by Rina Kent
Do it, I say with my eyes. Fuck my throat.
“Bloody hell. Who knew I would have a wild one on my hands?”
I like that. Being wild.
But I don’t get to think about it further, because now, he’s thrusting in—long, hard, and untamed. And my mouth is there for the taking, for his own pleasure, the same way he used his fingers for mine earlier.
And I let him.
Not only that, but I sink into his dominance, swallowing as much of him as possible despite the drool and the tears stinging my eyes.
It’s a good type of pain.
The type I didn’t think I needed until now. The type that smashes my walls open and leaves me bared and thirsty for more.
And his reaction? I could bask in it for days. I could listen to his low grunts and deep groans forever. The sound turns me on.
That’s when it dawns on me.
His pleasure turns me on.
My thoughts are confirmed when I feel that he’s close. I want to get him there, I want to make him come undone like he did to me.
And just when I think I’ll succeed, he pulls out.
His hard cock is in his hands and it’s glistening with precum and saliva. My saliva that I’m currently swallowing with his taste.
“Why…?” It’s a single word because I’ve apparently lost the ability to speak properly. Throat-fucking does that, I guess.
“As much as I love your little mouth, I’m going to empty myself inside your cunt, beautiful.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from moaning. His dirty talk is like a lash against my most sensitive part. Seriously, he shouldn’t be talking so filthy and ending it with “beautiful.” There needs to be a rule against that.
“Bed. Now.”
I scramble to my feet, the order twisting something inside me. Something so primal and raw, I can’t find a name for it.
Instead of focusing on that, though, I make the short trip to the bed. Before I can reach it, he grabs me by the thin strap of my dress and pulls down the zipper, then yanks the material down my arms, sending my butterfly pendent flying.
It’s a full yank, no mercy or softness whatsoever. The way his hand skims over my skin is nothing short of dominant.
He’s a man who knows what he wants and won’t hesitate to go after it.
Just like the men from my life.
He’s probably as dangerous as they are, too.
But that doesn’t matter.
No one will be able to find me once I disappear.
I’m standing naked in front of him since I didn’t wear a bra either, and it’s a vulnerable position, one I never allowed myself to be in before. I don’t let self-doubt creep in, though.
Tonight is about my body. Only that.
Without turning me around, he grabs a nipple in his fingers and twists, then squeezes, then twists again.
My toes curl in my heels—the only thing I’m wearing right now aside from my birthday suit.
Then he does something else—while still behind me, he wraps his hand around my neck, but he’s not crushing my windpipe. His fingers squeeze on the sides until I’m a bit lightheaded and completely at his command. Then he keeps teasing my nipples. They’re so tight, it hurts and sends jolts of pleasure to my pussy. Or maybe it’s his hold on my throat that causes it.
Either way, I’m so stimulated, it takes effort to suppress my voice and stop releasing the little noises.
“For a talker, you’re so quiet right now,” he muses. “Are you biting your tongue?”
I jam my teeth harder until I’m sure I’ll break the skin.
“It’s useless to hide your voice from me, beautiful.” His lips meet my ear again. “You’ll scream.”
I’m about to say no, that good girls like me don’t scream, but then he gives me another order I can’t resist. “On your knees.”
I fall.
Just like that.
There’s something about the way he issues orders, a command that needs to be obeyed, or else it’ll wreak havoc.
“I want those tits on the mattress, legs wide apart and your ass in the air.”
My cheeks go up in flames at the image, but they nearly explode when I’m in position.
I hear the ripping of something and turn sideways to find him rolling a condom onto his cock. Jeez. I never thought I would find this of all things hot, but on him, it’s so much of a turn-on that I gulp.
“Eyes ahead, beautiful.” He lowers himself behind me and I stare at the hotel’s wallpaper, my ears heating.
I’m the one who’s supposed to be against any type of eye contact, but I forgot about my own rule just now.
He grabs both of my wrists and holds them at the small of my back, then something soft wraps around them. That’s when I catch a glimpse of his tie from my peripheral vision.
For some reason, it feels as if I’m completely at his mercy now and he proves that when he digs his strong fingers into my hip and thrusts in.
I was ready for it, soaking wet even, but it feels so sudden that my whole body jolts forward.
It doesn’t hurt like I thought it would, though. There’s a sharp sting, but it quickly vanishes, probably because I’m so aroused that I’m about to burst, or maybe it’s because he’s so entangled with my body that there’s no room for me to feel the extent of the pain.
He pulls out a little, then stops.
Has he figured it out?
Of course he did. The British stranger will know I lied to him and he’ll stop and this night will end. My trip to Neverland will finish before it even starts.
But apparently, that’s not the case, because the only reason he pulls out is to thrust in again. An electric shock paralyzes my whole body and I wish there was something I could hold on to. My bound wrists forbid me from latching onto anything, and somehow that sends tingles down my spine where my wrists are bound.
He wraps my hair around his fist and my head angles up, even though my chest stays on the mattress which adds friction to my sensitive nipples. The motion is so possessive, drool forms in my mouth.
And it’s not only because of the position. It’s his mad rhythm. He thrusts deeper, harder, rougher. The pace is so crazy and out of control that only the slaps of flesh against flesh echo in the air. Oh, and the sloppy sounds of my arousal.
I should be ashamed, but I’m not, not even a little.
I’m completely at a stranger’s mercy as he fucks me like he hates me. He fucks me like he owns every part of me while still having a vendetta against me, and yet I love it.
I love it more than I should.
It should be demented—handing so much control to a man I just met, but it’s a fantasy, right?
And fantasies don’t have limits.
Fantasies don’t have shame.
Fantasies are just like me when I was a little girl and pretended to be Wendy and had the whole forest as my audience.
My thoughts are scattered when he pulls on my hair harder and then a burning sensation explodes in my neck. He’s biting it, I realize. His teeth are so deep in my skin, I can feel it right between my legs.
Drool gathers in my mouth and just when I’m about to shriek, he sucks on the skin with an intensity that leaves me gasping.
What the hell is he doing to me?
I don’t get the answer to my question, because he does it again on another mouthful of flesh, then again and again, until I’m in a constant state of bewilderment and arousal.
“Your pussy is tight as fuck, it’s strangling me, beautiful.”
“Not like my mouth?” I don’t know how I speak—it’s shaky, like my breasts against the mattress.
“Even better. And that mouth will do another thing for me now.”
“What…?”
He slaps my ass and pulls on my hair. “Scream.”
My shriek echoes in the air. I can’t even bite my tongue, because if I do, I’ll just cut it off.
The wild orgasm hits me like a hurricane and I’m help
less in its hold.
In his hold.
So I scream, and for the first time tonight, I wish I knew his name because I want to scream it right now, I want him to hear how much he corrupted a good girl.
How much he made a good girl go bad.
A deep grunt echoes in the air as he fucks me even harder and faster, his ferocious pace intensifying by the second. I’m glad he’s holding me in place or I would’ve collapsed to the side a long time ago.
Then he stills inside me and I feel warmth through the condom.
That’s the last thing I sense as a smile grazes my lips and my eyes droop.
I’m not supposed to sleep. I should leave, but my mind has another idea and I can’t open my eyes.
“Are you okay?” His strong voice barges through my haze.
“Yeah, I just need to sleep a little. Give me five.”
There’s a pause, a shuffle of his body behind mine before he unties my wrists.
A soft moan leaves me, but it’s interrupted when I hear his demanding voice near my ear. “What’s your name?”
Jane is my fake name, so I say that, or I try to as I whisper, “Anastasia.”
When I wake up, I’m on a bed and I’m not alone.
Oh, God.
Please tell me I didn’t stay.
I stare to the side and blink rapidly when I see the man from last night sprawled on the bed, the sheet barely covering his cock.
He’s naked. All of him.
I didn’t see him naked when we had sex.
No, not sex.
That was definitely fucking. Harsh, raw, and primitive fucking.
My core still tingles in remembrance. It feels tender, too, just like my neck that’s bruised from all the marks he left behind, but I don’t focus on that. My attention is stolen by something far more important.
Tattoos.
He has a lot of them.
On his upper shoulder and bicep, there’s a full, angry-looking samurai as if he’s about to go to battle. The details on the warrior’s face are striking, haunting even.
And I can’t stop staring at him, at the darkened look in his eyes, as if he, too, doesn’t like eye contact.
For some reason, I didn’t think someone as put-together as this British stranger would have tattoos, but seeing that he does adds even more mystery to him.
Businessmen don’t usually have tattoos—not the ones I know, anyway. Unless his background is different from what I’ve been picturing.
I shake my head.
I really, really shouldn’t be curious about him. It was a one-time thing and it’s now over.
The clock on the wall ticks half past three in the morning. I can drive back before sunrise and sneak back into my room.
Slowly, I shift from under the covers and wince. I’m so sore, it hurts to budge an inch.
He must’ve cleaned me since there’s nothing between my thighs. Not even my own stickiness. He covered me, too, which is a kind gesture I wouldn’t have expected from this stranger. He seemed like the “fuck them then leave them” type of man.
Or maybe I’m reading too much into it.
I carefully put on my torn dress, grimacing every few seconds when my core throbs. It takes me some time to work around the ruined dress.
The brute stranger must’ve ripped it when he was removing it.
It’s not only a slight rip. There’s a long gash on the side that extends to my hipbone. I can’t possibly walk outside like this.
So I grab his jacket and put it on. It swallows me and the dress, but it’s better than nothing. His scent fills my nostrils and I try not to think of that or what happened a few hours ago.
It’ll just make this complicated.
And I don’t need complicated.
“I’m sure you have many of these, so you won’t mind if I take it,” I whisper. “If you do mind, you shouldn’t have ripped my only red dress.”
He doesn’t even stir and I don’t know why I’m disappointed. I shouldn’t be.
I’m subconsciously reaching for him—or, my hand is. I just want to touch his hair once, see if it’s as soft as it looks.
He shifts and I quickly retract my hand.
What the hell was I thinking?
I can’t touch him. I have to completely erase him from my memories.
Not only for my own good, but also for his.
If my family finds out about what we’ve done, they’ll kill him. No questions asked.
It’s why I stayed a virgin until twenty.
But I’m not anymore.
And soon, I’ll be free.
“Thank you for crossing this off my list,” I murmur. “I hope we never meet again.”
And with that, I grab my heels and silently step out of the room.
3
KNOX
Gray shadows creep up on me.
Their ghostly hands reach out to my neck and wrap a noose around it. My trachea jerks and crushes to pieces as the distorted voice whispers.
“Look at me.”
My fingers flex, but I don’t reach for the hands that are stealing my air. If I touch them, they will force my eyes open, they will make me see.
“Baby boy…” The voice is less distorted now, honeyed, almost in a singsong. “Let me look at those eyes…”
Fuck no.
No.
If I don’t look, I’ll be safe. If I don’t look, I won’t know what will happen and it’ll all be over faster.
Or that’s what I believe as the ghostly harsh fingers jam against my neck and crash the one thing that’s giving me air.
“If you don’t look, it’ll hurt more.” The voice is still honeyed, cool, soothing almost, and I would’ve believed it if I didn’t know what hides behind it.
“No…”
“Knox, look at me.”
“No.”
“I’m going to hit you and make sure to leave marks, you little jerk.”
“No!”
That’s when my eyes open.
There’s a ringing, loud and constant and without any breaks.
At first, I think it’s all in my head. The ringing. The pounding against my skull. The fucking shadows.
My head is the place they go to when they decide to visit me occasionally, just to make sure they still have a hold on me. That the little boy inside me that I’ve been slowly killing over the past twenty years isn’t dead.
That he still breathes, still closes his eyes, and has fucking nightmares about the shadows of the past.
He still lives with his demons.
But the ringing isn’t in my head. It’s from somewhere beside me.
My phone.
I snatch it from the side table, throw an arm over my eyes to darken my vision. Light is blinding in my post-nightmare state. In a way, I become one with my shadows, thirsty for darkness and unable to exist outside of it. So, light and I were never really close friends.
“You better have a good fucking reason for calling me this early in the morning.”
“Her Majesty the Queen called and said, “Excuse your bloody French.””
“I’m sure she also told you to go take a wank.”
He feigns a gasp. “How dare you put such foul language in her mouth?”
“Is there a reason behind your call, Dan?”
“Blasphemy! What’s more important than the Queen?”
“My sleeping time.” Though he did wake me up from the nightmare, so I should be thankful, really. “Now, are you dead?”
“Obviously not.”
“Are you in a compromised position and need help?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then call me back when it’s not early morning. If by any chance, you have an emergency before that, call 911.”
“First of all, fuck you. Second, I think I told you we’re playing golf with the mayor today and you should’ve been here about…fifteen bloody minutes ago. And finally, it’s not early fucking morning.”
I slide my arm away from
my eyes and peek at the time on my phone. Sure enough, it’s past ten.
Considering I’m not the type who sleeps in, this is as weird as a sideways fuck.
“Where the fuck are you anyway?” Daniel asks, sounding more impatient by the minute. He’s all fun and games until things don’t go according to his plan.
Though most of his plans suck, and they’re a bit impulsive sometimes, which might play a role in the sheer number of people he attracts on a daily basis.
He’s my only British friend in the States. We studied law together, graduated together, and we now work together.
We’ve even shagged together. Not he and I. There was always a woman in between.
We don’t make a habit out of it, but it’s something for when we’re bored and need extra endorphins.
“Somewhere…” I squint again due to the light slipping from between my fingers.
Where am I really? A piece is missing from my head, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out what it is.
“At least tell me you’re back from Jersey?”
“Jersey? Oh, yeah, Jersey. No, I’m still here.”
“What the fuck, mate? Weren’t you supposed to come back last night after meeting a client?”
“I had a change of plans.”
“What about golf?”
“There’s been a change of plan for that, too.”
“What?”
“Golf is boring and so is the mayor. Now, screw off.”
I end the call and stare to my side, expecting to find the woman from last night.
Anastasia, she said her name was.
I don’t usually care about their names since they’re erased from my head after the night is over, but the fact that she was the one who demanded anonymity was what got my wheels turning.
Usually, they don’t.
Usually, I would have to tell them beforehand that this is a one-time thing and then it’s over.
I didn’t have to with Anastasia since she was the one who practically demanded it.
It’s thrilling, she said.
And it was.
Having her completely compliant underneath me as she struggled with holding in her noises got my dick hardening in an instant.
I fuck a lot of women—like, a lot, so many that I’ve lost count—but none of them have been as memorable as the girl who gave me complete rein.
