Blackwood

by Celia Aaron

  He pushed a hand between us, yanking my skirt up before roughly pulling my panties to the side. When he touched my wet core, he groaned. I wanted him inside me. I wanted him wild, desperate. I wanted him to come for me, only me.

  “You are so wet,” he grated. He released my breast and gripped my hair, yanking my head to the side and sucking on the tender skin of my neck.

  His fingers strummed me, playing me until I writhed beneath him. Wanton and desperate for his touch. He was the most delicious thing I had ever felt.

  “You like that, Stella?” he murmured against me.

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  “How about this?” He sank a finger inside.

  I gasped, the breath hitching in my throat at the unbridled pleasure. He withdrew it and pushed it in again. My hips ground up into him.

  “Fucking my finger, Stella? Just wait until it’s my cock, filling every last bit of your tight cunt.”

  I thought I might come just from his words. No one had ever spoken to me that way. I needed more.

  He sat back on his haunches. “Don’t move.” A growl to match the animal look on his face.

  He pushed my skirt up past my hips. With one hand, he ripped my panties away. Then he fixed his gaze on my pussy. I was bare to him, completely open and at his mercy in a way I’d never been, not even when I was chained and whipped. This was the most intimate moment I’d ever had.

  “I can’t stop.” He slowly brought his gaze to mine. “I won’t.”

  I swallowed hard, his taste still on my lips. “Don’t.”

  Sinclair

  It took every remaining shred of self-control I had not to rip my fly open and shove into her. Her glistening pink flesh was something I’d fantasized about and now…to have it laid out before me like an offering was almost too much.

  I drew down my zipper and pulled my cock from my boxers. It throbbed in my palm. I didn’t want my skin. I wanted hers. Every inch of it.

  Her eyes grew wide as she saw my cock, hard and ready for her. I slid my tip against her slick folds and almost lost my seed all over her. I gripped up on the base, keeping myself in check.

  She scooted back from me. Not happening. I dragged her back down beneath me and caged her throat with my hand.

  “It’s too big, Sinclair. I-I don’t think I can.”

  She said my name. I always wanted her to call me Sinclair, though she insisted on Vinemont. The former was a surrender, the latter a curse. All I needed from her right now was total surrender, submission. I would have it.

  “I haven’t done this since Dylan and I—”

  I silenced her by forcing two fingers inside. She moaned and closed her eyes. I didn’t want to hear about anyone else touching what was mine. After tonight, they would be erased. I would fuck her so completely that I was her first, her last, her everything. My cum on her—in her—would mark her as mine.

  Still holding her fast with one hand, I stroked her clit with my fingertips. The fear drained from her as I worked her into a frenzy. Her clit was a delicious little nub that demanded to be sated. I would give Stella what she wanted, what she needed.

  I swirled the tip of my index finger around her clit and rubbed it in increasingly strong strokes. She was going wild, her hips meeting my movements with more and more urgency. She ground against me, begging for a release she wouldn’t get until every inch of me was buried in her tight heat.

  I brought my wet fingers to my mouth and licked her sweetness from them.

  She watched, her eyes glazed with lust, just like I wanted her.

  I slid my cock to her opening. Her flesh was no longer hot, but molten. The muscles along my back shook with the need to plunge into her, to take what I wanted just as roughly as I wanted it. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t hurt her. Not this time. Not yet.

  “Sinclair.” It was a reverent prayer from her bruised lips.

  I pushed inside, my head squeezing into her exquisite velvet. She moaned and clutched at my chest. I couldn’t tell if she wanted to push me away or pull me closer. Either way, I couldn’t stop. I needed her more than I’d ever needed anything in my life. I watched as I fed myself slowly into her, inch by inch. Further in, then out, then even further. When I was seated as deeply as I could go, her muscles clenched around me, pulling me farther inside. Still, I wanted more. I wanted it all.

  I wrenched her hands above her head and pinned them as I drew back and filled her completely.

  “Fuck.”

  “Sinclair, please.”

  I had never heard a sexier sound in my life.

  “Please what?”

  She rubbed up against me, her clit begging for release just as her mouth did.

  “Please just, just…I want to come.”

  Fuck. My cock pulsed inside her, perilously close to the edge. I steadied my breathing.

  “Do you want me to make you come, Stella?”

  “Yes.”

  I pulled out and slid all the way back in before starting a slow rhythm. Her face was a mix of pleasure and pain as I slowly made her mine.

  “Look at me, Stella.”

  Her eyes were half mast, but locked on mine all the same. I wanted her to watch me as I brought her pleasure. The fucking barbarian who lived in my breast demanded it, demanded that she acknowledge I was the only one who could give her the release she was begging for.

  I licked into her open lips before taking her mouth again. I claimed her fully, my cock and my tongue embedded in her and giving her gratification. I knew my seed was close to bursting, my balls drawn up tight against me. I wouldn’t come, not until she did. Once I felt her muscles milking me, I would coat her pussy lips. The picture in my mind almost sent me over the edge.

  I pulled out to my tip and kissed down to her hard nipple. When I released her hands, she put them in my hair, pulling until it hurt and I growled against her tender flesh. I bit down on her nipple and fucked her harder, ramming my cock deep into her. Her hips rose up to meet me, marking my rhythm.

  I knew she was close, the tension building in her as I’d intended. Each shuddering thrust went right to her clit. She arched off the couch, her gorgeous breasts shaking from my impacts as she rubbed her clit into me stroke for stroke.

  “Don’t stop! Please, Sinclair. Don’t stop.” Her voice was sex, raw and low.

  As if I had a choice. There was no stopping, not now, not when I was so deep in her slick pink.

  “Come for me, Stella. I own this body. Now I want it to come.”

  “Sinclair.” She thrashed her head from side to side.

  I couldn’t tell if she was refusing me or lost in her own passion. Either way, she needed to focus on me. I gripped her hair and forced her to meet my eyes.

  I plunged into her, my skin slapping into her with each vicious strike. The sound reverberated around the room. I fucked her like an animal, vicious and base. Her moans spurred me on harder and faster.

  I gripped her hair tightly, the fine strands catching on my fingers. I wanted her to feel nothing but me, think nothing but me. “You’re mine. Come for me Stella. Now.”

  At my words, her pussy convulsed and she cried out my name in a river of release. The sound was unbearable. I pulled from her and lashed her clenching flesh with ropes of cum. My release was ripped from me, my body seizing from head to toe as I fisted my length and coated her with my seed. Her gaze was fastened on me as I came. There in her eyes was something I never even imagined to see. It was possessive, proud even.

  When my last ounce of cum rested on her perfect skin, I sat up and let my head fall back. I gulped in deep breaths as she panted beneath me.

  “That was, that was…” She sputtered beneath me, her eyes glassy.

  “I know,” I said.

  As I stared at the ceiling, invisible guilt and responsibility crashed down on me. What had I done? Weren’t things already complicated enough?

  “Don’t do that.” Her voice was soft now, the release liquefying her tension.

  “Do what?”
/>
  “Regret it. Regret me.”

  How could I not?

  A sound like a gunshot echoed around the room, then another. I snapped my head back down. Lucius stood in the doorway, slow clapping. I fell back, grabbed my coat from the floor, and covered Stella.

  “Very nice, big bro. I’m going to have to go rub one out after that.”

  Stella covered her face with both hands.

  “Don’t be shy, Stella. I really enjoyed the whole show. Your tits are, in a word, epic. And I can only imagine how sweet that pussy is for Sin here to bust a nut so quickly.”

  “Get out.” I stood and yanked my pants up.

  “I was just up for a midnight snack, is all. You can’t blame me for making sure there wasn’t a burglar. You know, the kind that fucks really loudly before robbing the place blind.” He smirked. I hated it, mostly because it was almost the perfect mirror of mine.

  I advanced on him. He backed away laughing. “I’m going. Because, seriously, going to have to stroke it before I can even think of sleeping again. I’ll, of course, have to replace you with me in the reenactment, but I’m sure you understand.”

  I stalked toward him, ready to murder my own blood. How fitting.

  He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway, his smug laugh shredding my already non-existent composure.

  I returned to Stella and used my coat to clean her off. She draped an arm over her tits and then pushed her skirt down to cover herself. When she sat up and turned to get her shirt, I saw the scars on her back.

  My guts wrenched, the memory of that night making my stomach churn and bile rise into my throat. So much pain. Her blood had soaked into my clothes. As soon as the spotlight was gone and the ballgoers’ attention was turned elsewhere, I’d carried her out, clutched closely to my breast. I couldn’t bear for anyone else to touch her, look at her. Her blood soaked through the vining cloak, painting everything a gruesome crimson and scenting the air with copper.

  Her blood still covered my hands, though only I could see it. And now I’d taken even more from her. Remorse wasn’t an option for me, not anymore. I’d set out to be this, to do this, to become the monster I had to be.

  I reached out and ran my hand across one of the marks. She froze and glared at me over her shoulder. The accusation in her eyes was warranted, more than fair. It still struck me hard, embedding in my chest and spreading its barbs into my heart.

  She yanked her top down, hiding what I’d done to her. Her cheeks were red, shame or some other emotion tingeing them with rose.

  “It’s time for you to make good on your promise. I want to see my father and stepbrother.”

  “What? Now?” I hadn’t seen that coming. I should have.

  “Yes. You said you’d arrange it when I asked. So, I’m asking.”

  I didn’t want them here, poisoning her against me. Though that was a ridiculous thought. I was doing it plenty well on my own.

  She bristled at my hesitation. “Well, are you going to be true to your word or not?”

  My mother would have struck her for such an impertinent question. I didn’t move. “I’m always true to my word. What day would you like to see them?”

  “Tomorrow, in the afternoon.”

  “Fine, but only for an hour. No more.”

  “An hour? That’s not enough time t-to—”

  “I never promised you how long they could visit, I just agreed that they could.” I hated the thought of her stepbrother here, speaking to her, thinking he had any sway over her. He didn’t. He never would again.

  She stood and smoothed her skirt down with quick, angry movements. “You know what? I was wrong before. You should regret it. You should regret all of it.”

  She left, never looking back and taking more of me with her than I should have allowed.

  Stella

  I fidgeted with my hair, pulling it to the back and ensuring it covered the tattoo. I didn’t want Dad or Dylan seeing the permanent brand. I wore a simple black sweater and a gray skirt. To their eyes, I would no doubt look the same as I had a month ago. Only I knew that the woman they remembered was long gone.

  The front door opened and footsteps approached. I stood, nerves making my movements jerky. I was desperate to see my father, but I worried he would get too worked up. He didn’t need to suffer any more than necessary.

  Dad rushed in and embraced me. I didn’t realize my tears were falling until they rolled down to my lips, salty on my tongue.

  “Daddy,” was all I could choke out.

  Dylan stood a few steps back, bowed up with rage. Vinemont stood behind them, leaning against the wide doorway into the sitting room.

  My father held me for the longest time. He stroked my hair and kept saying he was sorry.

  I pulled away and looked into his watery blue eyes. “Don’t be sorry. I chose to do this. I would do anything to keep you safe.”

  He shook his head, now covered in even more gray than I remembered. “That’s what I’m supposed to do. Not you.”

  “We’re going to get you out of here, Stella.” Dylan crushed me in his thick arms, squeezing me to him.

  “I will get you back,” he whispered in my ear.

  I rested my chin on his shoulder and caught Vinemont staring daggers at Dylan.

  Jealous, Vinemont?

  I placed a chaste kiss on Dylan’s cheek and glanced at Vinemont. He fisted his hands at his sides, the impeccable suit and tie he wore doing a poor job of hiding the animal underneath.

  Dylan set me back and looked me up and down. “Has he hurt you?”

  “I-I—”

  Dylan whirled and advanced on Vinemont who just stood and smirked. He was taunting Dylan, drawing him in so he could hurt him. I knew the power in Vinemont’s body, the way he could break even a man like Dylan.

  “No one has hurt me,” I lied. “Please, just, let’s just sit down. We only have an hour. Please.”

  He stopped only a few feet from Vinemont, and the men engaged in a testosterone-laden stare down. I went to Dylan and tried to pull him away.

  “Come on, Dylan. Sit with me.”

  He laid a hand over mine and an arm around my waist. Vinemont crossed his arms over his chest, muscles popping even through his dress shirt.

  I led Dylan away before my hour was stolen with pointless violence. I’d already had enough of that for a lifetime.

  Dad sank down in a fluffy side chair as Dylan and I sat on the floral sofa. Sun poured into the room, belying the chilly air outside. My father was thinner, though he seemed well put together, his clothes new and pressed. Dylan wore his usual rugby shirt and jeans.

  Vinemont didn’t move from the door. I glared up at him, willing him away. He smiled back, daring me to ask him to leave. I knew it was useless. Instead, I put my hand in Dylan’s and laced our fingers together.

  Enjoy the show, asshole.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw him shift from one foot to the other, tension in his taut muscles. I’d seen them, intimately, closely. I brushed those thoughts away and focused on my father.

  “How have you been?”

  He looked at the floor before bringing his gaze back to mine. “I know I keep saying it, but I’m sorry. I should have just let him lock me up. I should have… You never should have come here.”

  “I don’t want to talk about should haves or could haves. We only have a short time and I want to hear about you. How’s the house? Have you had any more trouble from your old clients? Did any of my paintings sell?”

  I forced a smile to my face, encouraging my father to engage with me like we were normal human beings, not as a grieving father and an enslaved daughter.

  “Oh, your paintings.” He almost managed a smile. “Yes, yes. The gallery called. Just a few days ago, some highbrow collector came in and bought every last one of your works.”

  “Someone bought out the gallery?”

  “No, not the whole gallery, just your pieces. It was the damnedest thing. Paid full for each one an
d had them shipped. I don’t know who it was, and the gallery kept their information confidential. But the check was real enough.” His gaze dropped again. “I put it in your account. It’ll be there when you get back.”

  My heart soared at the thought of my art gracing some collector’s walls. I’d never sold more than a few paintings every so often. Certainly, no one had ever bought two at once. This news was like Christmas… Then I remembered what my real Christmas would entail.

  My smile faltered a bit before I plastered it back across my face. “Dylan, how’s school?”

  “Same old, same old. My lacrosse team is leading the SEC like it does every year…” He gave the broad strokes of his life outside, the start of a new school year. Instead of making me feel better, it only reinforced my isolation here at the Vinemont estate.

  I resolved to get outdoors more, especially now that my back had healed. Renee had spoken of stables on the property. I’d always been a decent rider.

  When Dylan wound down, my father leaned forward and took my hands. “Please tell me what you’ve been doing for the past month. I think about you every moment.”

  I glanced to Vinemont. His gaze bored into me.

  “I mostly stay in the house. I read and paint. There are others here. I have a good friend, Renee. And Vinemont’s brothers are pleasant, especially the youngest, Teddy.” Okay, I may have fibbed a bit—well, a lot—but I couldn’t exactly explain that I was whipped bloody and paraded around naked.

  “Has he hurt you? Has anyone? I couldn’t bear to think of them hurting you.” The tears welled in Dad’s eyes again.

  I shook my head in vehement denial. “No, no. They’re all very nice here. I’m fine, really. It’s like an upscale prison, really. Food’s good, too. Far better than anything you ever made, Dad.”

  That would have made him laugh a month ago. Now, though, he only smiled sadly.

  “If they just keep you around as a pet, what’s the point?” Dylan asked.