Does it matter?
One deep breath. Two. Three.
“Just for tonight,” I say. I lick my lips, watching him and unable to help feeling as though I just stepped into the jaws of a waiting beast. “For tonight, I’ll be yours.”
6
Angelo
Mine.
The word rings in my head like a mantra, pulsing so steadily and powerfully I can feel it in my skin. She gave me what I wanted, and now I can barely keep from taking her right here on the fucking table. It’s my club. My building. No one would dare stop me.
I had planned to take her to at least the third floor tonight. Maybe even the fourth. Now though?
She doesn’t know what she unleashed with those words.
“Come,” I say, standing and extending a hand toward her.
She hesitates, but stands too, reaching to take my hand.
I lead her toward the edge of the room, where black curtained areas dot the wall. One curtain is red. My personal room, and everybody who is allowed above the first floor knows better than to go anywhere near it.
“What’s behind all these?” she asks as we pass some of the black curtains. Just as she asks, we move by one room where a woman’s soft, desperate moans reach our ears.
I grin. “Privacy.”
Her eyebrows furrow together as she seems to piece it together bit by bit. Yes, little pet. We just had dinner while people fucked all around us. From the way her lips press tightly and her cheeks turn red, she seems to figure it out just as I take her behind the red curtain.
I pull the curtain closed once we’re inside. The space is no larger than a modest closet. There’s enough room to lay down outstretched in either direction, more or less, and little else. The only decoration is a single hook on the wall and two chains with leather wrist restraints.
Ana looks at the chains and then back at me with a frightened expression.
“You gave yourself to me,” I say, stepping up behind her so that I can speak softly in her ear, hands hard on her shoulders. “Prove it. Put your wrists in the bindings. Tighten them until you couldn’t free yourself if you tried. You gave me yourself, now give me your submission. Forget the fact that we’re only speaking distance away from dozens of people.”
She eyes the chains like they might jump out and bite her at any moment, unease clear in her features. I wait a few heartbeats, letting her have time to overcome her unease, but she doesn’t move.
“Come here,” I say, tugging her toward me so that she’s pressed against my chest. I look down into those big, uncertain eyes and feel all the hard lines I’ve spent a lifetime building up threatening to melt and go soft. “If you put your trust in me, I can give you what you’ve always wanted. But you have to trust me. One leap of faith at a time.”
She takes an unsteady breath through her nose, then nods her head. She walks to the chains, slides her wrists in the leather bindings, and then yanks the straps to tighten them. Once she’s done, she fixes me with a surprisingly playful look and makes a show of tugging at her bindings a few times. Couldn’t get out if I tried, her expression seems to say.
I take in the sight of her. Black dress. Full tits that are exactly the right size to give me a handful and then some. My eyes are drawn to the smooth, porcelain-white skin of her neck and the innocent features of her face. For all the world, she looks like she couldn’t be older than twenty, and like she’s never even seen a cock. She’s not a virgin, though. She’s something better.
I’ve always had a particular talent for spotting a virgin, and I don’t take Ana for one. She’s someone who had the misfortune of giving her virginity to a man with no fucking clue what to do with her—like giving the keys of a Ferrari to an old man. He wasted her. Squandered the riches hiding just beneath that thin black dress.
Not me.
I’ll savor every last inch of her. Every taste. Every sigh and moan. I’ll drink her in until I’m full, nearly ready to burst, and then I’ll take even more, still. And it’ll be all the sweeter for her because she thinks she knows what sex is. Other men get so excited at the idea of fucking a virgin, but the real thrill comes from showing a woman she had never even come close to understanding what real sex felt like, what a real orgasm was, or how she could cum so hard she’d feel like she had a fucking hangover the next morning.
I reach for my tie, unfastening it in no particular hurry while I watch her reaction. Her eyes fall to my fingers, transfixed there until I strip the tie free and let it fall to the ground in a silky heap. I move to the buttons of my shirt next, again, taking my time so that I can enjoy the guilty anticipation on her face.
Once unbuttoned, I strip my shirt and my suit jacket and drop them to the floor to join my tie.
She feels guilty, but knowing she’s conflicted makes the way her eyes drink me in all the more satisfying. The desire on her face is all the sustenance I could ever need. I move closer now so that I can pull the slack from the chains in the wall. I yank the chains up until her hands are pulled overhead, then fasten the bottom of the slack to pins in the wall, making sure she’ll feel the kind of loss of control that can only come from being immobilized.
“Too high?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
I check her wrists, sliding my index finger between the fastenings and her skin to be sure they aren’t too tight. “And this?” I ask
She nods, confusion plain in her eyes.
“Listen, my little pet. The only time I want you to be uncomfortable is if I know it will make you cum harder. I don’t need you to be in pain right now, and my purpose doesn’t need to be a secret. Restraining your body forces you to submit physically. It’s the easiest form of submission, and it’s where we’ll start. Eventually, you’ll give me everything. Body, mind, soul, but tonight, we’ll start with your body. Do you understand me?”
She swallows, nodding again. “Yes.” Her voice is a whisper. Little more than a choked breath.
“Say my name when you answer me. When you’re mine. When you’re in a place like this, you say my name.”
“Yes, Angelo,” she says.
A dirty warmth floods through me. So fucking sweet and innocent. And so completely mine. She’s the type of girl that shouldn’t ever wind up crossing paths with a guy like me. The kind of girl I should’ve told to run while she could as soon as I met her. Maybe I still will, but not until I get my fill of her tonight. There’s no harm in my sexual preferences, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. My line of work is not safe. There’s no guarantee of safety, and if I let her become important to me, she will also become a potential target for my enemies.
I let myself touch her then. I’ve been playing my own game until now, a game of seeing how long I can go without touching her like I’ve wanted to. I have to hold back from literally ripping her dress off her, from rutting into her like some kind of sex-starved beast.
I clench my teeth tight, forcing a calm into my muscles that my brain doesn’t want to feel. Savor her. Don’t waste a moment of this.
I trace the curve of her hips and narrow waist with my hands, unable to think of anything but how easily I could lift her and spread her legs around my waist, of how good her wet pussy would feel against me. But again, I force a calm I don’t feel to suffuse me, only continuing to drag my touch across her body, knowing that she must feel a path of fire trailing where my hands pass, that goosebumps are rising across her perfectly soft skin, little bubbles of arousal.
She watches me with slightly parted lips that beg to be kissed. Everything about her begs for me. Her lips. Her eyes. Even her posture—the way she leans slightly forward, letting her weight rest on the chains so she can get her body as close to mine as possible.
It’s all as sweet as nectar to me because I know behind those hungry eyes is a brain in conflict. She’s strong. I saw it in her the moment she barged into the coffee shop and asked me to pretend for her even though she was terrified. She wanted nothing more than to run away, but she did i
t anyway. I admire that in her. I’ve also seen her strength in the way she almost resists myt every request. That strong mind of hers is probably screaming at her for getting involved in something so outlandishly crazy, but her desire for what I’m offering has overpowered it every step of the way.
Getting her this far is a testament to how unbelievably bad she wants it.
My dirty little pet.
I take two purposeful steps back, relishing in the fall of her features and the hurt surprise there. She wants to ask me to come back, but that sharp mind of hers is back again, making her hold on to what dignity she can.
I’ve won your body, little pet. That part wasn’t hard. But now I’m going to show you how easily I’ll win your mind, if I want it. Resist all you want, and I’ll win every fucking time.
I reach for my belt, purposefully taking longer than necessary to undo it so I can watch the anticipation build in her features. When I slide my pants down and grip my erection through my tight gray boxers, she pulls her bottom lip in with her front teeth, letting it flip out sensually a moment later.
“I want you to pleasure yourself for me,” I say.
“W-what?” she asks.
“I want you to watch me and imagine what I’ll do to you. And I want you to pleasure yourself.”
“Even if—” she starts, but then lowers her eyes, apparently trying to find a better way to say what she was going to say. “My hands,” she says, looking up at the chains.
“Yes. Your hands are bound. So if you want to make me happy, you had better get creative.”
She looks completely at a loss for a moment, until an idea seems to slip into her head. To my enjoyment, she let herself focus more on solving the problem than on whether my request was something she’d agree to or not. She lets her knees bend, putting almost all her weight on the chains, and then she begins to lift her legs up and down in a kind of shimmying motion.
Her face is blank at first, but after just a few seconds, I see the heaviness entering her eyes and the way red is creeping back into her cheeks. I could just stand here and watch her, letting the sweet and dirty shame of her need be the only flavor to the moment, but fuck. She looks so unbelievably sexy right now, I don’t even care about any of that.
I slide my boxers down, freeing my cock. Her eyes linger there and her speed increases. I grip myself and begin to stroke my cock, watching her with barely contained anticipation. I imagine her pussy, already slick, and how it will grip me when I slide into her. I imagine the way those small hands will dig into my back, urging me deeper.
Somewhere distant, the faint sounds of music and the clanking of silverware reaches my ears, but it might as well be another world. These rooms are meant to be a soft thrill for people who’ve never done anything more adventurous than missionary. Having “public” sex so close to others, but still in the privacy of their own room is enough excitement to get them off at first.
Some Doms prefer to take their submissives straight to the seventh floor, but I’ve always known when I found the right woman, I’d give her a proper experience. I’d let her relish in every step of the way, deeper and deeper into the wonderful depravity until she is standing at my side in the dark hallway leading to the main staging area on the seventh floor.
Her quick breaths drag me back to the moment. I know I can’t hold myself back any longer.
I may not drag her straight to the seventh floor, but no force of will can hold me back from her anymore. She’s something soft and gentle and sweet, something from another world where men like me don’t belong. All I can think when I look at her is how badly I need to claim her. Every inch. Every last part of her needs to be mine.
I go to her, pulling her legs open with my hands and forcing her back against the wall. I mean to be gentler with her, but I can’t seem to control the intensity of my lust.
She gasps, flinching back almost as if in defense, but I don’t pause. I only stop long enough to rasp in her ear. “Red is your safe word. It’s the only word with power, tonight. Understand?”
She looks at me with wide, startled eyes, but nods her head.
I put my hand around her throat, easing her head upwards while I lift her dress with the other until it catches on her breasts. My hand is firm around her throat, but not so tight that it actually cuts off her air. I only want her to feel the uncertainty and thrill, the rush of not knowing what’s coming and the sweet ecstasy of being powerless before me.
I watch her closely, searching her body language for reactions to what I’m doing and finding only encouragement. Hard nipples. Pussy so wet her inner thighs are glistening for me. Eyes locked on mine and lips parted. Once I’m sure she’s on board, I tighten my grip slightly, still watching for signs of resistance or fear and finding none. All I see is electricity behind her eyes, like every step I push her closer to the edge is waking something up deep inside her.
“You’re probably a daddy’s girl. Never do anything wrong. Never talk back. Never break the rules,” I say. While I speak, I move closer and bend my knees just enough that my rock hard cock passes between her thighs and comes to rest against her slick folds. I move it there, passing it along her slit with agonizing slowness. I let the heat and wetness of her stay in the back of my mind, knowing if I focus on it too much I’ll bury myself straight into her without doing things the way I want.
She doesn’t answer me. Her eyes only stay locked on mine, pouring every ounce of attention she has into my face even as her body shivers and quakes from the movement of my cock against her.
“Tonight you’re going to be a bad girl. My little slut. You’re going to beg for me to fuck you because that’s what your Dom demands. And you’re going to love every second of it.”
Her only response is a slight hitch in her breath and a tightening of her thighs around my cock, reflexive and so much sweeter than any words could be.
I grin, hand still firm around her neck. I let my thumb and forefinger press a little more deeply against the major veins of her neck, giving her a feeling of pressure and lightness without cutting off her airflow. “Say you’ll be my slut. I want to hear it from you.”
She hesitates, then breaks eye contact for the first time.
I grit my teeth. Maybe I pushed her too far. Normally, I’d just punish a submissive for something like this. There would be no mercy or feelings involved. I commanded and she refused. It would be that simple.
But Ana isn’t just some submissive.
I’ve already come to think of her as my little pet. My Ana.
I relax my grip on her throat, bringing my thumb to her cheek and touching her softly there, waiting until she looks back into my eyes. “Ana,” I say. My voice is firm, but I make an effort to add a gentle undercurrent to my words. “There’s no shame between you and I. No shame in what we’re going to do. All I want from you is the truth. No games. No masks. If you give me complete trust—complete submission—then I’ll give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”
The silence stretches out until I forget my throbbing cock is still between her legs, basking in her perfect heat. I forget the pressure of her breasts against me and the pleasant dig of her hard nipples into my skin. My universe is in her wide eyes and the suspense of waiting, knowing she holds on to something I want more badly than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.
“I want it,” she says softly. Her voice is so quiet I practically have to read her lips to figure out what she’s saying.
“Don’t hide anything from me,” I warn.
“I want… I want to be your little slut,” she says. The wide innocence in her eyes falters for a glorious moment, giving way to a piercing seductiveness that she wears so beautifully it hurts. “I want you inside me,” she continues, breaths coming more heavily now. Her thighs clench tighter around me and the chains holding her wrists above her head jingle as she grabs them for leverage and starts rocking her hips into me. “I want to make you cum.”
“So fucking perfect,” I growl. I t
ake her hair into my fist, tilting her head back so I can kiss her. Her hot breath mingles with mine and I can taste the sweet aftertaste of caramel on her lips from our dessert.
I lift her legs up, wrapping them around me, still replaying the hesitation and nervousness I saw in her while she talked dirty for me. She stepped outside her comfort zone. Way outside, but I could tell it was turning her on. It’s going to take some work to get through her pristine walls, but it’ll be worth every ounce of effort.
I grip the base of my cock and tease her with it, running the tip of my length along her valley and letting myself dip into her an inch at a time.
I feast on every last hint she gives me of her pleasure, from the subtle quiver of her body to the soft gasps and the tensing of her muscles. It’s like a drug to me.
I finally thrust into her. I’ve drawn it out as long as I possibly can, and it was worth every second of delay. Her walls are tight and fever hot around me, like nothing I’ve ever felt. Not even close.
I groan, pressing my palm into the wall behind her and gripping her hip with my other, pulling her down onto me. “You feel so fucking good,” I say.
“You’re so big,” she says, her voice little more than a breath, like a hot sigh into the crook of my neck.
I fuck her.
No more games. No more delays. No more teasing.
I pound into her with all the need and hunger that has been rising to a boiling point inside me. I let it all spill over. All-consuming. Obliterating.
I fuck her until the sound of my cock inside her is wet and squelching, sexy and perfect. Until moans escape her lips like soft gasps, just as delicate as her.
I turn her around, taking her from behind roughly, watching the way her bound hands grip the chains even tighter as my pace increases. I let the world fall away until there’s only her and the sound of our bodies crashing together. The slap of my body against her ass, rhythmic and hypnotic. The steady pace of her moans like dirty whispers. And my own breath, heavy and hard as I hold back the inevitable wave of orgasm threatening to burst free.
Baby for the Brute_A Fake Boyfriend Romance Page 4
