by Harlow Grace
I shook my head. “N . . . no.”
“Oh baby, that is not the word I want to hear.” His mouth turned upside down as he pursed his lips. My heartbeat sped up, thumping in my chest.
His foot kicked my legs apart as he pinned me to his body, one hand on my pussy, his palm pressing down possessively, while his other hand encased my throat, controlling exactly how much air I could suck into my lungs. I watched—wide eyed, my head spinning from lack of oxygen—as his nimble fingers spread my pussy open, searching for my core.
I wanted to fight, rib him with my elbow, and scream for him to let me go. His grip was too tight. I gasped for air, my arms flailing by my sides.
“Be still, little bee. Fighting makes it worse. Just relax.” His voice was soothing, as if he were calming a child. He was right, the more I fought, the stronger his hold on me had become, and the more it turned me on. I couldn’t understand what was happening to me, why I both hated and loved what he was doing to me, his possession so overwhelming and all consuming that I had to give in and succumb.
I softened against him and immediately the hold around my windpipe loosened. I sucked air into my lungs, greedy for more, feeling it burn as it rushed into my body.
“Clever girl. The moment you submit to me is the moment I give you more freedom. Surrender, Maya; give yourself to me.”
A wicked grin spread over his face as his thumb found my hard nub.
“Just as I thought. You’re dripping wet.” Two fingers found their way inside as his thumb kept circling my clit. I ground my ass against his erection, desperate for more.
“Ahhh, sweet surrender. You please me, little bee.”
An orgasm was building, heightening every sense in my body. I wanted this so badly in spite of how hard I was trying to resist. Conflict tore at my mind and my body until I finally relaxed against Oliver’s hard torso, willing to yield to him, careful to keep my eyes wide open so that I could absorb everything. Once I’d accepted that this was happening, that I wanted it to happen, I didn’t want to miss a second of this torturous pleasure.
He pulled his fingers out and lifted them to his nose, sniffing my scent like a primal animal. “Fuck, you’re so ready for me, aren’t you, little bee? You’ve wanted this for a long time.”
I bit down on my lip—hard enough to taste blood—to stop the words from tumbling from my lips. I’d never admit anything to him. Never.
He spun me around and lifted me off the floor, placing me on the counter in front of him. Pushing my knees apart, he smiled. His eyes gleamed when he took in the sight of my sex, setting my body on fire. Warmth spread to my cheeks and I tried to look away, but I couldn’t. A low, soft rumble erupted from his chest and a thousand butterflies were set free inside my stomach.
Oliver chuckled softly, fully aware of the effect he had on me as he knelt down and gripped my thighs before licking over my pussy with one long stroke.
“Oh God,” I whimpered. My legs trembled and I twisted my fingers tightly into his hair to stop myself from screaming.
“I will make you scream, little bee,” he said. I was going fucking insane, my pussy throbbing. I pulled his face closer, and at the same time spread my legs wider, pushing myself forward into his mouth, wanting him to devour me.
“Fuck,” I screamed as he fucked me with his tongue. I couldn’t take much more. Spiraling out of control, my orgasm ripped through my body. I’d never felt anything like it. Every part of my body and soul felt alive—as if currents of electricity had been pumped into me.
“Oliver, oh God,” I panted as he removed his face, covered in my juice, and came in for a kiss. His mouth devoured mine. All I could taste was myself on him. It was sexy as fuck.
When exactly he’d freed his cock, I had no idea. “I already checked your drawers. I know you’ve been on the pill for a while.”
He’d sniffed around my room? Sneaky bastard.
Before I could admonish or stop him, he’d pushed inside, bare. He groaned loudly in my ear as he inched his cock into me. “So fucking tight, my little slut.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling every inch of his cock sliding into me; I gasped as he pushed all the way in.
“What the fuck?” he cried out in my ear, pulling out. We both stared at the blood on his cock. “You’re . . . you’re a virgin?” His voice was hoarse and his eyes were nearly bugging out of his head.
Biting my lip to hold back my tears, I nodded.
“Sweet Jesus, why didn’t you tell me?” he roared. “I just assumed . . . all the boys that always flock around you like a bitch in heat . . . fuck. Fuck. Are you okay?”
The concern on his face was adorable. He looked as if someone had just slapped him hard. “I didn’t know, little bee. I’m so fucking sorry.”
“Don’t stop now. I want this. If anyone was going to have my virginity, I—m” I stopped talking and pulled him closer. “Please just finish. Just do it.”
His eyes were on fire. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m your slut, remember? Fuck me, Oliver. Please.”
“Fuck, little bee, you are fucking killing me here. You have no idea.”
He lifted me off the counter and carried me to his bedroom as if I would break. Laying me gently on the bed, he crawled over me, his cock rock hard.
Quivering, I spread my legs and guided him to my entrance. He leaned forward and kissed me softly while he inched his cock into me slowly. Oh so very, very slowly, taking so much care not to hurt me, I thought I’d burst.
“Fuck me already,” I whined, desperate for the friction of his hardness inside me.
Tears spilt down my cheeks. For the first time in my entire life I felt as if I really and truly belonged to someone.
“Don’t cry, Maya. Please.”
“It’s happy tears. Girls do tears when they are sad and happy.”
“Well let me make you really happy then,” he said as he moved inside me, increasing the rhythm and speed.
I belonged to Oliver. I would be whatever he wanted.
There was nothing I wanted more than to finally be his.
Even if that meant I was his slut. His whore. It didn’t matter what he called me as long as he gave me what I needed. Him.
Chapter Twenty-Four — Oliver
I pulled out of her slowly, the blood on my sheets further proof that she belonged only to me. All those years of torture, of imagining other boys dipping their dicks into my little bee, had nearly driven me insane.
I’d tried to hold back, restrain my movements once I was inside her, but I wanted her so fucking desperately that I had to struggle to keep control. This wasn’t what I imagined it would be. Anger flared up in my gut. This wasn’t supposed to be her first time.
Yet nothing pleased me more than to know I was first. My heart nearly burst with joy—a feeling I’d forgotten ever existed.
This is so fucking twisted. I'm mad and happy at the same time. Maya was fucking with my head. That was nothing new.
It was just supposed to be sex—raw, carnal lust. Feeding my desires. I didn’t want to care if I’d hurt her or have to control myself when I fucked her. In my mind it was always rough, dirty, exciting. Pleasure mixed with pain. No feelings, no fluffy shit—only ownership. I’d use her as revenge for all the wrongs done to me in this life.
My stomach twisted into a tight knot. Fuck, instead of getting rid of my obsession she’s pulled me in deeper.
Now I’d had her, and there was no fucking way I could stop. I’d only ever want more. I wanted to tie her to my bed and fuck her until she couldn’t walk. I wanted to hear her scream my name. I wanted every part of her.
Like a slap in the face, the realization pierced my mind: this was only the beginning of my obsession. How had I believed it would end once I’d been inside her? After what happened, there was no way in hell I’d ever let her go. Ever let another man touch her.
Something had shifted and it frightened the fuck out of me.
The worst part? I had absolut
ely no fucking control over it. None whatsoever. That was a first for Oliver King. I'd always thought that I was the one in control. Now I learned that it was the other way around; fear broke out on my skin; my mind was spinning.
Only I knew she could never really be mine. I was fucked—my DNA tainted. And I was taking her straight to hell with me.
Think, Oliver. Think.
I was getting both of us deeper into a mess of fucking epic proportions. Was I prepared to take the consequences? Was I even ready to? Before, fucking Maya was all in my head. Now shit had gotten real and I couldn’t see any way out.
She reached out and cupped my cheek in her hand, smiling shyly before burying her face in my neck. I cradled the back of her head, holding her against me, feeling every inch of her soft curves against my hard body.
Fuck. Something inside me stirred and I didn’t know what the fuck it was. It wasn’t anything I could put my finger on. My analytical brain kept searching for answers, trying to make sense of this jumble in my mind. It scrambled in circles, confused and defunct. Unable to comprehend what the fuck was happening to me.
My heart was cracking open, little by fucking little, as she clawed her way inside the one place that was totally forbidden.
I'd take her body. I'd control her mind. But I wasn’t going anywhere near her heart—or mine. Those were totally off limits. It was just the way it had to be.
Rising from the bed, I fetched a wet washcloth, cleaning between her legs. She watched me with wide eyes as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened. Her skin was flushed and she wouldn’t meet my gaze, turning her eyes down every time I looked at her.
Leaving her alone for a moment so that she could compose herself—no, so I could compose myself—I went back to the bathroom and rinsed the washcloth, then wiped the remains of blood from my cock. I sucked in a breath when I realized it was the first time I’d taken a girl’s virginity. Every other woman I’d ever fucked had been used before.
The significance wasn’t lost on me. Although I hadn’t known before I fucked her. Why hadn’t she said something? Stopped me? Would I have listened? I was a monster in Maya’s eyes, evil and twisted. She was right.
Exhausted from trying to figure this out, I went back to the bedroom.
She’d curled into a little ball on the bed, her arms hugging her knees. She looked so fucking vulnerable, so alone between the white sheets, her dark hair spread out like a fan around her head. An overwhelming urge to make it right, to make her feel better, flooded my heart.
Crawling back onto the bed, I spooned behind her back and pulled her into my body, caging her in with my arms. She stiffened for a second before relaxing into me. We fit so fucking perfectly together—how could this be wrong?
Two broken souls.
Damaged.
Searching to belong.
Finding one another in the most unexpected way.
“You okay?” I whispered against her skin, kissing her shoulder. She didn’t answer.
I closed my eyes, caressing her skin with my lips. “I'm sorry I called you a slut.”
She shivered and let a long sigh escape her lips. Needing to ensure she understood, I continued my monologue.
“I’m just a stupid man. A jealous man. The thought of other guys . . . inside you. It nearly broke me.” Fuck. Why did I have the need to confess? I'd never felt guilty before. Why now?
One hand resting on her pussy, the other on her breast, contentment flowed through me. This was exactly where I wanted to be—who I wanted to be with. Nobody else would do.
“Please forgive me?”
Her hand slipped over mine, lacing our fingers together and squeezing.
Yes.
Perfect silence filled the space around us. It was only us in that moment. Nothing else existed.
I shut all thoughts out. I didn’t want to think, to analyze this. The answers could be more than I could tolerate. I just wanted to soak up this moment—revel in it and forget everything else.
Chapter Twenty-Five — Maya
I couldn’t speak without giving myself away. Silent tears streamed down my cheeks and into the pillow as he told me all I needed to know.
He doesn’t hate me—just like I don’t hate him.
Yet confusion rose up in my gut and took hold of my mind. There was no way in hell this could ever work.
I lay in Oliver’s arms thinking of all the reasons this was fucked up. My father was married to his mother—in society’s eyes we were family. Step siblings. Although we weren’t related by blood, we were supposed to be a family like any other. I got that.
And then there was Larissa. Oliver’s mother really didn’t like me. Every time Daddy mentioned how much I looked like my mother, she’d glare at me through narrowed eyes. When I was fifteen I’d nearly cut my locks and bleached my hair to look more like her so that she wouldn’t see me as such a threat. But then my Quinn pointed out that it would make it worse. I’d be a younger blonde—a younger version of herself, and she’d hate me even more.
I just couldn’t win, so I stayed who I was—it was just easier being me, although my appearance was clearly something most other people in my family abhorred. Even my grandmother had told daddy that she couldn’t look at me without seeing her daughter, and that seeing me made her sad. It sucked being me.
Oliver King was one of the only people, other than my father, who’d ever told me I was beautiful. It made my heart smile. I wanted to be beautiful to him, just like he was the most beautiful creature on the planet to me. I couldn’t look at him without my body feeling hot and bothered, my heart racing, my palms sweating. It was good to know I had the same effect on him.
But when he called me a slut, it cut deep. The irony was that all the times he’d caught me with other boys it was simply a futile attempted to get him out of my system.
Whenever Oliver was with another girl, rage and jealousy swarmed my body, driving me to the edge of insanity. It made me do crazy things to force him to see me. Things I’d never normally do. No other boy had seen me completely naked. Or watched me touch myself. I’d reserved that for Oliver only, never thinking he’d call me a slut because of it. God, I was naïve.
I wanted to curl into a ball and hide from him. Yet when he put his arms around me and pulled me to his chest, calmness washed over me. The dull ache in my heart slowly subsided. I felt safe. Wanted. At peace.
Oliver’s even breathing behind my back and the weight of his arm around me made the corners of my mouth twitch. He’d dozed off, holding me tightly against his chest.
Lifting his arm, I turned slowly so as not to wake him. This was the perfect opportunity to really study his face. Usually I could only steal glimpses when he wasn’t looking, or stare at photos of him. Having him up close and personal was an unexpected delight.
I reached up to stroke his cheek. The rough stubble under my fingertips made my pussy clench thinking of his face between my legs, the way it had burned when he’d been eating me out. Oh God, I wanted him there again. So, so badly.
The tip of my finger traced the lines etched at the corners of his eyes. I loved when he smiled and it lit up his eyes, making small crinkles on his face. I stretched to softly kiss the end of his perfect nose—straight and proud, like the man he was. He reminded me of a picture of a prince I’d seen as a kid in one of the fairy tales I loved to read.
I mused at how gorgeous his face was while he was sleeping. Gone were the frown lines I’d become accustomed to. His lips curled into a small smile and it simply delighted me that they could do something other than twist into a smirk when I was around.
Unable to stop myself, my finger moved down his torso onto forbidden territory. Oh God, how often had I wanted to bleach my eyeballs for drinking in the deep V that sat just above where his pants usually hung low on his hips? I giggled softly as he moaned when my fingertips brushed over the trail of hair running south from his belly. My eyes widened as his cock, which up until now had lain soft between us, stiffene
d. My mouth watered as I imagined what he would taste like. I’d only ever had one cock in my mouth, and Oliver had been too quick to put a stop to it that day on the stairwell.
Still asleep, he nudged his erection into my belly, his hardness pushing into my skin and setting me alight. If this was the only time I ever got to be with him, I simply had to taste him.
Sweet Lord, this was so wrong, yet so damn right. Rubbing my thumb gently over his tip, spreading his pre-cum around the head, he instinctively turned to lie on his back so that his stiff cock lay on his flat stomach. He was perfection.
Pushing my hair back from my face, I leaned over, licking just the tip of his erection to taste him. Just as I thought—amazing. My lips curled around his dick, my tongue swirling around the rim, feeling, tasting, learning every inch of him.
Oliver moaned, stretching his limbs, opening his body completely. I smiled as I cupped his balls in my hand, kneading gently. “Jesus, little bee, what have I done to deserve this? For a moment I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
His raspy voice was sexy as hell, spurring me on to become braver in my actions. I took his girth in my palm, stroking up and down as I sucked the tip. His hand came down on my head, holding me down as he flexed his hips upwards.
“Fuck that’s good,” he groaned. “Take me deeper.”
Smiling, I obeyed, opening my throat until I had all of him in my mouth. I thought I’d gag at the sheer size of his erection, but somehow he slid down with ease as my head bobbed up and down. He hissed through his teeth, then reached for me and pulled me over him.
“Need to come inside your pussy, baby.”
He rolled us over until he was pressing me into the mattress, my breasts flattened under his weight. My fingers found their way into his messy hair as I held my breath, waiting for him to possess me. His face was soft with sleep and sex, his eyes deep pools that bore into mine. For the first time I saw something there I’d never seen before. It stole my breath away. But before I could put a name to it, he spoiled it all by talking.
Grinning down at me, he said in a hoarse voice, “You are a slut. My fucking slut. And I fucking love it.”
