Craving Control

by Kylie Hillman

  “I’ll see you tomorrow before we leave?” Maddi asks. She kisses me on the cheek and moves to the side of the truck.

  Benji lets the front door slam behind him as he walks over to us. Folding his arms over his chest, he grunts at his sister like a caveman. I assume that’s his way of silently giving her the hurry up.

  Ignoring him, I jump out of the tray of my truck. I lift Maddi down after me, deliberately sliding her down the front of my body so she can feel the hardness she’s inspired. Running my hands up her sides, I flick my thumbs over her nipples, before I pull her against me.

  “I’ll see what I can do. I’d still prefer you to spend the weekend with me instead,” I answer her question about Mik Kennedy’s birthday party in a bland voice.

  I still don’t want her to go. Yet, at the moment, it doesn’t seem like I have a way to stop her.

  Not after the way I acted by falling for Hugo’s gee up.

  If I come down hard on her again, she’ll run to Benji... or Mik Kennedy.

  That’s a hard fact to swallow, but my reticence to accept it doesn’t change the reality of the situation.

  I let Hugo and Nita play me like a fiddle—now I need to play my cards close to my chest, so I don’t lose any more ground.

  The effort it takes to tamp down on my need to pull her into gear is immense. I manage it by concentrating on the feel of her body against mine. Maddi’s breasts are pillowed against my chest, a gentle reminder of what’s at stake. I grab her ass and squeeze the tight curves. Lowering my face to hers, I kiss her with unconcealed passion. She’s a little unwilling to participate in front of her brother, but she quickly loses herself to my touch when I refuse to heed her token resistance.

  Benji makes a gagging sound.

  “Stay with me?” I ask.

  Benji snorts and Maddi shakes her head.

  Narrowing my eyes, I let Maddi feel the full force of my displeasure with my glare, then I push her away from me and head for the driver’s side of my truck. I offer Benji a curt nod. He gives me an arrogant chin tilt, and I decide that it’s my cue to leave.

  There is nothing to be gained from staying here and flogging a dead horse.

  Twice tonight I’ve let my need for Maddi get the better of my common sense, and both times I’ve made errors that could have derailed my entire game plan.

  No, I need to put some distance between me and Madelaine O’Brien. I need to find my equilibrium before I tackle the issue of Mik Kennedy’s birthday party and Maddi’s ongoing reluctance to admit that she wants me as much as I want her.

  My nana’s ring sits safely on her finger.

  She is mine in all the ways that count, bar one.

  That hurdle will be jumped as soon as I can make it happen.

  Maddi’s consent in the matter is beginning to fade in significance to the growing need I have to brand her from the inside out.

  As I drive down the O’Brien’s long drive driveaway back toward the main road, I grab my phone from the dash and dial the number I know from heart.

  “Baby,” I croon when she answers on the second ring. “I need you.”

  “Same place?” she asks without preamble.

  “Same place,” I reply with a shit-eating grin on my face. This is what I need to get my head back on straight. If I wasn’t so occupied with Maddi’s wishy-washy behaviour, I would have thought of this earlier. “And be prepared. I’m burning up with the need to hurt someone, and baby, you’re it tonight.”

  THIRTEEN

  “Time to run, baby.”

  My announcement is met with the clacking of heels on the hard floor. Sierra knows my requirements well, and she never fails to deliver. I let the door slam shut behind me, then settle on the cushioned bench seat just inside the mud room of our guest house. Taking off my shoes, I keep one ear focused on her footsteps, tracking her movements by the different sounds her heels make on the various floor coverings.

  The four-bedroom villa is far enough away from the main house for my games to go unheard, and tonight’s prey is a well-trained professional who loves being pushed to her limits.

  When my grandfather suggested that I engage the services of a paid whore to take the brunt of the worst of tendencies, I’d almost laughed in his face. That was until I gave into his suggestion to at least give it a try, and I finally found a way to keep my family name off the local’s lips and free from scandal.

  Stripping my socks from my feet, then shucking my shirt from my shoulders, I pull my T-shirt over my head and toss it on the bench with the rest of my clothes. Clad only in my jeans—the belt at my waist glints evilly when it catches the light as I loosen the buckle a notch.

  “Ready or not,” I shout into the darkness. “Here I come.”

  The sound of Sierra’s footsteps dies immediately. I sniff, clearing my throat before I roll my shoulders to loosen them. Cracking my knuckles, I advance. There’s menace in each step, a malignant desire to hurt coating my heart and poisoning the hold I maintain on my control. Maddi tested me tonight and I failed twice. It’s been a case of two steps forward and three steps backward with her lately and I need tonight with Sierra to burn through the frustrations that will ultimately cause another ill-timed mistake if I’m not careful.

  Madelaine O’Brien cannot be exposed to the real me before she’s safely secured on my hook. Like a dangling fish, gasping for air, she will learn of my true nature when it’s too late to escape. I pat the back pocket of my jeans, my hand meeting the hard case of my phone, then I pull it free and toss it on the kitchen counter as I pass. On that device sits the inducement I need to take away any power Maddi believes she possesses in our relationship.

  Soon, very soon, she’s going to learn exactly how little control she has over everything.

  A flash of blonde hair catches my eye. I turn and stalk into the living room. I stifle a groan at the change in her costume. It’s like she’s read my mind and discovered the perfect path to a big, fat tip. While I would have settled for her normal brunette tresses, I’m more than happy to indulge her new look.

  It’s whetting an appetite she couldn’t possibly understand.

  I catch another glimpse, this one heading toward the bedrooms. My cock grows in my denim as the promise of my hunt paying off begins to form. Sierra is getting bold—my lack of verbal encouragement must be egging her into taking a rash course of action. Usually, she would hide until I found her. Tonight she’s all but taunting me into catching her... and hurting her.

  I double check the tastefully furnished living room to make sure she’s not playing me before I continue my hunt in the first bedroom. This is the main room in the villa. The biggest and the most heavily furnished. The cream curtains that hang over the alfresco door snare my attention. They are swinging. She can’t be too far away.

  “I can smell your fear.”

  My words hang in the air, however I’m certain she’s here. There hasn’t been enough time since I last caught sight of her for her to make it to the other rooms.

  “Silly, silly girl,” I muse aloud. “Why would you choose the bedroom as your hiding place?”

  Moving to the other side of the king-sized bed, I bend quickly to check under it. She’s not there.

  “Don’t you remember that this is my favourite room in the house?” I swipe the curtains out of the way but find nothing. “So many surfaces to bend you over. Too many walls to bounce you off. Such dense carpet to press your face into while I fuck you raw and you scream for air.”

  My reminders act as the lever I wanted. Sierra pushes open the door of the walk-in-closet and makes a run for it. My shoulders shake as I laugh at her desperation, then I burst into action. Three strides of my much longer legs is all it takes for me to catch a handful of her hair just as she turns to run down the hallway. I yank her to a stop, all the while relishing the screeching that erupts from her mouth.

  “Got you, baby.” I nuzzle her neck. Biting the tendons that protrude when she strains to pull away from me, I grin whe
n she cries out. “Now the fun can begin.”

  She gasps for breath, her chest rising and falling quickly. The rasping sound sends shockwaves of malevolence down my spine. With cruel precision, I throw her face first into the wall in front of us and she bounces off it then sinks to the carpeted floor of the hallway with a shriek.

  A sick excitement takes hold of me and the final vestiges of the control I maintain on my more animalistic desires evaporates. I can’t wait to sink inside her fear-filled body.

  As I’m advancing to flip over her, it hits me.

  Blonde hair. Big tits. Long legs. Tanned skin.

  This isn’t Sierra.

  Tangling my fingers in her hair, I pull her to her feet and push her against the wall. My grip is mean, demanding and unyielding, when I lift her chin, so I can get a good look at her face.

  “Who the fuck are you?”

  Her bottom lips trembles and two matching waterfalls of tears run from the corners of her big, blue eyes. “I’m Thora. Your father paid Sierra to send me the next time you called. He said you’d need something different.” My mouth drops open at her explanation. I guess I owe my dad a thank you—apparently, he saw me teetering on the precipice long before I did. My lips press together in a firm line when the trembling girl starts to plead with me. “Please, I beg you. Let me go. I didn’t know what I was agreeing to when—”

  I cut off her pathetic excuses before she can gain steam. “Did you take money for this job?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “Did Sierra explain my particular tastes before you took the money?”

  The remaining colour drains from her face. “She did.”

  “Then you knew what you were agreeing to,” I pause, stretching my neck from side to side and curling my top lip into a snarl. “When you decided to come here tonight. Didn’t you?”

  Thora nods then drops her chin to her chest.

  “Lift your head!”

  Straightaway, she does as she’s told.

  “I hate meekness in my conquests,” I drawl. “You need to learn to fight back before I really lose my temper with you.”

  “Please, Mr. Taylor,” she begs again. “Let me go home.”

  “Wrong answer,” I snap.

  With two hands, I push her against the wall. She screams. I slap her face. She drops to her knees. I use the top of her sheer dress to drag her back into place. Leering over her, I make sure she sees every ounce of pain I’m going to unleash on her tonight before I drive home the point with my next statement.

  “The name is Brendan, and I expect you to be screaming it.” I pause and lean closer before I enunciate the rest of my request with precision. “All. Night. Long.”

  I take a step back. “Now, run.”

  She doesn’t need telling twice. Thora pushes between me and the wall and runs like her ass is on fire.

  Which it will be once I get my hands back on her.

  The door to the games room slams shut. I grin, and head back in the direction I just came from. I know this house like the back of my hand, and little Miss Thora is about to end this hunt in the first five minutes. With quiet steps, I position myself outside the kitchen and wait for her to come running out the second door on the other side of the games room.

  She doesn’t disappoint when half a minute later she comes barrelling out of the door and straight past me. Unaware that I’m hot on her heels, she heads for the living room. She must believe that she’s safe because she stops without bothering to check behind herself. Thora places her hand on her thighs and doubles over. She’s breathing hard—if I was a betting man, I’d say it was less from the exertion and more from the fear that’s currently sending adrenaline spiking though her. Her gasping gulps camouflage my approach.

  “Did I tell you this is my second favourite room?” I ask at the same moment as I grab her and throw her to the floor.

  She shrieks and screams and yells. I laugh and laugh and laugh. Catching her hands when she attempts to slap me, I roll her flat onto her back and pin them over her head with one hand. My free hand makes easy work of her dress, ripping it straight down the front until she’s exposed to me.

  Like any prostitute worth their salt, she’s bare underneath her clothing. Free from undergarments and other clothing, Thora is a poor substitute for Maddi since I expect when the time comes, Maddi will make me work a hell of a lot harder for what’s about to happen.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” I mock her while I shake my head. “I thought you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into tonight?’

  Tweaking her right nipple, I twist it viciously. “Looks to me like you’re ready and willing to take anything I have to give.”

  “Please,” she moans when I repeat my movements on her other nipple. “I didn’t understand. I thought you just liked to chase.”

  I drop my full weight onto hers, jamming my knee between her legs and mashing it against her pussy as I go. Keeping her hands pinned in a tight grip, I free one other hand to hold her throat. She gasps her air, and I laugh.

  “I love the chase.”

  I bite her shoulder.

  “I love the taste.”

  I put some space between our bodies then squeeze her throat harder.

  “I love the power.”

  I let go of her hands and unzip my jeans. Pushing them down my hips, I press my hard cock against her entrance.

  “I love the pain.”

  I force my way inside her body.

  She screams. She’s willing, any longer, so her pussy is a tight squeeze.

  One that I relish as much as I can. There’s nothing better than the feeling of a woman’s body yielding to your unwanted intrusion.

  “You’re not as loose as I imagined someone with your profession would be.”

  Thora cries, her arms hanging loosely where I left them when I start to thrust inside her. I think I’ve broken her already which would be a stark disappointment if true.

  Sierra would have given me a lot more fight.

  Maddi will give you even more—my mind is set on taunting me with what I can’t have tonight.

  Running my eyes over Thora’s face, I take in the tears and the anguish. They do nothing to soothe the monster I unleashed tonight. Determined to punish me with the silent treatment, he’s about ready to run back inside his cage and slam the bars shut.

  For a second, I can’t understand why, until it hits me.

  Her lips are the wrong shade of pink.

  Her eyes the wrong blue.

  Her skin too dark.

  Closing my eyes, I block Thora from my view. It doesn’t work. Screwing my eyes shut harder, I bring visions of Maddi to the forefront of my mind. She comes willingly. My favourite sight in the world. An angelic heart-shaped face, plump pink lips perfect for puncturing with my teeth, bright blue eyes the colour of the sky at the height of summer, smooth skin that’s the perfect balance between alabaster and tan, and lush curves that beg for my hands to trace them.

  The beast inside me pokes his head back outside his cage.

  He’s nodding his approval.

  Maddi is the only woman my monster wants.

  “Fuck!” I lift my head high and shout at the ceiling as I left the thought of doing this to Maddi take control. Grabbing Thora by her hips, I lift her ass from the floor and piston my cock into her, each stroke more ferocious than the next. Screaming, she slaps at my hands and tries to escape my clutches.

  Her fight should satisfy me.

  It does nothing.

  Letting go of her hips, I pound my fist into her stomach. Slapping her face with all the viciousness cascading through me right now, I wrap both hands around her neck and choke her. Thora struggles beneath me for a while before she falls still, and her body goes lifeless.

  “Jesus Christ,” I curse.

  When I remove my hands from her throat, she opens her eyes and drags in half a dozen scratchy breaths.

  “Fucking faking bitch.” I glare down at her, unsure if I’m angry that she played me
or because she’s still not Maddi.

  My mind freezes. I can’t look at her any longer. With a rough grip that’s designed to hurt, I toss her on her stomach and force her ass in the air. Spreading her legs, I shuffle in between them, then line up her ass and thrust home with one brutal pump of my hips.

  Thora screams to holy hell, but I am unrelenting. Her muscles grip me so tight that I swear she’s about to snap my cock. My hands pull her hips back to match my movements, thrust for thrust, pump for pump, until my balls are drawing up tight and the delicious tingle of ecstasy begins to form at the base of my spine.

  By this stage, she’s limp. A rag doll that I can move in any way I please. It’s not enough. My orgasm refuses to peak. I shove her chest against the floor, laying my whole weight on her while I violate her. Wrapping my hands around her neck from behind, I yank her head back and squeeze tight.

  She coughs and splutters until I reposition my hands and resume crushing her throat. While she struggles, her muscles spasming around me, I chase my release. Pulling forth images of Maddi, I close my eyes and lean back. The woman beneath me ceases to exist and, in my mind’s eye, Madelaine O’Brien takes her place.

  “Yes. Yes.” I shout as my mind finds the right imagery to satisfy my monster. “Fuck, yes.”

  My rhythm deserts me and I slump over the warm body beneath me as I finally come. After emptying my balls into her, I let go of her neck. Reality returns, my mind giving up the illusion of Maddi as soon as my orgasm is finished, and I pull my bloodied cock free from Thora. She falls to the ground without a sound, and I slap her ass.

  “That wasn’t so bad, after all,” I quip. “Seems you might have found your calling.’

  I stand, rearranging my cock and re-zipping my denim.

  “Thora?” I say, prodding her with my toe.

  She doesn’t move.

  “Get up, bitch. This isn’t a sleepover.”