by Linnea May
But I was lying to myself.
It was as if someone was punching me in the gut when she lowered herself over his cock. All the other things felt like small strikes in comparison, a slap in the face when she looked at him, a clasp around my throat when he looked at her, a superficial cut with a knife when she closed her small hand around his hard cock. I thought I could take it. I thought I had to take it.
And the worst part of it all? She was enjoying it! She was dripping wet, trembling with excitement when I gave her the orders, just as if we were alone.
No. Not as if we were alone. It was actually more than that. She seemed more excited, more into it. I bet that T wasn't the only person to meet my sudden outburst with disappointment. Hers might even have been worse.
This is the fucking worst part about it. I'm a wimp. I'm the fool who chickened out, while she is still sticking to the rules.
I hear a knock at the door and stop mid-pace.
"Sir?"
Her voice is barely audible, not much more than the suggestion of sound, numbed even quieter by the door.
I remain silent, standing stiff, my eyes glued to the door.
"Jared?"
She's louder this time, but not any less worried. A few more moments pass before I hear her turning the door knob.
"Out!" I bark at her. "Stay out!"
But she's done listening to me today. The door slowly swings open, and I expect to be faced with her worried expression, her eyebrows curved in concern when she comes in to console me.
But, as always, my little Button manages to surprise me. She's entering the room looking exactly the way I left her, with her exposed tits bouncing with every step, her thong most likely sticking to her still-wet core, and balancing on her heels as she approaches me, her stern look fixated on me.
"You don't get to yell at me like that after what you just did," she says, planting herself in front of me with her arms crossed below her tits. "What was that all about? If I did something wrong, why don't you just tell me? Correct me? Teach me?"
She pauses, inhaling deeply before she continues to speak.
"I thought that that's what all of this is about. You teaching me, training me. When I do something good, I get a reward - when I do something wrong, I get punished. Is this a punishment?"
I shake my head. "No. It's not a punishment. You did nothing... wrong."
She exhales audibly. "Well, then. What the hell is this all about then?"
Her fierce gaze penetrates me almost to the point where it hurts. I want to evade the powerful blue-gray depth of her eyes, but I can't turn away. It would be weak of me to do so, and I can't give her that satisfaction.
But I do have to apologize. She deserves that much.
"I'm sorry," I bring myself to say. "I shouldn't have done that. It was wrong of me."
She's taken aback for a moment, and she obviously didn't expect me to apologize just like that. But she's not ready to let it go.
"Why did you do it then?" she probes. "What happened back there? If I didn't do anything wrong..."
She furrows her eyebrows again, pondering for a moment before adding, "Was it the other guy? Did he do something wrong? Did he break some kind of rule that I don't know about?"
I shake my head. "Don't waste another thought on it. Just rest assured that it won't happen again."
She scuffs with indignation. "I'm sorry, but... no!"
"No?"
"No, you can't brush it off just like that, as if it never happened," she elaborates. "I can't do this with someone who I can't trust."
Now I'm the one frowning at her. Out of all the things she could talk about, why is she talking about trust? And why wouldn't she trust me? After all, I'm the one who has to be careful in this whole endeavor. She's the one who's the threat in all of this, and not only because of her profession. She's no longer working as a journalist, just as I instructed her, and as far as I can tell, she doesn't snoop like most reporters are known to do.
But she's a witch. She has a way of getting to me without me seeing it coming. And - as today has shown - I may already be in deeper trouble than I feared.
The thought of another man laying his grubby hands on her, of her submitting to his wishes, serving his needs, looking at him the way she looks at me, the thought of someone else’s cock inside of her...
Fuck!
The images still drive me mad, and I'm afraid they'll haunt me for some time to come.
"You can fucking trust me," I hiss through gritted teeth. "I don't know why you'd say that."
"Can I?" she asks, but it's just a rhetorical question. "Because I sure as hell am having trouble with this if you keep having unpredictable outbursts like that. You were so mad, so aggressive. And it came out of nowhere!"
It wasn't fucking out of nowhere, little Button. It was building up the entire time, even before that clown stepped into our home.
My home. God damn it.
"You... scared me," she continues. "You fucking scared me. What if you lose your temper again? If I don't know what triggered it, how can I be sure that it won't happen again? What if you don't just yell the next time it happens?"
She pauses, most likely for emphasis, before she finds the courage to continue.
"What if you hurt me?" she asks. "What if you actually hurt me?"
Her question makes my heart shatter into a thousand pieces. That is what she's worried about? That I would hurt her? That I could actually hurt her?
I step away from her, my face turning into a grimace of pain as I shake my head. "How could you even think that...?”
She looks at me through watery eyes, her lower lip trembling as she tries to fight it. Her tears surprise me. I didn't see that coming at all.
"Let's just say you wouldn't be the first wayward brute to cross my path," she says, trying to keep her voice steady while the first two tears roll down her cheeks starting a steady stream. "I thought you were different. Calculating, maybe, but controlled and unwavering. That you wouldn't do anything to me that I'm not willing to take."
"I wouldn't!" I hurry to say. "You have to trust me, Button. I never would harm you. I never could..."
"I need to know that I have nothing to fear from you, Sir."
She's sobbing now, quickly bringing her hand up to her face as if she could stop the tears from pouring down her saddened face.
I don't think.
I do.
She's wrapped in my embrace within a moment, burying her face into my chest while I keep her close.
"Why then?" she sobs, her voice muffled. "What happened?"
My face hardens and I can feel myself tensing up. I shouldn't tell her. This is dangerous territory, and we're already too close, too familiar. Every personal detail I share with her makes me even more vulnerable to a potential attack later on. I can't let myself be weakened by her like this.
But what if there's nothing to worry about? What if my caution is overly excessive?
She's not Elsa, after all...
"I couldn't do it," I say. "I couldn't go through with it. You're mine. It didn't feel right."
She frees herself from my tight embrace to look up to me. "But you have done it before, haven't you? You said you like to share."
"I don't like sharing you."
"Why not?"
There it is again. That intense gaze. Those smart eyes, piercing right through me, already in the know about everything she pretends not to understand. I don't have to say the words for her to know that I've fallen for her. The tables have turned on me. I'm no longer the strong one in this, the one who has a lock on everything, no longer the one in control.
I've become the weak link in this arrangement.
"You know why, Button," I tell her, fixating on her gleaming eyes. "Why do you insist on showing me up like this?"
She shakes her head. "You overestimate me, Sir. I'm not following an agenda as cunning as yours."
I'm left startled as she peels herself out of my arms, sniffing and
fixing her face. She looks lost, a hint of sorrow casting a visible shadow over her face when she looks at me. Her smile is somber.
"If you don't mind, I'll take a shower, and then I’ll be out of your way for tonight."
I don't know what to say. It torments me to see her like this, hurt and disappointed. But I can't bring myself to give in to that feeling. To become weak once again.
"Sure."
My agreement hits her like a slap in the face, I can tell. She wanted me to stop her, for me to keep her with me and say the words she needs to hear.
She spins around on her heels and makes a move to leave the room. Just before she walks out the door, she turns around to me one more time, throwing me a bleak look.
"You know, there's nothing wrong with you liking me," she whispers. "Because I like you."
Chapter 27
Ann
Because I like you.
What the hell was that? I sound like a fucking teenager!
I hurried out of his office as quickly as possible after my embarrassing statement, fleeing to my room. I've never been in his office before, and never thought it would be under circumstances like these. Me, crying, because he's so damn stubborn and unwilling to be frank about the most obvious thing.
He likes me more than he wants to admit. More than he thought he would.
He cares for me.
And that was never part of the plan.
He needs to chill the fuck out and just take things as they are, but instead he's acting as if this is the most horrible thing that could've happened to him.
As if I was a threat or something.
I close the door behind me, tears of anger threatening to join my solitude as soon as I'm by myself behind closed doors. Safe. Away from him.
"Stop it," I hiss at myself. I've never been one to weep easily. In fact, I can't even remember the last time I cried.
And I don't know why it's happening now. Is it anger? Disappointment? Or is it the memory? A connection drawn by my silly mind, a connection to something that happened so long ago, something that no longer holds power over me. An agonizing memory that I’ve successfully locked away for years.
The pain. The humiliation. The fear.
It's all behind me. It has to be.
Jared is not like him. Not at all. It was unfair of me to even consider it for a second. But I couldn't help it. His outburst, as short and comparatively mild as it may have been, frightened me, because I didn't know what to make of it. I had no idea where it came from, and I didn't see it coming either. To me, it was nothing but a completely random outrage about nothing. A sign of a man who has no control over his temper - and, possibly, his physical strength.
Just like him.
I had to fear my father's hand constantly. It was never about me doing anything wrong. It was always about that invisible switch that could be flipped at any time. Violent outbursts whenever something managed to really hit him. Anything. Anytime.
He was never smart enough to spare my face, so it was hard to hide whenever there was another day when I ran into his fist.
"No, no, stop it!" I warn myself. "For fuck's sake, Ann, shut up."
I've always talked to myself this way. I've always handled my own little horrors in this manner, and it has always worked. Until now.
I smile. Bright and with my whole face, not just my eyes. I will fucking smile until it becomes real and I'm back to being the person I like to be. A person I can admire, a person who gets shit done.
A person who's so much stronger than her pathetic excuse of a father ever was.
I take a deep breath and slip out of my heels and what little items of clothing I'm still wearing. I really need that shower, not to get clean, but to be comfortable. The cleansing is more of a spiritual kind, a warm and soapy embrace that leaves me fresh and renewed.
I sigh with relish as the warm water pours over me. People always say that money doesn't make you happy, but I've always disagreed. Everything is easier when you have money. It may be Jared's wealth that I'm profiting from right now, but soon enough I will receive my payment, and then I'm going to get a shower like this one, a gigantic rain shower that has room for three people in a bathroom like this, maybe even in penthouse similar to this. Of course, it's going to be smaller. I'm going to be paid generously, but it will in no way come even close to the wealth he has established so far in his life time. But it will be my own money. My well-deserved money for... being with him.
Oh, no, don't open that door, Ann.
I'm so deep in thoughts that I don't hear the door, nor do I notice a person entering the room. It's not until he opens the door to the way too big shower cabin that I finally realize his presence. He's naked, a sight that is still rare to me. I watch the water pearl on his rock-hard muscles when he closes in on me, lifting my face up to his and sealing my lips with a kiss. The hot, watery embrace is overpowered by his proximity, and it feels as if my entire body sighs in relief when I feel his hands on my body, traveling along the sides of my torso until he reaches my hips.
I can feel the tip of his hard cock pushing against my belly, and I reach for it. He moans into our kiss when I close my hand around it, holding him in a grip so tight that it may almost hurt him.
We break our kiss and our eyes meet in the midst of the heavy, warm stream of water that keeps pouring over us. He doesn't say a word, and right now, I don't need him to. I know what he's saying without the words ever leaving his lips.
He's not going to hurt me. Ever.
I smile at him.
"You have nothing to worry about with me," I say, hoping that my words are not swallowed by the water stream. "Trust me. I got this. We got this."
He huffs. A crooked smile graces his face as he shakes his head.
"It's never as simple as that, Button."
It satisfies me to make him groan with another squeeze around his engorged cock that is fisted in my hand. I feel powerful and oddly loved, knowing that he wouldn't let just anyone handle him this way.
However, he makes sure that his next move puts me back into my place by pinching both my nipples so hard that I yelp out in joyous agony. The stinging pain only remains for a second, but he continues to hold my tortured buds between his fingers, and even without him applying any pressure to hurt me, the agitating throbbing is still there, still fueling my bliss.
Another pinch and another expression of happy torment, and he turns me around, cupping my tits with one hand while he uses the other to guide himself between my legs. I groan when he stretches me with his girth as he shoves his thick cock inside me, slowly, unyielding.
He grabs my tits from behind and begins fucking me with desperate need, our bodies slamming against each other with loud splashing sounds as he rams his length inside of me. Soon, he pulls me closer, his grip around me tightening so much that he almost lifts my feet off the ground, and I have to hold on to the warm tiles to keep my balance. His arms wrap around me, his buff chest pressed firmly against my back while he has his way with me.
"This is where you belong," he hisses next to my ear. "Wrapped around my cock. Mine. Always. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir!"
My words are more of a hoarse sigh than an actual phrase, released into the steamy shower with urgency and laced with need for him.
He pulls me closer, holding me in a tight grip while his hand wanders down to my core. His brute thrusts slow down when he begins massaging my clit. I throw my head back, warm water pouring down my face while he brings me closer to release in gradual waves, sending sparks of pleasure raging through my center with every deep thrust. I groan when he clasps my clit between two fingers, now pinching instead of massaging. He holds on to my throbbing pearl, holding it in a painfully tight grasp as his cock continues stretching me. He keeps himself buried inside of me, and begins to move his hips in slow circles, his girth stirring my insides.
My climax approaches so subtly that I don't fathom its intensity until it feels as if I'm being ripped ap
art. I can feel him pulsating inside of me, coating my channel with his cum, and I clench around him in quiet but violent tremors.
We don't move for ages, instead remaining in our hot and wet embrace, cocooned as the shower rains on both of us, washing away the pain of the evening’s preceding events.
Chapter 28
Jared
Everything fails when it comes to Ann, my Button. All the walls of protection, the carefully laid measures that were meant to keep me safe, especially now that I'm about to embark on this next step - all of it can be declared null and void now that I have no option but to admit defeat.
There is no other way to describe it than to realize the significance of waking up beside her the next morning. She's still fast asleep, hugging and hoarding the blanket; I woke up chilled, with nothing covering my naked body. I sit up and glance over to study her, lying there with her back turned to me, holding the blanket in a tight grip out of my reach, and breathing steadily while drifting through her dreams.
I don't share a bed with my toys; I never have. Until today. After we finished our steamy interlude in the shower, I dried her trembling body off and carried her over to the bed, meaning to leave her there by herself and I would retreat to my own.
She never asked me to stay. There was no begging in her eyes, no plea for me to be with her. None of that.
And that was exactly the problem. I want to have all of this with her, I want to give her everything that others have begged for unsuccessfully - and she doesn't even ask for it.
She didn't say a word when I laid down beside her and she curled up in my arms. And that was that. We fell asleep like that, locked in a close embrace. But throughout the night she shifted away from me, taking the blanket with her, as far away from me as possible.
I can't deny that it doesn't hurt. I'm aching, and I fucking hate it.
As if she's feeling my eyes on her, she begins moving and purring, sleepily turning over and meeting my gaze. She looks surprised.
"You're here."
It's not a question, but a statement. She drowsily raises herself up, realizing that she's entirely wrapped in the blanket.
