by Nikki Chase
I nod, forgetting he can’t see me from behind.
“Say it with words. You’re a big girl, aren’t you?” He hits my pussy once again, making a wet sound as his palm meets my wetness.
“Yes.” I whimper. The slight pain of the slap and the gentle pressure on my clit afterward make for a powerful combo. I grab the edge of the seat in front of me, hard.
“Yes what? Yes, you like it?”
“Yes, I like it.”
“You like it when I hurt you?”
“Yes, I like it when you hurt me.”
“You. Dirty. Girl,” Caine says, punctuating each word with a slap.
I moan, letting the woodland creatures around us know how dirty I am, showing them we’re only animals, just like the rest of them.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, kitten. Sit down and let me have some of that honey between your legs.” Caine turns me around and pushes me down onto the passenger seat, my bare ass making contact with the smooth leather seat.
He dips his head between my legs, kissing and licking and taking my pussy lips into his mouth. He sucks me in and plays with my clit using his tongue, groaning and growling as he does, like he can’t get enough of me, like he’s famished and only my body can satisfy his hunger.
He looks up at me, trapping my gaze, as he pushes one finger inside me, then adds another. His thick fingers fill me up, even as his tongue pleasures my clit.
I put my hand on his head, grabbing at his hair as the warmth from his mouth courses throughout my entire body, waking up every single nerve ending on my skin. I gasp and moan, losing control over my body, letting Caine be the one in charge. I close my eyes and arch my back as a shudder rips through me.
When Caine pulls his fingers out, my pussy muscles grab at nothing. It suddenly feels empty. I open my eyes and see Caine leaning into the car, hovering over me, his eyes fixed on my face like he’s studying me.
Suddenly, I feel self-conscious. Nobody has ever seen my face distorted by lust. We’re sharing an intimate moment, so intimate it feels almost too much.
“Taste yourself,” Caine says as he presses his fingers, slick with my arousal, against my lips. I open my mouth like he wants me to, and suck on his fingers. There’s a slight sweetness to it, but bitterness too, all blending together into an unmistakably sensual musk.
He reaches behind me and unzips my dress, then slides it off my shoulders, letting it pool around my waist. He pulls my bra cups down until my nipples are exposed. He takes them into his mouth one by one. The outside air and the wetness Caine leaves on my nipples make them hard as points.
I can only lean back and let him overwhelm my senses with his fingers in my mouth, his mouth on my nipples, and his bulge pressing into my thigh.
“I’m going to fuck you now, kitten,” he says as he takes his fingers out of my mouth. He unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out.
I look at it, mesmerized. It’s big and thick, potent and menacing. So different from all the other ones I’ve seen in clinical settings.
“Can I touch it?” I tear my gaze away from Caine’s rock-hard cock and look pleadingly into his eyes. “Please?”
Caine nods, a strange expression on his face. Like surprise, or amusement, or arousal, or all of the above. He pops his head out of the car, standing up to his full height.
I sit up and find his cock standing to attention right in front of my face. I inspect it by sight, looking at its lines, its shape, the veins bulging all over it.
I gingerly raise my hand to it and feel it jump under my touch. I gasp in surprise, but I keep my hand on it, running my fingers all over it, exploring every side of it. Caine groans, a sound that pricks beneath my skin.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but Caine seems content to just let me learn his shape. His heavy breathing tells me he’s enjoying this, and it makes me bolder.
Caine’s the one who’s stronger between the two of us; he’s undoubtedly a lot more powerful than I am, financially and socially. And I may be the one making him feel good, but this… This makes me feel powerful, knowing I have the ability to make a big, grown, gorgeous man like Caine react like that.
“Open your mouth, kitten,” Caine says, his voice hoarse. “It’s time for you to reciprocate.”
I part my lips, knowing what’s coming even though I’ve never experienced it. The scent of him fills my nostrils, musky and masculine and sexual. There’s a drop of pre-cum collecting at the tip, and I lick it up, making Caine grab my hair and sigh. He tastes salty.
The smooth, spongy head pushes inside my mouth. I run my tongue over it tentatively. When Caine closes his eyes and pulls my hair, I know I’m hitting the spot.
“Put your hand around it,” he says.
I grab his cock in my fist. It looks even bigger with my small hand around it.
“Harder.” Caine pulls my hair and slowly thrusts his hips forward, sinking his cock deeper inside my mouth.
As he orders, I wrap my hands around his shaft harder, hold on to it tighter, while my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. With my hair in his fist, Caine keeps my head still and fucks my mouth, pumping in and out of me. I feel it twitch a few times. Each time, it sends a thrill into my system that makes my clit throb with need.
“Fuck.” Caine pulls my hair painfully to get me out of the car. With his hand on the back of my head, he ravishes my lips with his, caressing and crushing me with his desire. “I’m going to fuck you now, and you’re going to like it. I’ll fill you up until your pussy remembers the shape of my cock, until your body craves me. I’m going to turn you into a slut for my cock.”
His dirty words, spoken between breathless kisses, spread heat across my cheeks, my ears, and my neck. Caine takes one look at my shame, smirks with satisfaction, and turns me around.
“Hands back on the seat, kitten,” he says with authority, like he owns my body.
I do as he says.
For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, Caine’s cock pushes inside me, stretching my pussy walls, filling me up deeper than anything ever has. He grabs my hips and pulls me back as he slams into me.
His cock enters at a different angle compared to last night. Between shudders of ecstasy, my body notes how much deeper he goes. With the way he moves both his hips and mine, slamming them together, he’s also fucking me harder.
Caine grabs my head and pushes my face into the cushy seat. I bounce on the seat with every thrust. I squeeze my eyes shut as my arousal builds up. My body starts to shiver, and I let out a loud cry.
Then, the fucking stops.
“Fuck yourself with my cock. Slide up and down my shaft like the dirty girl you are,” Caine says.
Again, my body seems to know what to do. I want him inside me, and my hips rock back and forth to impale myself on him. Like Caine wants, I’m showing him how much I want him, how dirty I’ll be for him.
“Fuck, you’re such a dirty little thing.” Caine pulls me by the hair until my back is arching and my shoulders are touching his hard chest. He whispers in my ears, “I’m going to fuck you and fill you up. Your body will know that I own you, that your pussy belongs to me.”
Caine puts his hand on my throat and plunges in and out of me, grunting from the effort by my ear. The vulnerability of having my neck exposed to the strength of this man, who’s much bigger than I am, drives me over the edge. I explode with Caine’s thick, rock-hard cock inside me, pumping my pussy full of every drop of his hot come. I wail, my voice lost in the woods, my body convulsing and my pussy clenching, milking Caine’s pulsing cock.
We stand still and catch our breaths, Caine holding on to my hips and me holding on to the top of the car for balance. My legs are noodles. I’d crumple onto the dirt path if I didn’t hold on tight.
When Caine pulls his cock out of me, something warm dribbles out of me, a thick combination of his come and my wetness gliding down my inner thighs.
He kisses the back of my head gently, in contrast to his rough handling of my body
only moments ago. He whispers, “My dirty fucking flower.”
Daisy
I look down as my ballet flats tread the marble floors carefully. I’ve already wiped them on the mat by the huge double doors at the entrance of this mansion, but I still feel too dirty to be here.
I hope I don’t leave any muddy footprints. A couple of women wearing black polo shirts and black pants turn toward us as we pass the giant antique vase they’re meticulously cleaning with rags.
Maybe they’re looking at Caine, but I can’t help feeling self-conscious. Are my shoes dirty? Am I leaving dirty shoe prints? Or am I the one who’s dirty?
Do they know what I’ve just done?
It’s impossible for them to tell that Caine has just fucked me in the woods while we were on our way here, but the mind is not always rational.
The truth is, this brings back some painfully vivid memories from my childhood, memories I’ve been trying to suppress, memories that have been plaguing me since I signed the contract with Caine.
I was nine, and my mom was with me, holding my hand as we walked down the school hallway. She didn’t always hold my hand. Looking back, maybe she was trying to draw strength from me.
I don’t even remember anymore why we were at school. All I remember is the other parents—the other mothers, especially. They were huddling together, whispering among themselves, their eyes flicking toward my mom accusingly, even when they knew she was looking.
It felt strange. The other kids had been avoiding me, but I had no idea the grown-ups were doing the same thing to my mom. What was wrong with us? Why did people shun us?
A few years after that, when I was a teenager, I made friends with a girl whose parents were at the same meeting. One day, I asked her about it.
“Oh yeah, I remember that day,” she said.
“I felt like people were staring at me and my mom. Maybe it was just my imagination.”
The girl, Anna I think her name was, went quiet.
“Did you feel like they were staring at us?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know why?”
She hesitated. After a pause, she said, “Back then, my mom told me to stay away from you, to just play with the other girls.”
“Why?” I asked, hurt but glad to finally get some answers.
“I didn’t know back then, and I didn’t ask. But now that she just found out we’re hanging out together a lot, she brought it up again, trying to tell me to avoid you. So I asked her why.”
“And?”
“She said you were a bad influence.”
“Why?” I frowned. I was a good student, and I always got good grades, despite the struggles we faced due to Mom’s inability to get her shit together.
“It wasn’t really about you,” Anna quickly added. Softly, she said, “It was your mom.”
“What about my mom?” I sigh. Of course she’d be the one behind this as well. Why wouldn’t she be?
“There were rumors about her. They were never confirmed. Nobody had any evidence.”
“What did the rumors say?” Knowing Mom, they were probably accurate. I knew she was capable of some messed up shit.
“They said one of the dads was having an affair with her. His wife wasn’t happy about that. She spread the news through the gossip mill. They called your mom a home wrecker.”
I winced. Of course. That’s exactly the kind of thing that she did. It had to be one of the married dads, too, when there were plenty of divorcees at school.
“Sorry,” Anna said. She was a sweet girl. “I tried to tell my mom she was being crazy. It wasn’t completely your mom’s fault. Nobody was blaming the man who actually cheated on his wife.”
I smile wryly at the memory. Of course nobody blamed the man. Nobody ever does.
That’s why, when I was growing up, I swore never to follow in my mother’s footsteps, never to let a man stain my reputation.
And yet, look at me now. Only hours ago, I was moaning and howling in ecstasy for a man who had bought my virginity. Not even my mom has ever sold her body—not as far as I know, at least.
I used to judge her for attaching herself like a parasite to her shitty boyfriends. I swore to be strong, to be independent, to be my own savior so I wouldn’t have to depend on any man’s pity to survive.
I’m realizing now that sometimes my own strength isn’t enough. Even when I try my best.
I tried so hard to leave that life, to separate myself from my mom, but maybe the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree after all.
Maybe I’ve just been dealt a bad hand in life, but so has she.
At least I don’t have her alcoholism, or chronic unemployment, so I’m making some kind of progress. Yay, I guess.
After these thirty days, though, I’ll go back to being a nurse. An upstanding, respectable member of society, instead of a wealthy man’s plaything.
Most importantly, I’ll have enough money to pay off all my debts and put Jack through college, so he’ll have a better start in life. That apple better roll the hell away from the tree.
“Wait there,” Caine says, pointing at a cavernous room with an arrangement of giant couches around an oversized coffee table in the center.
I nod and, like a good lap dog, go sit on one of the couches. I pick the seat that gives me a view of the door through which Caine has just disappeared.
Seconds and minutes tick by on the big grandfather clock. I’m getting bored when I hear a familiar voice.
“Hey. Daisy, right?”
I turn around and see Todd, the cousin who came to Caine’s apartment yesterday. I guess now I know he’s actually related to Caine and not just a random stranger.
“Hi, Todd,” I say with a smile.
“Wow, I’m surprised to see you here.” He takes a seat beside me, making the couch cushion hiss from his weight.
“Oh?” I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows.
I don’t know how else to phrase a question without revealing how little I know about this place, given that Caine hasn’t told me anything about it.
I don’t even know if this place is a hotel or a private residence. It seems too quiet to be a hotel, but it seems too big to be anyone’s home.
I don’t like to ask Caine too many questions because I never know what would set him off. He let me use his phone to call home, but nobody picked up and I’m hoping he’ll let me try again later, so it’s best to keep him in a good mood.
“Yeah, Caine doesn’t ever bring a girl home,” Todd says. Okay, so this place isn’t too big to be a home after all.
“Do you live here?”
“Me? Oh, no. I came here with my dad. He’s in the office talking to Caine’s dad.”
I nod and give Todd a polite smile. So this is probably the Foster family home, then.
Strange how the same words can refer to completely different things. To me, the family home is an old, dilapidated house with leaky ceilings and broken tiles.
“You must be something special, Daisy.” Todd places his arm over the back of the couch so his hand is almost grazing my back. “First, Caine takes you to his apartment. And now, here.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say, starting to get uncomfortable with how close Todd is, and with the general direction of this conversation. I don’t really want to tell Todd I’m only here because Caine bought my virginity and got a bonus of unlimited sex for a month.
It’s nice to interact with someone other than Caine, though. At least, when I’m talking to Todd, I don’t have to be anyone’s subservient sex doll.
“So, how long have you known each other?” Todd asks.
“Um, a few weeks.”
“Really?” Todd’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, making me wonder if I’ve said the wrong thing. “I didn’t peg Caine as the type to move that fast.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track. It doesn’t feel like it has been a long time, but maybe it has.” I smile outwardly, while inside I’m worried a
bout blowing my cover. I need to keep my mouth shut.
“Oh, I know what you mean. Sometimes time moves really fast when you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Exactly.” I’m glad he’s satisfied with the answer.
The door of what I assume is the office opens, and a man steps out. He’s older, with silver hair and silver eyes. He gives Todd a look and walks away without acknowledging me.
“That’s my dad. I have to go. See you around, Daisy.” Todd gets up.
“See you, Todd.” I heave a sigh of relief as he disappears down the hallway behind his dad.
After staring at the grandfather clock for exactly fourteen minutes, Caine emerges through the same door, looking annoyed.
That can’t be a good sign.
Caine
“Caine! Could it really be you?” The woman rushes with an agility that defies her size. She cups my face in her wrinkled hands. When she looks up at me, her eyes have filled with water.
What the fuck?
When I saw Pop and told him Bertha Jones was visiting relatives, he immediately knew where to find her.
He then insisted that I fly to Denver the very next day, which pissed me off because I’d just gotten home. Just because I travel a lot already doesn’t mean I like moving around so much in such a short time frame.
I literally told him, “We have her phone number. Why can’t you just call her yourself?”
Know what he said? “No, it has to be in person.”
That’s all. He didn’t even want to explain why, but put me through some bullshit to guilt-trip me into going. Which worked, annoyingly.
So, instead of going home for just one night, I decided to drive to the airport right away, with Daisy in the passenger seat.
I didn’t want to bother with unpacking and repacking my bag again. I thought I’d see Bertha Jones, have a short conversation, and fly back home. I finally have Daisy right where I want her, wrapped around my finger, and I’d like to enjoy it while it lasts.
Now, I don’t know if that was the right decision.
I’m sleep-deprived after the red-eye flight, but I can still handle a level-headed, light-hearted chat with my father’s old friend. Instead, I’m confronted by an emotional stranger who recognizes me as soon as she opens the front door.
