by Gina Whitney
“You’ve got such a pretty pussy, Gia. I’m a man starved for this pussy. When I’m done, I’m going to fuck you like the devil. My cock will be everything you’ve wished for, babe.” He winked. Cocky motherfucker. Holding my legs in place, he dove face-first into my pussy, pushing his tongue deep inside me—growling, devouring me whole. The sounds of him sucking, licking, and nipping my pussy made my muscles lock up. I reached for his hair. I needed to touch him. I wanted to hold his head to my pussy until I was good and ready to let go.
“Gia, put your damn hands above your head or I will tie you to the bed,” he growled. I acquiesced. I would have fucking died or killed someone if he had stopped. Oh God, don’t stop.
“God has no place here, babe.” His voice was demonic. Had I just said that aloud? Never lifting his face from his meal, he pushed my knees almost flush against my chest, lathering his face in my juice. Oh, God. His growling, biting, and sucking were sounds I would never forget. He was feral. Possessed. Using two fingers, he starting finger-fucking me as he sucked my clit. My legs shaking with deep vibrations, I started to rock my hips. Twisting the comforter in my hands, I began screaming. But he wouldn’t let up. The rumbling from his chest I barely registered as I floated back down to earth. My eyes now opened to a savage beast, leaning over to bite my inner thing. I yelped in surprise. He stood tall and proud, stoking his long, thick, massive cock, his face still glistening with my come. Nothing registered to this alpha. He had one thing on his mind and that was sinking his gorgeous cock into my soaked pussy.
“You want this cock now, babe?” he asked through gritted teeth. Still stroking it, he spit in his hand. Fucking hell.
“Please, Abel. I want you now,” I begged. I needed him now.
“Need to hear you say it, babe. Tell me you want me to sink my cock deep in you.” His voice was barely audible.
The grit in his tone had me wanting to grab his dick and fuck myself with it. He was watching me closely, his control threadbare.
“Abel, fuck me with that big gorgeous cock of yours. Grind that piercing over my clit,” I hissed. That did it! He couldn’t wait another minute—neither could I. He teased the entrance with the head. Going agonizingly slow, he paid special attention to my clit with his Apadravya: back and forth, round and round. The pressure mounted. I couldn’t handle another second of the exquisite torture. I leaned forward and grabbed his cock—hard.
“Stop fucking with me, fucker, and fuck me already,” I pleaded. He answered by feeding me his cock—one motherfucking inch at the time.
“I have to loosen you up a bit. I can’t go balls-deep yet. Let me work myself in there. Love my girl greedy for my cock. Gets me harder than fucking stone.” He growled breathlessly. Leaning over me, his eyes hooded, he fed me his delicious, scorching cock. He leaned down over my face, arms positioned on either side of my head. His warm breath hummed in my ear, as his hand reached down to stroke my clit.
“Come on, babe. Open for me,” he rumbled. Thrusting a bit harder and quicker, I felt my body breaking apart for this mythical creature. My eyes closed tightly as I tried to wrap my legs around his waist to lock him in place.
“Not yet, babe. I haven’t worked in my rings yet. I’ll tell you when you need to hang on.” He nipped my ear. I sighed. Fuck, I had thought he was all the way in! Christ, I wasn’t built for this kind of torment. I reached down to his butt cheeks and clamped down with my hands, pulling him deeper inside me. He corkscrewed his ass over and over. I screamed in pleasure.
“That’s it, mama. Scream for me. You’ll be doing a lot more of that,” he exclaimed. Biting my lip to stay in the present and not float away, I took a mental screenshot of the moment. I felt so full, with my walls stretched to accommodate his girth. With each thrust he sank deeper. And I fell a little harder. Yeah, I was fucked. Literally. The sound of my blood pumping through my veins roared in my ears. I couldn’t tell if it was my breathing or his. It was a hodgepodge of ecstatic noises. He placed his hands over mine, pinning them above my head.
“Arch your back for me, babe, and spread those pretty legs nice and wide. I’m going to own this pussy right the fuck now,” he hissed. I did as he asked, completely submitting. After all, this was what he had asked for: total and utter submission.
“That’s it, babe. Offer me that sweet cunt,” he whispered. How did he make my least favorite word sound like a fucking sonnet? I felt so incredible—so alive, our bodies in tune with one another, rutting rhythmically in a crescendo of lust, his frenum rings hitting spots I’d never sensed before. He manipulated my body with expert precision. I regarded his handsome face, relishing this beautiful man on top of me. His eyes bore into me with stealth-precision. Looking directly into my soul, he smiled wickedly, then kissed me deeply. Arrogant prick. Yeah, he knew he was the best ride in town. Fuck me.
Grinding my heels into the mattress to get better leverage, I met him thrust for thrust. He moved his fingers from my clit. With his other hand still pinning my arms above my head, he pushed my right thigh up from under my knee. Just then he hit a whole new angle and I lost it. Screaming his name, I clenched my pussy, squeezing his cock. As he jack-hammered me, I felt his head swell further. He released my hands, rushing to his knees. After a few long strokes of his dick, his hot thick ropes of come painted my tits and stomach. Yeah, he was an artist, all right. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted. His breathing was hurried, his body still. He looked like a fucking God—absolutely stunning. I would never get this image out of my head.
He opened his eyes finally—to see his handiwork, watching me closely. I smiled in post-coital bliss. I was blissed the fuck out. He leaned over and on top of me, kissing me with his full lips, coaxing my mouth open with his talented, wicked tongue, not caring that his come was smeared all over his body. Most men would mind. But he wasn’t most men. I accepted his kisses with a moan.
He kissed me for a long while until sleep drew me under. I slept without dreams, with just the sensation floating behind my eyelids of colorful pastel swirls. If I had any conscious thought it felt much akin to Alice and the rabbit hole. My body was enveloped in his scent, marking me right down to the bone. I would forever be his—whether he knew it or not. His to control. His to do with as he wished. His to consume, to eat away at my very soul. I was in that deep. My veins ran with his essence, the fuel, the nourishment, my body craved. His melodic gritty voice carried me to the surface of consciousness. It was faint, but it spoke to my heart—awakening me.
I opened my eyes, seeking him out. He was singing an a cappella version of …? What song was that? I knew it wasn’t one of Lethal Abel’s. I listened keenly, searching for any frame of reference. Oh, now I knew! It was his version of Katy Perry’s “Dark Horse.”video1 His had an edge to it. Nonetheless, it was beautiful. And more importantly, it was quintessential Abel. He mastered everything he did, on his terms.
Oh, God. His version of reality was quickly becoming mine. I laid back down and let his voice pull me back under again, swathing me in his gravelly tones—carrying me to him.
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[Listen to OLN’s version of “Dark Horse” here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKVknRFEhpc.]
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Chapter 1
Gia
Getting a job at Gunner ESQ was a dream come true—or the beginning of my dreams coming true. The brick fascia building loomed in comparison to the other buildings. Its cold detached stature gave a feeling of wealth and privilege. Large bay-front windows gave its occupants a spectacular view of Colorado’s snow-peaked mountain tops.
I had acquired this job with the assumption that I would run into Mr. Timothy Gunner’s gorgeous rock-star son, Abel. This scion’s son was a dreamy tatted-sleeved God who had my girly parts thick with cream and clenching. Thank God for my roommate and sister from another mister—Cindy. I owed her everything. After all, it was all her doing that I had a desk in this salacious world of moneyed elitists, aiding me in my quest to get tall dark a
nd dangerous into my clutches and then appropriately in my bed. We had a bet going that I couldn’t succeed in bedding this enigma. Hands down I stepped up and accepted the challenge. Fuck, yeah! I’m no pussy when it comes to challenges. I wear that shit like a badge of honor. Besides, I needed to get out of this Podunk town and into his Beverley Hills estate.
All I needed was to lay on copious amounts of tease and sex while he was here on one of his impromptu visits with his dad. It seemed this bad boy had gotten himself into a jam with one of his conquests. I snuck a peek at a confidential file in Mr. Gunner’s office. Yeah, I could lose my job if I were caught—but I was all ninja and shit.
“Incoming,” Cindy blurted manically as she rounded the corner of my desk walking to hers. Cindy was a tall waify blonde with the grace of a runway model, the mouth of a dock worker, and in addition, she was on the official karma police street team. She had blue-grey eyes, long legs that went on for days, and lengthy thick blonde tendrils reached the middle of her behind. Cindy loved the law, loved having that conversant edge over people. Not enough to practice it, but enough that being a law secretary was her only option.
‘Incoming!” she blurted. What was she getting at this early, I wondered?
“Incoming. Hello. As in: the eagle has landed, chick,” she huffed, giving me her signature eye roll.
“Speak fucking English, will you!” I snapped. Christ almighty, it was 9 a.m. and I already wanted to pound her face in—hard.
“Abel—you fucking retard!” She spoke through gritted teeth, clearly frustrated by my lack of understanding. The fuck. I quickly reached under my desk for my make-up bag, rummaging through it blindly till I landed on my favorite lip gloss. I wanted my lips glistening to the point of obscenity. I would leave nothing to chance. Chance was the fist-fucker of all fist-fuckers—and I left nothing to it. And I had had enough squandered opportunities in my life to know this intimately. One breath in. One long breath out.
A foreboding shadow hung in the doorway. Christ almighty. I swallowed, allowing my eyes to take in fucking perfection at its finest. My eyes found their way climbing ever so slowly to his beautiful face. I gasped audibly. One breath in. One long breath out. A bolt of white-hot energy ran from my nipples to my clit. Weirdly, my thoughts drifted to Ben-fucking-Franklin. My eyes closed on their own accord, as I collected myself, refocusing on the task at hand.
“Good morning, Mr. Gunner.” I smiled congenially and then he turned to Cindy.
“Morning, Cin.” He warmly greeted her. My heart squeezed for a moment at his playfulness and familiarity. He readjusted his eyes, bringing my face back into focus.
“Call me Abel.” A slow smile played with his perfect lips. Yeah, my eyes were there. God, they were luscious lips. Mmm. Probably tasted yummy too. Speaking of tasting … My eyes paid his body another visit. Jerking them upward, I met his enigmatic gaze: perfect brows framed his face, and his strong jawline extenuated his perfect cupid dimple, making him incredibly handsome—mouthwatering.
“Okay, Abel it is,” I replied, licking my own lips. Mine, mine, mine, my lascivious mind chanted. My body was battling an internal war that was quickly spiraling out of this galaxy.
“Can I get you some coffee, tea or water?” I offered.
“Nope.” He gestured to his venti Starbucks cup. Man, he was an addict just like me. This was perfect. He leaned in, bracing his hands on my desk, scanning the top of it. I leaned back with wide eyes. He grabbed my name plate, gesturing to it.
“Gia Mastro,” His raspy voice felt like velvet to my ears. He arched his picture-perfect brow.
“Miss Gia Mastro.” I accentuated the Miss so there was no misunderstanding that I was available—unattached.
“That’s a beautiful name, Gia.” He fingered his front pocket for a piece of gum, then put it in his mouth.
Cindy and I watched in rapt fascination as he chewed, his Adam’s apple riding up and down his throat like an elevator. Damn. What woman didn’t find a man’s Adam’s apple sexy? As he stared to and fro between Cindy and me, I took the opportunity to lean forward to better access his wears. He wore a closely fitted consider yourself saved tee shirt that clung to every ripple of his muscled chest. Dark-washed black denim enveloped his thick long legs, leaving that all-important V to peek out, winking at me. Oh, what did we have here? A hint of a colorful tattoo came dangerously close to his happy trail and disappeared into his pants. Going lower still, my eyes zeroed in on his maleness. Oh my. Was he turned on? Gesù Cristo. Jesus Christ. Gulp. Eyes up! Eyes up! I willed my mouth to speak, as I was quite positive I had just gotten busted for checking out his dick.
“Ah, thank you. Abel’s also very beautiful.” Ugh! “I mean, it’s different. But it suits you.” I tilted my tongue-tied head, awaiting his response. His eyes flashed a warning: heat, and a glint of danger—all of which sent a flood right down to my basement.
“Yeah, it’s cool. Anyways, I’m out. Nice meeting you, Gia. Enjoy the day, ladies.” He turned and was gone in three strides.
Still in a fog, I stood up from my solid cherry-wood desk, pushed back my leather wheeled chair—and was hit from behind with the force of an NFL fullback. I lost my balance, catching myself awkwardly on my file cabinet. I steadied myself and whirled around to give Cindy a what-the-fuck look.
“You’ve got to be fucking shitting me?” Grabbing my arm mightily, she nearly yanked it free from its socket.
“We need to talk. Bathroom. Now!” she huffed. I acknowledged her by ripping my arm back.
“Pipe down, you twat. Just wait a goddamn minute and stop making a fucking scene—jackass.” I rolled my eyes hard while massaging my injured arm. What the fuck. Apparently we were still practicing grade-school etiquette when it came to boys.
“What the fuck ever, G. Let’s go now, before Mr. I’m-gonna-hump-you-where-you-stand comes back.” She manacled my arm—again. But this time I went with her theatrics. I needed to break this shit down, second by second, to see if we both came up with the same plausible theories. He wanted me. Sure as fuck: he wanted me. I was 100% clear on that shit. Unless it was my deluded mind again, seeing what it wanted to see. My mind had this shit down-pat: it fed my sickness, and shoveled mental acid to this day-tripper. Damn. I didn’t know what the fuck had just happened.
“Christ, Cindy. What the fuck, chick!” I pushed the heavy massive bathroom door, stepping into a space that looked like something out of Versailles. I huffed, ejecting my arm from her clutches—again.
“You’re playing a very dangerous game, babe.” She raised her designer brow, nodding.
“And? Your point being?” I turned around, squatting to see if all the stalls were empty. This place employed some nosey fuckers.
“Hello? Am I addressing the living?” She clucked her tongue, then turned to the mirror to blot her lipstick. Sheesh. The bathroom had a décor rich in deep ebony and cream with flecks of gold immersed within the marble. An elaborate chandelier suspended from the ceiling gave all of Mr. Gunner’s well-off clients the feeling of being at home. The extravagant mirrors with intricate woodwork adorned the walls artfully, continuing the main theme of exclusivity—of belonging.
“Well, I snuck a quickie peek of your rocker’s personal file. And it seems an old flame or conquest is threatening to expose his sexual preferences to the public. Which I don’t have to be a public relations expert to tell you: this will be very damaging to Abel, his family, and of course the band. Total nightmare. Why do you think he’s here at 9 a.m. on a Friday morning taking a meeting with his dad and manager?” All this she said in one long breath. Yeah, I had already known that.
My lips curved into a big toothy smile and I nodded knowingly.
“What kind of sexual preferences? My sexual preference is often,” I laughed. I felt her give pause. Oh, here comes the motherfucking karma police. Even though Cindy’s sexual prowess preceded her at times, she suffered from some kind of trauma in her past that she flat-out refused to speak of. She didn’t like ove
rly dominant men—at all. Yeah, she talked the talk, but walked closer to vanilla then her lascivious mouth.
On the other hand, I was fearless … at least that’s what I projected. I got down with all that alpha male shit. I had never experienced a true BDSM Dom. I had had a couple of jealous boyfriends, but I had mistaken their insecurities and possessiveness for love. I had even gone as far as to allow one dude to tie me up. Nothing on a Mr. Grey level—but was there really even a Mr. Grey? Or was that just the fabrication of a horny homemaker with a nonexistent sex life? Lord, just talking about being bound had me all—tied up. A thousand tiny fires broke out across my skin, causing a heated sweat.
“Snap out of it!” She snapped her nimble fingers across my eyes. I blinked rapidly, dispelling another daydream.
“Okay, relax. We don’t even know if he wants to go out with me—yet.”
I excused myself to pee. I turned and headed for the handicapped stall. I needed to think for a minute in a stall that was a little bigger—more spacious. Quite a few people had a real problem with a non-disabled person using those facilities. Fuck ‘em. I had a handicapped grandmother with polio and the way I figured it, I had just as much right to be in there as a handicapped person. Christ, Cindy was a pain in my ass. Talk about giving someone a Cinderella complex. Well, fuck—I owned Cinderella.
Dislodging my belt, I lowered my pants and sat down, relishing the moment of silence. As I extended my hearing range wider, for a moment I could still hear Cindy barking and growling about isn’t it obvious this, and moth to a flame that. Shaking my head, I let my mind drift until I came to my floaty, peaceful place. Letting out a sigh of relief, I wondered how I had gotten to this state. Was I really going to latch onto a guy duplicitously to further my station?
