by Alta Hensley
I had claimed her ass last night, but I wanted more. I wanted so much more. I wanted her to know she was mine—to never doubt it for a single moment. I fucking wanted her. Her. Her.
Fuck me.
I wanted her.
She was a picture of perfection, and I was quickly entranced by the splendor swimming only a few feet away. I had seen many a woman—nudity not being anything new in my life and my profession with Spiked Roses. I had touched many a woman, claimed many more, but nothing compared… nothing compared to this woman before me. My cock throbbed and grew painfully hard against my pants.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep cleansing breath, needing to clear my mind and calm my raging libido. I couldn’t think like this, especially not about a woman contractually owned by someone else. A very powerful and ruthless someone else. She was just an employee, and I needed to remember that. An employee. Nothing more.
Still… she was hypnotizing in her allure, and so fucking infuriating in her stubbornness. I had never been attacked, cursed at and fought with like I had been with her. Women lusted after me. Wanted me. Seduced me. Even feared me. None were ever brave enough to try to push my boundaries such as Anita had. But Anita was no ordinary woman, that much was for sure. She had already tried to escape, and I had no doubt that she would attempt to do so again if given the opportunity… yet right now she was just going for an innocent dip in the pool to start her day. To a hotel guest, no one would guess that she had just sold her body to a killer who would use and abuse her however he chose.
Was it her tattoos that hypnotized me? Seeing her in nothing but her underwear and the color of the flowers and vines going up her entire body contrasting with the black lacy lingerie reminded me of the most expensive art in any gallery. She was walking art. Walking dark and delicious art.
As she finally dove deep into the water, I gathered my composure and walked into the room that housed the pool and sat down on a cheap plastic chair. The room smelled of chemicals, and I worried that it may not be safe for Anita to be inhaling the fumes. I was pretty sure the pool boy had an IQ of nothing or didn’t give a fuck. Hell, Anita’s skin may burn off from some lazy ass just pouring a gallon of shit in there without a care in the world.
Trying not to overthink, or even consider the legalities of a possible lawsuit for poor pool maintenance, which unfortunately was in my nature, my eyes focused on the erotically enchanting performance before me. It was like a goddamn dance watching the way she swam—her lean body slicing through the blue water with such graceful ease. If she didn’t belong to someone else, at least for two weeks, I would have stripped down and fucked her right there in the pool—bystanders be damned. But things were different. She was different. Anita Kyle was owned by Marco Nunez. Plain and simple. Black and white, and I operated in black and white. So, I needed to listen to my fucking mind and not my fucking cock. My cock demanded, painfully so, but my mind and my business ethics now won the battle. So, I sat in this piece of shit chair and observed instead.
“Are you watching me? Really? Do you think I’m going to run away in my bra and panties while barefoot?”
The words pierced through my lustful thoughts, which with the raging hard on that I had, was welcomed.
“I told you last night when your dick was buried in my ass that I wouldn’t run away again. So why are you here watching me like some crazy stalker?” Anita demanded yet again, her voice louder than before.
I steadied my glare on her, not allowing her to gain control, even though my body felt like a fifteen-year-old boy’s about to have a wet dream he couldn’t control. “I didn’t give you permission to leave the room.”
“I didn’t know I had to ask. You said not to run away again. I agreed to that. Nothing more.”
“That may be. But I advise you, unless you want to feel my wrath again, to ask permission to leave my sight. Don’t make me have to hunt you down even if that means looking for you in the goddamn ladies’ room.” I tried to sound stern and domineering even though the mere presence of this woman stole almost all coherent thought from me. Amazing what a hard dick does to a man.
“Fine.” She paused. “Are you just going to sit there staring at me?”
I raised my brow, amused by her words. “Maybe I like what I see. You can’t blame a man for admiring. Spiked Roses is built on that concept. Admiring beautiful things.”
“No, Spiked Roses is built on giving rich men whatever the fuck they want. Whatever. The. Fuck. They. Want.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle with the way she mimicked how I’d recited my hiring speech. “You remember my lecture when I hired you I see.”
She pushed her legs up and floated onto her back, staring up at the concrete ceiling. Her tits bobbed above the water just beckoning my touch, my lips, my tongue caressing those perky nipples. I wanted to trace my fingertips along the colors of her tattoo that ran along the side of her flat stomach and curvy hips. Jesus, those tattoos were going to be the death of me. They were so beautiful, so artistic, so rebellious, and so fucking sexy.
Fuck!
“I remember what you said.” Her arms moved gracefully under the water, propelling her body further away from me. “But I saw it first hand. I saw that the men got what they wanted, or they took it. Not necessarily by force, but by the power of money, gifts, compliments, promises of a future of never having to work again. They hung a carrot of a new life only girls like me dream of, which meant that yes, they got whatever they wanted. You were all nothing but a room full of bastards and whiskey.” She flipped over onto her stomach and swam back in my direction, locking her eyes with mine. “But at the same time, we were nothing but a room full of harlots and diamonds. So who’s to judge?”
Would she blame me if I yanked her out of the pool, threw her against the wall and fucked her brains out right then and there? Her insight and words were just as stunning as her body.
I needed to regain control. She was getting into my head. I never allowed anyone to get into my head. It’s how I won. It’s how I mastered every situation. I got in the heads of others. Not the other way around.
“Get out of the pool now,” I said firmly.
“Go to hell.”
“Now. We need to get on the road.”
Her annoyance was plain to see, though I really didn’t care. I was here on a mission, and I wouldn’t let this little vixen dictate a thing. If she even got a whiff that I was losing my resolve, the battle would be lost.
Hearing a distinct huff of irritation, I watched as Anita climbed out of the pool, beads of water dripping down her barely concealed body. The swell of her breasts were so obvious with her wet bra exposing enough that it invited my darkest thoughts, her erect nipples pleading to be sucked while I plunged my cock balls deep into her while stretching that perfect pussy that was so beautifully accentuated by the soaking black lace that molded against her folds. I could feel my dick hardening even more—if that were possible—and my control softening again.
I shouldn’t have claimed her ass last night. What had I been thinking? It had just given me a sip of what I now knew I wanted to indulge in. I wanted it all. I wanted her. I wanted her like no one I had ever wanted before.
But she wasn’t mine.
I had to keep telling myself that. Beat that into my stubborn mind.
She. Wasn’t. Mine.
For the first time in my adult life, I couldn’t have what I wanted. It made me want to kill someone. It made me want to kill Marco Nunez.
When Anita stood in front of me, reaching to the plastic table beside me to collect her clothing, I couldn’t help but let my gaze fall to a tattoo of a poppy curving its way from her hip to her most intimate self, the reddish-pink of the ink playing peek a boo around the thin strap of her black panties. I wanted to reach out to her, rip those panties effortlessly off her, thrust my fingers past her velvety folds, making her cry out in pleasure. I wanted to pull her to me, my lips caressing hers, tasting the sweetness of her kiss, licking the desire b
eyond her mouth. I wanted to hear my name come out in pants, moans, whispers and pleas for more of what I so desperately wanted to give her.
Anita stood before me then, her clothing in one hand as she reached for a white towel with the other. As if unaware of what she had just put me through, she slowly pulled the fabric around her, covering herself from my watchful eye, and began rubbing her body dry. Only when she went to walk past me and back in the direction of our hotel room, did I reach out to her, my roughened fingers grasping around her throat. I squeezed just enough to show I meant business. Just enough to dominate. Just enough to remind her that I had the power, the strength and the control, even though I was fucking lying to myself. I was weak. She made me fucking weak.
“Do not push me today. I don’t have the patience. Understand?”
Anita stared up to me with wide eyes. Big brown eyes of shock rather than fear. She parted her sensual lips to help her gain the air that I restricted, but she never struggled or seemed afraid. It was almost as if my hand belonged on her neck and it somehow gave her comfort.
“Yes,” she squeaked out.
Slowly I leaned into her, kissed her full on the lips, hungry for the taste of her. Squeezing her neck a little tighter, but making sure her breaths could escape her pouty lips, I danced my greedy tongue with hers.
Hesitantly, I pulled away, releasing my choke hold on her. I placed my hand on her lower back and silently led her in the direction of our hotel room, trying to not overthink what I’d just done.
Drawing on the last of my waning control, I reminded myself she was just a cigar-girl at Spiked Roses and there were many of those waiting for me back home. As she put it… there was a room full of harlots and diamonds, and that is where this bastard belonged.
14
Anita
I stood in the bathroom naked, staring at my reflection in the mirror, my fingertips touching my neck where Kenneth had just choked me again. Again. I should be outraged, and yet… My breath caught in my throat when I realized that moisture of arousal blended with the remnants of the chlorinated water on my silky folds, throbbing in need. His show of power caused my body to betray me. My body was a deceitful bitch, but a bitch who knew what she wanted.
And she wanted.
Believe me, she wanted.
A tiny pulse thumped within my pussy, demanding more of what Kenneth had just given a glimpse of. He’d cracked the spine of a book that had yet to be opened, and chapter one had left me so hungry so see what would come. I was hooked. Hooked.
I had heard many stories from the other women at work about the passions a wealthy and powerful man could create in a woman, emotions that would cause her to want to offer her full submission if it meant she could be seized in his arms. Captured in his world… a world every woman at Spiked Roses so desperately wanted to be a part of. Many women at Spiked Roses I knew welcomed the role of dominance and submission willingly, some even craved it. Most spoke of how natural the dynamic was since these men exuded dominance from their pores. You only had to look at them and feel their control over you. You wanted their control. You prayed that you would be the lucky one chosen. The same women found me odd in that I didn’t necessarily agree. It wasn’t that I was some hard-core feminist or believed that women should never give a man power. It was simply the fact that I didn’t see it happening. I was prepared to fake it, however, for the sake of making good money. But I was not going to be like them. I didn’t have one submissive bone in my body. I was a damn good liar though. I could fake the arousal from blatant displays of dominance… until Kenneth that is.
Something about him. Something about what he had done to me in the last twenty-four hours made me relate to all the stories from the staff. I could see what they spoke of now. I could understand. I could finally agree. Up until now, I had thought the women were only blinded by the wealth. It had nothing to do with sexual dominance or the need to surrender to it. I’d thought it had boiled down to money and how desperately we all wanted even a fraction of what those men spent in one day. It wasn’t sexual… until now. Yes, with Kenneth, it had nothing to do with money. Hell, I lusted after him in a run down, cheap travel lodge.
I wasn’t naïve. I knew perfectly well what Kenneth would think of my actions when I left the cool water of the pool. I knew my nearly naked body would stir something in him. He was a man, plain and simple. I was a woman, and I knew the powers I too possessed. But for some reason, Kenneth was different—or at the least he made me feel different. The way he looked at me made me feel sexy, sensual, and beautiful. I had never felt beautiful before. It’s why I had the tattoos. They were beautiful. The colorful ink and the intricate artwork were all beautiful. I had beautiful on me, even though I didn’t feel it was in me.
Despite my unwillingness to show this man any surrender—at first—I found myself craving to know more about what this man wanted, what he desired, and even hungrier for him to demand my surrender again. Why? Why did I want this man to force my submission? Why did I like dancing along the dark edge of the cliff with this man? Why did I feel that I could unearth the devil from inside of him? And I wanted to. I so desperately wanted to.
I had never thought I would allow any man to truly dominate me. Maybe my body, for a price, but never my soul. I would never care what a man thought of me. Never. I believed that all men who frequented Spiked Roses were arrogant, entitled, cruel, selfish, and at times, even monsters. Filthy, disgusting, monsters.
I needed to remind myself of that belief, and stop giving Kenneth the power. I was letting him win. He was winning. He was seducing me, drugging me with his allure. I needed to get it together. But fuck! I wanted Kenneth to look at me more, with those eyes that made me feel beautiful… so beautiful.
Beautiful…
Yes, maybe I could use that to my advantage.
Maybe I would be able to change his mind and coax him to let me go free. Was it possible to seduce this powerful man? Could I get to his heart and not just his cock? He did think I was beautiful. I could see it. I could feel it. Could I use that as my weapon?
All my questions almost drowned me in thoughts, muddled my mind completely. I couldn’t think straight anymore, a weakness I couldn’t afford unless I wanted to get pissed on again by Marco. Or worse. Marco would make sure he did much worse to make me atone for what I had done. I’d run. I’d made him look weak. So he would no doubt prove to me he was far from it.
Getting dressed, I reminded myself that Kenneth had done little more than lead me back to his room. He had control. I wondered if I would be able to weaken it even the tiniest bit. I began to doubt he had even noticed my state of undress. Why should he? Women at Spiked Roses were near naked all the time, and he could have them naked with a slight nod of the head or flick of the wrist. Seeing me in a cotton bra and panties was nothing in his world. Being the man he was, Kenneth no doubt was immune to the female form. A man such as he, a rich bastard, was no doubt accustomed to desperate women throwing themselves at him, paying him with their carnal delights to guarantee their job at the club, or in hopes that they could get a taste of his life that he only showed to his girlfriends. Yes, his girlfriends had a luxury and a life we all dreamed of.
I exited the bathroom, prepared for my day. I needed to get away from this man and soon before he managed to return me to Marco, and before he could confuse me any further with his sexy draw. I couldn’t lose focus. I couldn’t give him that power. He already had enough.
My eyes settled on Kenneth’s figure standing near the window loading the bag. He was a very solidly built man, something I was sure had been obtained from good genes and maybe a personal trainer. Rich people always had personal trainers and chefs, but regardless how he did it, his muscles pressed against the fabric of his basic black tee. He was much taller than me, almost a full foot it seemed. His dark clothing seemed to match the dark aura he exuded. He glanced over his shoulder at me, obviously hearing me enter the room.
“We’ll be heading out now,” he
said with no emotion at all. “Are you ready to go, baby doll? The driver is meeting us at the car.” His arrogance had returned—fucker.
Walking up behind him, I stopped only a few feet away. I wanted to reach out to him, to beg him not to return me, but I doubted he would suddenly hear my pleas of mercy and change his mind. If I was going to escape, I would have to be smart about it. Count on myself and only myself. If I had learned anything in my life, it was that one fact. If you wanted something, you needed to make it happen yourself. No one else would. You had to be your own defender, your own champion, and your own savior.
“Please call me Anita,” I finally said, my tone so soft, my words barely able to be heard. I expected to have more force, but I was storing up my fight. It would come. The fight would fucking explode from within, but I had to plan it right. “Pet names are for people you either care about, or are given in a condescending way. So, since it is obvious you don’t care about me, please stop calling me baby doll. Give me that, please. A little respect?”
Kenneth’s hands fell from the bag he’d been loading, and he turned to face me. “Number one, I will say and call you whatever I want. You have no dictate over me. Number two, if I wanted to be condescending, there are a bunch of other names I could call you. You aren’t calling the shots here, baby doll. The sooner you accept that fact, the easier it’ll be for you.”
I nodded. “I know my situation loud and clear. I do not need your constant reminder that I’m trapped in a world full of arrogant assholes.”
