by B. B. Hamel
He grabs the hem of my top and pulls it up over my head. He kisses my neck, his hands on my breasts. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and the thin cotton panties I’m wearing beneath my shorts are totally soaked through now.
“You’ve been a bad fucking girl,” he says softly.
“I have,” I agree.
“You don’t know the half of it.” His right hand drifts down between my legs and I gasp as he finds my pussy. He’s being fast and rough, and it seems very unlike him.
But I like it. God, I like it. I needed this from him. The teasing, the seduction, it was pushing me too far. I needed him to take me like this. His fingers press up inside of me and I moan as he kisses me again, stroking my pussy, sliding out then kneading my clit with his thumb. I groan as he takes my hair and tips my head back.
“You’re a lot of trouble, you know that, girl?” he asks. “You’re my pet but you’ve misbehaved.”
“I want to be good,” I moan. “I’m sorry, Ethan.”
“I know you’re sorry. But I’ll fix it.”
I can barely think. I don’t know what he’s talking about. All I can focus on are his fingers sliding in and out of my aching pussy, pushing me to my limits.
What does he mean, he’ll fix it? I don’t understand, but I also don’t think I care that much. He steers me toward the bed, hand in my hand, other hand between my legs, lips against mine, and I’m barely thinking, I’m barely present for anything but the pleasure rocking its way down my spine.
He suddenly pushes me backwards and I topple down onto the bed. He grabs my soft cotton shorts and pulls them from my skin, tossing them aside, before dropping to his knees. He shoves his head between my legs, spreading my knees wide, and tongues my useless panties.
“Ethan,” I gasp.
He takes my panties and pulls them down, letting them slip onto the ground, forgotten. He returns to my pussy, this time with his tongue against my clit, sucking and licking like he did before. But there’s an intensity and a passion there that he didn’t have before. I can barely take it as he slides two fingers deep inside of me.
“Ethan,” I moan again. “You’re going to make me come.”
“Is that so bad?” He smirks at me as he slides his fingers deep. I grab his hair. “Maybe that’s all you deserve. A nice fat orgasm.”
“I don’t know what I deserve,” I moan.
“You deserve worse. Much worse. But today, your punishment is this.”
I toss my head back as he goes back to sucking my clit, fingers sliding in and out, and I can barely stand it.
As I feel the orgasm slowly building inside of me, my whole body tense and twitching, itching for him, begging for him, he slowly pulls his fingers from my pussy and licks them. I looks down at him, surprised, and he stands, smirking at me.
“Did you really think you were getting off so easy?” He laughs and unbuttons his shirt. “No, you don’t get to come so easily today, Aria. Today, I’m going to have my fun.”
My heart is hammering as he finishes taking his shirt off. His body is muscular and toned, lean and perfect as he takes off his pants and steps out of his slacks. I watch him, pulse pounding in my cunt, as he lays out his clothing over the back of a chair before stepping out of his boxer briefs.
I marvel at his thick, long cock as he stands in front of me, stroking himself. I lean forward to take him in my hand and mouth, but he pushes me back down, hooking one of my legs over his shoulder.
“I told you,” he whispers. “Today, I’m taking you. Today I’m having my fun.”
“Oh shit, Ethan,” I moan as I feel his cock press against me. He slowly slides inside of me before thrusting once, pressing his whole cock deep between my legs.
I toss my head back and moan, gripping the sheets. Exquisite pain rips through me as his thick cock fills my tight pussy. He moves my legs from his shoulders then grabs my hair and pulls me toward him, kissing my lips with a passion that I can barely understand. He slides me further onto the bed and follows me up there, spreading my legs wide, kneeling with his cock inside of me.
I put my hands on his chest as he slowly begins to work himself in and out. I can’t believe I can even take him, and I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve been aching for it for so long now, for what feels like forever, and this happened so suddenly. I can’t stop to think about it, though, because he feel too good, smells too good, tastes too good. Everything is too much and I’m drowning in pleasure.
He rips into me, grabbing my hip with one hand and my hair with the other, his body hot against mine. I’m sweating but it doesn’t matter. All I care about is this moment as I work my hips against him. The pain gives way to pleasure, an ecstasy I’ve never imagined to ask for.
“Come here,” he whispers, pulling me over and sliding out of me. He lays onto his back, pulling me over on top of him. I straddle him and stare at his cock, biting my lip.
“I don’t know how,” I say.
“Sure you do. Move your fucking hips.” He slaps my ass, hard.
“No, I mean, how this fits.”
He grins at me. “Find out.”
I take him in my hand then slowly slide down his length. I gasp and shudder as he fills me. He takes my hips and pulls me down, sliding me the rest of the way. I’m dripping wet and he glides into me so easily. I start to move my hips, riding him, hands on his chest, breasts pressed together.
“That’s right,” he grunts. “Ride that fucking cock, Aria. Show me how badly you want it.”
“I want it,” I pant, working hard. “I need it. God, Ethan, I need it.”
“I know you do, pet,” he says softly. “I want to feel you come on this cock. I want to watch your face while you do it. And then I’m going to fucking fill you.” He grabs my hair and pulls me down, kissing me hard.
I keep riding, not letting up, working his cock. I should be thinking about pleasing him, about making this a good experience for him, but I can’t. I should be thinking about being his escort and not his pet, but I am his pet and I know it. All I can think about is working my hips, getting pleasure, getting more.
He grabs my ass then slaps it hard, pulling me down and thrusting into me. He rocks hard into me, the sweet slap of his cock slamming into my pussy filling the room. He grunts and keeps at it, fucking me rough, like a fucking animal.
“God damn,” he grunts, and pushes me off him. He gets onto his knees, grabs my hips, and turns me around. I spread my legs wide for him, ass in the air, as he thrusts deep into my pussy.
“That’s right,” he grunts. “This is what I wanted. This round ass sliding down my fucking cock. You know how perfect you are?”
He fucks me and I rock my hips back against him, slamming back into his thrusts. Sweat drips down my skin as he slaps his hand into my ass cheek, sending tingles of pain and pleasure rolling down my spine.
“Do it again,” I moan, surprising myself.
I can hear the grin in his voice. “Beg for it.”
“Please,” I say, tossing my hair aside and looking at him over my shoulder. “Slap my ass harder.”
He lets out a groan and does it, slapping my ass hard. I toss my head back in pure pleasure as he slams into me deeper. I work back harder, fingers curled into the sheets and pressing into the mattress.
“Again,” I say. “Please. Again.”
He slaps my ass again, palm flat into my skin. He does it again, and again. And I know there’s a bright red handprint on my cheek. He grabs my hair and pulls my head back, slamming into me mercilessly, and I can feel the orgasm building.
He slaps my other cheek, nice and hard, before reaching around my hip to find my clit. I writhe back against him, working along his thick cock, as he works my clit while he fucks me.
“That’s it,” I moan. “Ethan. I’m so close. Please, let me come.”
“You want to come on this cock?” he asks. “You want to come for me, you dirty fucking girl? You’re my pet, Aria. You’re my fucking pet with your tight little pussy an
d your perfect fucking hips. Beg for my permission.”
“Please. Oh god, please. I need it. I need it so badly. Please let me come.”
I can feel it building. He’s not slowing down, just keeps fucking me, working my clit. I know I’m going to come and there’s nothing stopping it.
“Oh fuck,” I moan nice and deep.
“Come for me,” he grunts, fucking me, working me.
I come hard, the orgasm exploding through my mind. My body tenses and releases, pleasure rocking through my skin. I don’t know how I can even stand it, there’s just so much pleasure rolling along my spine, and I think I black out for a second.
Not long later, or maybe it’s forever, he’s still fucking me. He releases my clit and grabs my hips, slamming deep into me. He’s relentless, and it feels so fucking good.
“God damn, girl,” he groans. “I’m going to fill this cunt up. Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” I groan, working my hips, getting into it. “Come inside me. Go ahead. I want it. I want to feel it.”
“Fuck,” he grunts, and I can feel him. He comes deep inside my pussy, and I keep moving, working my hips, sliding along his length. I want him to come hard, and his hands dig into my flesh.
Finally, we collapse into the bed together. He wraps his arms around my body and pulls me tight against him, breathing into my hair.
“Fuck, girl,” he says softly. “You are my pet.”
“I am,” I say, nuzzling up against his chest. We’re naked and sweating and this is where I want to be, the perfect place to be. He holds me tight, and our breathing synchronizes.
I lose all sense of time with him there, and it’s perfect. We’re one together, floating in the post-sex haze of orgasm, and I can’t believe how content I feel.
I’ve never felt this way before, not with anybody. I don’t know how Ethan makes me feel this way, but he does, and it’s incredible. It’s also a little terrifying, but I’m not thinking about it too much. I don’t want to think about what happens after this month, or really about what happens five minutes from now. I just want to enjoy this moment, perfect and right and good. This is all I need or want.
17
Ethan
I breathe in her smell and feel like I’m going to pass out. I’m so tired, so exhausted, and I feel so content and comfortable lying in bed with her, still covered in sweat.
I didn’t plan this. Frankly, I didn’t know what I was going to do when I saw her. Part of me wanted to throw her out and never see her again, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Not really, not even in my deepest anger.
This issue with Richard isn’t going to go away, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t take it out on Aria. I never told her that we had to be subtle and quiet. I told her that I was going to spoil her and that she could do anything she wanted, more or less, and then I neglected her. I deserve what I’m getting, but I won’t make that same mistake twice. I won’t take this out on her, because she doesn’t deserve it.
I run my fingers down her back and she shivers. “That feels good,” she says softly.
“Yeah?” I softly rub her back. “What else feels good?”
“Everything,” she says, laughing, and looks up at me. “Why are you here?”
“Decided to take off work today.”
“Oh,” she says. “I’m glad you did.”
“Me too.” I laugh lightly. “I didn’t plan that, you know.”
“That’s okay,” she says. “I didn’t mind.”
“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’m usually more...”
“In control?” she finishes.
“Exactly. But with you, it’s different.”
“Why?” She sits up and looks at me, hair spilling down around us.
“I don’t know,” I say honestly.
She smiles and looks away. “That makes me happy, either way.”
“I want to get to know you.”
“What do you want to know?” she asks.
“Your childhood.”
“Not much to say.” She shrugs a little bit. “I grew up with my dad. Mom died when I was really young.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. I never knew her. But I did know a string of nannies.”
I laugh softly. “You were rich?”
“My father is. When I ran away from home, I left all that.”
“Why did you leave?”
She frowns and lies back down in my arms. I wrap them around her and pull her tight against me.
“You’d understand if you knew my father. He’s a hard man to be around.”
“I know something about hard men.”
She glances up at me. “Was that a penis joke?”
“Not at all,” I say, laughing. “I have more tact and better timing than that.”
“Sure you do.” She looks skeptical and we laugh together. She lays her head back down on my chest. “Dad meant well I think, but he pushed really hard. He’s a little famous in the city, actually. I’d rather not say who he is, but that fame was part of it.”
“Part of what?” I ask softly.
“The pressure. To be perfect. He wanted me to take over his business one day, but I had no interest in it. And then when I ran away and got into drugs, that basically killed him. He disowned me, not exactly, but more or less. I don’t see or speak with him anymore. And I don’t want to.”
I grunt, understanding. I can see how having a father like that would be very, very difficult. I can also see why maybe she turned to drugs. It was a rebellious thing at first, but also a way to feel good. When you’re rich, it’s hard to really feel things, because everything is taken care of for you. Maybe she was trying to find a little bit of that, but went way too far.
“Do you ever want to see him again?” I ask.
“Not at all. He was... abusive,” she says.
“Abusive?”
She looks at me again. “I don’t want to be that cliché hooker with daddy issues, okay? It’s just, he didn’t hit me, but he tortured me. He was merciless and cutting, and I had to get out of there. So no, I don’t want to see him ever again.”
I kiss her softly on the forehead. “Thanks for telling me that,” I say.
“It’s weird. I haven’t talked about him in a while.”
I smile and kiss her again. “I’m happy you feel comfortable talking about it with me.”
“You’re supposed to be a client...” She trails off, shaking her head.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you this stuff. The Syndicate, they gave us some, I don’t know, training. I’m supposed to be mysterious and alluring for you.” She laughs lightly. “How am I doing?”
“Perfect,” I say. “You’re perfect.”
“My last name is Taylor,” she says. “I don’t know why I wanted you to know that. I just did, I guess.”
I grin ear to ear, and have no clue why that makes me so happy. I kiss her again, not sure what else to do, and hold her tight.
I want to know her, and having her open up to me makes me happier than I would have guessed. It’s strange, sharing this sort of intimacy with someone that I supposedly own, but I don’t feel like I own her. Not right now, at least.
Her guard is down and I believe everything she’s saying. I believe that she feels something, maybe something like what I feel, although I’m not exactly sure what that is yet. I believe she’s a good person and wants to do right.
And I know I’ve seduced her. All of that, it was real. She wanted it as much as I did, if not more. She wanted me to fuck her and to make her come and she would have done it, money or no money.
I should feel good that I won my game, but I don’t.
I just feel like there’s another game coming, and this one might be even better.
18
Aria
”Play it again.”
In my dream, he stands over me like a phantom. His eyes are a furious red like
I always imagined them to be, though I know they’re really just brown. His brows knit as I raise the violin to my chin again and prepare to play it all over.
In my dream, I know that I’ve been standing there and playing for hours. My fingers are bloody and torn to shreds, but daddy doesn’t care. I’m nine years old and I should be a prodigy by now, but I’m not. According to daddy, if I’m not the best at what I do, I’m not worth anything.
And so I play it again. I go through the notes, playing as best as I possibly can considering blood runs down the strings, but that doesn’t matter to him. He simply sits there, smoking a cigar and watching me. I don’t look at his face, because I know what I’ll see if I do.
When I finish, he stands and walks over to me. He slaps the violin from my hands and growls.
“Pathetic,” he says. “What the fuck am I paying these teachers for if you can’t play right?”
I cower away from him, waiting for him to hit me, but the blow never comes. It never does. He hit me once, out of anger, but not since then. Still, he threatens it all the time, and I believe he’ll do it if I give him a real reason to.
“I’m sorry, daddy,” I whimper.
“Sorry isn’t going to make you better, girl,” he says. “How the fuck are you going to take over everything I’m building if you can’t even master one instrument? It’s not even a fucking hard one, for fuck’s sake.” He stalks away and I collapse onto the floor, sobbing.
He stands by the bar with a glass in his hand. He always has a glass in his hand. He’s a drunk, a mean stupid drunk, and I hate him. In the dream, which is also a memory, I know that he’s a piece of shit but I can’t do anything about it.
I’m just a little girl and I still love him. I barely see him anymore, and when I do, it’s always painful, but he’s still a towering figure in my life. I want to live up to him. I believe everything he tells me. I believe every bit of pressure he puts on me. I feel it weighing on me every night, and every night I cry myself to sleep because I’m such a disappointment.
