Wrong Number

by Lucian Bane

  Soon her teeth were in on the effort and before she could worry that she was hurting him, he gave a sudden strained half roar, followed with boiling cum against the back of her throat. Oh God, yes. Yes. She drank and drank, her gasps of rapture filling her own ears as he gripped fistfuls of hair, her neck feeling boneless as he rubbed himself all along her lips and face. She remained with eyes closed in the bliss, feeling that perfect part of him stroking her cheek and parted mouth and even her nose. But nothing compared to hearing the sounds pouring from him. The awe, the pained awe of what she’d given.

  Her eyes slit open, and again his mouth was on hers, devouring, hungry. God they were like two starving souls, never able to get enough. Feeding, only to be hungrier than before.

  The urge to weep welled up inside her until she fought for air.

  “Angel,” he gasped, sounding worried. “Did I hurt you?”

  The question plowed through some dam inside her and a single sob burst forth.

  “Fuck!” he whispered, scooping her out of the tub and carrying her to the bed. She fought the avalanche surging, covering her mouth with a hand and clenching her eyes tight. But with all the shoving she did against it, another part of it escaped her throat. Where was this even coming from? What was it?

  She managed to sit up.

  “Talk to me, right now,” he ordered softly, petting her face.

  “I don’t know!” she grit out, pushing his hands away while grasping at the sudden spark of anger for strength.

  “What do you mean you don’t know,” he demanded, not buying it one bit.

  She fought to catch her breath, focusing on her panic techniques. “I…I don’t know what that was,” she could only whisper. “I was just…” She slammed a hand on her mouth again, shaking her head, warding him back with her other hand.

  “Fucking talk to me, Lizzy. Now.”

  His firm tone gave her a shot of control and she sucked in a huge breath and worked again to steady her breathing. She did that three more times.

  “I’m waiting,” he said, standing still too close to her.

  She closed her eyes. Every time she tried to think of the answer to his questions the shit came flooding back.

  “I just need a yes or a no. Did. I. Hurt you.”

  She shook her head, managing, “You didn’t hurt me.”

  “Fuck, why do you say that like you’re dying?”

  She could only shake her head a lot.

  “Okay,” he said, pacing. “You take your time, get yourself together.” He suddenly put her clothes next to her on the bed. “Get dressed.”

  She snapped her gaze up to him, the avalanche back and pushing in her chest.

  “I’m taking you home and I’m drawing up our contract tonight. But you have twenty-four hours to decide if this is something you can do. I won’t force you. But once you agree, I will. Do you understand? I will force you once you agree. You need to understand that clearly.”

  She nodded a lot. “I…I understood that.”

  “You understood it? You may have, but I think you have no idea what you understood and whether or not you can handle it. That’s my fault. You get twenty-four hours. Fuck,” he muttered, pausing with a hand on his hip, thinking. He aimed his hard look at her. “You get a week. You get one whole week to think about it. A trial. But during that week, I own you. I own you exactly like I plan to under contract. This way you’ll know what you’re getting into. Because unlike you, contracts are pen and paper to me. And once you sign ours, you’re mine. If you break that contract after you sign it, it’s over. It’s not a threat, it’s just the nature of how contracts work. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, wanting so bad to tell him what happened. But every time she did, that avalanche of unbearable heaven surged. It would swallow her. Drown her. It was too powerful, too emotional. There was no way a human being could feel that and not weep.

  She didn’t need twenty-four hours much less a week. But he seemed to need it more than anything. She’d give him the week the way he said, while letting him have what he needed. Complete control and command over her pleasure.

  She couldn’t believe that he didn’t realize he had way more control over her than that.

  Or maybe he did know.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  David read over the simple contract for the tenth time, adding another clarification. Her lack of contribution to all of it was bothering him. Or was it her lack of suspicion? Both a bother. She should have a million questions and he’d expected it. Wanted it. Needed it.

  They were supposed to negotiate things. Her negotiation would tell him a lot about her, things he needed to know so he knew how far he could go or not.

  He remembered her I’ll add stuff when I read the first draft.

  He’d damn well hold her to that. She had better have her red pen in hand for edits and her other colors for suggestions. Of all the times she needed to be an editor, it was in this. In this very real thing.

  If she thought he considered the contract legal, she was mistaken. This was not about legally binding her to anything, this was him knowing what he could and couldn’t do. He didn’t want her signing anything, if she didn’t know what she was signing. He wanted her to know exactly what was involved in their agreement, so she could decide yes or no and make her suggestions. With the way it was going, he’d have to tweak as he went. Her innocence and inexperience had her giving herself to him without thought or concern and while that turned out to be an instant fucking addiction, he realized how dangerous that was for her. She trusted him. Fuck. His cock boiled at the idea that she truly did, and he wanted to get busy showing her that she could. But until he knew her needs, he couldn’t really protect her and the only way to solve that problem was for her to tell him.

  His mind went again to what she might be doing. He’d dropped her off at her apartment, parking out of sight and watching to see if anybody came or went. If somebody went in the direction of her apartment, he’d text her something about work and ask how she was.

  He didn’t care how obsessive that was. There was no stopping that, not after what was started between them. There was no turning it off for him. And he was pretty sure there was no shutting it off for her either.

  To make matters worse, he’d forgotten how he’d met her. During a panic attack. But spending an entire, sexually charged day with her had wiped that out of his mind, and now that she was away from him, it was all he could think about. Which had him kicking his own stupid fucking ass.

  In his defense, he’d never dreamed he’d get the chance for something like this. Never even fantasized. But just like the phone call with Lizzy, it just happened. Like a star shooting across the sky, the rare event happened, and he’d jumped, and she’d jumped with him.

  He wasn’t about to give it up. Like all stories and plots, they were messy at first and required working out. And he was a plotter, not a panster. He carefully planned his stories unlike other writers who let the story plot itself. That wasn’t him, never was. He was too much into control for that. The closest he got to letting things control him was with his characters, and they only partially dictated what he wrote.

  He just needed to see Lizzy that way. A character with… oddities or traits he hadn’t discovered. He navigated those by scene. As he went, they’d show their colors, then he’d create a color-pallet for them, and then proceed to paint a masterpiece with those colors.

  He took in a deep breath and let it out, feeling his tension loosening. That was it. That’s where he was with Lizzy. Learning her colors. And after he did, he’d return to his meticulous sexual obsession. Because that part of him was awake and there was no putting him back in the box now. And she was the one with the power to answer that need because she created it in him.

  His phone buzzed and he snatched it off the nightstand. At seeing her name, his pulse raced straight to his cock and beat like war drums.

  What are you up to? I can’t sleep she’d texted.

  Fuc
k that. He hit her number and put the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. And ring. He hung up on her voice mail and texted her. You’re not answering your phone.

  Sorry, I was in the middle of something.

  He typed. Like what?

  He waited, watching the floating ellipses. Private things.

  His cock throbbed in the silence. Like what?

  Using the bathroom! Are you happy now?

  His stomach loosened and he smiled. Very. No secrets from me.

  Are you worried I’m hiding some man here?

  He dialed her number again.

  “Hello,” she answered.

  He considered her deliberate tone, irked that he still couldn’t read her. “Hello, Princess,” he said back. “You miss me?”

  “Yeeeesss,” she sang in a worried sounding tone, throwing him off again.

  “Good. Did you talk to your Aunt?”

  “I did.”

  Another unreadable tone. “And?”

  “Aaaand she wasn’t thrilled, but she understood.”

  “Interesting. So, tell me what you told her.” He was convinced her strange behavior stemmed from that.

  She gave a small hiss sound.

  “What did you tell her,” he demanded, unable to keep from grinning.

  Another sigh.

  “God, tell me, you’re driving me crazy with that weird vibe.”

  “What weird vibe?!”

  “Your tone just now was weirder than ever, the weirdest ever.”

  She gave her first real laugh and it got him rock hard.

  “Tell me what you told her.”

  “Only if you promise not to be mad.”

  His browse rose. “So, this is why you’ve had this tone ever since hello.”

  “Are you serious? You could tell?” Like she feared for the secrets in her soul now.

  “Spill it.”

  “I told her that…you have an apartment at the office that you rent out and…you offered it to me and I accepted since it was so close to work, and that would save me time and money and it was a much safer place to live.” She finished in a light tone, clearly proud slash ashamed of herself.

  “Impressive lie.”

  She laughed. “It kind of was, and I hate lying to her. But…in this case…”

  “The truth was too embarrassing?”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, sounding pained. “It really was. Oh, I fell for my boss and slept with him on the first day and over dinner signed a year-long contract to be his sex slave. Only, we didn’t even have dinner!”

  He winced at how that sounded all while his cock jerked and thrashed from her fell for her boss line. “So….you fell for me, did you?”

  He grabbed his cock in a choke hold, waiting. “I did,” she whispered.

  “How hard did you fall?”

  “Apparently hard enough to hit my head and lose my mind.”

  “I’m touching my cock,” he decided to tell her. “And you’re free to walk away at any time. Remember that. I don’t own you.”

  “I thought you said you did.”

  He grunted, wishing he understood what that tone meant. Disappointed? Testing? Uncertainty? “I did say that.”

  “Did…that change?”

  Fuck she was good at hiding her emotions. “It did.”

  “What…did it change to?”

  He shook his head wondering if he’d ever be able to read her in regards to this. He could read her in everything else but with this, she was a closed textbook. “It changed to you having time to decide, remember?”

  “Oh,” she said.

  He heard the relief even though she tried to mask it.

  “So you…will pick me up in the morning?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, stroking himself slowly.

  “And…we’re still…”

  “Bringing you and your things to my place. Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

  “Okay.”

  “Did you?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “A woman of few words, I usually like that.”

  “Usually?”

  “In this particular thing, I need to know definitively how you feel about it.”

  “Do you have the contract?”

  “I do.”

  “I’ll get to see it in the morning?”

  “You will, yes.”

  “I’m working from your home tomorrow?”

  “Yes. You are.”

  “What…are we doing?”

  Fuck, he’d not thought of it. “We’re going over the contract.”

  “And then?”

  “You’re ready to get to work?”

  “Whenever…you are, yes.”

  “What work are you ready for exactly?”

  She was quiet and cleared her throat. “Whatever one…you need me for.”

  Fuck, she wanted it. At least she thought she did. “Can I tell you one of my secrets?”

  His breath shuddered out with her delicate, “Yes Sir.”

  “I told you that I needed to try things I write…to see if they work.”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t need to see if they work…I need to do them because I want to. Crave to.”

  “Do you…like…have… things like Lance?”

  Fuck, did she mean a dungeon? “I do.” It wasn’t a lie, because he’d just mentally ordered every manner of equipment she’d read about. “Does that scare you?”

  “No,” she said, her quick response gripping his balls.

  “You want that?”

  “I want…to obey you.”

  “Fuck, Lizzy,” he gasped. “My cock is wet for you right now. Touch your pussy for me. Tell me if it’s wet.”

  A moment later she gasped, “It is. I’m so wet.”

  “I haven’t eaten your pussy yet. Do you want me to?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes Sir,” she added between shaky breaths.

  “Are you touching yourself?”

  “N…no. Do you want me to?”

  “Are you waiting for me to command you?”

  “Yes,” she shot out. “Yes Sir. I’ve…been waiting.”

  “Fuck baby. Touch your clit for me. Is your pussy still tender?”

  “Yes,” she breathed.

  “I’ll lick it all better first thing in the morning.”

  She gave a pained moan. “I…I can’t wait.”

  He sat up at her tone. “You want me to come get you now?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes Sir. Please.”

  “Are you packed?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  ****

  Oh God, he was coming to get her. She was really doing this. And she so horny, she couldn’t sit still. Would he eat her tonight? She was sure he would. She wanted him to. She’d fantasized about it non-stop since he dropped her off. Among so many other things she’d read in his book. He’d said not the secretary story, but it was all she had to go by, and her mind kept putting her and him in those scenarios.

  Amazing how quickly her mind turned around with that one.

  And he had a dungeon. God, this was really happening. She was possibly about to get herself into some serious trouble and her body and mind had zero fears about it. She couldn’t wait to experience all of it.

  If he turned out to be a serial killer, she’d deserve it. She literally was doing everything you should never do in a situation like this. She was living like some of those fictional characters did. Foolishly, recklessly. She was the character she threw books across the rooms over. That was her. And she’d likely still throw a book across the room if she read of a character doing what she was doing.

  But not even that could stop her from taking the risk. At least she wouldn’t be like one of those annoying characters that never took a chance, that second guessed everything, that did all the right things. Smart heroines. She wasn’t being one of those in this. Not at all. She was being the dummy in a horror movie that r
an in heels. The idiot that went towards the danger to check it out. The moron that believed the best about strangers. That believed all the kind words handsome men told her.

  She was set up for this, really. Life had set her right up. And still, if she had to pick between this life and her other one, she’d pick this one no matter what. Even with all the dangers and risks. Maybe especially with, if she was being honest.

  David could pick anybody he wanted and the reality she’d not ignore or pretend didn’t exist was that he’d chosen her. Even if he did choose her for her perfect naivete. She wasn’t going anywhere in life before this. She wouldn’t miss anything. And if she died, she’d know that she died trying something daring and amazing.

  And what if she succeeded? Maybe that was more terrifying than the other scenarios. But it was just as viable as any other outcome. If the Cinderella odds were never in her favor, didn’t that mean her odds were good? She thought it could mean that. She wasn’t great at math, but it felt right in her math gut.

  David texted he was there, and she quickly hurried to the door, not really wanting him in her apartment. It was kind of pathetic. She wasn’t a Suzy-home maker and it showed. She was a minimalist, a book lover and a plant lover. That was about it. She’d rather clean a stove than cook on it and if she could get out of dirtying anything, she would.

  Before she could open the door, a knock sounded. “Shit, shit,” she whispered, wishing for once in her pathetic life that she’d had the urge to make her home presentable or normal looking.

  She opened the door and before she could talk him into leaving immediately, he was inside, kicking it shut and grabbing her face. He kissed her like a category three hurricane, obliterating every thought until moans and gasps were her new native tongue.

  “I want to make you come in your bed,” he said in her mouth. “Take me there.”