Sin for Me

by Jackie Ashenden

  He was touching her. Finally, he was touching her right where she’d wanted him to touch her, where she’d fantasized about for so long. And she was so close to coming already the pleasure felt like pain. Yet it wasn’t enough, it still wasn’t enough. He was making her wait, the bastard.

  “Y-y-yes,” she stammered, hardly able to speak. “F-for you.”

  He stroked her again, his fingers sliding easily through her wet flesh, and she couldn’t resist the urge to rock her hips, desperate for more pressure, for more touch. But then his hand stopped, and she nearly whimpered with disappointment.

  “Did I stay you could move, little one?”

  She heaved in a panting breath. “N-no.”

  “No,” he agreed. “I didn’t. So keep still.” Then he gently pinched her clit as if delivering a warning.

  Lightning flashed along each and every nerve ending, and she cried out at the sensation, so intense she couldn’t work out whether it was pleasure or pain.

  “Good girl.” There was a darkness in the words, and a heat that made her tremble even more, like a tree being battered by a hurricane. “You’re such a good girl for me.” His fingers slid up and down, squeezing her clit, deepening the sensation, and she had to bite her lip hard to do as she was told, to keep still. Because she wanted to show him she could do it. Because even now, even here, like this, his praise made her feel like she was ten feet tall and bulletproof.

  He lifted his gaze from between her thighs and stared right at her, looking into her eyes as if he were seeing right inside her. As if he knew exactly what she was thinking, exactly how crazy the touch of his finger was making her.

  “Don’t think you’re getting a reward just yet,” he said quietly. “You pushed for this, Zoe, you pushed hard and that means I get to push you hard too.” The blackness of his eyes was like midnight. “You’re not gonna come until I tell you to. And if you do . . .” He paused. “Well, let’s just say I’m gonna be very disappointed.”

  That strange foreboding twisted tighter. She didn’t know how she felt about that, because she’d always hated disappointing him and he knew it.

  Of course he knows it. Why do you think he said it?

  Bastard. It meant there was only one answer she could give him. “I . . . w-won’t, I promise,” she said, the words escaping in a breathless rush.

  “I wouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.” His stroking fingers stopped. “Especially when I’m in charge.” He gave her no warning, pushing one finger inside her, then another, sliding them in deep, keeping his gaze on her as he did so.

  Raw pleasure exploded through her, brilliant as summer lightning, and she cried out, unable to stop the helpless lift of her hips.

  The look in his eyes flared. “What did I tell you?”

  Her whole body was quaking, her hands pressing down hard onto the metal of the car.

  He eased his fingers apart, stretching her, the pleasure burning. “I told you not to move.”

  “I-I’m s-s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to.” Her voice was so hoarse it didn’t sound like her own. “I won’t d-do it . . . again . . .”

  Slowly Gideon drew his fingers out of her and pushed back in, watching her with that intent, absolute focus. “You wanted this, Zoe.” The words were soft and rough, full of dark sensuality. “But I don’t think you can take it. I don’t think you’re strong enough.” Another thrust of his fingers, forcing her higher, stretching her wider.

  She felt like she was slowly coming apart at the seams. “I c-can. I can do it . . . oh God . . . G-Gideon . . .” Her knees were shaking, her thighs quivering. Like a rubber band being pulled slowly yet inexorably back, the tension building inside her higher and higher. She was going to snap. She was going to break.

  He leaned forward, one hand beside her thigh, the other between her legs, his fingers buried deep in her pussy. Then, his gaze like black fire, swallowing her whole, he twisted them, curling them up inside her as he pressed his thumb down on her aching clit.

  The orgasm burst through her, overwhelming her resistance like a force of nature, unstoppable, inexorable. Her head fell back and she shut her eyes tight, unable to keep the shuddering cry of release inside, disappointment mixing with the explosion of pleasure, because she hadn’t managed to last the distance. Hadn’t managed to show him that she was strong enough for this, for him.

  She collapsed back on the hood of the car, flinging an arm across her face, not caring that her knees were spread wide and that he could see everything. Too late for that anyway.

  The back of her forearm felt wet and she realized there were tears in her eyes.

  Oh great. Why the hell was she crying? And why should she feel so disappointed when she’d just had the most intense orgasm of her life? Yeah, it had been amazing, and sure, he’d given her an order and she’d wanted to obey it, but really, did she have to feel quite that disappointed?

  It was just sex, wasn’t it?

  Gideon’s hand had fallen away from her, the garage suddenly silent apart from her short, hiccupping breaths.

  She didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to see the expression on his face for some reason, and she certainly didn’t want him to see the tears that were on hers.

  “You didn’t do what I told you,” he said, rough and husky. “That means you don’t get your reward.”

  She swallowed, her throat tight and aching. “But I t-tried.” The words sounded thick and muffled behind her forearm. “You weren’t being fair.”

  Powerful fingers closed around her wrist, her arm dragged away from her face. He was bending over her, looking down into her eyes, his expression unyielding. “I told you I’d be hard on you. I warned you. There’s a reason I didn’t want you pushing me, Zoe.” There was no mercy in his black eyes, only a flame that seared her inside and out. “Nothing about me is gonna be fair. I’m telling you that right now.”

  “So what does that mean?” she asked shakily.

  “You came when I told you not to. That means a punishment.”

  “Gideon—”

  But he didn’t wait for her to finish, his hands on her hips, flipping her over so she was facedown on the hood of the car, her feet barely touching the ground.

  She sucked in a startled breath, staring down at the glossy black paintwork of the Chevy, every sense she had focused on the man behind her. On his hands as they shoved her skirt up to her waist. On the snap and release of the lacy fabric of her panties as he ripped them up the side. On the intense heat of his palms as he squeezed her ass, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

  She whimpered, unable to help herself, shutting her eyes as the shakes took hold again, her hands flat on the metal beneath her. He squeezed her hard, sending a hot sting of pleasure/pain arcing through her. The aftershocks of her first orgasm were setting off little earthquakes inside her, and when he slid his hands down the backs of her thighs and curled his fingers inward, brushing the folds of her pussy, the sensation made her gasp. Too much. It was too much.

  “Gideon, please . . .”

  But he ignored her, his fingers pushing between her thighs, stroking her sex again, then sliding in, tearing a groan from her. There was heat up against her, the hard length of his body pressed to the backs of her thighs, to her spine, the weight of his body pushing at her as one large, masculine hand came down on the hood of the car next to hers. “I told you you’d better be sure.” His voice was right near her ear, his breath warm against the side of her neck. “I told you I was gonna take everything. That I wouldn’t be fair. That I’d push you. You gonna back out on me now?”

  The movement of his hand between her thighs was relentless, his fingers sliding in and out, fucking her in a hard, sure rhythm, making her knees tremble. And that foreboding was a twist of cold in her gut. Already this wasn’t anything like what she’d fantasized about. Her fantasies of him had all been pretty tame, the basic in-a-bed, missionary-position stuff, with a blow job thrown in for good measure. There hadn’t been any orders an
d a car certainly hadn’t been involved.

  You imagined him the way you thought he would be. Not how he actually is.

  “N-no,” she said hoarsely, feeling something inside her drop away. But of course she’d imagined it that way because . . . well, she knew him. Didn’t she?

  The hand next to hers moved, and suddenly she was being pushed facedown onto the metal hood as he gripped the back of her neck. “This time,” he said in a low, rough voice. “Don’t fucking move.”

  She shivered, the foreboding turning over and over, joining with the pleasure to create a hot, raw, desperate feeling that scared her. A deep, primal fear that had her mouth going dry and another whimper building in her throat.

  Run. Get out now. Save yourself.

  Yet she didn’t move. Because he’d told her not to and so she wouldn’t. Because that was the whole reason he was doing this, to scare her away, and she wasn’t damn well going to be scared.

  But telling herself that did nothing to quell the fear or the intense, aching pleasure, the two so intermixed she didn’t know which was which.

  She was almost near to climax again by the time his fingers slid out of her, quivering and gasping, her breath fogging the paint beneath her. All she could do was stand there with her cheek pressed to the metal, trying to keep herself upright, trying desperately not to move.

  There came the sound of a zipper being undone and the crinkle of foil. She couldn’t stop shaking. Oh Jesus, this was actually going to happen. Gideon was going to take her virginity on the hood of a car, in his goddamn garage.

  Again, it wasn’t like anything she’d dreamed, but she wasn’t going to complain. At least it was actually happening.

  She took a harsh, ragged breath as his hand touched her hip and gripped her tight, the blunt head of his cock pushing against the entrance to her body.

  No, it wasn’t how she’d thought it would go. She’d wanted to look at his face, into his eyes, have his bare skin on hers, not be facedown on the hood of a car while they were both pretty much fully dressed.

  He told you not to push him. He gave you a choice. You were the one who thought you could handle it, so fucking handle it.

  Zoe screwed her eyes shut tight and tried to fucking handle it, but as he began to push into her, a wail tore from her throat. It hurt, it really did, and he was relentless, pushing deeper, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

  “Breathe.” The order was a rough growl from behind her.

  So she did, opening her mouth and drawing in long, ragged breaths that turned into groans as he lifted her hips, sliding even deeper. Her hands clawed at the metal as the burning pain moved outward, her vision blurred and hazy with sudden tears.

  This was nothing like she’d imagined. Nothing at all.

  The feel of him inside her was too much, stretching sensitized tissues, the unfamiliarity of it oddly bewildering. She wanted to grab on to something and yet there was nothing to grab on to.

  A sobbing sound filled the garage, and she realized with a kind of shock that it was her. That her cheeks were wet and the paint under her cheek slick.

  Gideon’s fingers dug in and she felt him pull back, sliding out of her, before thrusting back in. Then he did it again. And again. Until the burning pain began to change, the bright edge of it becoming sharp with pleasure.

  She didn’t understand how that worked. How could pain be pleasure? It didn’t make any sense. But there was no denying it, no denying the intensity of it either. The feel of his hard cock inside her, pressing against the walls of her pussy, making her feel so full she didn’t think she could stand it. Then the slide of it as he pulled out, the delicious friction as he pushed back in.

  The combination of sensations confused her, terrified her, and thrilled her all at the same time.

  “Remember what I said.” The words were guttural, his voice as hoarse as hers. “You can’t come until I tell you. Don’t disappoint me again.”

  Her chest went tight and she opened her mouth to tell him that no way was she going to do that, then his hand slipped around her hip and underneath her, pushing down between her thighs, finding her clit. And he slicked his thumb over and around the hard little bud, stroking her as he thrust deeper, harder.

  Zoe groaned, white lights bursting behind her eyes, the pain fracturing apart under the weight of pleasure. She could hear him, the harsh sound of his breathing behind her, feel the blazing heat of his body against hers, inside hers. It wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted to see him, touch him, having him touch her, not . . . this.

  Yeah, and this is why it’s a punishment, idiot. Still think you can handle it?

  Something crystallized inside her, determination shifting.

  Oh yeah. She could. She would take this from him, show him she was strong enough to do whatever he wanted and give him whatever he asked for.

  She would be his good girl. And then, perhaps, he’d actually give her what she wanted.

  So she thought about anything else, about cleaning house and the boringness of having to do the garage accounts. About how much she hated cooking and how dull it was when the rest of them started talking about baseball.

  Anything so she didn’t focus on the pleasure, raw and intense, building inside her. The push of his cock and the agonizing touch of his thumb on her clit.

  Until she was sobbing against the metal of the car, harsh sounds tearing from her throat, her whole body shaking and shaking and shaking. Then his voice, so close to her, his lips brushing her ear. “Come, Zoe. Come now.”

  And she did, screaming into the silence of the garage, the sound of it echoing off the hard surfaces of the walls, high and ragged and thin as the pleasure broke her apart, shattering her like a glass bottle thrown onto a concrete floor.

  She wasn’t really conscious of anything much after that. The pace of his thrusts increased as he slammed her against the hood over and over, but she felt weirdly disconnected from her body, as if she was hovering above it, watching from a long way off. She was barely aware when he came, his cry of release harsh and guttural, the raw sound of his breathing loud in her ear.

  For long moments they stood there unmoving, her pushed up against the car with him hot and hard and panting at her back. Then he pulled out of her, moving away, and it was all she could do to stay upright. There was no strength in her legs, and she had to push her palms hard against the metal to stay where she was and not slide into a heap on the floor.

  The sound of clothing being dealt with came from behind her, and then Gideon’s hands were on her too, smoothing down her skirt, covering her up. She felt boneless and heavy, like she’d had a shot of some wicked sedative and now was completely unable to move.

  He flipped her over again, and this time she couldn’t even be bothered to put her forearm over her face to shield herself from his gaze. She only looked up into his dark eyes, feeling naked and vulnerable, utterly stripped of every defense she had. He didn’t say a word, and his expression was completely opaque. But she could read the hard lines of his face well enough. They were merciless, intent. There would be no softening, not even now.

  She trembled when he reached for her, but he only lifted her into his arms, and despite that hard expression, he gathered her against his chest gently enough. Without speaking he carried her out of the garage and back up to the apartment. And she thought he might take her into her own room, dump her on the bed, and leave her alone for the night. Part of her was almost hoping for it, because God knew, she could use some time to process what exactly had happened down in the garage.

  But he strode right by her bedroom door, continuing on down the hallway, and her whole body clenched tight. No doubt about where he was taking her now. To his bedroom.

  It was dark as he stepped inside with her, but he didn’t bother with the lights, kicking the door shut behind him instead. The sound echoed through her, heavy with portent, though why she didn’t know.

  A prison door closing, maybe?

  No, that
was stupid. Sure, he wanted her to stay in the apartment and she’d been slightly dramatic about having to do that, but this wasn’t a prison. He wasn’t her jailer. Then again, there were worse places to be a prisoner than Gideon’s bedroom.

  The room itself was scrupulously clean—unlike hers. There were no clothes on the floor and the bed, pushed up against the wall by the windows, had been neatly made. The dresser, on the opposite side of the room, had no plethora of bottles sitting haphazardly on it, and the bookshelves nearby weren’t crowded with knickknacks, and paper and all sorts of other stuff, just his neatly shelved collection of science fiction classics.

  He was way tidier than she was and was always a bear when it came to making sure she tidied up after herself.

  She blinked as he carried her over to the bed. Crazy, she was crazy. Why the hell was she thinking about his tidiness when she was in his room and he’d obviously brought her here for more of what had gone on down in the garage.

  You don’t want to think of what he might do.

  A tremor shook her. What had happened already had been almost more than she’d been able to handle as it was. Could she really deal with more of the same?

  She wanted to go back to her room, slide into her own bed and pull the covers over her head, curl up into a ball, and not think about what she and Gideon had done. Not think about the intense pleasure or the deep foreboding. The scariness of the whole situation.

  But she’d decided she was going to prove him wrong. Take his punishment and be his good girl. She couldn’t pull out of this yet.

  He set her down so she was standing next to the bed and, with calm, deliberate and steady hands, began to pull off her clothes. She let him, shuddering yet again as he got rid of her black, lacy top and the bra underneath it, then tugged down the skirt she wore. It wasn’t cold in the room, but goose bumps rose all over her skin anyway as the last item of clothing came off. He didn’t look at her, merely sinking to his haunches in front of her and dealing with the laces of her boots, removing them with the same calm deliberation as he’d removed everything else.