And then his iron control finally shattered, as his breathing became unsteady and his lower body began to buck up off the bed with each pull of her lips or stroke of her hand.
“Finish me off now, Angel,” he commanded hoarsely. “Take me inside that sexy mouth and show me everything you’ve learned tonight.”
Eager to please him, to prove what an apt pupil she was, she did exactly as he bid, her mouth and jaw working frantically as she bobbed her head up and down along his cock. Nick’s hands grabbed fistfuls of her long hair, pulling on it painfully as she continued to focus diligently on pleasuring him, on bringing him over the edge. She lost herself in her efforts, using her hands, lips, tongue, mouth to coax him into orgasm, the blood roaring in her ears as she focused entirely on giving him pleasure. She barely heard the short, guttural curse he uttered before his hands clamped down firmly, holding her head in place as he emptied himself into her mouth, flooding her with hot, sticky bursts of cum, far more than she could swallow at once. Nick gave one final shudder, one last bellow as he finished, his torso flopping back limply onto the bed.
Still focused on pleasing him, she licked him up and down like a little cat, cleaning away every last bit of semen from his body, until his grasped her chin, tilting it up to meet his gaze.
“Enough, Angel,” he said firmly. “I think you’ve sucked – and licked – me completely dry. Now, come here.”
He hauled her up alongside him, wrapping her up close against his body, and she gloried in the feel of his hot, damp skin next to her. He kissed her then, a long, deep kiss, his tongue tasting the saltiness of his cum that still lingered in her mouth, much as she’d tasted her own musky essence against his lips earlier.
Nick’s hand caressed her from shoulder to hip and back up the side of her ribcage until he reached her breast. As he pinched a nipple, he whispered to her wickedly, “You’re an excellent pupil, Angel. You learned that particular lesson very quickly and very thoroughly. But that was just the beginning of what I’m going to teach you. So pay attention, now, because your next lesson is about to begin.”
Chapter Seven
“And what exactly would this be?”
Angela heaved a sigh as she turned yet again to face Nick. He’d been ruthlessly plundering her admittedly sparse wardrobe and tossing aside just about everything he’d found, from her favorite baggy sweatpants with holes in both knees and paint stains splattered in a haphazard pattern, to a pair of navy slip-on shoes that he’d declared were ugly as a troll’s ass, to the plain white cotton underwear that he’d just shook his head at in silent disgust before tossing it onto the ever growing discard pile.
She recoiled in a panic when she spied the white T-shirt in his hands. “Hey, no, not that! That’s my lucky shirt.”
He grimaced as he noticed the ripped neckline, half a dozen holes, and a stain that looked suspiciously like pizza sauce or ketchup. “I don’t know what kind of luck you think it brought you, but I can tell you one place you sure as hell didn’t get lucky when you wore it.”
She made a face at him and tried futilely to snatch the shirt away. “Please, Nick. My – my dad bought me that when I signed my letter of intent to Stanford. It was the only acknowledgment I ever got that anyone in my family was proud of me for getting in.”
The white shirt had the Stanford name and emblem emblazoned in red on the front and looked not only well used but well loved. Nick studied it a moment longer before reluctantly handing to back.
“Well, it’s probably a hell of a lot more than my father gave me when I signed on, so keep it. As long as you never wear it in my presence,” he warned.
She gave him a cheeky grin and took the shirt from his outstretched fingers. “I promise I’ll only wear it on laundry days, or when I’m scrubbing the floor.”
Nick glared. “It looks like something you’d scrub the floor with.”
She folded it away in the back of a dresser drawer. “I’d wear that shirt during warm-ups before every collegiate volleyball game. And if I started the game we never lost. That’s why it’s my lucky shirt. Didn’t you have any sort of good luck charms you wore before or during a game? Or at least a routine you stuck to, some sort of superstition?”
He shook his head as he continued to rifle through her clothes. “My routine, as you call it, was to show up on time, always prepared, and then go and hit people as hard as I could. If you train hard enough, prepare the right way, you don’t need good luck charms or superstition or routines. Just skill and dedication. Now, looks like you’ve got quite a pile of stuff to donate, Angel. Though I’m really not sure some of it is even thrift shop material. More like rag bag material.”
She sighed again, even as she fetched the box of heavy duty trash bags he’d told her to buy. “I told you I wasn’t into dressing up until now. In fact, if I had a class that started before ten a.m. I’d usually stumble in wearing pajamas and slippers. Which I see you found,” she added in resignation as she surveyed the pile.
“Angel – beautiful, sexy twenty-two year old women do not wear flannel pajamas with cartoon characters printed on them. Or moth-eaten slippers that look like – what the hell were they at one point anyway?”
“Monkeys, of course. How can you not see that? And I love those slippers. Can’t I - ?”
“No. I think they have mold. I know they smell bad. Out they go.”
Angela gave a little huff. “I’m not even sure why the pajamas and slippers matter to you. After all, it’s not like you’re actually here to see me in them when I fall asleep or wake up, is it?”
She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth, and she stared at him in horrorstruck remorse. His eyes narrowed dangerously, his mouth a thin line of irritation.
“Complaining already, Angel?” he asked in a low, unpleasant voice.
She shook her head frantically. “No, no, not at all. I – I’m sorry. I’m not even sure why I said something like that.”
“Forget it.” His voice was flat, emotionless. “Why don’t you start putting all of these things into the bags? Have you decided what you’re going to do with them?”
She kept her gaze downcast as she started filling up the trash bags, not wanting to see the anger she knew would be visible on his face. “Throw out the really gross stuff and then bring the rest to the Goodwill store a few blocks from here.”
“Good. And since we’ve made room in that ridiculously tiny closet of yours we can get to work on filling it up again. I’m taking you shopping tomorrow afternoon.”
Angela didn’t dare even think of protesting, knowing she’d already pushed too many of his buttons tonight, and merely replied, “Okay. Just let me know when and where.”
Nick threaded a hand into her hair, pulling her head back so their eyes could meet. “I like it when you’re agreeable like this, when you let me call all the shots. What’s more, I think you like it, too. Don’t you, Angel?”
She gave a little gasp as he gave her hair a hard tug, one of the many ways he used to assert his control over her. “Yes,” she whispered, alarmed to notice how easily she agreed with him, and that her affirmation was shockingly true.
He released his grip on her hair and took a step back before inclining his head towards the bed. “Get on the bed. Clothes off.”
Angela trembled at the barely disguised passion in his voice, at the look of dark possession in his eyes, and was quick to obey him. Even in the very brief time they’d been together, she’d learned to heed his instructions quickly, and that patience was definitely not one of his better virtues.
She undressed swiftly, the outfit she wore another new one he’d bought her, and a surprisingly conservative one given most of his previous choices. The gray wool pencil skirt and ivory silk blouse would have been entirely suitable for the office, though the towering gray pumps might have been a bit over the top. He’d actually selected underwear for her this time, too – to a degree. Beneath the clothes she wore a seriously sexy push-up bra of ivory lace and a m
atching garter belt that held up ultra-sheer silk stockings, but no panties. She shivered as she recalled the numerous times during dinner tonight when Nick’s big hand had slid up beneath the tight fitting skirt to stroke a silk stocking, to snap one of the garters against her thigh, or to cup her damp, aching sex, his long fingers merely teasing her but never going any further. She’d been a bundle of quivering, frustrated sensation for the remainder of the meal, and had crossed and uncrossed her legs constantly in a futile attempt to calm her wayward body’s needs. And Nick, damn him, had merely sat next to her with a smug, knowing smirk on his ruthlessly handsome face, casually eating his dinner and drinking his wine as though nothing at all was wrong. She’d longed to return the torment, to slide her hand up his thigh and stroke his cock, only to teasingly retreat time after time. But she’d known he wouldn’t have allowed it, wouldn’t have permitted her to touch him unless it was his idea.
She’d been certain that he’d fuck her the minute they walked inside her apartment – up against the wall or on the floor or maybe they’d make it as far as the bed this time. But, instead, Nick had decreed this would be an excellent time to filter out her wardrobe, and they’d spent the last hour or so doing just that. By now, her body was almost convulsing with need and she silently cursed him for inflicting this sort of emotional torture on her.
She was reaching behind her to unhook the bra when Nick shook his head.
“Change of plans, Angel. You look like one of my best ever wet dreams like that – your tits spilling out of that bra, those stockings making your legs look like they go on forever. And you know what it does to me when you wear those fuck-me shoes. Don’t you?”
She nodded, spellbound by his deep, seductive voice. “Y-yes. It makes you want to – to fuck me.”
“Lay back, Angel. I want to fuck you for hours, maybe all night. Starting like this.”
Angela closed her eyes as he tugged her arms up over her head. He slid open the drawer built into the bottom of the bedframe, and removed the lengths of black silk cord he kept there. She welcomed the feel of the silk around her wrists as he tied her to the slats of her new headboard, then repeated his actions on her ankles until she was spread-eagled. The silken bonds were loosely tied, and she could have easily wriggled free of them if she so desired. But after the first time he’d tied her up this way – the very same afternoon the new bedframe had been delivered – she’d quickly overcome her initial fear and uncertainty at being bound, and allowed herself to surrender to the pleasure.
“My beautiful, sexy angel,” he purred in her ear as he finished securing the cords. Then she could hear the sounds of him undressing, his clothes being tossed to the floor heedlessly. “Open your eyes now, Angel. You know it pisses me off when you don’t look at me.”
She opened her eyes then, just as Nick was easing his big, hard body onto the bed and looming over her intimidatingly. The smile he gave her was nothing short of demonic.
“Got you just where I want you, Angel,” he murmured. “You’re completely at my mercy, so that I can ravish you a dozen different ways if I want to.”
Angela stared up at him, her breathing already jagged in anticipation of what would come next. “Only a dozen?” she asked unevenly.
Nick threw back his head and laughed. “That’s the attitude, Angel. Now, no more talking, hmm? But moaning is definitely allowed.”
“Ohhh.” Her back bowed as far off the bed as possible, given that her limbs were tied down. His lips sucked hard on the side of her neck, hard enough that she knew there would be a dark purple bruise there in the morning. At the same time his hands groped her breasts roughly, squeezing them as his thumbs brushed over the nipples. He delved a hand inside the shallow bra cup, lifting her warm, swollen flesh out and she whimpered as his touch became more aggressive.
“Your tits have gotten bigger, Angel,” he whispered wickedly. “My plan to fatten you up is working. This is bigger, too.” He squeezed her ass cheek. “A few more pounds and you’ll be exactly the weight I want you at. And you’re going to keep that weight on, too.”
She groaned as he bent his head and sucked her exposed nipple into his mouth, while his hand shoved the other bra cup down and pinched the nipple hard.
He took his time with her, lingering over her for what felt like an hour or more, kissing and caressing every inch of her body, taking full advantage of her bound state and the fact that she was utterly helpless to resist anything he might do to her. She cried out plaintively as he thrust two long fingers up inside her vagina, hooking them over her pubic bone.
“You’re not wet enough. As hard as I am right now, we need to get you wetter so I don’t fuck you raw.”
Angela could already feel the moisture of her arousal trickling down her inner thighs, but she knew that mentioning this fact to Nick would be pointless. Instead, she greedily welcomed the first lick of his tongue along her labia, trying in vain to spread herself wider to give him full access. He pinched her clit between his fingers, pulling it taut while his tongue stabbed inside her slit, fucking her with the sort of expertise she knew had only been attained with a great deal of practice. But she was too far gone now, the pleasure too consuming, to start fretting over how many other women he’d done this to. He was with her now, his mouth and tongue devouring her like a rare delicacy, and she would cherish each moment with him, commit it to memory for all time.
He wasn’t satisfied until he’d made her come three times, until she was so wet that his thick, throbbing cock made little slurping noises when he finally surged fully inside her. Tears trickled down her cheeks as he fucked her steadily, longing to wrap her arms and legs around him, not liking this aspect of being bound and helpless. But she knew better than to plead with him for her release, knew this sort of domination over her was what aroused him more than anything else, made him harder and fiercer and more demanding.
He kept at her for a long time, amazing her with the control he could assert over his body. With such God-like stamina, she knew that she’d be bruised and tender tomorrow, would have to soak in a blisteringly hot bath of Epsom salts to soothe away the worst of the soreness. But it was all worth it – God, so worth it – to feel him plundering her body over and over with that huge, hard cock, to be brought so tantalizingly close to the edge with each savage thrust. Nick seemed to know exactly when she was ready to come, when she was oh, so close, only to pull back just enough to deny her fulfillment. She was almost ready to scream with frustration, to beg him to stop toying with her, until she’d recall in a haze what he’d done the one and only time she had pleaded with him in that exact same manner – he had very deliberately pulled out of her and stroked himself to orgasm, spurting streams of hot, thick cum all over her breasts and belly. He had dressed after that, all without uttering a word, then tossed her a towel before letting himself out, leaving her still bound and unsatisfied. It had been an easy enough task to free herself of the silk cords, but she hadn’t dared to get herself off for fear that he would find out somehow.
So she didn’t dare beg him now, no matter how badly she needed to come, knowing that he wouldn’t hesitate to leave her unsatisfied again. Instead, she bit down on her lip so hard that she broke the skin and tasted the coppery rush of blood in her mouth.
“Easy, Angel,” he soothed, bending his head and licking away the drops of blood. “You need to come, don’t you? Answer me.”
She felt a fresh rush of tears well up behind her eyes but knew he wouldn’t like it if she didn’t keep looking at him. “Yes,” she whispered brokenly.
He caressed her cheek, even as he continued to fuck her without mercy. “Blood and tears,” he murmured in wonder. “Is there anything you wouldn’t endure for me, Angel? Anything you wouldn’t do for me?”
She shook her head weakly. “No, nothing. I’ll do whatever you want. Always.”
His fingers dug almost harshly into her cheekbone, holding her head still, and his voice was raw and dangerous. “Then come for me, Angel.”
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This time he didn’t deny her, didn’t pull back when the spasms began deep within her, consuming her until she screamed and sobbed, her entire body thrashing wildly as she tugged on her bonds. Then and only then did he allow himself to climax, his powerful body shuddering repeatedly. But still he kept himself in check, held something back, while in contrast she was a complete and utter wreck, unable to speak or think and certainly totally incapable of moving a single muscle.
Nick was relentless, not giving her even five minutes to recover before he was at her again. She was limp and drained, her limbs numb and aching, and he must have sensed her discomfort for he gently untied the silken cords before flipping her over onto her stomach.
“I want you on your knees this time, Angel,” he rasped, as he rolled on a fresh condom. “Hold onto the headboard and keep this sweet ass up in the air.”
She yelped as he gave her a swift, sharp slap on one of her buttocks but complied, gripping the slats of the headboard as he positioned himself behind her. She couldn’t stifle a low whimper as he slammed into her, his arm banding around her waist as he resumed his relentless fucking, as though the powerful orgasm he’d had just minutes before had never happened.
Angela lost track of time, lost count of how many times he made her come, how many condoms he used up. By the time he finally left, she was almost comatose from exhaustion, her nude body sprawled out limply on her bed. She barely twitched when Nick pulled the duvet up over her and pressed a quick kiss to her temple. He let himself out, locking the deadbolt with the key he’d demanded she give him, and she slipped immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep.
***
She winced as she slid out of bed the next morning, sore and stiff, and knew she was kidding herself by thinking she could somehow manage a quick run. Not to mention the fact that it was already late morning and she had no idea of what time Nick would summon her to meet up for their shopping excursion. Knowing him and the way he liked to exert his control over her, he could very easily call within the next five minutes and demand her presence somewhere within a very short period of time. Moving as quickly as possible, given her somewhat battered body, she turned on the taps in the bathtub, spooned coffee into a filter and began brewing a pot, and snatched up her phone. She kept it close by as she bathed, not daring to miss his call, and breathed a sigh of relief when it didn’t ring just yet. She kept her fingers crossed that she’d have enough time to finish her bath, bolt down some coffee and food, and get dressed before the call came in.
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