The Debt Collector

by Celia Crown

  I wrap my arms around his thick waist, running sneaky fingers up his solid back, scratching on his tense muscles and taking in the purring from his chest. I love it when he does that; the effect I have on him makes me swell with love and pride.

  “Where is tonight’s destination?” I giggle.

  I’m officially done with exams. All I have to wait for is the graduation ceremony. I want to ask Derek if he would come with me, but he’s a busy man, and I hate to trouble him. He’s not going to be interested in sitting next to an overenthusiastic mom screaming at the top of her lungs for her child. In fact, I think he hates being in crowded places.

  Maybe it’s for the best that I don’t ask.

  “Come home with me,” Derek offers, crooking that grin that morphs into a small smile.

  I feel a flush creep over my skin, battling with the summer nightly heat as I nod quickly.

  I know he said from the beginning that he would respect my wishes to not do anything sexual, and he never hinted anything inappropriate to me. I have heard stories of men not taking rejection from women well, and I haven’t had the chance to experience it firsthand because men flock around Moira while I stay invisible to their eyes.

  Attention and I are not on good terms, but then Derek showed me what it is like to be cared for and wanted.

  I’m ready for the next step no matter how embarrassing it is for me to actually say it.

  The car ride to his home has my eyes taking in every detail of the streets, trying to guess where he lives by the upscale neighborhood and gated communities that we passed. I expect a townhouse or just a regular-sized house, but the moment he pulls up in the long drive way of a ginormous home filled with golden lights, I’m locked in a trance.

  I’m not really worried about what his neighbors think of me as long as they don’t see me drooling over a house. It’s enough awkwardness that I have created by being an uncultured girl, but letting Derek see this side of me is humiliating.

  Maybe I spent too much time gazing with awe to notice that he had opened the door for me and is helping me out. I let him guide me into his home while I have the desire to call out to see if there would be an echo coming back.

  It’s just that ridiculously big.

  “You’ll have time to explore.” Derek chuckles, holding my hand while I look at all the paintings on the walls.

  He has great taste; everything matches well with the decor. The surprise is there, but I wouldn’t think he lives with anything less than what he earns. He’s rich. That I know for sure. He has to have the money to loan out to be able to keep busy all week chasing down those who have deadlines coming up.

  Derek leads me to a room with a candle-lit dinner small square table, two silver-covered plates, and a gorgeous presentation that has my tummy doing flip-flops at the heavenly smell of food.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have dressed up,” I mumble, tugging at the edge of my shirt.

  Underdressed is an understatement. This is obviously an intimate dinner, and I want it to be special. I let myself immerse into the romanticism of it while being the prettiest in his eyes.

  “As I have said, Rebecca, you are beautiful.”

  Spinning me around, Derek slides my hair behind my ear and smiles down on me. I notice that he doesn’t smile a lot. Being outdoors has his face clinched into a scowl every time someone looks at me. They were mostly staring at him. I haven’t come across anyone who hasn’t let their eyes wander below his waist.

  “I never want you to be anyone other than yourself,” he pecks me on my lips gently, dragging my breath with him as he slips back to straighten his back.

  I smile gratefully. His words bring me confidence that I never had. Derek pulls out the chair for me, a gentleman gesture that has my heart thumping in my ribs. With precision and timing, my butt hits the chair without ever having my knees being jerked forward by the edge of the chair.

  Derek opens a bottle of wine. It has French inscriptions on it; it’s elegantly scratched across the old label with the year under it.

  College is notorious for alcoholic parties. I choose not to attend them for reasons that suit my personality the best. I’m not big on being in a crowded space with drunken students who are most likely underage, and I also don’t like the smell of vodka or beer. It’s too pungent and I have seen firsthand the damage it can do.

  Moira is the perfect example when I have to hold her hair back until she is done emptying her stomach on the toilet or when I have to hear the insane whining about hangovers that zombified her beauty.

  I love that girl, but she is a mess when she drinks. Someone has to be her safety net if she were to fall. I make sure she gets home safely by a certain hour when she gives me an estimate of how long she would be out.

  A sweet aroma flows from the black bottle, and I blink at him as I wonder if I should tell him that I don’t drink.

  The moment he pours a small amount of red wine into a glass, the smell gets strong with a hint of woody bitterness.

  “It has less than ten percent alcohol content,” he puts the glass down.

  I pause, attempting to make sense of what that means. I assume it’s not going to knock me out with one sip since the bottles of tequila in Moira’s mini-fridge have fifty percent content, and she’s crazy after she drinks it.

  Derek lifts the silver cover from the plate before he goes to his seat. My eyes widen at the smell of thyme and garlic from the massive steak. Where in the world did this man get a piece of steak this ginormous and expect me to eat it by myself?

  This might be a portion for one person, but steaks are expensive, so I never had a chance to taste one. Moira and I always eat instant food or the things in the cafeteria down in our dorm.

  How I didn’t have sodium leaking into my blood is beyond me, but I’m glad that after meeting Derek, my taste palate expanded.

  I look up at him across the table, watching him sip the wine in his glass. His cool grey eyes meet mine. A smirk peeks behind from his glass, and he puts the glass down with the smirk widening.

  Blushing from his gaze, I look down as I fidget with my fingers on my lap.

  “Taste it,” his raspy voice rumbles.

  Small shivers run down my spine, making me arch my back slightly and glance down at the steak and then to the wine. It seems the right order would be to have a taste of the wine to let it seep into my taste buds before it gets off-balance from the juicy steak.

  I push the glass to my lips, praying my tinted Chap stick doesn’t smear on the rim. It’s supposed to stain my lips and not transfer, and I hope Moira didn’t lie to me about this lip product that she brought for me last Valentine’s day.

  I was pathetically lonely, and she got me lipsticks as a joke, and I gave her a microwaved hot-pocket before we watched sappy romance movies together.

  A sweet taste and a bitter after taste hit my tongue as I curl my brows at the complex flavor. There are no fuzzy bubbles, but it’s got this lightness that coats my mouth. It also lays thickly down my throat. It’s so complex that it makes me question what I’m tasting.

  I pull the glass away, licking my lips to find another light layer before I let my tongue slither back between my teeth.

  “You look like a beer kind of man,” I lightly point out.

  He raises an eyebrow, “I am.”

  It wouldn’t be so surprising if he hadn’t had a bottle of old wine laying around that costs more than my tuition. Speaking of tuitions, does this mean I owe him twice as much than before since the wine is probably expensive and this steak smells like money?

  “Then why don’t you drink that?” I cock my head. It may not match the candle-lit dinner, but at least he could enjoy it.

  “You look like a sweet wine kind of girl,” he shoots back.

  My cheeks flush hotly, and the heat from the candles is not to blame. He’s not wrong. I like my food on a sweeter side while I leave the heavier things for lunch as it is the time where I need the most energy to keep me g
oing for the day.

  “I am,” I repeat his words.

  I open my mouth and then purse my lips back together, thinking of the best words to phrase what I want to ask him.

  “What is it?” He asks, “And start eating, you haven’t had lunch.”

  My shoulders jump and, my heart slams against my chest as he is right. I didn’t have lunch as I was doing an exam, but there is no way he can know that since he’s always somewhere doing work and scaring people into giving his money back.

  It’s either Moira’s big mouth, or he has people following me.

  “Are you stalking me?” I glare playfully, slicing the steak at the corner.

  “I have eyes everywhere,” he said, cryptically alarming and it makes me feel oddly safe.

  This stalking behavior should not sound so sexy, but it does, and I love feeling small in his eyes. It’s as if he wants to protect me, wants to take care of me by showing me that he can provide for me.

  “That’s not good,” I smile, “Isn’t it illegal?”

  “I’m simply keeping what’s mine safe,” Derek said, keeping his grey eyes focused onto me like a predator.

  “I’m not yours,” I murmur, lowering my eyes down to the plate, with scorching cheeks.

  “Do you want to repeat that?” Derek growls, hissing through a snarl that keeps the dark smirk on his face utterly soul-consuming.

  I hiccup, “N-no.”

  He waits, gracefully slicing his steak while I squirm in my chair. Wetness seeps into my panties, and I hate this mortification stewing in my stomach. I’m going to ruin his chair by being a dirty girl.

  “I’m yours,” I squeak.

  He answers, “I’m yours too.”

  I shove a piece of meat into my mouth unattractively; it’s a necessity that stops me from rambling because I would be able to stop embarrassing myself.

  Let’s not dig a hole just yet.

  I like this quietness, eating through the comforting silence as we would occasionally look up from our plates. He must sense when I want to look up at him and admire his sharp features because he finds my eyes lingering on him. His strong jaw gets highlighted when he tilts his head just slightly for the candles to illuminate his neck.

  After dinner, I am a little fuzzy in the head, and it can’t be from the wine because it doesn’t have enough alcoholic content to make me tipsy. I might have an extremely low tolerance for alcohol. Derek is fine but I see him in a different light.

  He has a golden halo behind him as he stands in front of me with his intense gaze. Dinner got left on the table, and he lets me explore his home. It’s big and easily the most beautiful place I have ever seen.

  Cleanliness and simplicity is his style. It shows through how he carries himself and the way he is portrayed through the eyes of a stranger.

  “Rebecca,” his husky voice has heat pooling in my tummy as I turn away from the painting on the wall.

  “Stay for the night.”

  Maybe it’s his tone or the way he said it, he has no desire to let me out of his home.

  I want to stay, in his arms and in his eyes. He doesn’t have to demand that I stay with him. I’m willing to leap into his embrace if he opens his arms. Going back to the dorm sounds unappealing; time with him goes too fast, and I always end up missing him too much as I would wait for the next time he calls.

  “Okay,” I breathe.

  He’s on me promptly; lips clashing in a bruising kiss, hands yanking my hair to crank my neck up, and his massive body pressing sensually on mine.

  “I want you, Rebecca.” Derek groans, tightening his fingers in my red hair. “You’re mine; no one can ever have you. You’re all fucking mine.”

  I mewl shakily, “I only want you.”

  A thunderous snarl vibrates through my body when he possessively curls his tongue with mine. My knees knock together. He wedges a leg between mine and rises it up to grind up against my wet panties.

  “Say it,” he pulls back to lick his lips, observing my dazed expression.

  “I want you.”

  My world tilts as he throws me over his shoulder, spanking my butt with his big hand as he walks away.

  His hand never strays from my ass.

  Chapter Six

  Derek

  “Spread your legs, Rebecca,” I purr.

  She shakes her head, pretty as a picture on my king-sized bed. She’s naked and vulnerable. Her luscious thighs are tightly clamped together with her hiding her big tits from my eyes.

  Rebecca doesn’t have a reason to hide from me; nothing is prettier than having her trusting me to accept her wholeheartedly.

  I do.

  “I want to see you play with your little cunt,” I said, urging her while I unbuckle my belt.

  My shirt is on the ground with her clothes, messily laying while being forgotten. My words give her cheeks a nice flush, and her hands instinctively follow my order.

  I wait for her to gather enough courage to slowly part her legs, widening inch by inch until they are to the point of touching the bed.

  I groan throatily.

  Her pussy is wet and pink, swollen with need, and slick runs from her parted slit. Her small hole is too tiny to put one finger in. I have to be careful because I’m a big man with the tendencies to be rougher and harsher when I use my hands.

  I don’t want to hurt her. It would never cross my mind.

  Rebecca keeps her eyes away from me, too embarrassed to make a sound until her little finger grazed her clit. My hand itches to feel her slick coating my fingers. I want to feel her grip around my digits and watch her face as she comes.

  Responsive and sensitive, her hips buck as she rubs her little button with jerky fingers. She trails her fingers on her slit, tentatively feeling around her folds as well as dipping her finger towards her pulsing hole. Rebecca jerks back her hand from her opening, focusing on flicking her clit more firmly.

  I fist my cock, “Never touched yourself before?”

  “No,” she shyly mumbles.

  I believe her as her bodily reaction doesn’t say anything different. It’s hesitant, scared, and exploring while her nervous gaze hits a soft spot in me to help her. It’s probably myself talking me into giving up being a gentleman and take what I need.

  Spreading her soaked folds, her clit gets pulled taut and stiff. I hiss when my fingers brush along her drenched slit, circling the puckering hole as her body tightens. I don’t dare to breach her small cunt just yet; she needs to be wetter as I tap on her clit. Twitching, Rebecca squeaks as I press down on her button to grind down aggressively.

  “A-ah!” she mewls, arching her back beautifully as her nipples point up to the ceiling. “N-not so rough!”

  I grin wickedly down at her teary eyes, “You like it when I’m rough with you. Don’t you feel it?”

  Of course she can. Her cunt is leaking more juices than before. Her mortified face turns away, burying into her red hair that contrasts again my dark pillows.

  Getting on my stomach, I face her pussy close enough to inhale her scent. It’s intoxicating, so lovely and sweet as I watch her pinkest part. My hot breath breathes on her cunt, as I pin her down with my arm over her quivering stomach.

  “So fucking pretty,” I lick my lip, “Can’t wait to sink my cock in your tight, little pussy.”

  Her voice chokes when my mouth latches onto her clit, sucking and teething while moaning deeply to force her body to deal with the shivers I cause her. Rebecca starts panting heavily, aching and thrashing on the bed while her hands come to fist into my hair.

  Raggedly hiccupping, she responds by grinding her pussy to my face as I move to lick her folds up and down. Gathering up from juices, I can't help but sniff her cunt like the disgusting animal that I am.

  “Please,” she whispers desperately, crying out my name.

  Thrumming her clit, I hold her hips steady and listen to her voice. It’s angelic, melodic in ways that resonate with the echoing purrs from my chest.

  “
More, I want more.”

  How can I deny her when she begs?

  I gauge the wetness smearing around her folds and deem it better than before. I rub her clit with two fingers side to side and let her writhe through her orgasm. Just as I expected, being a virgin and untouched leaves her sensitive and responsive to my touch. New experiences often bring out results quicker as I watch her tiny hole leak thick juices down to her ass.

  It’s a shame to let it go to waste. I latch my mouth over her hole and breach her opening with my tongue only slightly to catch the slick.

  “D-Derek!” she squeals, trembling and bucking as her walls clamp down on the small intrusion.

  While her orgasm is still leaving her high and sensitive, I slowly sink one finger in and her hot walls close around it promptly. I wiggle, trying to get her used to the feeling of having something inside her and get her loose for my cock.

  My cock is proportionate to my massive body; she’s not going to take it well if I don’t prepare her. I thumb her clit, easing her muscles to relax and accept me while feeling around her walls for that one spot.

  I find it with a crook of my finger; she moans wantonly.

  I look up. Her eyes are wide at the feeling of being opened to a new feeling. My fingers are larger than hers; I can tell she definitely notice the stretch as she crinkles her eyebrows.

  Slowly drawing and pushing back, “Are you hurt?”

  She hums, “No…”

  I chuckle, licking her clit in one swipe. Fucking her eagerly, I growl deeply in my chest as the vibration has her walls coiling around my finger. I can't wait until I feel this tightness around my massive cock as I fuck her in my bed. She’s going to go crazy and I want to witness it.

  Another finger goes in, spreading her walls as I yank my fingers apart. Her eyes squeeze shut and she cries out with a wince. I crook my fingers, stroking the same spot over and over again to bring her closer to the edge.

  I want to get her coming on my fingers to wear her out, so she would be more pliable for me to control while I feed her my cock.

  Rebecca moans, “Derek, it’s happening again!”