by Lana Hartley
How screwed up is that? He owns me. I am trying to get away from him. And now I'm making myself feel guilty for that. I want to scream. I fuck him during the day and try to remember those numbers, but it’s what was happening every night that makes me so relentlessly unsatisfied and fills me with such a deep yearning. I need some relief. I thought so much stress would be off me when I was able to make this phone call, but I haven't been able to make this phone call because everyone in the bathroom today was in a hurry or said their phones were dead as well.
I only had another minute or two before Tatiana suspected something.
And then she walks into the bathroom, slipping into a stall.
Shit.
"Here you go," a smiling woman with the brightest blue eyes I've ever seen says to me. I know I should say something about how I don't need it now and tell her never mind or something, but I'm too afraid now that if I don't take the chance, I'll be screwed. "Just one second then, thank you so much," I say, sliding into the stall and hoping that the inspector answers right away, I say what I need to, and that is that.
But the phone keeps ringing.
I start to get afraid that I got the number wrong. I'm watching the ground, I need Tatiana's shoes to still be in her stall before while I give this woman her phone back, or I'm totally fucked. I start to see her leave and I hang up, shoving the phone back into the nice girl's hand sort of rudely. I smile at her, knowing I must seem crazy. "Thanks so much!" I mutter, and I step out of the bathroom. Tatiana will know that I’m right outside. I just needed to get out of there that second before I exploded with nerves.
I head back to the house that day, and I'm grateful for just a second to see that Jacob is on his way out, but then I'm blaming my nerves on the slight disappointment I felt. I'm supposed to be getting out and building a life for myself. Not sitting around wishing that I was going to be having some all-night orgasm fest with the man I'm trying to escape. Still, when he presses a soulful kiss to my lips, his whole body capturing mine, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull back until he pins me against the wall. I tell myself that I'm pressing my body into his so urgently because I'm playing a role. But aching for him and wishing the kiss would never end, I can't blame that on nerves. Maybe I can blame it on the recurring dreams where I want to fuck Jacob, but I don't. We're two people in separate lives, and he wants nothing to do with me.
Is this my shitty fear? That I can't have my own life? Is it because I think that I'll never feel the way I do for someone who doesn't buy me? Because I think Jacob wouldn't give a shit about me if he hadn't bought me? I don't want to dwell on any of these thoughts. I just need to steel myself for the gathering of more evidence while he was gone. I don't think I'll be watched in his home, and today I could dig up something more. Too bad that I can't make a call.
I'm holding him tight against me. He drops his briefcase so that both his hands can prowl against me, and I can't kid myself that I'm playing some role when I let him spread my legs with his knee. I try to breathe when he unzips his slacks, and I turn around and pull up my dress, and I'm about to yank down my panties, but I feel him behind me doing just that. Holding me up against the wall, he slides into me.
"You're so wet for me, baby girl. I don't want to leave you either." Jacob whispers into my ear. His words are like my weakness at this moment that destroys me. I tell myself this means that I have to fight harder than ever to get away from him. Jacob Renaud has consumed every inch of me and made me his. I can't have that. "I crave you," he growls against my skin, licking my neck and then biting into me just a little too hard. I yelp, my pussy squeezing his thick cock spearing me so well. I'm moaning loudly, saying his name over and over again. It sounds so fucking good, tastes good on my lips. I want to say his name forever because I can feel how hard he thrusts into me each time that I do. I'm fucking desperate to satisfy him in this way. He feeds off every moment I want him, and I feed off of that. It is twisted as hell, but it makes me feel needed. Wanted. Desired. Loved, almost. But he can't love me.
Or maybe he does. But I can't love him. I just can't.
Not after everything I've worked for. If I love him, how can I do these things?
I'm in enemy territory. I have been this whole time. I can't give into what he does to my body and let it overtake my mind.
I have to hold onto my soul because I want to believe that I can have a life where I don't belong to anyone.
And maybe I can.
But when his fingers wrap around my throat, my heart thunders in my chest, and I don't know if I want to have a life where I don't belong to him. He's poisoned me, infected me, seeped into my very being. I crave him, too. I want to tell him now, just to feel his response. If I told Jacob Renaud that I loved him, what would that mean? I get the feeling that I have no damn idea exactly what that would mean and I'm fucking dying to know.
How can I be plotting to trap him in prison forever so he can never touch me again, and literally panting in ecstasy, coming and praying that he never stops touching me?
He's leaving tonight. I have a job to do. I come down from the incredible high of our orgasm. He drops to his knees, kissing my ass cheek before giving it a slap that makes me bounce, and then pulls my panties up. He turns me around, kissing me again, and it feels like we could start this whole thing over again. The way he kisses me melts me, overtakes my soul, drowns me in emotions that seem to be able to shatter everything inside me. He tastes safe. He tastes like home. I don't want him to mean any of those things to me. He just can't. I must just not know what real safety feels like. I have to get that for myself. I'm the one who holds me prisoner if I let these feelings take hold within me.
Jacob straightens his clothes, picks up his briefcase, and heads for the door. I tell myself not to watch, but when I turn around, I see that he's looked back as well. For some reason, I look down demurely, as if he didn't just fuck the living goddamn daylights out of me. He walks back to me, his hand cupping my face roughly, but kisses me so tenderly it is almost sad. It is sad. He's clearly sad that he’s leaving.
I'm sad he's leaving, too.
When he's gone, I sit down and tell myself that any minute, I am going to get up. That's when I hear a knocking at the door. I'm so confused. I go to the door, and I know who it is, this man in the suit before he even speaks.
"I've been camped out, waiting for that bastard to leave. I'm not sure how much time we have, but I need to know, can you tell me what he has?"
"Inspector Willoughby, what in the fuck are you doing here? Do you know how dangerous this is? What if someone saw you?"
"I was camped out for a while, I wasn't followed, and I'll be gone in a moment. Tell me what you know."
"Okay," I stutter out. I take a moment to compose my memory, and I reel off all the paintings that I saw when Jacob had me touring his vaulted collection. It wasn't easy for me to deceive Jacob like that, and I told myself that's because lying terrifies me. But I know I'm feeling guilty, even when I shouldn't. I'm working to get away. His feelings are the last thing I should care about. But I do. I just want to be far way so that I can't think about any of this, or be around this anymore.
"Leave," I say solemnly.
The inspector looks at me, and he gets wide eyed for a second. He nods and says, "I'll get you out of here soon."
I guess I should believe him. I shut the door, hoping Tatiana heard nothing, and I head up to the master bedroom. Am I going to get out of here soon? Why aren't I excited? Or even scared? Why do I now just feel numb?
Jacob
Leah's offering up herself to me, and I can't wait to see her come undone when I slide my cock into her.
Yes, she's swayed her hips and sunk onto my hard length. Her eyes roll back in her head. She makes a sweet little moaning sound. But fuck if she isn't with me and gone all at once. The booze gave her a certain amount of not give a fuck. Here I am like a damn sap, and that single fuck not given look may not be on her face but I feel it. There's lust, there's passi
on, but Leah may never give herself to me.
If this is what it feels like to lose, then fuck me but I'd sign up for this torture any day over winning. I can have all the money in the world -- I am one of the few that has most of it -- and never have something even half as good as the way she feels when she rides my cock. Leah is the sweetest thing I can never have. I know now in how she's giving herself to me without giving herself over at all, this girl will never truly be mine. I can't own her. How can this be? I can make her come, but I can't make her utterly surrender.
But I want to die trying. I bring my hand to the back of her neck, pulling her close and kissing her with every fucking ounce of my soul. I want her lips to feel sore tomorrow from how hard I've kissed her. I want her tongue to feel lonely because mine isn't claiming hers like it is now. I have to go somewhere tomorrow, tear myself away from her and find some air in my lungs when she isn't there. I cannot fucking stand the idea. My hips buck up and I slam my cock into her more.
Leah's riding me and I love that but I need her so goddamn much that I take her hands, pin them behind her back roughly, forcing her breasts into my mouth as I tear my mouth away from hers. That little moan when I stop tells me she felt just how much I wanted to fuck myself into her mouth. Now I'm going to devour her breasts while I slam my cock too damn hard into her. Maybe going easy on her is the right thing to do but I'm not the good guy. I'm not the knight in shining armor. I'm the thing that eats his honor and loses the lives of the ones he loves. I am fucking marking her so that when I'm gone tomorrow, I'll think about how every inch of her body can feel me everywhere. I'll haunt my sweet angel as much as I can, because Leah's soft curves, her gentle honey-colored waves, her innocent eyes, they'll all be playing out in my mind while I miss her.
I have to get away because even though I have her, I know now I'm damned to never have all of her and it is too much to bear.
"Keep your hands there," I growl against her nipples as I release her hands but keep them on her back, pressing them into the arch of her spine. She shivers while riding my cock so good, but complies with my command. I trace my fingers down her body, riding down the curves until I've got my hands wrapped around her and I'm rolling her against me, making her feel the deep angle I'm penetrating her. I only go slowly now so that I can watch her face as every second of the pleasure overwhelms her. If I can't have her passion, then she'll have mine. I'm still in control. I've got her body and I'm burning for her. I have to ignite that same desire in her. Inside Leah, I could be her everything. Her moans start to build, soft whimpers of need. Baby girl wants to come. I should let her, especially after how she offered me her sweet body and I took over.
Remember, though. I'm not a nice man.
I've got a beast within.
I'm a bastard.
"No, do not come," I say. I hear the anger in my voice. I shouldn't be mad that she might come, as she might think it’s the reason I grit my teeth and have a rough tone. But my anger is because I can't let go. I need her to suffer some of what I'm suffering. She needs to come, and I need her to never leave me. Since all I have is her time, I have to hold off on this orgasm as long as I can. I may give her several, but I can't grant that until I've felt every shaking moment of her soul shattering with the ferocity of my orgasm first. Not polite. Not how I do things. I like to make a girl come.
But Leah isn't just any girl, she's my girl. And if I can't have my girl, she's not coming yet. I need to feel her come because I'm coming. I need to extract that pleasure in the most selfish way possible. I look into her eyes. They're pleading. Leah's strong. Strong enough to not actually come when I say this, even though her pussy is squeezing my cock for dear life. But she's strong enough to offer herself to me, in body only. I need all of her.
I grip her ass and I pull her up and start slamming her down. I need to fuck her so intensely, my cock completely leaving her and torturing her with each time I slam her down and fuck into her all the way. So damn deep. Her pussy is so wet, this won't be painful or uncomfortable for her. It will be torture.
It will feel so damn good.
Then she's got a taste of what I'm offering.
I keep slamming into her, and I don't even realize that I'm moaning her name until her hands pull from behind her back and she wraps them around me.
"I...need..." her voice is shaking. She's trying to hold back. Gripping me for dear life.
Can I say no to my angel? When she's disobeying me to obey me?
Well, this twisted sort of shit is where I goddamn live.
"Do not come," I growl back, grabbing her hands. It hurts to tear her grip from me, not just because her nails dig into my skin, but because it feels so good for her to grip me like this. I want her to want to hold onto me. But I'm not a candy and flowers type of guy. I'm a not letting you come and slamming us both to the ground to fuck you even deeper and still not let you come guy. A mouthful, I laugh to myself. I have a grin spreading over my face thinking about actually giving her a mouthful, but it would be too damn much if I left her pussy now.
Not when it needs me so damn bad.
When her back hits the floor, it doesn't even register in her mind. I see how wanton she is. Leah cries out when I lift her legs. "Hold this up for me, baby girl, and maybe I let you come later," I say, my tone cold, brutal, as the way my pain is searing through me.
Her shaking hands hold her thighs up where I've pressed them up, so high they could almost touch her cheeks. I hold her steady and I slam my cock so hard and so fast into her that she screams my name so loud that even though we live in the middle of nowhere, I am almost certain that they heard us in space.
Still, princess doesn't come. She screams more as I keep slamming into her. Leah digs her nails into her own thighs, but she holds them in place. Fuck, I've seen gals into bondage really put up with a lot but I'm fucking her so hard and so deep, and she's holding her thighs for me and not coming like a fucking champion. I want to give in now and let her come, and fuck knows my cock is twitching, ready to comply. But I can't. I can't because when she's shattered from that orgasm, when I let her have that, the pieces aren't going to be there for me to pick up. Leah will leave me again because I can never have her. That's just too fucking painful for me to bear. I keep slamming into her, and she keeps holding on. Tears are streaming down her face, and I'm groaning hard at wanting to come. I know we are both in perfect agony, and my cock is desperate to come, but I can't.
Fuck.
I can't torture her like this. I should let her come, even though my rock hard cock is too fucking much for my heart. I should get over it. But I'm going to let this girl endure this, and I'm going to suffer, too. I pull my cock out, and this time I don't slide back in. I pull her hands from her thighs. I wipe up the tears. I can't meet her eyes.
"You, you didn't hurt me," she says in small, shaky voice.
She wants to come. She thinks I stopped because she was hurt.
"You'll be sore tomorrow." That's all I can muster right now.
"I want this."
"You want to come," I say, throwing back those words in her face. I drop my face between her thighs, my hands lifting up her ass damn near a foot off the ground. I eat her pussy so good she's begging to come.
I growl against her skin, waiting just one second before I lift up my mouth long enough to talk to her. "Come for me, baby girl." I sink my mouth back over her sensitive pussy and praise her clit with my tongue until she's coming so hard in my mouth her legs are falling around her. I've got her. I'm holding her. My cock is painfully hard, and I need to come, but I fucking can't. I keep eating her pussy while she comes until I know she can't take anymore, and I pull her body into my arms. I can't help but hold her. Her ass is pressing against my still rock hard cock, and she looks up at me, confused. Her perfect face is flushed from the orgasm. Her eyes narrow as she searches my face to understand. I'm grateful that she says nothing. When she closes the distance between us and kisses me with a ferocity I can feel that she can ba
rely summon, I know that she's trying to get me to tell her, if not in words, with my body what I want so I can come. I don't know exactly what her explanation is for my behavior. But I want her to keep kissing me like this until I die. I want to die with her in my arms, kissing me with a yearning for my pleasure. The scotch taste between us with the lust burns going down and provides the only warmth my soul has ever known. I kiss her, breathe her in, suck her tongue, explore her mouth like I'm dying. Like these are my last moments on earth. Because I honestly don't know how the fuck I'll go on when she's not touching me like this. Giving herself to me in this small way. It is more than I fucking deserve, more than I'd come to think I'd get. But it is a goodbye. I know now more than ever that I have to leave tomorrow, and come back in a day when I've somehow found the resolve to be anything but a fucking bitch for her. I'm a fool for her love, and she's trapped here. I love her, and I want to die.
Jacob
Leah...she thinks she could get rid of me so easily.
Well, I'll leave her alone. That's what she wants. What she needs. What she deserves. But what will her life look like when she thinks I'm behind bars?
Baby girl just doesn't realize how powerful I am. It makes my cock twitch because I ache to show her just how powerful and how not locked away I am. But she wanted to escape me. I've got to let her have that.
I always knew Leah was strong. I should have known that she'd be the one to end this tragedy I started between us.
But I can't go one second of my day without my whole body feeling empty and wrong because she's not with me. Leah's not touching me. I can’t scent her on any of my sheets; she's not in any of the cavernous hallways in this house that feels like a prison now.
I'm fucking proud of her, though. I mean, she didn't let shit stand in the way of what she wanted. She built a damn good case against me with that two-bit shit Inspector Willoughby who would be lucky to get work shining shoes now, and I'm perfectly fine. Except I'm not fucking okay. I can’t decide which is worse. The harsh reality that Leah wanted to leave the entire time, or the simple reality that she's not here now and I can't fucking stand a second of time without her. I'm fucking falling apart. Leah thought she could bring me down with the law, and I took care of that. But she has no fucking clue that she can bring me to my knees by just not being here. Or she does know, and she doesn't give a fuck. It fucking stings.
