Indebted To A King

by Lisa Lang Blakeney

  Her mouth drops in shock for only a moment, and then she presses her lips together tightly in anger. She's definitely about to rip me a new one when we're interrupted by Johnson. Hell, I forgot he was here.

  "Sorry to interrupt, boss, but it's Granny. I've got to get home and help her get ready for bed."

  "No problem, just send me the file and I'll take it from there. I'll put the payment in your account tomorrow. Thanks for everything."

  "Thank you, boss."

  Johnson doesn't move as he stares at Sloan for a moment waiting for an introduction. He obviously knows that this is the woman we're working to protect, and he wants to say hi.

  "Oh sorry. Johnson, this is Miss Pearson. Sloan, this is Johnson."

  "Nice to meet you."

  "Same to you. Hey, do you need a ride home, Johnson? Seems like your boss here is in the mood for giving out rides."

  I give Johnson a quick look that he knows very well. It means to scram. Then before she can say anything else to him, I lean over and cradle the right side of her face with my hand. Gripping the base of her neck with my fingers and using my thumb to touch her lips.

  Her mouth parts for me as I gingerly use my thumb to rub the coral colored lipstick off of her lips. I'm almost tempted to slide my thumb inside of her mouth, wondering if she'd suck it or more likely try to bite it off, but this isn't the place for that.

  "Let's go home, princess," I growl. My dick brick hard from our minimal contact. "I'm definitely giving out rides tonight, but the only passenger will be you."

  Twenty-Two

  Sloan

  I'm not exactly sure how I ended up here. I shouldn't even be talking to this man, but there's something about the way Cutter words things which makes him a powerfully persuasive man. Now I think I'm starting to see what everyone's talking about. He's the ultimate negotiator.

  He makes a convincing argument about it making more sense for me to take a hot shower at his house. So I do. Changing into a pair of clean black leggings and a Nirvana sweatshirt. Then all of a sudden, he whips up a delicious ribeye steak while we watch a comedy special on Netflix. One of his favorites. Then after dinner we have a glass of wine and watch the first episode of Downton Abbey. My favorite. And now he's pulled out a deck of Uno cards. My favorite card game and evidently his too.

  "Let's play for something," he suggests.

  "For fun?"

  "No. Kings don't play for fun. Let's raise the stakes."

  "I thought I made it clear in the car that I'm not riding you."

  He laughs. "We don't have to raise them that high. How about the person who wins the hand can ask the other a question. A question that has to be answered honestly."

  "There's nothing that I want to know about you," I lie.

  "Really? Because there's so much about you that I want to know."

  "Then I guess you'll have to win your hands, but I have to warn you, I'm a master Uno player."

  "We'll see."

  I've been beating people in my family at Uno since I was twelve years old, so I win the first hand in about five minutes. The first question belongs to me.

  "All right," he says with a flirty smile. "Ask your question."

  "Why did you really buy this building?"

  "You owe me a debt, and I'm here to collect."

  I raise my eyebrow at that then shuffle the cards. Dealing each of us seven cards. After a longer game than the last, Cutter finally wins. The second question belongs to him.

  "Have you ever seriously considered sleeping with me?"

  "You're getting right to it, aren't you?"

  "Answer honestly," he singsongs.

  "Maybe."

  "That's honest?"

  "Ok fine . . . yes."

  "So why are you fighting it when you and I both already know that it's going to be amazing between us."

  "That's two questions." I laugh. "You'll need to win another hand if you want an answer to that."

  "I love it when you laugh."

  There's an awkward moment of silence between us, because I don't know what to say in response to that. Thank you? I take a sip of wine instead. He poured me a nice glass of pinot noir to go with dinner.

  "Why did you go out with the doctor tonight?" he asks me with a serious look on his face. His earlier playfulness gone. "You think that's going to keep me away?"

  "That's a third question," I say nervously.

  "The game is fucking over."

  All of a sudden Cutter moves his chair back. The sound the legs make scraping against the floor startles me. He stands up and begins to circle me slowly. Stopping directly behind me.

  I sit stock still.

  Concentrating on my breath.

  A thick heavy silence fills the air.

  He slides his palm onto the back of my head. Gripping my hair at the base of my scalp. He pulls my head to the side, grazing his mouth against the side of my neck.

  "Stand up," he orders.

  I try to pretend as if I'm unaffected by what he's doing by taking another sip of my wine, setting the glass down, and then slowly coming to a full stand. Still with my back to him.

  "Were you trying to teach me a lesson tonight?"

  I don't answer. Savoring the prickly feeling of his five o'clock shadow against my skin as he speaks.

  "I know that I said I wouldn't touch you until you asked me nicely or begged me angrily, but as you can see that's shot to hell."

  He waits for me to respond, but I say nothing.

  "What, no clever come back this time?"

  "What do you want me to say?"

  "I don't want you to say any fucking thing. I want to make you scream."

  "I'm not a screamer."

  "I don't believe that for one second, and I hope that waiting to make the first move has been as painful for you as it has been for me," he says gruffly near my ear.

  He uses his other hand to trace a path from my clavicle down the center of my chest, past my navel, and straight inside of my leggings to my clit."

  My knees buckle, and I fall back against him.

  His aggressive touch was unexpected.

  And my body very much likes it.

  "That's a good girl," he practically purrs. "Lean completely on me and spread your legs wider for your king."

  Cutter releases the hand that was in my hair and slides it around the base of my throat. Holding me in place against him as his other hand continues its carnal exploration of me.

  It feels just as exquisite as I hoped, or rather that I fantasized, submission to Cutter would. Another strange feeling of dichotomy. I love how he is making my body feel, and I hate that I love it.

  "You're still way up in your head when the only thing that should be doing the thinking for you," he pats me gently, "is this pussy."

  Then he slides one of his thick fingers inside of me.

  And then another.

  And then he takes his time stroking me with his fingers over and over while praising me for my obedience.

  "You're a very good girl, princess. Now spread just a little wider, and I'll give you one more finger if you do what you're told."

  "Shut up," I say because my inner feminist is both turned on and offended by how he's talking to me.

  This is so confusing.

  He lightly chuckles by my ear, pulls out his fingers, and then playful slaps me on the ass. The grip around my neck gets just a bit tighter when he does it. I gasp not exactly for air, because I can breathe just fine, but mainly out of surprise.

  "If you want to continue to play you're going to have to be a bit more polite." He slaps me again on my butt. This time a little harder. It stings in a good way if that makes any sense. "Do we understand each other?"

  "We do."

  "That's fucking fantastic. So you want to try this again?"

  "Yes."

  "Good."

  His free hand goes immediately back in between my legs. This time gently rubbing my clit and then pinching it with his thumb and pointer fin
gers. Over and over he continues this type of erotic massage until I'm so slippery, that he uses the juices leaking out of me to slide his fingers back inside of me.

  Back where they belong.

  And I pant in pure bliss again.

  His other hand releases my neck and begins to playfully pinch and roll one of my nipples. I think his majesty is about to discover my weakness. I love nipple play.

  The feeling is so exquisite that I raise both of my arms behind me and reach around Cutter's neck. It's hard because he's so tall, but he bends over a little more to give me what I want.

  "I think my princess likes her tits to be touched. I wonder what you'd do once my mouth is on them."

  "Probably whatever you wanted," I pant.

  I can feel him smiling behind me.

  "I can't imagine it would be that easy. Nothing about you is easy, Sloan. That's why I'm going to fuck you hard. Just the way you deserve. The way you'll like it."

  His fingers pick up speed and the nerve endings in my body feel as if they're highly sensitive to sight, sound and touch. As if all they need is just one more piece of sensory input to send them into a state of high alert.

  Then all of a sudden, he stops.

  Saying nothing but licks his fingers the entire time.

  "What are you doing?" My question ends up sounding more like a plea.

  "What do u want from me, Sloan?"

  "I want you to finish what you started."

  "Then you'll have to ask nicely."

  "You mean you want me to beg."

  "Begging is nice too. Whatever works for you."

  He walks away while I contemplate how on earth I'm going to do something I never in do in bed with a man and that's beg. I watch him move toward a large black duffel near the door. He opens it and pulls out another smaller black bag. He places our dinner dishes in the sink. Wipes the table. Then puts the bag on top of the dinette and begins pulling items out one by one.

  I'm kind of astounded that he's choosing this particular moment to unpack his shit. Not after doing what we just did. I continue to stand in the middle of his living room like an idiot not knowing exactly what to do or what he's thinking until I notice the items he's lining up across the table.

  A pink one.

  A silver one.

  A blue one.

  A plastic one.

  A metal one.

  A large one.

  A tiny one.

  Vibrators of all shapes and sizes in plastic packaging.

  After placing the last one on the table, he stands up and pulls his sweater over his head. I swallow with great difficulty as I watch the muscles in his arms contract and flex as he tosses it on the floor. He's beautiful.

  His brief striptease reveals several beautiful tattoos that adorn his arms and back. Each is its own distinct pattern of swirled black ink highlighted by reds and blues. The artist captured Cutter's spirit expertly. His ink is beautiful and playful just like he is. He unties and kicks off his boots. Each making a thunderous clunk as they land against the wall. Adding to the building tension between us.

  He watches me closely as he lines up each toy. I'm uncomfortable. Not because I've never owned a vibrator before, but because I've never used one in front of or with a man. Just alone. The guys I've been with in the past have never been this . . . creative.

  My eyes continue to land on the purple vibrator with what looks like a collection of loose pearls inside the casing. It's pretty in a freaky sort of way.

  "I guess purple it is."

  My head pops up.

  "What?"

  He grabs some clean paper towels and alcohol out of the same small duffel, then takes the purple vibe out of the packaging and begins cleaning it.

  "When this one is turned on, it not only vibrates but it simulates the movement of a penis. The pearls massage the inside of your pussy as it moves. You'll like this one."

  Next Cutter takes two pieces of long rope out of the bag. There's a stainless-steel rack that hangs above the island in his kitchen for pots and pans. He ties the two pieces of rope onto the rack which is easy enough since there are no pans hanging from it. He only has two pans, and he used them to cook dinner.

  He walks over toward me, his bare feet thumping across the floor, and whisks me up in his arms.

  "Cutter!"

  "Lift your arms."

  He sits me on the island and lifts my sweatshirt above my head, making sure not to disturb any of my remaining scars or my eye. He throws it on the floor with the rest of his things.

  Now I'm left with a bra and a pair of leggings on. Sitting on top of a man's cold kitchen countertop. Relinquishing control bit by bit. It makes me anxious and totally uncomfortable yet mysteriously aroused.

  He kisses the inside of my left wrist before he ties it to one of the hanging ropes. Pulling on the other side of it to keep my arm raised and secure. He does the same to the other. I try moving my arms just to test the strength of the overhang. It's pretty damn strong. I can't move my arms and the rack isn't moving.

  He reaches back into his ominous black bag and grabs a pair of scissors. I inhale sharply as he carefully slides the blades across the top of my breasts, then down my side, then he snips.

  Cutting my bra open on one side. Then the other. Then continuing to snip until there are literally pieces of my bra all over the counter and my breasts are exposed.

  He bends down and places his mouth around one of my nipples and sucks. My back arches in pure carnal delight. I want to give more of myself to him. I wish he'd take more.

  I almost mouth the words but there's still something holding me back. Like he said, I'm still inside of my head. I can't totally allow myself to just be in the moment. I don't trust him. I don't trust myself.

  He moves to the other breast. This time his teeth lightly graze my nipple. And I cry out. The crotch of my leggings are soaked. I almost don't want him to touch me there, because I'm so embarrassed by my response to him. I'm not sure that I've ever been this wet in my life.

  "I smell you, princess."

  Then he starts to slide my leggings and panties off. After he pulls them off, tossing them aside with the other clothes, he touches my clit with just one finger.

  "You're soaked."

  He walks away and back to the table. Picking up the ominous looking purple vibrator, and I shiver inside. I'm not going to be able to handle it. I ache so much between my legs already.

  "Open your knees."

  I don't open them.

  "Trust between us is paramount if we're going to have fun playing. Now open up."

  I spread my legs as best I can. It feels good. The cold granite feels like a cooling balm on my aching pussy.

  "Kiss me, Sloan."

  He leans over and puts his mouth on mine. Sliding his tongue inside where he meets my willing tongue. He tastes sweet, like the semi-sugary aftertaste of a mint, and we begin a slow exploration of each other's mouths. My arms swaying but basically immobile as we kiss each other passionately.

  We continue like this for a few more moments before he starts to slide the vibrator inside of me. Inch by inch it feels enormous. Probably because I haven't had sex in a really long time, and additionally because there is no forgiving bend in a piece of motorized plastic.

  I moan as I feel the ripple of the pearls sliding against my walls as it burrows its way inside of me. Midway in, Cutter stops.

  I don't feel discomfort, but I do feel very full.

  I hear the sounds of heavy breaths in the room.

  They belong to me.

  He steps back and stares at me. No doubt to admire his handiwork. My arms tied above my head in ropes. My legs splayed open with a purple vibrator halfway inside of me. My cheeks flushed. Nipples hard. Pupils dilated. Waiting for me to give him the words.

  "Finish it," I finally say.

  He walks back between my legs and leans over with his mouth by my ear.

  "I told you all I want to hear are screams."

  Then h
e turns the knob on the vibrator all the way up.

  My core contracts violently and immediately I explode.

  The howl of my orgasm is so boisterous that he silences it by shoving his tongue down my throat. I arch my back and yank at the ropes, but they don't budge. The feeling of being constricted of movement and flooded with release is euphoric. I see flashes of light behind the lids of my eyes as I float in orgasmic bliss.

  When Cutter turns the vibrator completely off my heart is still racing.

  "You are so fucking beautiful when you come. I need to taste you."

  He gently slides the vibrator out, drops to his knees, slides my ass forward and begins to devour my pussy. Hungrily he strokes the inside of me with his tongue. Lapping up every bit of my release. And the hunger in me begins to coil once again. This time it winds slower than the last time. Making me feel all the more desperate to reach climax.

  I want to grab his head or slap him in the face, but I forget that I can't. How clever of him. My arms are tied.

  "Please," I beg.

  Crying out breathlessly as one lone tear starts to fall from my eye. I've never been a crier, but now I'm seriously starting to consider that it's because I've never been fucked properly before.

  Because this is certainly a feeling that makes me want to wail.

  Twenty-Three

  Cutter

  I'm starting to understand why some of the women in the club have nicknamed me The Viking or even why Sloan calls me a caveman. I fucking feel like one.

  Primitive.

  Primal.

  Possessive.

  Her plea for release turns a switch on inside of me that I didn't know was there. I want to drive my dick so deep inside of her that I will not be able to figure out where I begin and where she ends.

  If this is how Camden feels about Jade, now I'm starting to truly understand the change in him. There's no denying that this is some different shit. There's no better sound on earth than the cry Sloan just made when she came for me. That shit is addictive. I can only imagine what it will be like once I get inside of her.

  I pull the purple pussy eater (my nickname for this particular vibe) out of her, toss it aside, and lean in. It's time to clean her up and I snarl like a dog when she tries to close her legs together. I bite the inside of her knee to let her know that I'm not playing.