by Gwen Allen
Vince is still eyeing my bed. He tilts his head like he's measuring it, estimating if he'll fit. "This bed is way too small. We'll have to use the floor," he declares.
"What? We are leaving," I say and head for the door.
Vince doesn't let me pass though. He puts an arm out and snags me around the waist easily. The sensation of his arm like a steel bar across my waist makes me gasp. For the sake of my sanity, I retreat.
The hardness of his body does something to me. Those impossibly firm muscles, unyielding, undeniably powerful, make me feel my own weakness, both in terms of brute strength but also deep inside. His touch exposes my cravings. My body screams out its need and I know I'm turning red under his masterful gaze. I swear he thinks he owns me, that he can have me just because we happen to be alone. As he stands in my way, I glare at him flushed with fear and excitement.
"Are you going to disappoint me, Julie?" he asks threateningly.
I breathe deeply to calm myself. I'm too aroused by the threat in his voice and by the nearness of him. I hate to show him how much I want him and feed his ego even more. But he doesn't even care if I want him. All he cares about is his own needs.
He steps closer as if to show me I'm powerless to resist him. In two slow, deliberate steps, he's on me. His thighs press against mine and his hips bump into me. The shock of it almost knocks me down, but Vince grabs hold of me before I can stumble back. My hands go to his powerful chest as I try to steady myself. His left hand is firm on my lower back, keeping me right where he wants me.
At first his right hand is loose at his side like he's proving how little effort it takes to restrain me. Then his left hand moves down and his right hand moves up until he has taken hold of my jeans clad ass.
I swallow and whimper and jump forward against him. Not a good move. I just felt his cock grow bigger and get harder. His hands are fondling my ass while he grinds into me. The feeling makes my head swim. I can feel the power of his cock. Even trapped in his jeans, it feels like steel.
I flash back to the night when he fucked me. I can remember how it felt inside me and I gulp. That was the worst and the best thing I ever felt in my life. I want it again. I want it now.
Vince leans his head down and my lips tremble and part. I keep my eyes down. I don't want him to know how much I want him to kiss me, to do everything to me. Nothing happens until I look up at him with begging eyes. His eyes are cruel but filled with lust. Then he starts kissing me and I lose my head.
I'm being devoured down to my very soul and I don't care. Vince could be the devil dragging me to Hell and I'd go. Instead he drags me down to the floor. I'm ready to melt into him when he suddenly pulls back.
"Now is when you should tell me to get out," he says in a husky whisper as we kneel on the floor.
To my shame, I don't say a word. I just hold my breath then let it out with a shudder.
"Understood," he says. Then to my shock he flips me over. "I want you on your hands and knees, Julie. Now head down. Good girl," he says as I let him position me. Why am I doing whatever he wants?
Being put in this position is incredibly arousing, that's one reason. When he pressed me down, his hand on the back of my neck is burning hot, like a brand. Now his hands are moving over my back to my upturned ass. The way I'm positioned, it's like I'm offering it to him.
"What an amazing ass you've got," he says as he fondles it with rough hands.
Then he gets behind me and bends over me. Taking hold of my wrists, he spreads out my arms so that I'm helpless under him. The weight of his body makes me moan. Nibbling on my ear, grinding into me from behind, he is driving me wild and holding me captive.
Letting go of my wrists, he reaches under me. His hands move over my breasts, softly at first. My breasts are heaving under a buttoned down shirt. He fondles them over the fabric, teasing me with a light touch then squeezing them and grunting with satisfaction. It's maddening.
His hands move down and he unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down my ass together with my panties. This is insane. I want to tell him to stop, but he presses up against me from the back and grinds himself into me while his hands maul my breasts. My head is swimming. His cock is still trapped in his jeans, but it feels incredible against my exposed ass.
He straightens and his hands move to my ass, groping me and making me moan. Then he slides a finger down, and he's caressing my folds. The feeling is electric. And when his finger slides inside me, it's my undoing.
My head drops to the floor and I roll it on the carpet as I moan. I'm his to control. I can't move unless he lets me. I can't think for myself. But I love it. I love what he's making me feel. Clawing at the carpet, moaning, I don't seem to have any pride. I never imagined pleasure and humiliation could go hand in hand like this.
Then suddenly he stops, withdraws his hand and slaps my ass cheek once, hard. My head snaps up off the floor as I yelp.
"You know, I might just leave you like this, like last time," he says then he grins down at me while his hand rests heavy on my lower back, keeping me in place. "Tell me what you want, Julie, and I'll consider giving it to you."
"Go to hell!" I pull away from him and yank my jeans up, but he grabs my wrists before I can button them.
"Do you think I'm bluffing?" he asks as his eyes narrow and look deep into mine while he drags me closer to him. The feel of his hard body and the heat coming off him are intoxicating, but no, not like this.
I struggle away from him. Somehow I find the strength not to beg. "If you don't want me...!"
"Why the hell would I want you?" he says with cold disdain.
I just stare at him and feel all the color drain from my face. He's horrible and he really doesn't want me. He only wants to humiliate me. Now I'm shaking, not with need or desire, not even with anger. I'm simply crushed and hurting. All I want to do is curl up in a ball and cry.
With hooded eyes and a clenched jaw, Vince looms over me as I kneel on the floor blinking back tears. As he gets too close, I shove at his chest but he doesn't budge. He captured my hands in his and just holds them against his chest. He looks down at me with mute anger.
When he finally speaks, his voice is low and rasping. "I will never want you. You're a release, a side benefit I'm taking for myself so I don't explode with rage at my dad while he's recovering. Is that clear?" he says, but he's holding my hands against his chest, and his heart is beating so hard and fast. I feel like it's louder than his words.
As he stays like that, his face is close to mine, his eyes burning into me. The whole time his heart is beating under my hands, which he keeps holding and not letting go. I can't hold back and start to cry.
"I hate you," I stammer between sobs. I can't even wipe my tears because he has imprisoned my hands.
"No. You cried enough," he says but his voice isn't hard or commanding.
He finally lets go of my hands. Before I can do it myself, he starts wiping at my tears. What the hell is he doing? His fingertips are on my face, taking away my tears as they roll down. What he's doing feels so tender. I can't take it. I cry even more and the only way he can stop my tears is to kiss me.
His lips are so soft on mine. I don't even recognize them as the same ones that kissed me before. His tongue probes gently, teasing mine until I respond and lick back. Our tongues slide and twirl over each other, silky and hot.
Vince's kiss turns harder now, taking control but it's still pure pleasure. Being held against him as his mouth takes mine—it's all I need to melt my pain away. His hands skim my body and I moan into the kiss.
He's unbuttoning my shirt. Each button breaks more of my resistance. One of his hands is in my hair angling my head so he can kiss me deeper. His other hand is done unbuttoning my shirt and is now taking it down each shoulder. My shirt is off and my bra is next. He unhooks it then slides it off me in slow motion while I let out small shuddering gasps.
I'm starting to realize that this is really happening. While I breathe hard, my breasts rising obscene
ly, Vince strokes each of my nipples gently, making me shiver. Taking hold of my shoulders he pushes me to lie down. I whimper as his hand slides down between my breasts, over my navel and to my open jeans.
He takes hold of them and pulls them down my legs. He has to take my shoes and socks off, but then my jeans are all the way off and only my panties remain. He takes hold of them with both hands and eases them off me while I moan.
This is the first time I've been completely naked in front of a guy. It's a crazy feeling. I've never felt more vulnerable in my life than at this moment. As Vince looks down at me, I tremble uncontrollably. His gaze is unreadable. Stern but not mean, just too serious.
He leans down and starts kissing me again. I reach my arms up and try to hold him there. He doesn't let me. He straightens up and reaches for his fly. He unzips and I bite my lower lip.
He doesn't undress though just frees his cock. Hell, why didn’t I think to rip his clothes off? It's too late now. He's rolling on a condom and then taking hold of my thighs, he spreads me open. I let out a frightened, shuddering moan.
But when he gets into position, I wrap my legs around him. A part of me might be scared out of my mind, but another part accepts that this is going to happen, wants it to happen. The reality of it hits me hard as the head of his cock crowds my entrance, huge, pushing in with that well remembered jolt of pain. No, it's not as bad as the first time, but it still feels like he's going to rip me open, only in slow motion this time.
It takes forever for him to fill me all the way. I moan non stop, writhe and gasp his name. It's a welcome agony until he's all the way in and then I sob in gratitude and almost blurt out, "Thank you."
My mind is reeling, my body is out of my control. My legs cross behind his back locking him to me. I want Vince despite the pain. I don't even know myself any more. I'm mindlessly giving myself to him, letting him use me and loving it.
I'm not in control of my own body and only broken sounds escape my throat. What could I say anyway? My body is saying it all for me. It's betraying me and turning me into his slut.
Vince is fucking me slowly, proving how easy I am. This isn't a rushed fumble in the bushes. I have no excuse. I have so much time to say stop between every stroke that rips through me and fills me up. But all I do is welcome each thrust like I exist only for his pleasure.
Vince's arms are under me, his hands hooked over my shoulders. My legs are folded up, my breasts are rubbing over his chest with each thrust. I'm naked and he's still dressed so when I grope him I find fabric not skin. He's fucking me with protection this time. That's good, but I miss the feeling of being skin to skin with him, at least that first time his cock was all mine.
Reaching under his shirt, I claw my fingers over his back and then down under the belt of his jeans to his muscular ass. I want to mark him. I want to make him feel something. But he just keeps fucking and grunting while I moan and call out, "Vince. Please."
I don't even know what I'm begging for. Maybe to hold onto this feeling, this man, just for him to stay inside me forever.
But that's hopeless. Each thrust is faster and harder now, building to a slamming finish. I'm getting hammered so hard, rising higher, arching, screaming out as one orgasm overtakes me then another. Vince is coming too, pounding me hard, sinking into me as he growls.
When he's finished with me, I feel dead, like I'll never get up from this floor again. Vince gets rid of the condom and gets up. Once I remember I'm lying there naked with my legs splayed, I come to my senses.
Standing over me, zipping up, Vince looks down at me as I franticly grab for my clothes. That's what he did before too. When he sees me fumble with my jeans to try and put them on, he kneels down again.
Grabbing me by the ankle, he pulls me to him and I squeal. His hand closes over the jeans I'm holding in front of me to try and cover up. He throws the jeans aside and takes hold of my thighs. Spreading them, he pulls me even closer until I'm pressed against him, panting.
I feel raw between my legs. His hands feel so strong as they hold me open. He looks down like he's inspecting me. No, his eyes are too fiery for that, more like he's devouring me with his eyes. I can't take it any more. Being exposed like this to him is too much. Does he have to take everything from me, every last shred of my dignity?
"You can't hide from me," he tells me as his blue eyes rake over me. "This is what you are. This right now. You let me use you and you will again, and when I do, you'll like it."
When I try to look away angrily, he takes my chin in his hand and forces me to look up at him. "Now I'll make you a deal," he says. "I'll always finish what I start. I'll never leave you unsatisfied again. I promise." He sounds deadly serious when he says that, and I'm just stunned.
I feel like my heart is swelling inside my chest. Still holding my chin, he brings his lips close to mine. Not moving another inch, he lets go of my chin. I wait and breathe, desperate to feel his lips on mine, but he doesn't move. I hesitate for a beat then tilted my face to him and kiss him, too softly and for too long, with an ache in my heart that I can't explain.
Chapter 10
~
Julie
My life is crazy right now. I'm always rushing somewhere. Mom is saying she might hire someone so I don't have to spend so many hours at the café, but I need to keep busy. I just can't tell her why.
At school, my friends are asking if I'm working too hard. That's because I'm spacing out all the time and I have trouble focusing in class. My grades better not suffer because of Vince or there will be hell to pay.
I guess there have been too many changes in my life recently. I can't absorb it all. Here I am living in a mansion and doing things I never thought I'd do. I'm finding out how good and how bad sex can feel, learning all these intimate things about myself the hard way.
I learned how irresistible a hot guy can be, no matter how badly he treats me. Vince is a giving me a crash course in what kind of guy to stay away from, now that it's too late.
To stay sane, I'm trying to think of Vince as a life lesson, a hands on example of what not to do. I could consider him just something to get out of my system before I move on to nicer guys and find someone who can love me.
That's a fine idea, but it's like all other guys have just stopped existing. I know they are out there. There have to be plenty of them at school, but they just sort of fade into the background. All I can see is Vince, larger than life, glowering at me, telling me how it's going to be, taking, not asking, promising that he'll always take care of me in his own way and on his terms. Why the hell do I want a man like that so damn much?
Back from today's classes, I go on a walk through the mansion grounds to unwind before getting started on a paper I need to write. The landscaping is really pretty, the shade of the trees inviting. As I meander over the paths, I avoid the west side of the garden. In the light of day, I'm not even sure I could find the spot where I lost my virginity, but I stay away from there anyway. The grounds are huge. I could walk for a good long while without ever having to visit that spot.
In the end, I find myself in a familiar area of the garden that holds no dark memories. It's the place I look at from my bedroom window every morning and any time I can't sleep at night. The wild rose garden is so beautiful.
It's different seeing it from the garden path. For one thing, I can see that these roses have thorns. But it's also more fragrant and I can see the delicate pink and white petals from close up.
I can't believe someone made a rose garden of only wild roses. It's like something from a fairy tail. It makes me feel like a kid again, like I could lose myself in it, let the thorns snag at my clothes and not have a care in the world.
As I stand there and admire it, I hear the rustling of footsteps behind me. I turn to see Vince standing there, hanging back and regarding me coolly. I hope he's not picturing me the way I looked the last time we were together.
To keep my mind off that subject, I ask him about the garden. "Did a landscape desig
ner come up with the idea for this wild rose garden?"
"No. It was my mom's creation," he says and his expression turns from coldly leering to deadly serious.
I already suspected the answer would be no, but I didn't expect Vince to look so gloomy about it. As I glance back at the wild rose garden, Vince comes over and stands next to me. His nearness makes me shiver.
Memories of being under him come back too vividly. He's thrusting inside me, growling in my ear. My head is thrown back and I'm moaning for him. If I don't push away those lurid thoughts, I might just fall to my knees in front of him and beg him to do that to me again.
"It's amazing to see so many wild roses all together," I say to take my mind off having sex with Vince.
"My mom had a thing for them. She had all these wild roses planted." Taking a few steps, Vince goes to stand among the rose bushes. He turns to one of them and reaches out his hand. With a sad look in his eyes, he touches a flower. His touch is so light, it barely disturbs the delicate, pink petals. He frowns. "They don't really look like roses, do they?"
"They're beautiful," I tell him.
Vince turns to me. "They do have thorns. That's one thing they have going for them."
"You have weird taste in flowers. Unlike you, your mom had good taste. This is an amazing garden," I tell him.
"Don't try to kiss up to me."
"If I'm kissing up to anyone, it's your mom. You're a jerk who doesn't know how to appreciate anything good or beautiful. You don't like flowers, you like thorns. You're a freak. And I don't know why I'm bothering to talk to you like you're a human being," I say and then I turn away from him angrily.
I'm not even sure why I'm so mad. I guess because I was trying to be nice to him, and he tried to use it against me, like always. He wants to twist everything good into something bad.
As I reach out for the nearest rose bush, I don't know exactly what I'm about to do until I do it. I grip a rose stem in my hand until I feel my skin get pricked in several places. The thorns draw blood.
