by Sloane, Roxy
He traces back up over my breasts, stroking until I’m sobbing with need. But still, my nipples ache for contact.
“I brought you a gift,” Vaughn murmurs. “Do you want to know what it is?”
I nod.
He chuckles. “I think you’re going to like it.”
Vaughn pulls away from me a moment, but then he’s back, leaning over me, tracing the velvet over my skin.
Something cool and hard follows it. Steel, a slim probe.
I panic. What the hell is this?
He strokes down between my thighs, circling my entrance. I shudder at the unfamiliar pressure, the coldness against my hot flesh as he dips it into my wetness and then slides it inside of me.
I gasp. It’s bigger than his fingers, but not anywhere near what I crave. He’s teasing me, dipping it inside, sliding deeper, then pulling it away.
I need more.
“Not there, sweetheart.” Vaughn chuckles, his voice laced with triumph. He slides the metal back over my clit, still tender from his mouth’s assault. “This little toy belongs someplace else.”
Before I can wonder what he means, the bullet starts vibrating against my clit, so intense I cry out.
Fuck!
I writhe, trying to back away, but the restraints bite into my wrists and ankles, keeping me locked in place.
The vibrations pulsate through me, riding the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. I whimper, fighting it, but I can’t make him stop. My body tightens, every nerve screaming to life, dragging me higher until I suddenly come apart in a burst of sensation.
Jesus Christ!
I gasp for air, but there’s no time to recover. I’m still clenching, wracked with waves of pleasure, when Vaughn loosens my ankle restraints. He grabs my shoulders and flips me over onto my stomach, lifting my hips so I’m positioned face-down on my knees with my ass thrust up behind me in the air.
“I don’t know which view I like best,” Vaughn’s voice is low and amused. “You on your back with your legs spread and your sweet pussy on show to the world, or this.”
He slides the probe into my aching channel again, slow and deep, then withdraws it. My head is still clouded with my orgasm as he lifts my hips higher and forces my thighs wider apart.
There’s a pause, and fuck, my whole body shivers with uncertainty. I don’t know what’s coming next, if he’s going to slam his cock deep inside me, or torment me some more. Spank me until I’m sore and screaming, or rub my clit raw.
I feel the nudge of cool metal against my asshole.
Oh God.
I tense in panic, but Vaughn grips my hips tightly, forcing me in place. “Relax, baby,” he orders me, nudging at my entrance. “This is going to feel so fucking good.”
I take a deep breath, but my heart is pounding like crazy with anticipation and fear. This is so far beyond anything I’ve ever done before, I can’t believe it’s really happening. We’re not caught up in the moment, he’s not taking me by surprise with a wandering finger. This is deliberate. Planned.
So fucking dirty.
I feel the metal again, cold and unfamiliar and wet with my juices. Slowly, Vaughn eases the probe into me, into my tightest, most private place.
Oh. My. God.
Sensation slams through me: cold steel, and hot, tight flesh. I grip the sheets, gasping as my body struggles to accommodate the probe. Vaughn’s other hand slides around to massage at my clit with slow, gorgeous strokes, and Lord, it’s too much to take. I’m filled but still aching, stretched to breaking point but strung out with the rush of sensation shimmering deep down.
“That’s right, baby,” Vaughn growls. “Take it all the fucking way. I’m just getting you warmed up.”
I groan in pleasure, relaxing into his touch. Vaughn pushes the probe the final few inches, until it’s buried deep in my ass. Filling me with unfamiliar sensations. Making every clench of my pussy ripple through my whole body.
I never knew I could feel anything this intensely. The tension coils deeper than I’ve ever known, building like fire raging through my body.
“How do you like that?” Vaughn demands, stroking harder.
I sob for air, overwhelmed. “I’m going to come again,” I gasp. “Oh fuck, I’m going to come!”
Suddenly, Vaughn slams his cock into my pussy from behind, landing a hard slap on my ass.
I scream. Jesus! His cock burying deep inside and the cool steel in my ass and the sting of sweet pain is all too much. I shatter, screaming into the pillows as my body convulses over and over as a tidal wave pleasure rips me apart at the seams.
When I surface, he’s still hard inside me, the metal probe impaled in my ass. He grips my hips, pulling me back up on all fours and readying me for more.
More?
“Please, Vaughn, I can’t...” I gasp, still face-down, tied to the bed. My whole body trembling and extra-sensitive, every new touch painfully intense. I’ve come three times already, I can’t take any more!
“You will.”
Vaughn leans over me, thrusting even deeper as he fists my hair and yanks my head up. His voice growls in my ear, commanding.
“This pussy is mine. I’m going to feel your hungry cunt clench around my cock a dozen more times before I let you go. Get ready to scream, sweetheart, ‘cause we haven’t even started yet.”
He releases my head, and I fall forwards into the covers. I gasp for air, bracing myself for another punishing thrust.
Instead, I feel the gentle caress of the glove again.
Oh God. My body shivers under the velvety softness.
“You like that, don’t you?” Vaughn murmurs. He traces down my back, slowly, delicate. I relax into the sensation as he sweeps over me, again and again. “I can feel you shivering from the inside out, your pussy is so goddamn tight. Are you stretching for me, baby? Can you fit my cock all the way in?”
He eases another half-inch deeper, and I answer with a sob. Pain and pleasure mingles, and every gasp makes my ass contract around the probe. Cool steel, so unfamiliar, but now with Vaughn’s cock filling me up too, the sensation is unbelievable. He’s not moving inside me, but God, I’m stretched wide to breaking point, filled completely with his thick hard flesh.
So. Damn. Good.
I hear a noise, the rattle of a belt buckle. Then a sharp pain comes, the sudden sting of leather on my skin.
I cry out, jolting forwards with surprise. His belt?
“What are you--” I struggle to ask.
“Quiet!” Vaughn hits me again, landing series of stinging blows on my naked ass and back that leave me smarting with agony.
Fuck. It’s sharper than the spankings, focused and hard, and every blow makes me clench around the probe, feeling its invasion. He rocks his cock inside me, fighting pain with heady pleasure as he cracks his belt against my flesh until I’m writhing at the mix.
Sharp and soft. Pain and bliss. The leather bites into my tender skin, sending shockwaves through my body. They spiral to meet the pressure building between my thighs, driving me higher. Tighter.
Holy crap, this is intense!
Vaughn pauses. I gasp for air, pulse racing, my body quaking around his cock. He trails the rough leather over me softly. “Have you had enough?” he croons. Vaughn begins to rock into me. Thrusting a little, then withdrawing. The friction is an inferno, curling low inside me. Another whip of his belt makes me cry out. I can’t believe how much I like this.
“I can stop any time. Just says the word, and this will all be over.”
But he’s got it all wrong. I don’t want him to quit. I’m too far gone in this chaos of sensation. I want more of it, not less.
I answer by thrusting back against him, embedding his cock all the way to the hilt.
Vaughn grunts in surprise, then his voice comes, thick with lust. “Fuck, Keely. You want it hard, don’t you?”
I moan.
“You’re an animal, baby, don’t think I don’t know it. You want to be fucked so deep you pa
ss out,” he growls, tossing the belt down and stripping off his glove. I hear them drop to the floor by the bed. I brace myself, my heart racing.
Oh God, what’s coming next?
“You want my cock ramming inside this wet, hungry cunt,” Vaughn draws out of me, leaving me sobbing at the absence. “Because it’s mine now, isn’t it? I can take it any time, any way I like, and still, you’ll come screaming for more.” He swipes his fingers over my clit, pinching painfully, tweaking the tender nub.
“Yes, please Vaughn!” I whimper, aching for him.
“What do you want?” he growls.
“You!” I cry out, so close to the edge. I’m consumed, like nothing else. “I need your cock, please Vaughn. Fuck me! Fuck me now!”
With a roar, he drives into me, fucking me deeper than I ever thought was possible.
Yes!
I scream, arching back against him, matching every wild thrust with my own. Vaughn yanks my body up against him, locking me in place as he slams his cock deep, impaling me over and over until I lose my mind. My restraints are biting at my wrists, I can’t move against his relentless driving, and still I beg for more.
“Harder,” I gasp, “Vaughn, oh God!”
He reaches between our bodies, feeling at my crack where the slim probe is still buried in my ass. Suddenly, it starts vibrating.
Holy fuck!
The tremors crash through me, so intense I can barely breathe. I gasp for air, screaming and mindless now with ecstasy as Vaughn resumes pounding into my pussy. He grinds, rubbing high against my walls, right there, fuck, his cock vibrating now with the force of the dildo, rubbing me from both sides, so dirty and deep I lose my mind.
I explode with a scream, coming and coming in a tidal wave of spasms until Vaughn roars, pulling out of me to spurt hot liquid over my back and hair. I collapse onto the bed in the grip of the most stunning orgasm of my whole entire life.
10
KEELY
I can't sleep. I never knew that sex could be like that, that my body could climb to such intense heights. Vaughn is passed out, spent, after God knows how many rounds, but even though my body feels like I just ran a marathon, something keeps me awake.
I turn to look at him, sleeping soundly beside me. For once, his cocky facade is dropped, laying there with his beautiful lips parted, murmuring something under his breath as he dreams. He looks peaceful, vulnerable even, a world away from the demanding man who tied me down and shattered every last one of my inhibitions until I thought I'd die from the pleasure.
Who are you really, Vaughn?
For a moment, I feel totally alone, here in a strange house filled with people hiding all kinds of secrets. I told Vaughn that I trust him, and it's true, but I still don't know anything about him. Or Brent and my new siblings, or even Ashcroft.
My father. A stranger. A mystery.
I need answers.
Restless, I slip out of bed and wrap myself in a robe. I step out into the dark hallway and head past the staircase to the other wing of the house. I thought I saw an office here when we arrived, and after taking a wrong turn, I find it. I remember there being boxes and files, maybe something that could tell me more about Ashcroft and why he reached out to me after all this time. But when I flip on the lights and look around, the room has been stripped bare.
Empty shelves, empty desk. Even the pictures on the wall have been removed, leaving dark squares on the old faded wallpaper.
Disappointment crashed through me.
"Can I help you at all?"
I spin around, startled. It's the old butler, Albert, wearing a velvet robe. "Sorry, did I wake you?" I apologize,
He gives me a weary smile. "No, it's my arthritis. Joints always ache like hell right before a storm."
"Oh." I look around. "Do you know where they moved Ashcroft's things? I'd love to take a look at what he was working on. Letters, maybe. Anything?"
"Sorry, love. Brent had everything boxes up and taken away. I don't know where."
My hopes fall.
"But if you're looking for his personal effects, there may be some things Brent missed." Albert gives me a sideways look. "But it depends."
"On what?" I ask.
"On what it is you hope to find."
Albert is watching me warily. I tell him the truth. "I want to know more about him. Understand why he put me in the middle of all of this."
He thinks for a moment, then nods. "Come with me."
Albert leads me back through the house, then up a winding set of stairs. It's dark up here, but he knows the way by heart. As I follow him, my heart beats faster. I look nervously around. We're far from all the bedrooms now, out of sight -- and earshot from anyone who might be around.
"Where are we going?" I ask, unable to keep the nerves from my voice.
Albert doesn't reply. I wonder if he heard me -- or if he's choosing not to answer.
We climb another staircase, creaky and old. Shadows loom all around me. I shiver, pulling my robe tighter over my nightgown. I'm beginning to regret ever leaving my bedroom at all when Albert finally comes to a stop at the top of the stairs and pushes a heavy wooden door open.
"In here."
He's pointing into the dark. Oh crap. Maybe this is all some trick from Brent. A plan to lock me away up here like a crazy character in some gothic novel. Nobody knows I'm here. They could tell everyone I just left, and --
Albert turns on a light, illuminating the attic with a warm glow. It's packed with boxes and dusty old furniture, draped with sheets. It's clear nobody's been up here in years.
"If there's anything left, it should be here." Albert nods vaguely at the treasure trove of junk.
“Thank you,” I tell him, as the old man retreats. I hear his footsteps getting fainter on the stairs, and then I’m left alone in the creepy attic.
Where to start?
I begin peeking in boxes, browsing through the bric-a-brac. It’s incredible what’s been left up here to gather dust: first edition hardback books are tossed in beside crumbling stacks of newspapers, and furniture that looks like priceless antiques are draped with ratty old moth-eaten blankets.
It’s overwhelming, and sad too. This is the old man’s life, packed away. Untold memories hidden in every object, stories I may never know.
After digging through junk for a while, I finally hit the jackpot: a box of old photo albums hidden under a bench. There are faded sepia photos of people I don’t recognize, posing at family picnics and school events. But soon, I find Ashcroft in the mix. Younger, but still recognizable. Here he is standing proudly beside a beat-up car, a man of eighteen or nineteen. Here he is wearing a dated suit, with bushy black hair and laughter in his eyes.
I try to imagine the life behind the photos, brief snaps frozen in time. There are several of him taken with another man, his best friend, perhaps. They’re always smiling and joking together, and there are even some with the stranger’s family: a pretty young wife and two small boys. They were close, I can tell: holiday photos with matching sweaters, summer vacation playing by a lake.
I wonder who the man is, and if they were still friends when Ashcroft died. There’s some writing scribbled under a few of the photos of the couple -- Amy and Jack, one note says -- and I make a note to ask around. Perhaps this Jack can tell me more about Ashcroft. Maybe he even knows what happened with my mom.
Then the album ends abruptly. Empty pages, no more photos. And when I pick up the next album, I find it’s from years later: Ashcroft looking older, with his new wife at his side. The clothes are more expensive, the houses look bigger. Foreign vacations and fancy cars. He’d made it -- but there’s no sign of his old friends.
What happened?
I place the photos aside for safekeeping, and turn my attention to the other box nestling in the corner, almost hidden from sight. I think at first it’s just full of moth-eaten sweaters, but underneath the rags, I find a metal box, filled with old letters and files.
I sit cross-legg
ed, making myself comfortable as I dig into the papers. It’s Ashcroft’s old correspondence, from years ago, and when I leaf through the old company memos and purchase orders, I’m shocked to recognize the handwriting scrawled across the page, marking Ashcroft’s typos.
My mom’s.
My heart leaps. It’s the first evidence I’ve seen with my own eyes that she really knew him. Aside from the DNA test and employment records, all my assumptions about what happened between them have been just that: speculation, with nothing to confirm Justine’s theory that they were having a secret affair when he was her boss.
But here it is.
I eagerly scan through the papers. It’s nothing much, just notes about lunch orders, and phone messages, but I can just picture her at her desk, answering the phones and typing up reports.
I feel a pang of sadness. I miss my mom and dad every day. At first, after the crash, the pain was unbearable. For months, I could barely drag myself out of bed in the morning. Losing everyone I loved was unthinkable, but then every day, it got a little easier. Now, I can think of them with love and fondness instead of the crushing pain of loss.
I’m looking for any hint of mom and Ashcroft’s relationship when I find a bundle of letters addressed to her in Ashcroft’s familiar handwriting.
My heart stops as I scan through the letters, reading Ashcroft’s note of love. Yes, love.
I couldn’t take my eyes off you today, you look so beautiful...
Will you meet me at our place tonight? I can’t wait to see you.
I think about you all the time. Your smile makes my day.
He was crazy about her. I read his letters, and I can see how much he cared. He talked about building a future with her: announcing their relationship so they didn’t have to hide any more. They were together, in love, and here’s the proof.
Then comes a final note. Typed, business-like.
Annette -- I’m sorry, but we can’t be together. You’re better off without me. I’m giving you two weeks notice, then I want you gone from the company.
I can’t do this anymore.
Charles.
It’s brutal, the worst kind of break-up. I can only imagine how devastated my mom must have been to receive it -- especially if she already knew she was pregnant.
