The Prince of Cups (Villainess Book 2)

by Melos,Alana

  “A delicate touch, finally,” he said.

  “I can be gentle when I want to be,” I replied, sliding my hands down my body, letting him feel me as if it were with his own. Gerard removed his fingers and sat up, ready to go. I could see his intention in his mind. I played with his idea of him dominating me, taking me. I understood what the appeal was as I enjoyed it too. There was nothing like breaking a strong person and making them yours. To hear them beg for you, want you more than anything… that was an intense power trip.

  If the sex was good, I didn’t mind playing at the “bottom”. It wasn’t my preferred, but by the time I was having sex, I was turned on enough that I didn’t care. In this case too, I thought it best he kept his feeling of superiority. If I stroked his ego like I stroked his cock, he’d be easier to manipulate. I kept those thoughts behind a private shield in my mind, letting most of my surface thoughts and emotions out there for him to pick up as he liked, but keeping what secrets I had secret. In this case, it wouldn’t be enough to just turn over and show my ass to him because he wouldn’t believe it… and I think he wanted the struggle. Conquering was always sweet, but the meat of the meal was in the battle.

  He crawled up my body, and as his cock slipped out of my line of sight, I had to let that go. It wouldn’t do to accidentally crush his favorite part after all. Gerard gave me a teasing kiss, and I half-rose to meet him, “Mm… those lips were good, but now I want your cunt.” I smiled at him and moved a leg to wrap around him. A lot of women would be offended at the use of such a “crude word”, but a word was a word was a word.

  “Just lay back and let me ride you,” I purred at him, winding my fingers through his short hair as I caressed his thigh with my leg. “All the pleasure, none of the work.”

  One of his eyebrows quirked, and he kissed me again, slowly and thoroughly. I had the thought to look into fucking older guys for a while. He certainly knew what he was doing. “Nah,” he said, a trace of his aw-shucks-ma’am voice in his words, “I’m going to fuck you hard, from behind. So let’s make this easy and turn over, hm?”

  “Oh, of course,” I murmured. My fingers tightened in his hair, and I twisted hard, keeping my intentions as secret as I could. As I grabbed him, I pushed with my other hand and flipped him on the bed so I could mount him all in one smooth motion. He laughed at it, thinking it was a pretty move, and I took a kiss from him to stop the laugh. He ground against me as I savaged his mouth, getting into it. It was hard to remember I was going to faux-submit at the end. I really loved being on top.

  He returned the kiss, his hands sliding down my curves until he reached my hips, just above and to the sides of my mound. With his thumbs he pressed, and I yelped, letting go of him as pain exploded through my hips, racing down my legs, causing me to shudder. As unexpected as it was, I couldn’t help but to jerk away from him, sitting up to pull his hands away. He let go and sat up with me. Gerard bowled me over, turning the tables. I struggled under him, punching him once in the kidney before he caught my hand. He groaned with pain, but the struggle excited him. He wanted it. He couldn’t take my mind, and he knew if I really wanted to, I could push him off with my teke… so this was as close as he could get to being as brutal and domineering as he could with me. It wasn’t just a desire, something to get off on, but so ingrained in his personality he couldn’t help but to act how he did. It was… strangely ordered.

  I got distracted looking at his mind, and he twisted my wrist, wrapping a tie around it and cinching it. Without hesitating, I punched him in the face, giving it close to my all, augmented with my teke. His head whipped around, then back after a second, blood smeared over his cheek where the skin had split from my blow. Shaded by his hair, his eyes were dark, but glowed at the same time, rage and excitement shining in them. His grin stretched wider, and all I could see of his face was teeth… perfectly white gleaming teeth, which now seemed ominous. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I saw the darkness in him, and I lusted after it… but I wouldn’t submit to it.

  My thread of defiance caused him to shudder, and his cock jabbed against my stomach as he thrusted. With my free hand, I went to punch him again and he slammed it back ungainly against the headboard with his teke. When he used his hand to loop the tie around, I jabbed his side with one of my heels, catching him almost right in the spot where I’d punched him before. Hell, at this point I wasn’t even trying to get away… I was just delighting in beating the shit out of him while he let me. Intent on control, he took the blows with grunts of pain, wanting more than anything to get my hands tied so he could do as he wished.

  I heeled him one more time, then twisted my legs to grab him around his slender waist as he secured the tie and arranged my hands how he liked. There was some leeway in the bonds, and I could snap or cut them easily with my teke. Without pause, he showed me a memory of my own, that of Harry being tied and cut off from his power by my telepathy. I stopped my struggle and shuddered in pleasure at the memory. The straight razor and the blood came next. Sadowski hadn’t screamed much, but towards the end, the delicious sounds of his pain had sung me to climax. My eyes closed slowly as I reviewed the memory, I barely noticed Gerard running his hands over my breasts as he rubbed himself against my heat.

  “Dirty trick,” I whispered.

  “No trick is too dirty,” he said, and withdrew so he could turn me around. That was why the bonds were so loose--there had to be some give so he could get me into the position he wanted so as to fuck me from behind. His nails clawed my back lightly from shoulders to ass and he gripped my hips to thrust into me roughly. All the while, he kept sending me those images, fueling my bloodlust as he satisfied his dominant urges. I knew why he was doing it, and I let him. I responded to the roughness. I enjoyed receiving pain just as much as I liked giving it. He fucked me hard, his length ramming into me again and again. I moaned to visions of blood and gore slipping down my body, licking the blood from my fingers as I reveled in the darkest of my passions.

  He wasn’t concerned with my satisfaction, only his own. It didn’t matter. Through the visions he sent and his hard cock sliding in and out of my wet pussy, I came in no time at all. Pleasure ran through me as I tightened around his cock. He had to struggle with each thrust after that, and he prolonged his own pleasure, sinking into the hotness of my sex, in fucking me from behind, a position of dominance. He didn’t have to say anything. I could see in his thoughts how hot I was, how much he wanted me, and how good it felt to be in control. I rode along with his feelings, being both bottom and top at the same time, craving more and more sensations as he slid himself in and out. I moaned and writhed underneath him, panting my passion out against the headboard, needing more… so I went into him more fully with my mind.

  His mind pulsated darkness, hot and red… red as mine ever was. Memories of his victims clung to him. Oh, how’d he laughed as he took them, using them in any way he wanted, making them like it, making them want it, bending them utterly to his will. The shame they’d felt at coming as hard as they ever did being forced was the ultimate climax to him, taking their pleasure, forcing them to feel what he wanted, to be what he wanted. It wasn’t about sex. It was possession, and ownership, two things which had never appealed to me in that way. Oh sure, I loved it rough, and I’d mix sex and violence to a bloody, glorious end… but never forcing them with my mind. That was… off-limits. All the same, I rode his emotions, sinking into them, feeling them as he did, and enjoying his heady sensation of power. I stroked the threads of his desire with my mental fingers as I’d stroked his cock before, urging him on further and further, to just try and take me, tempting him to attack again in earnest.

  His lips curled up in a wry smile, so mine did as well. We mirrored each other imperfectly, but close enough so that our passions fed each other once more. His hands gripped my ass, and he pulled me this way and that, jerking me around on his cock before deciding he wanted to see how many times he could make me come before he did. If he couldn’t own me
, he’d show me what he could do with my body. Even as I was coming down off of my orgasm, the pace of his thrusts slowed, and his fingers slipped down to my clit. He knew exactly where to touch me, how hard I wanted it, and how to make me come, reading my mind and my body with expert ease. As he stroked my clit playing with me, teasing me up to the edge, he pumped my pussy with the long slow strokes I liked to get worked up again. Each thrust built me up a little faster and harder, timed in coordination with his fingers.

  I thrashed against my bonds struggling to keep myself in control, before just surrendering to the ecstasy. His favorite memories of depraved acts and mine intertwined, a push and pull of power and sadism going through the both of us, and I exploded around his cock. I moaned and panted as my orgasm ripped through me. He pushed his cock into me and held me there, trapped between him and the headboard, pulsing around his length. His fingers waited, knowing I needed to cool for a few moments, but then… as I started to come down again, he slipped the tips of his digits over my sex, and I came instantly. He gave me almost never ending pleasure, working my body with a thoroughness all my other lovers had lacked. It was brutal, and by the time his lust overwhelmed him, I was exhausted and almost limp. My arms hung by the ropes he’d tied me with, and he pounded my pussy, smugness at his superiority dominating his thoughts as he shot his load into me, groaning with supreme and sublime satisfaction at his domination.

  He wasn’t the one who had a dozen orgasms though, so I leave it to you to figure out who came out on top.

  Chapter Five

  All weekend, we fucked. That’s such a fan-fucking-tastic thing to say, the stuff of romantic dreams and novels… but it wasn’t some soppy romance. We fucked like animals, in every part of his house, in damn near every conceivable position. Sometimes I was on top, sometimes he was. He was right about us going back and forth… it was impossible not to. There was so much to do, to taste, and feel, yet it never got repetitive either. At some point during the marathon, he made some calls relating to the job ahead, and then got right back to the fucking.

  It wasn’t just a pleasure trip. It was work, at least it was for me. He had subtlety in his telepathy, something which I hated to admit I lacked... at least to that degree. With control of his mind came control of his body, which answered how he kept himself hard or soft, his heartbeat strong and regular even when lying his ass off. It was only during times of true, extreme emotion that he lost control. I sensed that in his thoughts, though I’d only glimpsed it once during our initial confrontation. Yet strangely, he didn’t have the same control over his telekinesis that I did. I wasn’t the best at manipulating fine objects, but I could thread several needles at the same time whereas he couldn’t even pick up the needle. It was all brute force, an expression of his true personality rather than the lies he told.

  An interesting dichotomy, I put it aside to study for later. While we fucked--and I could call it having sex, making love, doing the wild thing, and so on, but it was all fucking--he taught me, refined my technique for distraction and delving. Already pleased I could partition my mind, we held long conversations without words as we screwed, using emotions, feelings, images… and I learned from him, when he didn’t distract me completely with sex. He was more ordered than I was, more focused, and that iron control was something I could use. This was a path to reigning myself in, but it wasn’t one I was sure I wanted to take. Control of everything around him was an obsession, and I was something he couldn’t control. Immoveable force, meet unstoppable object.

  The calls he’d made related to equipment required for the infiltration. Wearing a business suit and breaking into a company was fine and dandy, but after we broke into a building where a portal was housed and carefully guarded, we then had to slip our way through the Axis military… a military known for using telepaths to root out any thoughts of treason. I wasn’t too concerned about Interdimensional, Inc. Yeah, they had guards and a hotline to a whole bunch of white hats, but we just had to get in. We didn’t have to get out again, and in my experience getting into a place was a lot easier than getting out of it. Axis, on the other hand, I knew very little about. They didn’t exactly have travel brochures there.

  I sat at his kitchen table, looking over the contents of the packages his contact had left. Gerard took each piece out with great care, looking it over with a thoroughness which would be maddening normally, but I was fascinated in spite of the irritation. These were either real artifacts from another dimension, or replicas so close they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

  “Luger P98,” he said, taking out a pistol and holster. “Updated version of your P08 which was used in Nazi Germany. Sleeker model, recoil problems solved… commonly used by the Schattenkraft… their telepath officers.” He handed it to me, and I took the gun out of the holster. Except for a police special and Dirty Harry’s magnum, I had no idea what kind of guns were which.

  After looking it over and feeling the weight in my hand, I reholstered it and looked up to him. He was shaking his head at me. “What?” I asked, frowning.

  “You don’t know how to shoot, do you?” Regulus said with a smirk.

  “I can hit someone in a small room, and that’s about it,” I said, pushing the firearm aside. “Besides, we’re not going to need to shoot, so it doesn’t matter.”

  “It’s more than just pulling the trigger, you know,” he said. “It’s about respecting the weapon, and knowing how to handle it. You should have checked to see if it was loaded. It’s not a toy.”

  I could hear the laughter in his voice, and I bristled. “I’m not a kid,” I said. “And you didn’t check either.”

  “I already knew it wasn’t loaded,” he said, pointing the barrel of the gun away from him. “And you always treat a weapon like it’s loaded, even when you know it isn’t.”

  I rolled my eyes. “We’re going to be in and out,” I said. “I’m not going to need all this stuff except as a prop.”

  He shrugged slightly, and dug through the packages, bringing out another P98 with holster, and set it aside, presumably for himself. “Do you know how to speak German?”

  “No,” I said, and blinked. Not knowing how to use a gun was one thing; gunplay might never come into it. German, however, would be a necessity. “Fuck.” I rubbed my temple and shook my head.

  “I can teach you, telepathically,” he said, dismissing the concern as he pulled out extra magazines and stacked them neatly by their weapons. “It’ll just take a second.”

  I ground my teeth, and he looked at me again, his blond hair falling forward over one of his eyes. “I can learn it the hard way,” I said, but I knew, I knew that would not be the case here. If we were to go according the plan he was making, there wasn’t enough time. “You can tell me what to say telepathically. It’s not a big deal.”

  Gerard put both palms on the table flat and leaned over to peer at me. “It’s not me being in your mind that bothers you, it’s something else,” he said, his eyes piercing. “What is it?” His tone was quietly demanding, and I squirmed a little.

  Easier to show you, I sent to him, and directed his thoughts towards memories of mine. It wasn’t like me to be quite so open with someone, but he would have had it out of me one way or another. I’d already learned from him, and I wanted more… we’d barely scratched the surface. Sacrifices like this had to be made. I took him down deep into my memories where my mother would ‘teach’ me things as a child… but in reality, didn’t let me learn at all. She simply implanted the knowledge in my mind, and off I went. Every ‘lesson’ like that changed me, forcing me this way and that, molding my mind. Even if she meant no harm, much of what I knew had been forced on me. As I grew older, I took pains to learn things the hard way, the long way, because then… because then….

  “...it’s mine,” I said, looking at him.

  Gerard’s gaze had gone flat. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he said, his tone just as hard as his look. “That’s why you won’t learn German?”

&n
bsp; “She took the choice away from me,” I protested, my anger rising. This was a sore, sore subject with me, one that he knew he shouldn’t be prodding. Even though all I wore in his kitchen was a robe with my sword nowhere in sight, there were plenty of weapons laying around to use.

  “That’s why you don’t mind control people either,” he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He leaned back to stand straight once more. “I… I… I don’t even know how address this….” He lowered his hand and fixed me with an icy look, “Except that you are a fucking idiot, and an ungrateful bitch.” When my mouth dropped open, he raised a hand, “Sorry, sorry, ungrateful brat.”

  “I am not!” I said, standing up so fast I knocked the chair backwards. “It’s not right, and I won’t do it. And I don’t want your fucking lessons if it comes with a healthy dose of mind-fuckery, alright? That’s not me.” I pounded my fist on my chest as I snarled the words at him. “Unlike some people, I fucking earn everything, as much as I can.” I earned it by taking it from others, but that was beside the point.

  “Oh, just to prove that you’re better than mommy, you have to do everything the hard way?” he sneered, standing straight and tall, crossing his arms over his chest. His lip curled up, and he shook his head slightly.

  Anger radiated from me in waves, and I knew he felt it. Even a non-path could have felt it. I wasn’t bothering to shield myself. “It’s not that!” I said, slamming my hand down on the table. “She changed me, before I even had a chance to defend myself,” I said, spitting the words out at him. “Who knows who I would have been, what I would have done, if it hadn’t been for her? You tell me, and you tell me honestly, how can a telepath muck so much with an impressionable brain without leaving its handprints all over it?” He shook his head slightly, and I hmphed at him. “You can’t tell me she didn’t change me, and I want no fucking part of anything like that ever again!” I couldn’t articulate my rage into words; there simply were no words made to cover the violation, and how it had changed me. He knew how and why I felt this way, which was the part that infuriated me. I’d shown him the small me, the lessons, the implants, up until I’d grown into my own powers and I fought back. I never won, of course, but I’d fight back bitterly. Gerard had seen all of this in a blink of my eye, but he didn’t understand it.