I’m unsure, but okay.
I’m confused, but turned on.
“Do you trust me still?” he whispers.
I nod even when my mind disagrees. I have no control. I can’t see and I can barely hear. I slide my arms across the bed, and reach for him . . . nothing.
He catches my wrist.
I lose my breath . . . again.
“You need to answer me. Do you trust me still?”
I want to say yes, I feel the words as they rise in my throat. Released from my heart, I want to trust him with everything I am, but my mind doesn’t want me to.
I betray my thoughts.
I lie.
“Yes, I still trust you.”
My body tenses, my skin dampens, I fight to keep holding on to this moment.
‘I’m not broken, I’m not broken, I’m not broken.’
He pulls my hand up above my head, a chill rolled across my underarm.
He holds my wrist.
Tight . . . so very tight.
I panic.
The back of my throat runs dry, thieving my attempt to whimper. I try to twist out of his grasp, but he holds my wrist tighter.
“Don’t fight, Rosebud.”
“I don’t know about this, Mister.” I reach my free hand across and attempt to loosen his grip.
“Stop!” he barks before he grabs my free wrist.
I jump out of my skin. I’m lost, scared, and unsure of this moment.
Too
many
triggers.
Tears prick at my eyes and dissolve into the scarf. My breathing shallows, clogs my ears. Short breaths in, shaky breaths out, I struggle to let go.
My heart’s hammering in my chest, I fight from spiraling down into my past. His breath is so warm against my skin.
“I’m not going to hurt you, beautiful girl.”
I don’t want to say anything more.
But I do.
“I’m scared.”
“You’re just vulnerable. Let go.”
I try to trust where it never has existed. Everything in my body is fighting against what my heart wants. I want to feel pleasure, beyond the pain of my childhood. I want to trust and feel worthy. I want to be healed by this man, and find my freedom.
“I don’t know how to let go. Please Mister, I don’t know if I can do this,” I whisper.
The cold breeze creeps across my flesh. I’m burning up inside and freezing on the outside. My body gambles against everything my mind remembers. I’m a prisoner, a possession; I’m a captive with no free will.
Mister’s energy consumes the room. I rely upon my skin to react to his demands. His breath tangles with my messy black hair.
“You can, and you will, trust me. I’m going to give you everything you’ve ever wanted tonight. Do you understand me?”
I nod.
He lets out a heavy breath.
“Yes,” I answer knowing he wants words instead of gestures.
“Good, because I’m going to replace every last scar other men have left within you when I’m done.”
I break. His words pierce me and take me far beyond the seedy streets of my past, present and future.
Was he for real? Was it the truth? It was impossible. Not my life, not the demons that swirled in my body. It has been too many men, too much pain.
“I wish it was that easy.” The words flying from my mouth were unraveled and without forethought.
“I’m going to make it easy. Let go, Rosebud, let me in.”
I’m senseless. Everything I’ve ever let define me, everything I am cracks at his words.
Was it that easy? Was he the one I’d been looking for most of my life?
The tension in my back and up through my neck breaks free. Mister answers the tingling in my clit and the ache pulsing in the depths between my legs with his hot, wet, tongue and his long thick fingers. I thrust my head back into the mattress. I’m unable to see, and yet I see everything.
“Please, make me forget,” I moan.
His hot breath rumbles across the swollen pleats of my clit, while his long fingers erase the marks of all the fucks who came before him. I drive my hips against his speeding fingers aching to feel his hands heal the marks left in my soul.
He catches me between his teeth and sucks so perfectly, as if he just can’t get enough of me. I’m vibrating and humming. He releases my clit with a pop at the same time he stops his fingers from fucking me. This beautiful man is leaving me reeling. The blazingly chilly air hijacks my body from the top of my head down to the bottom of my feet.
Time is bending my trust, breaking me before he brushes the back of his fingers against my lips. His touch startles me at first, but tracing his fingers on the outside curve of my lower lip soothes me.
“What if I can’t trust?” I ask in a hushed whisper.
“You can.” He drags his fingers along the outline of my jaw and down across my collarbone.
“What if it’s not in me?” I’m still blindfolded and feet tangled in the sheet.
“You have everything you’ll ever need, right here.” The tips of his fingers circle between my breasts. My heart reaches for his touch as it leaps and crashes against my chest.
“You don’t understand, Mister, I need to have a sense of control.”
“Rosebud, control is an illusion, it’s a decision to trust a certain outcome. All you have to do is trust me and you’ll have all the control you need.”
I want his words to soothe me, and his calm, direct voice to caress the strength within me cowering at letting go of my scars. I want to trust him. I crave to taste the freedom he wants to give me. I want him to save me from a future tucked under cracked sidewalks, cold gutters, and from ever having to fuck another man for a penance. I try and convince myself that he wants to keep me off the streets.
He drags his thumb up across the crevice of my lips before he slides it into my mouth. I roll my tongue and suck on his thumb as he pushes it deeper into my mouth.
“I know what you want to do to me. I can feel it,” he moans under his breath.
Pulling his thumb from my mouth, instantaneously I feel desperate and vacant. I need to take him. It’s unexplainable, intangible, the desire I have to please him.
“Let me suck your dick, Mister. I want to make you come, please let me finally show you what I can do for you.”
My eyes still covered, my legs still bound, and all I get from him is a long, breathy sigh.
The last three days, he’s only pleased me. Sure he came, he fucked me, ate my pussy like a champ, but he still hasn’t let me take him.
“I’m starting to take it personal. Why won’t you let me give you head? Is this your sick way of controlling me?”
“Is that what you think?” he snaps.
“Well, maybe. Anytime I try, you stop me and pull me back up. Do I disgust you?” I ask, my voice breaks to a quiver and my eyes are still blanketed in darkness. I pull in a deep shuddering breath while every ounce of confidence drains from my soul. He’s succeeded in tangling me up in his game of cat and mouse.
His whereabouts, lost to me for a couple of seconds before he removes the scarf covering my eyes.
He’s not gentle.
The air hits my skin, the freedom to see stings, I squeeze my eyes shut and turn away from him.
A long minute waits between us.
“Look at me, Rose,” he demands.
I ignore him.
“You need to look at me now,” he says, anger dripping from his words.
“No.”
“I’m not asking you,” he replies as he catches my face and pulls me to look at him. “Hasn’t the last three days been everything you’ve ever wanted?”
He waits for me to answer.
I don’t.
“Haven’t I put your needs and desires before mine? This has been my gift to you, and instead of enjoying it, you are pained by my attention. I don’t understand.” His expression is narrow, dark at my words, shards
of sadness twinkle in his eyes.
I’m breaking all over again. His words dismantle me. I’m confused, vulnerable and hurt by his actions.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I need to understand. I’ve never been with a woman who desires to fight me so much.”
“Well, welcome to my world.”
“I’ve given you everything you could want.”
“You’ve not given me every part of you. You’ve held back with me.”
“You want to take me that bad?”
“Yeah, that bad. Why don’t you understand? It’s who I am. All I do is give, give, give, that’s all I know how to do. The last three days, all I’ve done is take, take, take.”
“I think it’s the only way you can feel in control. You give me head, make me come, and somehow you feel vindicated. I want you to trust me, surrender your need to control this moment.”
“Maybe it is about control, maybe it isn’t, what does it matter?”
“Why don’t you take what I give you without question?”
“I asked first. Why does it matter if I need to be in control?”
“It matters. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Well, that’s not enough for me.”
“Well it’s going to have to be!”
His look is intense, I can see he’s determined to win. I stare back in silence. Nothing to say, nothing to give someone who won’t lose for me.
He continues, “I need to give to you and you need to take from me. That’s the end of it.”
“That can’t be the end of it. Please, let me do this.” Our eyes cling to one another, as if we look away one of us will lose the battle.
“Don’t you see, it’s more than giving you a blow job. I’ve broken every rule with you, and I’m scared that I’m gonna leave here, return to my reality and never have this with another man, ever. We’ve done everything, you’ve given me three days of fear, and confidence, pleasure and pain, ecstasy and confusion. Please, please, Mister . . . I need this.”
The result of this weekend, pummels me in a matter of seconds. I cling to this experience with all that I am. Finally, a man wants to make me feel validated for who I am, and for the first time in my life I’m willing. But, it’s in my basic need to survive. I have to show him that I’m worth it by doing what I know best. I need to give him the pleasure of letting go into me as I push past the fear of trusting him. He’s more than a date who's keeping me for a wild fucking three days. I hope once he gives me every part of who he is, he’ll see I’m worthy of being with him beyond a moment which burns between us.
Breaking to me, he climbs over and straddles my body.
“Oil and water, that’s what we are.”
“At least we know it,” I answer.
His cock is level with my mouth, hard, beautiful, swollen, and aroused by what he sees, or I hope so. Thick, lengthy and waiting, I reach out to touch him.
“Nope. No hands. I’ll let you do this, but you can’t grab my cock. Let me have this.”
I have no control. None. If he decides to thrust and hit the back of my throat, gag me, push and pulse until he empties every ounce of seed he has to plant, I won’t stop him.
For the first time in my life, I’m deciding to trust a man.
Our eyes meet, he strokes his cock, a couple of drops pulse from his tip, and he catches it with his thumb and rubs it over the head of his erection. It excites me. My pussy surging, tingling with the need to be filled, pounded into oblivion. I swipe my tongue across my lips, ready for the moment he gives into me. He smiles, seeing that I’m hungry, he urges his thumb between my lips, and I lick his flavor from his skin.
“That’s right taste me, do you like that?”
I hum and grab at his ass.
He lets out a tisk, before he pulls my hands away.
“No hands, Rosebud. Just trust me.”
I have to trust.
He leans in and glides the tip of himself into my mouth before he pulls it out. He’s teasing me into trying to lean forward. He huffs and answers me with a deep growl in his throat.
Looking into his greedy eyes, another couple of seconds tick away before he slowly slides his cock into my mouth. I take him deep. No hands, no way of controlling the depth of his thrust, his thighs flex, his hips roll, and his right hand brushes across the side of my face while his left is anchored against the wall.
Pushing forward, he huffs his desires out in breathy words. “Oh, fuck, Rosebud, you feel so good, so fucking good. Oh, God.”
I suck, release and roll my tongue across the back side of his shaft, opening my mouth just far enough to take in a breath. I let the cool air ripple across his cock. He tangles his hand into my hair, his dick hardens, his skin tightens, his speed quickens, he’s about to come. I want to taste him, I suck harder holding my hands on his ass making sure he isn’t going to pull out. I look up at him and watch his face twist in ecstasy and release. His body stiffens and he lets out an unrestrained holler that fills the room. Jagged energy ricochets between us as his warm release pulses down my throat, and I swallow every last drop of him. His hips jolt and thrust spastic before he slowly withdraws.
Nothing, no words are wasted before he lowers his body dragging his face across my cheek nudging his lips against mine. He’s spastic with his tongue, as he ravages me with his kiss. I have no control, it’s lost, my body’s howling for him to take me. He’s so fucking masterful with my desires.
“Are you going crazy for me, Rosebud?” he asked against my ear.
“Yeah, I can’t take it anymore. I need you inside of me.”
“Oh, I’m going to make you come. I’m going to fuck you into oblivion.” He ties the cashmere scarf around my eyes again.
Fear doesn’t own me so deeply this time. Adrenaline races through my body and I feel geared up for whatever he’s going to do.
“Bring it on, Mister,” I tease.
It’s dead silent, nothing except our tangling breaths fill the room. The cool air rips across my skin and suddenly all I hear is my heartbeat thrashing in my chest. Mr. C senses my tense reaction.
“You still trust me?”
“I do,” I answer with hesitancy in my voice.
“We’re still keeping the same rules, I’m here to take care of you, Rosebud. You must remember that.” His voice is laced with a threaded compassion dangling from a place that could easily tip into the unexpected.
“I will . . . try.”
His words, slow and visceral as he kisses down my body in between his promises, “You don’t have to try. I’m . . . going . . . to . . . take . . . care . . . of . . . you . . . like . . . you’ve . . . never . . . been . . . taken . . . care . . . of . . . before.”
My body is covered in chills, his lips speak words of truth nobody has ever spoken to me before. I need to believe him, even if I struggle to comprehend his definition of what taking care of me means.
“Why?”
“Why what?” he counters.
“Why do you want to take care of me?”
“Because you deserve to be treated like a queen.”
“I want to believe you, but I can’t.” My heart thunders in my chest, my nerves crashing through every line of my body. Every emotion intensifies because I’m blindfolded and can’t see his reaction.
His hair stops tickling my flesh, his tongue swirling across my hip is gone. His weight shifts and before I have a chance to lose my breath, he’s whispering in my ear.
“Have I ever given you a reason not to trust me? Have I hurt you?”
“No, but I need to know, why do you want to take care of me?”
“Stop it, Rosebud.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“There’s nothing to tell. I’m a man who desires to take care of a very beautiful woman.”
“I want to believe you, give you what I’ve never been able to give another man . . . but . . . this scares me—you scare me.”
“Let go, Rose; let g
o and let me in.”
I start to answer when his mouth slams down on mine, his tongue strong, determined, swipes and tangles with promises I don’t have to question. All he’s ever done for the last three days is take care of me. He never asks for more than I’m willing to give. He’s given to me in three days, what I have longed for my entire life.
I
came
apart.
PAST
MY BODY SURRENDERS to him. I finally let myself trust. He kisses me, takes me in his arms and tangles me into something I have no idea I could ever become. I open my heart and let him reside where very few have ever been.
“That’s right, let me in, let me take care of you.”
I nod, words are too much work.
“You feel that? You did that to me Rosebud. It’s all for you,” he says thrusting his hips back and forth rubbing his cock against my flesh. He makes me eager to have him fuck me, take me, I dare even say, make love to me.
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. “Yes, I feel you.” My voice cracks as I shudder.
“You ready for the repercussions of your poisonous words?”
He adjusts himself against me before he rocks his thick stone hard cock between my legs, spreading me just enough to where the tip of him strokes and grazes against my clit; thrusting until it stretches and presses against me.
“Yes, take my poisonous words away.”
He thrust his cock one last time in a long slow stroke against my surging clit, his tongue swirling and lapping at my pebbled nipple, I’m eager to believe he’ll be the one to replace the demons holding me captive.
He slips his fingers into my pussy. “Mmm, I feel how wet I make you. Your juices excite me.”
I buck against his touch and he senses my need, with my hips still thrusting at the tips of his fingers, I try to get him to slip his fingers inside of me. Instantly, he pushes his fingers deeper and drives his mouth against my waiting mound. He rolls and drags his warm, thick, strong tongue across my clit lapping at every ounce of flavor he induces in me. It’s fucking wild, instantly I’m invested, more now than anything ever before in my life. He growls against me, and thrusts his fingers deeper catching the space that drives me wild. I roll my hips, inviting him to go faster.
He slides his fingers out, leaving me aching for more as he lifts his tongue from between my legs. I huff and vault my hips against the air.
Broken Girl Page 17
