing my fingers inside her, I stroke her ruthlessly and butt my palm against her clit. Her back bows and I have to hold her closer to me, laying my hand against her shoulder.
“Cum for me,” I whisper in her ear. My cock is hard and desperate to be wrapped in her hot cunt, but I can’t take my pleasure from her like this.
It’s all for her.
“Carter,” she gasps my name as her body rocks with pleasure and her head falls back. I don’t stop until she’s trembling, and her cries have stopped completely.
My heart races against hers, sweat covering my skin and every muscle in my body coiled.
Time passes slowly as I wait until she’s calm and coherent. And each second, I carefully select the words she needs to hear.
With weak balance, she finally lifts her head to look me in the eyes. Her expression pinches as she leans back, feeling her raw ass brush against my pants once again, but this time her lips part and another orgasm threatens from the faint touch.
“I need more from you,” I tell her, breaking her moment and forcing her hazel eyes to stare into mine.
“I have you here,” I say as I let my fingers fall to her pussy and then cup it, watching as she gasps
, throwing her head back and rocking herself into my hand. My lips drop to her throat, whispering against her skin, “So needy.”
Before she can get off again, I stop and wait for her eyes to reach mine, dark with desire and lit with lust. “I’m getting to you here,” I tell her and smooth her hair back on the crown of her head.
A moment passes with a tense beating in my chest before I drop my fingers to her chest, between her bare breasts and ask her, “What about here?”
My eyes flicker between where I’m touching her and her own gaze, now swirling with a hopelessness and sadness I wish I could take away.
The ever-present vise tightens on my heart as she asks me in a whisper, “If I gave you that, what would I have left?”
It tightens further, and my heart refuses to beat. The answer is so obvious. “You’d have me.” I watch her expression remain unchanged and I have to look away.
Breathing in deeply, I ignore whatever I’m feeling, every last bit of it, knowing logically, she’s close. I know she is.
She comes and goes, and that’s because of her father. If he wasn’t in the picture, she would be mine completely. And Nikolai…
“You know what I need, Carter,” Aria finally speaks and when she does her voice cracks. Tears linger in her eyes. “For you to have my heart, you can’t destroy it. You can’t kill them.”
I cave. Knowing what this could be, I offer her something, just to have a chance to break through the wall that guards her heart. “I’ll call him, but you’ll be silent.”
With a look of shock and gratitude, she leans in closer to me and starts to speak but I press my finger against her lips, silencing her and halting her movements.
Fear is power. And every day, I fear her never loving me more than the day before. I’ve given her the power and I don’t know how I let that happen.
“I will call your father and you’ll listen only. Is that clear?”
Although she nods, she doesn’t speak until I move my finger away. “Yes, Carter.”
It occurs to me how little she obeys unless she has hope. I instantly regret telling her I would call her prick of a father.
I need to give her hope in something else. Because when this war is over, her father will be dead, and she’ll have to find forgiveness or be miserable and hate me forever.
Chapter 52
Aria
I don’t know how I slept at all.
I keep wondering if he’s really going to do it. If Carter is going to call my father and if he does, what would he say? I almost ask Carter if I can call Nikolai, just to tell him I'm safe but I don't know how Carter would react, and I don't want to push him when he's given me this hope.
If my father knew Carter gave me Stephan to kill, literally forced to stay put with a knife placed in my hand, wouldn’t that offer some sort of truce between them?
My hands are shaking so much from the anticipation and anxiety of what they’ll say that the picture in front of me is blank, not from lack of inspiration, but from the inability to create even a simple line.
An hour has passed with me sitting on the floor of Carter’s office, listening to the tapping of keys and the steady tick-tock of the clock. All the while, I can’t focus on anything. Not a damn thing except for when Carter’s going to call him like he said he would.
Glancing up at Carter, I catch his gaze and I know the look in my eyes is pleading and expectant.
“You need more.” Carter’s voice is deep and low, and it booms through the office. Or, maybe it’s just that I’m on high alert and everything is thrumming to life as I wait for what’s to come.
My throat tightens, feeling the dejection once again for the one thing that could change everything, but I stand on shaking legs and go to him.
It doesn’t escape me that he has me under control again. That my only desire is to obey him, so he’ll give me what he claimed he would. He may have given me false hope.
My heart flickers like a candle so close to its flame going out. He wouldn’t do that to me. I refuse to believe it. I know he feels something for me. He must. I can feel it in the very marrow of my bones.
Carter pushes the phone farther away from him, an old desk phone, and I stare at it as I hear him push the laptop and stacks of papers out of the way.
It’s right there. Just call him.
Pat, pat, he pats the top of the desk and I take the hint, lying on my belly, knowing he’s going to lift the dark red chiffon dress up my thighs and bare my backside to him.
My cheek presses against the hard desk and I can feel my heart hammer against it. Gripping on to the edge of the desk, I wait for the cool gel to hit my sore ass. There aren’t any bruises this time, but somehow it hurts more. This morning I nearly cried waking up to the pain until Carter used the ointment.
Sucking in a deep breath, my eyes close and I feel Carter rub the soothing balm into my hot skin. It’s tender still, but even more so, it makes me crave more of his touch.
A soft hum of gratitude and want leaves my lips, and it’s met with a rough chuckle from Carter. Opening my eyes, I glance up at him, although I have to push the lock of hair out of my face.
My heart does that flickering again.
“It looks much better than how it was last night and this morning.”
“It feels better now too,” I tell him easily, watching his expression as he pays close attention to where he’s rubbing the balm.
“You didn’t tell me the entire truth last night,” Carter says before opening a drawer and then closing it. My heart thumps once, thinking of what I left out but having nothing come to mind.
I don’t know if he just put the gel back or if he’s taken something else out.
Before I can answer, Carter tells me, “You forgot to mention your birthday.”
He finally meets my gaze and there’s a softness there that I hardly ever see from him, but it’s the side I pine for most.
“I didn’t think it was important,” I try to speak, but my words are whispered. Of every reason I’m breaking apart, that fact is meaningless and even speaking it as if it could contribute to this pain is disrespectful to the tragedies that surround us.
He’s gentle as he repositions me on the desk but doesn’t pull my dress back down. It’s bunched at my hips and that’s what I’m thinking about when I hear the first cuff open and look up at the feel of metal grazing the skin on my wrists.
“Your other hand,” Carter commands and I give it to him although I’m riddled with a slight fear.
“Carter?” His name comes out as a question as he handcuffs me to two metal loops on the side of his desk. Again, he repositions me, sliding my body down so I’m stretched on my belly across his desk.
“I don’t have a gift for you at the moment,” he says absently as he steps away from me, leaving the cool air to hit my ass which is still very much exposed to him. “But I’ll have to find something nice for you.”
The flicker instantly morphs into a thrumming with a slight fear of the unknown.
I try to turn around and look at him as he fiddles with something on the shelf. I don’t see what he has but whatever it is, he has it in his hand.
“Carter, I’m sorry.” My first instinct is to beg my way out of another punishment. My ass is still so sore. But even as the adrenaline spikes through me, I can’t imagine he’d do it. That he’d punish me for not telling him it was my birthday. “Please,” I whimper.
“Hush,” he says, and his voice is calming as he lays a hand down on my lower back. His touch is an instant salve to my nerves. The rough pads of his thumbs rub soothing circles and that alone calms me. “This is for pleasure, songbird.”
A slick oil drizzling between my ass crack makes me jump, but I’m held down by his hand and the cuffs. Again, he chuckles, deep and low at me, ever amused but I love it.
I love that sound.
“I need to spread you, and then you need to push back,” he commands, and I force myself to swallow, feeling the pressure of a cool
metal object press against my forbidden hole. I’m instantly hot and tense. The nerve endings come alive and the heat spreads like wildfire through my body and along my skin.
The thrumming intensifies, my heart slamming and lust consuming the ounce of fear that lingers.
A shudder of pleasure and a hint of stinging pain make me clench everything, but the second the tension is gone, Carter pushes the plug deeper inside of me. Oh. My. God.
I can barely breathe as the new sensation takes over. My nipples pebble and rub against the desk as I squirm beneath his ministrations. He fucks me with the butt plug, pushing it in and out, over and over.
“Carter,” I moan and then whimper, feeling close to cumming so soon. I feel so full. So hot. The little hairs on the back of my neck rise as my head thrashes.
“Your cunt is clenching around nothing,” Carter observes, and his deep voice forces my eyes open. Just as I feel the need to raise my ass higher, Carter pushes the plug in deeper and stops everything, leaving me feeling full and hot and on the edge of desire.
“Arch your back,” Carter demands as he presses his fingers against my inner thigh, spreading my legs for him even though they tremble with the threat of an orgasm so close.
I swear I can feel it in my pussy. The arousal is there even though I’m so aware that nothing’s inside of me… not there.
The metal of the cuffs digs into my skin, my ass is in the air, and each wrist bound to the desk. A soft moan escapes and the heated blushes rise up my face to my crown as Carter brushes his fingers across my clit and then up and down my pussy. “Should I tell your father the truth?” he asks me.
“Should I tell him I wanted you so badly that I was willing to start a war to keep you?”
While his words force a moan from me, they push my emotions over the edge.
It wasn’t me he wanted.
The little voice in the back of my head reminds me, and I have to close my eyes tightly, pushing away the immediate sadness and dejection.
I feel tense and on edge in more ways than one. The swell of both emotion and lust beg me to tell him, but Carter’s silent and his touch absent. I force my eyes open to see him watching me. His dark eyes staring deep into mine, searching for something.
