How long had it been since I’d been with anyone? Since I’d felt sweet warm heat wrapped around my cock?
I thrust slowly, relishing each inch of her, trying to control myself and the needs that started rising to the surface. My wolf wanted to take her hard, to bite her neck and claw her back and -- I took the solid cheeks of her ass in my hands, felt the flesh move with my grip, and stopped myself from more. She was important to Vincent, and I would never mark anything he loved – but when she moaned and pushed back into me, I couldn’t help but thrust harder.
I held onto her hips in earnest as I rocked in and out, pushing her into the couch. The champagne color of her skin beneath the oil lamp – listening to her pant with each of my thrusts -- her skin, her smell, his smell, my cock, her pussy –
“No –“ I protested, as my inner nature tried to come through. I wasn’t the only one who wanted this – it’d been a long time for my wolf, too. He was clawing at the inside of my mind, desperate to gain control, to mount her – and I felt my mating knot beginning to swell. “No –“ I panted, begging my cock to behave.
She moaned beneath me, spreading her legs wider, as if asking to be knotted.
“It’s okay,” she promised, grinding her ass back against me, her pussy clenching me. “It’s going to be all right –“
My thickening cock gave me no other choice – I pounded myself into her, feeling her pussy wrapped around it – feeling the quivers of her goddamned coming around me, like she owned me –
I growled and finished myself inside her, unable to do anything but, needing to come before I was betrayed by my own lust. When I was done I stared down at her, breathing hard, fighting to collect myself, to calm myself, to pull myself back from the brink of my wolf’s desires. I barely managed to control myself in time and slide my cock out.
Oh my God. Years of trying to keep my head down and stay off the map – only to almost let my wolf mate itself someone I didn’t even know.
She stank of Vincent. That had to have been what’d done it, what’d pushed me over the edge.
I panted, gathering myself too slow, only one thought on my mind.
For me it was an imprecation, for my wolf, a command.
Fuck.
Chapter Three
“I haven’t – done that –“ he whispered, his voice hoarse.
“It’s okay, mountain man,” I said, feeling him slide out of me. “I wanted it too.” I rose up, shaky, pulling my robe back up. Fucking a stranger. So high on the bad decision scale it hurt. But hurting myself always felt right, when left to my own devices. And Vincent wasn’t around anymore to keep my head on straight, or do the hurting for me. I clutched both my hands at my sides, suddenly about to cry.
“Where’s your bathroom?” And then I remembered how rustic this place was.
“Outside.”
“Is there…toilet paper?”
“I live away from civilization, not in the middle of nowhere.” He said brusquely, standing and pushing his dick back into his pants. Fucking me hadn’t made him any kinder. “Take a flashlight – it’s on the house’s east side.” He pointed to the lights hanging near the wall. “East is to your right,” he called, as I closed the door.
I didn’t turn on the flashlight immediately once I was out. Instead I listened to the crickets and felt the night press down on me like a hand.
I was alone. The immediacy of physical contact had pushed the truth back for a while but if I didn’t keep fucking-being-fucked, it wouldn’t stay away. I’d been in this place before, the dark place, after my parents had died. No one on this entire planet cared if I lived or died, now that Vincent was gone. Not the crickets sawing all around me, or the strange man inside the cabin.
I turned the flashlight on, ran for the outhouse, and cried.
#
I was on the bed in front of him, tied up like he liked, hands over my head, completely helpless. His fingers were on the last button of my blouse, exposing a red and black lace bra I’d bought just for him, and he was looking down appreciatively.
“Tonight I want to do something different.”
“Okay,” I breathed, tense, scared, hungry.
My nights with Vincent had changed me. He’d been seeing me for three months now, one night a week. The extra cash that Ray’d let me keep I’d spent on dressing up – I looked like a girl you picked up at a bar now, not one who walked in from the corner – but I only dressed up for him. Looking too nice made other johns angry, they wanted to take you down a notch, imagining you to be their ex-wife or current boss, and I didn’t like getting hit.
Except by him.
It made no sense, I know. It was hard to explain, and I never got the chance to say what I thought about it aloud, which made it harder. All I knew was that he didn’t hurt me like other clients did, on accident, or with anger – with him it was some kind of push and pull, to see how far I would let him go, to see how far he could take me. There’d been spankings and clothespins and I would tremble, not-scared-really-scared, on a precarious brink until he’d let me go. He would eat me out then, until I came, my legs wrapped around him as I writhed, arms still bound, and then he’d untie me and go, and I’d stay in the room for the rest of the night.
It felt like being Cinderella, for twelve hours at a time.
I looked up at him, wondering what would happen next, what he could do to me that he hadn’t already done as his gaze studied mine.
“I’m afraid tonight might be a very long night, Sam.”
I nodded, a little afraid. “Why?”
“I’ve never broken you, have I?”
I shook my head.
“Well, tonight I’m going to have to.” His face looked resolved, and I tensed. Here it was, the moment it all fell apart – I’d been a fool to look forward to these nights, to think that I was special, that he was special –
“Stop squirming,” he demanded, and I did. “Look at me.”
I stared directly at him, even though the look that he was giving me now felt like it burned.
“We’re at a plateau, you and I. Either we continue, or we don’t. I can let you go now, if you want, pay you for the night, and never see you again. Or you can stay and find out what I want. Make up your mind.”
I wanted him to repeat what he’d said, but I knew if I did he’d think it hesitation. I stared up at him, trying to find answers in his eyes. Could I trust him? I’d already let him tie me up. What more did he want? My heart was beating so loudly in my chest I wondered if he could hear it.
There was one thing I knew about him from our time together – he always wanted the truth from me. When we’d started, I’d tried to be too brave once and he’d hurt me. I thought he’d be pleased that I’d let him go so far, but he was mad at me for lying to him instead. It’d taken me days to understand why.
“I’m scared,” I told him, truthfully.
He nodded. “You have every right to be. Up until now I’ve played with you, and rewarded you for it. But you have no idea what it’s like to actually serve me.” He brushed a stray lock of hair away from my eyes, still looking down.
“Is that what you want?” I whispered in hope. I could do that. I was used to serving people – Ray, the other johns – service didn’t frighten me.
He smiled a little. “Yes. But more than you’ve given any other man so far.”
“How so?”
He rubbed his thumb across my lips, as if he was stealing a kiss for later. “Do you want to stay?”
I looked around the room we were in – so much nicer than the room I stayed in at Ray’s – saw the black lace of my bra against the red, felt the satin of my blouse against my back. But more than all of that, I looked at him, his stern face that smiled so readily, his brown eyes, intense or soft. Hotel rooms could come and go, lingerie could be rebought, but I wasn’t ready to be without him in my life just yet.
“I do.”
His gaze softened and he exhaled – that was the first time I ever realized
that he wanted this too. That he was scared of losing me. “Good.” He reached over my head and untied my wrists.
I swallowed. “Now what?” What would ‘service’ entail? Acting like a cocktail waitress? Blowjobs?
He rocked back on the mattress. “Now, I’m going to make you cry on purpose because it pleases me. It’s going to hurt. I’m sorry.”
I pushed up onto my elbows. “What?”
He looked over at me, daring me to challenge him again. It wasn’t too late, no matter what I’d said – but – I wanted to be here more than I wanted to leave, so far.
“Why?” I asked, as he rummaged in the bag he’d brought, pulling out a wooden hairbrush. I hated that thing, it stung so bad when he spanked me with its wooden side, the carvings there leaving little lines up and down my ass in its wake.
“Because.” He pointed with the brush to the door. “You can leave, if you’d like.”
Which was why he’d untied me. So I could just go.
Other girls were better actresses than I was, they would’ve cried on command just to get to the minibar. I couldn’t pull that off. “But –“ I protested as he reached for my hips to turn me over. “Just tell me why? Please?”
He hesitated, and let me rock back down. Emotions flew across his face, too quickly for me to read. “I want to see you, the real you, with all your armor down. I don’t want there to be any secrets between us, Sam. Secrets only wind up hurting worse, later.”
“But you don’t have to make me cry for that –“
“I’m afraid I do.” His expression was solemn, his voice cold and frightening.
“I’ve cried with you before –“ I protested.
“This time is going to be different.”
I bit my lips. “But -- you don’t even understand what you’re asking!”
One of his eyebrows raised. “Then tell me.”
I looked around the room we were in – his room, his world, and me, just a placeholder in it – I didn’t belong here, I didn’t get to keep it, none of this was real – I grabbed hold of the scab that hid what my life was like when I wasn’t in here being a Cinderella with him and pulled. “When you leave here, you get to go back to your amazing life where you have money and you do whatever it is you want to do all the time. When I leave here, I go back to Ray, and a room I share with three other girls, all of whom at one time or another have stolen my stuff, and I put on torn tights and a spandex skirt and wait for calls.” Words came rushing out of me like blood. No one else wanted to hear about the room, or the way that that life was, how scary things could be, how precarious it felt to never really get to hope -- I was breathing heavy now, scared of being with him, scared of being without him, and I was crying, goddammit, which wasn’t fair, because it probably didn’t count. “You want me to take my armor off, just to amuse you? To feel real feelings when we both know real feelings hurt? Fuck you, Vincent,” I said, hands balled into fists, sobbing. “I’m a human being, not a puppet.”
“I know you’re not a toy, Samantha,” he said, his voice low. This was it, I was ruining it, I could tell.
“Let’s just fuck like we always do, okay?” I said, my voice small, hoping beyond hope that I could turn back the clock.
He stared down at me, tears rolling down my cheeks, my chest heaving, as I savagely wiped my eyes and my nose with the back of one hand. Cinderellas didn’t cry. Cinderellas were tough and did what their Prince Charmings wanted, even when those Prince Charmings held the hairbrush.
I watched him set the hairbrush aside. Here it’d come, the part where he’d throw me out of bed, and I’d have to explain to Ray how come the gravy train had stopped. But instead his hands went to the button of his collar, to undo it. I watched him unbutton the next one too, my lips parting in a silent gasp as I wiped my tears away again.
He undressed himself. I’d never seen the skin of his chest before and I wanted to run my hands over it, but I was too afraid that moving would break this moment. I could see what looked like a knife scar a few inches from his neck, and one tattoo, the pawprint of a wolf right on top his heart. He kicked off his dress shoes and pulled off his socks, and then unlatched his belt. I wondered for a hot second if he would be using it on me, before he let it fall with the rest of his clothing and kicked himself free.
It was his turn to be naked in front of me, like I always was for him. He moved to lay beside me, lining his body up with mine, and he kissed me.
He hardly ever kissed me. I knew because I’d counted each and every one. His lips pressed against mine, strong yet soft, and his tongue pushed in, as firm as the cock that was right by my hand. Instinct took over and I shimmied my skirt down and undid the front clasp of my bra. He kissed a line down my throat to my nipples and sucked at them.
I wasn’t sure what this was, we’d never been like this – for all I knew, this was a good-bye fuck – but I liked it. He rocked himself over me, put on a condom, and slid himself in. I moaned as he fit me perfectly, just like our first night.
“Is this what you wanted? A little bit of normalcy?” he asked, holding himself up on his elbows and stroking in and out.
I nodded. From here I could touch his face and his scar, feel his skin. Everything we’d done before now had been intense – but this was intimate. Even for me, who was so used to fucking.
“We’re not normal people though,” he warned.
I dared to smile. “I know. But it’s nice to pretend sometimes.”
He paused and chuckled, smiling back, then kissing my forehead as he thrust deep inside again. I groaned and arced my hips up to feel more of him, and he purred. Our bodies moved together, knowing what we needed more than either of us could admit.
He took a handful of my hair and pulled it back, showing him my neck. “I just want you to trust me, Sam, with everything you have,” he said, as he kissed down it.
“What if I don’t know how?” I panted. Our hips were tight and things were building inside. My body wanted him – and so did I.
“I’ll show you. I’ll beat it into you, if I have to.” He thrust harder now, faster, taking control. He bent his head down and started fucking me in earnest, and I cried out after each thrust, egging him on, both of us fucking like it was our last night on earth. My fingers clawed into his shoulders as my pussy clenched around him, so close to going off.
Three more thrusts and – “Oh my god – Vincent –“ I held onto him, my orgasm rolling through me in waves. “Vincent,” I breathed his name out because I needed to, because I wanted him to be mine.
He came right after that with a shout, throwing his head back in the glory of the moment. He sagged over me, still inside, sweat dripping between us. That was the first time I’d ever seen him lose control – and I realized he didn’t just want to have my trust, he wanted to trust me, too. Maybe he was as lonely as I was. Maybe we could have each other. My heart thrilled at the thought – and I put a hand to my mouth in horror.
I was in love with him – and it would never, ever, work out. What the hell was wrong with me? He collapsed to my side, took my hand to his face, and kissed my palm.
He spent the night with me that night for the first time. And he didn’t know it, but I cried again after he went to sleep -- the tears of a foolish hooker in love with her cruelest-nicest john.
#
I cleaned myself up enough to go back into the cabin. I knew it was dim, so I was sure to turn the flashlight off as I walked in the door. Max was still on the couch – that was good, despite our recent interlude I didn’t want him assuming things. I made my way back to the bed by the light of the last oil lamp and prayed not to have any dreams.
Chapter Four
Why does she smell like tears?
Did I hurt her?
I stayed on the couch when she returned, like I was already asleep. We both knew it was untrue, but I didn’t think she’d test me again tonight.
I wanted to ask her so many things. Where was Vincent? Had he ever mentioned me? Did she kno
w who I was to him – what we’d had? Did anyone?
For the past seven years I felt like I’d been carrying memories for the both of us. I was glad to have them, but Christ they were heavy. I knew I couldn’t be with him anymore, and I knew why – but I wanted to know that I wasn’t the only one it hurt.
I heard her breathing even out as she truly fell asleep, and I allowed myself to doze.
#
“We did it, Max –“ Vincent looked over at me with a positively wolfish grin. We were in some metal and cement pit by the ports and there were three bodies between us, plus one more outside. “They didn’t hear us coming.”
Well, they had, but the one who was supposed to warn them I’d killed quickly. The darkness gave me enough cover to act faster than any human could, slapping his gun away before breaking his neck. Vincent hadn’t seen me and conveniently the dead guy couldn’t testify.
“Want me to clean this up?” I asked, toeing the nearest corpse.
“No. Leave them here. The Carminos will find out before the cops.” He closed a briefcase that I was very sure was full of hundred dollar bills. “They’ll get the message.”
“Which is?”
He tucked the briefcase under one arm. “The docks are ours.”
I opened my mouth to ask more, then closed it again. I knew from watching TV and reading news that getting involved in mob business was a bad idea. Watching Vincent get involved was bad enough – only where he was concerned, I couldn’t help myself. My wolf and I needed an alpha, and we’d both latched on to him.
He crossed the room, still smiling, warming me like the sun as he neared. “Don’t look like that, Max. We’re gonna go celebrate. Come on. Let me show you a good time.”
He turned and I followed, obediently.
Celebrations for Vincent involved a lot of booze with a light dusting of cocaine. I’d lived with him for three months, long enough to know he’d never become an addict – he enjoyed living his own life too much for that. But what was the point of being young and thus far invincible if you couldn’t push your nights out hard?
The Hunted (Sleeping With Monsters Book 2) Page 4
