by Lynn Burke
Lower lip between my teeth, I nodded.
He relaxed his hold enough I sank onto his hard shaft a mere inch before wincing at the burn. “Fuck,” he growled between his teeth. “Goddamn tight.”
“Do it,” I whispered, my finger nails digging into his shoulders as I tried to relax my inner walls.
His hands tightened on my hips a split second before yanking me down, spearing into me. My brain made note of the fullness, the stinging pain, but he leaned in, capturing my lips, my cry of pain, and held me seated fully on his cock. Hot and hard, he filled me, stretched me beyond what I ever imagined having a cock buried inside my body would feel.
Like a caged animal, he shuddered beneath me as though holding still, waiting for me to adjust -- just like Cadence said a good man would do when taking a woman for the first time.
His lashing tongue and sweet breath carried me through the stinging pain, one hand rubbing over my breast, tugging on my nipples until my arousal returned, turning me into a burning furnace.
“Move,” I managed, tearing my mouth from his, my hands finding purchase in his hair again.
He lifted me, causing another wince to furrow my brow as I stared down where we joined, but when I lowered again, my pussy swallowing his blood-coated cock, the sting disappeared.
“Oh.” I swallowed and lifted on my own, the friction inside my pussy more exquisite than I’d imagined. “Oh,” I whispered again, blinking as our gazes collided.
Black pupils dominated the caramel color, eyes unshuttered, allowing me to see inside his broken soul. My breath caught at the emotion he showed, similar feelings of lust and obsessive need in his dark orbs sped my heart, euphoric tingles racing across my skin, pebbling every inch, hardening my nipples like diamonds.
We were bound together way beyond the physical, like a cord tied our hearts tight together.
I clutched him to me while dragging myself up over his cock, and he bit down on one of my nipples through the thin lace, making me take the Lord’s name in vain for the first time in my life.
“Fuck,” I said as he did it again while I shoved myself back down onto him.
Bowie wrapped his hand in my hair and yanked my head back, the sting in my scalp sending another rush of wetness between my thighs. “My little girl likes it rough.”
I swallowed and nodded as he latched onto my lower neck, sucking and biting, giving me my first hickey. Uncaring of the mark he was sure to leave, I ground against his cock, rubbing my throbbing clit against his hard abs.
“Fuck.” He stood and shoved his chair back in one move. Papers scattered off his desk from a sweep of his arm, and he laid me down, fucking into me as my bare back met the cold wood. “You’re so goddamn tight, Hannah. So fucking perfect, bleeding all over my cock just like I dreamed about.”
He slammed into me twice, his hand once more grasping at my hair to keep me from sliding across his desk. Over and over, he plowed into me, his cock stretching and filling me, hitting my womb, pulling gasps from my lips. The stinging of my scalp, the ache in my nipples as he bit and licked, made me writhe beneath him.
Every thrust stung, every finger of his holding me in place caused an ache so sweet, so damn sick, I didn’t recognize my body’s need or the sounds flying past my lips.
“P-please,” I somehow managed to say past the rush of blood pounding in my ears.
“Know what you need.” He reached between our bodies and pinched my clit, so damn hard, I bucked beneath him. “Come all over my cock, Angel. Give it to me.”
My body obeyed, sweeping my mind into oblivion, lost in exquisite torture of the best kind, shattering every cell in my body, igniting a fire in my soul.
Bowie buried deep and tensed beneath my hands holding onto his back. “Goddamn, sugar…” He groaned and thrust twice more, hot spurts of cum erupting inside me. “Fuck. Goddamn, fucking…” He groaned again and stilled, one last shudder rippling over him. Heaving for breath, he rested his forehead against mine, the sweetness of his whiskey breath fanning my face.
He’d woken a beast inside of me, I realized as he pulled back after catching his breath, his face relaxed, concern in his eyes rather than the lust I’d hoped for. I squeezed my inner muscles around his softening length, and he groaned.
“If I’d known it was going to be like this,” I said, still breathless, “I’d have given it up a long damn time ago.”
Bowie’s gaze narrowed, the glint returning to his eyes, and I couldn’t hold back my smirk. “Little minx.”
I giggled, but he cut me off with a searing kiss, one that tingled clear to my toes. He’d been my first, and although Cadence had told me that man would always hold a part of my heart, Bowie owned every inch, just like he’d said. Always would, and come hell or high water, I would never leave his side.
The kiss turned languid, but no less sexy or potent. My body thrummed, but he pulled back, his cock slipping from my body and bringing about another wince to my face. He held my thighs wide, a corner of his lips lifted enough his dimple appeared in his right cheek as he watched our combined cum slip from my body to coat my ass.
“Fucking mine.” More relaxed than I’d ever seen him, Bowie slid his fingers through the mess and rubbed it all over my pussy, up over my clit.
Tinged red by blood, I noticed when I tore my gaze off his face to focus on the slickness he smeared over my pubic bone.
His dimple deepened as he looked at me through his long, black lashes. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” I answered without hesitation, knowing as the words slid past my lips that nothing had ever been truer. I didn’t even know his real name. Didn’t know if he was married, engaged, had kids, or even a house, but none of that would change what resonated deep inside me.
I wanted to be Bowie’s. Forever.
The damn man had somehow managed to force me into submission, and I couldn’t decide if I hated or loved him for it.
* * *
Bowie
“I don’t know your name,” Hannah murmured, sprawled across my desk like the virgin sacrifice I’d worshiped -- and hadn’t nearly had enough of.
I kissed one rosy nipple then the other. “Ian Davies, but everyone calls me Bowie.”
“Why?”
I managed to pull the bowie knife from the sheath in my boot although my pants strangled my ankles, and held it up close to her face. “I’m a little fond of knives in case you don’t remember.”
“You’re a chef?” she asked without flinching, her pupils dilating.
I chuckled and placed the tip of my blade against her neck, wrapping my other hand in her hair.
Hannah froze, breath held, and I stared at the thump in her neck. Blood swelled my cock again as I slid my knife lightly down to her collar bone, hard enough to leave a red scratch without drawing blood.
She swallowed, and I tore my focus off the mark, glancing up at her face. Pupils dominating the green of her eyes, she stared up at me with just enough fear to sizzle my blood. I nudged my stiff cock against her pussy.
A gasp parted her lips, and I yanked on her hair a bit and leaned forward without shoving back into her like I wanted to. “How about you tell me your name, sugar.”
Hannah moaned as I rubbed my cock up through her pussy lips. “Hannah Morris.”
“Don’t lie to me.” I tipped her head to the side and scratched up the other side of her neck with my blade, pebbling her skin with goose bumps.
“I-I’m not.”
“You are.” Two lines down either side of her soft skin -- but no blood -- the tip resting beneath her left ear. “Don’t lie to me, little girl. You might not like the consequences.”
Hannah licked her lips, but held her body perfectly still. “My name is Hannah.”
“Harris,” I added, pushing into her tight sheath with one thrust of my hips.
“Fuck,” she whispered, her eyes closing, back arching.
“Mmm.” I pulled out and pushed back in through the sopping mess of cum we’d made the fi
rst time around. “I heard there’s a nice little reward for news of your whereabouts.”
Hannah stiffened, but I pulled on her hair and thrust against her womb.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist.” I smirked, dragging the knife back down to her collarbone.
“You ripped them off me,” she snipped, a glare stealing the lust from her eyes. She tried to push me off her, but I dropped my blade on the floor and held her trapped against my desk.
“You’re mine,” I reminded her, wrapping my free hand around her neck and squeezing.
Hannah struggled beneath me, but I released my hold on her neck and banded my arm around her waist. “Let go of me, you… you bastard!”
Her squirming only landed me deeper in her hot pussy, and I ground my hips against her with a moan.
“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you?” She glared up at me, her fingernails digging into my back, but not out of ecstasy.
I stood, yanking her up into my arms, and swatted her ass, squeezing immediately where I’d landed the blow.
She squeaked, and a rush of warmth slid down over my cock. “You like that.” I swatted again.
“Stop,” she said, breathless, the damn throb in her neck twisting my lips up in a smirk again.
Smack!
Hannah jerked in my arms, her legs winding tight around my waist. “Oh, God.”
“Someday soon,” I murmured against her ear while tugging on a nipple with my fingers, “I’m going to swat this gorgeous ass red and shove my dick so far up your tight hole that you’ll lose your breath.”
She moaned and wiggled against me, taking me deeper. “Tonight. Now.”
“No, sugar. You’re going to be sore for a day or two after this, and I want you one hundred percent, ready to take me deep and rough just the way I like it.”
“Mercy,” she moaned.
“Need to come, sugar?”
“Yes. Please, yes.”
I held her hips in a bruising grip and ground into her, my pelvis rubbing her protruding hard nub. “Be a good little girl and come all over my cock again.”
She whimpered twice, her head tipping back.
“You’re so goddamn tight. So wet for me.” I thrust into her over and over, hating that she would be sore, but unable to keep from slamming into her.
A shudder rippled through Hannah, and her pussy clamped down on my thrusting length. “Fuck!” Her fingernails dug into my back, scratching along the spine, and I clenched my teeth against the sting, burying deep inside her once more, my balls spurting what little cum I had left inside them.
Face buried in the soft sweetness of her neck, I groaned, thrusting until spent, my arms like a vise around her body.
I’d insisted on an adjoining bathroom when I’d taken over the club since I liked having women whenever and wherever the hell I wanted. Countless women had been spread over my desk, but not a single one had given me the fucking feels Hannah did.
Once I’d cleaned her up, I sat on my chair and patted my lap. She curled up naked as a jay, her cheek on my shoulder, one hand over my heart as she gazed up at me.
“You’re gorgeous,” she said with a sigh, her fingertip touching my dimple when I hadn’t even realized I smiled.
“You’re one mighty fine piece of ass, too.”
Hannah swatted my arm, but her eyes twinkled.
“Don’t ever lose your sass, sugar.” I leaned in and brushed my lips over hers. “So damn sweet,” I murmured into her mouth. “Fucking addictive.”
She wiggled on my lap, and I swatted the top of her thigh.
“None of that,” I said, “or I’ll decide to fuck being a gentleman and take you again no matter how sore you are.”
“Hmm.” She stilled, her brow furrowing. “Yeah… probably best if we wait for a day or two.”
I kissed her pouted lips. “You’re dancing again tonight,” I said, changing the subject, but needing to set some ground rules now that we’d complicated each other’s lives. “I’ll be sitting front and center. You will be doubly careful to keep away from groping hands, because I swear to fucking God, if another man so much as brushes his fingertips over your skin --”
Hannah pushed a finger against my lips. “If you would do something like that, you’ll be thrown in jail, then we won’t get to fuck again for a long time.”
“Can’t have that.”
She smiled so sweetly, my chest ached. “No.”
“I was serious when I said you’re mine, Hannah.”
“I know.” Her hot breath caressed my ear in a soft sigh as she leaned into me again.
“Do you know what that means?”
“I-I thinks so, yes.”
She had no fucking clue, and I wanted to chuckle, but didn’t. “You’re my property. If anyone touches you without my permission or fucks with you, I’ll knife them where they stand.”
A few minutes passed before she spoke. “I escaped the prison of my parents, and I sure as hell don’t want another one.”
I sat her up, cradled her face in my hands and looked her square in the eye, praying like fuck she’d see the truth on my face. “I get that you’re fucking glad to finally be out on your own. That you have independence that I’m sure was robbed of you in every way.”
She nodded, wetness coating her eyes.
“I’m not your jailer, Hannah, but you belong to me in every way possible. I --”
Voices sounded loud in the hallway, and I tensed a split second before my office door flew wide.
“The fuck!” I hollered as Hannah screamed and clung to me.
Fucking FBI assholes rushed into the room, guns out, gazes like flint.
“Hannah Harris?” A man in a dark suit reeking of law strode through the doorway.
“Y-yes,” my angel whispered, her hands still grasping at me.
“I’m here to take you home to your parents.”
* * *
Hannah
Bowie growled, his body tensed to spring, and fear, bright and hot lit through my body. I let go of his shirt and cupped his cheek, more aware of the gravity of our situation than my nudity. “Bowie.” He tore his glare off the man who said he would take me home and looked into my eyes, slamming that connection I’d felt back into place. “Stay calm for me, please. Let’s get this straightened out without violence. Please.”
“I need you to come with us, young lady,” the FBI agent said, drawing my focus back around.
“Why?”
“These men,” he said, his brow furrowed, “are holding you for a two-million-dollar ransom and threatened to harm you if your parents didn’t pay for your return.”
My heart seized, and I whipped back toward Bowie. “Tell me that’s not true!”
A muscle jumped in his jaw, and he glared at the agents rather than answer or look at me, let me see the truth in his eyes.
Cold rippled down over my body -- through my body -- until nausea rolled in my stomach. He’d joked about the reward but had withheld the truth from me.
My throat tightened, and I pushed off him and stood, uncaring of my lack of clothing. “You bastard.” My voice wobbled as a long coat settled over my shoulders from behind. “You lying, conniving bastard!”
Bowie sat clutching his armrests, his flinty stare on the agent over my shoulder as I pulled the warm coat he put around my trembling body. “She came here on her own,” Bowie finally said, but it wasn’t the apology or explanation I’d hoped for. “She walked through that fucking office door and asked for a job, and we gave her one.”
“You’ll have your chance to prove that in court, Mr. Davies, along with the rest of your outlaw gang.”
Did you lie about everything? I wanted to ask, but couldn’t past the tears clogging my throat. My head spinning, my heart sawed in two by the blade of Bowie’s lies, I allowed the agent to lead me out of the office, past Gunner and Austin cuffed and against the wall, through the quiet lounge.
I lowered my head from the weight of the patrons’ stares on
me, and the warm summer air licked at my face as we stepped outside into the night.
Darling and Brewer, along with a dozen other men, sat against the brick wall, hands cuffed behind their backs. Had they all be in on the extortion? The feigned kidnapping to make them rich? Liars. Bastards. Every single one of them.
My chest tightened, and once in the backseat of a dark sedan, I allowed my tears to fall.
* * *
“Oh, my poor baby!” I heard my mother’s tear-laced voice seconds before she pulled me into her arms, swamping me with the scent of her overwhelming perfume. “Poor, poor girl.” She wept on my shoulder while I stood rigid, unmoved, glancing to my father rising from his seat in the police station’s private room I’d been led to.
“Are you okay, Hannah?” he asked, drawing near and running his hand down over my hair. A flicker of unease crossed his features as he took in my face.
A face smeared with heavy, dark makeup, one I knew he would think of as whore-ish and worldly even though his own wife spent hundreds on her cosmetics and skin care every month.
“How did you know where to find me?” I asked, pulling out of my mother’s embrace.
Both of their focus dropped to my neck, where Bowie had marked me with his mouth. My mother’s hand flew to her throat as a gasp slid past her trembling lips. “No…”
My father straightened as I did, a frown denting his dark eyebrows. “Were you raped?”
“No!” I shot back, horrified he would think that of the club who had sheltered me, kept me from harm.
“We’ll have a rape kit done,” a voice said behind me, but I stared at my father and the lack of anything other than concern for himself plastered on his face.
“You’ll do no such thing,” I said through clenched teeth. “I gave up my virginity willingly.” The truth once more sent a pang through my chest, and even though I wanted to slap the hell out of Bowie for lying to me, I didn’t want his ass in jail.
My father’s lips thinned as my mother sobbed. “Jesus…” She murmured the word as a prayer, not a curse.
