Stroke of Midnight

by K. Webster

  He pulls his finger out, and then I hear the zipper on his pants go down. I tremble as I anticipate him sliding inside me. When I feel the soft skin of his dick rub against my pussy, I whine, wiggling my butt at him.

  “Does this feel small to you?” he murmurs, sliding it over my clit.

  “It feels average,” I lie.

  He hums in disapproval, teasing his tip over my slick entrance. I want him to push inside me. Instead, he rubs against me, never entering.

  “Maybe I should put it here.” His words are cold as he tugs at the jewel of my butt plug. On reflex, I clench. “Ahh, relax, little one. You wanted to talk a tough game, and now it’s time to be tough.”

  A whine escapes me when he begins pulling on the plug. It burns as he gently tugs it from my ass. He tosses it onto the desk with a loud clank.

  “Tell me this feels average,” he growls, pressing his tip against my aching asshole. “Tell me.”

  “I, uh, it’s big.”

  “I said tell me it’s average.”

  “Winston,” I breathe, “it’s too big to go there.”

  “No, Ash, it’s average. You said so yourself. Beg me to put my average dick in your ass.”

  “It’ll hurt,” I croak out.

  “Fuck yes it’ll hurt, which is why I’m not going to fuck you with it.”

  His words are confusing.

  “I don’t know what you want,” I whimper.

  “I want you to beg for me to fill you with my average dick.”

  “Win—”

  “I have work to do,” he says, his words going cold. “Get dressed and—”

  “Put your average dick inside me, you piece of shit.”

  Fire burns through me as he roughly pushes his not-so-average dick past the sore ring of my asshole. I scream, uncaring that Deborah can hear, and grip the desk as he painfully drives into me. It’s a slow push that hurts like a motherfucker. Tears leak from my eyes, messing up my makeup. His dick is too big. I sob, overcome with pain and embarrassment.

  Why do I ask for this?

  Why do I allow it?

  He doesn’t move. He doesn’t fuck me. He doesn’t pull out.

  No, the awful bastard strokes my hair like I’m a kitten.

  “If I were to fuck you with no lube, I would tear your pretty ass up and make you bleed. You have no fucking idea what sort of restraint it takes to not do exactly that. I’m there. Inside you. Owning you.”

  My body trembles as I cry. I can’t form words.

  “But I’m not some teenage douchebag like your last boyfriend,” he rumbles. “This is just a freebie. To let you know what sort of dick you’re dealing with. It’s a preview before the main event. One day, I’ll fill this pretty ass up with my come. Today, you just get to feel it.” His hand works its way beneath me, seeking out my clit. Stars glitter in my vision as he rubs me there. “I want to feel you come with my dick buried in your ass. Then, you dirty, filthy fucking girl, I want you to wear my come all over your pretty face.”

  “Win,” I sob.

  “And you’ll do it, won’t you? Because you crave this goddamn crazy shit. Because you’re just as sick as me.”

  He pinches and tugs and rubs at my clit until I lose all sense of reality. I come while crying, my ass clenching painfully around his too-big dick. As I’m shuddering, he roughly pulls out, making me scream.

  “Get on your knees,” he growls. “You’ve made a mess of your face. It’s only right I do it too.”

  My body shakes as I stand and shove my skirt back down. When I go to reach for my panties, he shakes his head.

  “Leave them at your ankles.” He strokes his dick, his cruel stare drinking in every mascara-stained tear. “On your knees. Open your mouth like a greedy bird.”

  I lower myself to my knees, hating how degrading this feels. I’m doing it for free, too. That’s what’s even more fucked up. I could leave. Right now, I could storm out of here and out of his life and that would be the end.

  Why won’t I leave?

  “Open your lips and stick out your tongue,” he orders. “Taste all the come you’ve wasted that could be running out of your ass if it weren’t for your inability to be a real woman. You’re just a little girl who desperately craves a daddy.”

  “Fuck you,” I snap.

  His lips curl into a vicious grin. “There she is. Good girl.”

  My heart lurches, making me hate myself for being so moldable and weak.

  “I hate you,” I whisper.

  He strokes my hair. “Oh, sweetheart, I most certainly do not hate you. You’re the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  I open my mouth and stick out my tongue, stupidly eager for his come, because it’s what he’s asked for, and I want to please him.

  Messed up.

  So messed up.

  His thumb strokes my wet cheek in a loving way that sets my soul on fire. I flutter my eyes closed as salty come hits my tongue. It splatters my cheek and forehead, some landing in my hair. I’m a mess. A mess he made, and I don’t care.

  “Stay right there,” he orders.

  I remain still until I sense him crouching in front of me. With gentle, caring movements, he cleans my face off with tissue. When all the come and tears are gone, he presses a kiss to my lips.

  “You’re going to break me, Ash. It’s going to destroy the man I’ve fought so hard to become.” He pulls away to study me. “And, beautiful, I can’t find it in me to give a damn.”

  19

  Winston

  Ash Elliott is going to kill me.

  There’s no doubt about it. Seeing her wrecked and messy earlier at the office, on her knees dutifully obeying me will be the ultimate way to die. I’ll drop dead of a heart attack one day because the sight is so fucking perfect I can’t even handle it.

  Which, naturally, makes me an utter monster.

  A villain.

  Despicable.

  I should hate myself for wanting to ruin such a pretty, funny, bright young thing. Instead, I simply count down to the moment when I can do it again.

  I will do it again.

  Each time I break a little piece of her, it draws her closer to me. I’ve always been someone coldhearted and untouchable, but by giving herself so freely to me, I have a duty that’s etched into the marrow of my bones to protect and care for her.

  I get to wreck her so I can fix her.

  It’s the vicious cycle we’ve found ourselves in, and I’m not one of those creatures who embraces change. No, I loathe it. So this perverse, infinite circle will continue on, growing momentum each time we round another curve of depravity.

  “Did you enjoy your food?” I ask, nodding at her barely-touched plate.

  Her face is makeup free, and the hairs around her face have begun to lose their straightness and have frizzed slightly. After I came all over her pretty face, she spent a good half-hour in the bathroom washing her face and doing whatever the fuck else. If I had to guess, psyching herself up to quit on me. But the moment she exited the bathroom, I pounced on her with a heated kiss, some much-needed words of praise, and an invitation to lunch.

  “It’s good. I’m not that hungry.” She fidgets in her seat, staring out the window of the tiny bistro we’ve found ourselves in.

  “You want to talk about what happened?”

  Her hazel eyes fly to mine. “Not really.”

  “I’ll pay a thousand dollars for this conversation.”

  “Not everything has a price tag,” she hisses, her spine going rigid.

  “Perhaps,” I agree, “but many things do. You and I work well on this system. Don’t quit on me now.”

  She lets out a heavy sigh. “I get that you like to humiliate me but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “It makes me feel used.” She bites on her bottom lip. “Afterwards, I feel . . . unlike myself.”

  I study her for a long minute. “That’s your insecurities speaking. I can assure you, when I shell out thousan
ds of dollars for what you give to me, I don’t for a second feel used.”

  “But it’s weird, Winston. It’s weird we’re doing this together.”

  “I’m sorry to burst your bubble, baby, but it’s not that weird. People all have their different kinks. Unfortunately, until now, I haven’t been able to find someone who matches up to me perfectly.”

  “I don’t like it,” she argues, her brows furrowing. “It makes me feel gross.”

  I reach across the table and take her hand. She softens when I give it a squeeze. My thumb caresses her soft flesh as I admire her sweet, pouty lips.

  “I hate to break it to you, but you enjoy it. It embarrasses you that you do, but your pussy doesn’t lie, Ash.”

  She looks over her shoulder, as though making sure no one heard my crude words. It pleases me her face blushes crimson. “Fine,” she whispers. “I guess, to a certain degree, I do like it. But that’s fucked up, Win. Why do I like it? How do I live with myself?”

  I let go of her hand and pull out my wallet. After setting a few bills on the table, I stand and help her to her feet. She links her arm with mine.

  “You’re my pleasure partner,” I say, amusement in my tone as we exit the bistro. “It’s an agreement between us. We sort out the details. It’s something we play together. Our games. No one else’s. As long as I’m happy and you’re happy, does it really matter if it’s weird or not a kink you’re familiar with?”

  She stops and looks up at me once we’re outside. The sun shines on her pretty face, highlighting a splash of freckles on her nose. “It makes me feel like you don’t like me. Like I’m just this thing you want to hurt and come all over.”

  I stand facing her and cup her cheeks with my hands. “Look at me and hear me well.” She nods, her hazel eyes wide and searching mine for answers. “I want you for so much more than that.”

  Her bottom lip trembles. “But you didn’t want me to sleep in your bed. After everything . . . I thought . . .”

  So young.

  “That’s my issue, not yours,” I say gently. “I’ve been ice cold my entire life. Thawing for you is something I crave, but it won’t be easy.” I kiss her supple lips that taste like the lemonade she drank at lunch. “I’ll try to be warmer for you. This is give and take after all. You’ve been giving so graciously, so it’s only fair I give back.” I take her hand in mine and thread our fingers together. “Do you like this?”

  A shy smile tugs at her lips. “It seems cheesy after what we did today.”

  “My girl likes cheese with her whine.” I lean forward and nip at her bottom lip. “Now let me buy you a present.”

  Her eyes roll and she shakes her head. “You don’t have to buy me anything.”

  “I’m a rich old man with nothing better to spend his money on. Indulge me, Cinderelliott. Besides, you have a birthday party to attend not this weekend but the next. I can’t have you showing up and not looking the part.”

  “The part? Your assistant? Your maid?”

  I bark out a laugh. “We both know you’re much more than that.”

  It isn’t until we begin walking toward some high-end shops that I speak again. “My birthday party will be an over-the-top affair my mother puts on. She’s obsessed with spoiling her children on their birthdays and rubbing it in everyone’s faces that they’re not a Constantine. Everyone praises her while she parades her children around like exotic pets no one is allowed to touch. It’s been this way since my first birthday, and it’s this way for every Constantine child.”

  “My birthdays were certainly nothing like that,” she comments. “Sounds intense.”

  “You have no idea. Everyone will talk about who wore what and who was invited. I’ve invited your family, but I want to invite you in case Manda hasn’t mentioned it.”

  “She didn’t mention it,” she grumbles. “No surprise there. I bet she told the Terror Triplets.”

  “Don’t worry, beautiful,” I assure her. “They won’t be a problem at the party.” I stop in front of the dress shop and give her hand a squeeze. “There will be one issue. One I’m not ready to address with my family. I’m a private man.”

  “I wonder why,” Ash deadpans, making me want to bend her over right there and smack her ass.

  Ignoring her sassy remark, I blurt out what needs to be said. “As far as everyone’s concerned at the party, you’re my assistant. Yes, you’ll dress much better than anyone there, but we can’t show up arm in arm.”

  Her features fall. “Oh.”

  “And it’s not because of whatever shit you’re spinning in your head right now,” I growl. “It’s because the moment people get wind I’m officially with someone, we’ll get hounded. Not just from reporters and magazines but also by my family.”

  “Okay, I’ll Uber there, I guess.”

  I cringe at the thought of Ash inside a disease-infested shit car in a dress that costs ten grand. “Don’t insult me, little girl.”

  She laughs, sweet and melodic. “It’s just, I really enjoy the look on your face whenever I mention Ubers.”

  “A sadist, I see,” I taunt. “Kind of like I enjoy the look on your face when my come is dripping from your eyelashes.”

  “Win!”

  Chuckling, I drag her into the dress shop. As soon as the two women working the store see me, they nearly trip over themselves to assist. I not-so-gently shove Ash toward them.

  “Black tie affair,” I grunt out. “Something blue for my assistant.”

  The women flutter around Ash while I plop down in an armchair. Sprawling out, I scratch at my jaw as I watch them fuss over her. I can tell she’s not used to getting the star treatment in a shop. My little sisters, Vivian, Elaine, and Tinsley are spoiled girls and would already have these ladies rushing all over to accommodate them. Not Ash. She seems overwhelmed and shoots me a helpless look.

  “Get the girl some champagne,” I bark out.

  One of the women jolts like she’s been shocked and scampers off. Ash glares at me. I shrug and then set to taking care of some business on my phone. They parade her in front of me for an hour, choosing more daring choices each time. The thought of her stepbrothers seeing all her skin on display puts me in a really terrible fucking mood.

  “No,” I grind out. “This is a Constantine party, not a high school prom.” I stand, pocket my phone, and then thumb through some more modest selections. “This one.”

  The woman makes a face. “It’s very . . . simple.”

  “I like that one,” Ash chimes in. “It’s chic and pretty.”

  That settles it.

  “Put it on, and let me see,” I instruct.

  “Yes, boss,” Ash grumbles, sticking her tongue out at me.

  The woman helping her gapes, horrified at her action. I narrow my eyes, giving Ash a look that promises punishment for her naughty tongue. While Ash dresses in the fitting room, I send some emails.

  “This is an Edward Arsouni Couture evening gown. Very elegant,” the woman says, suddenly a fan of the dress. “Timeless, really.”

  Lifting my gaze, I’m pleased with the way it hugs Ash’s curves in a tasteful way my mother will approve of. It has three-quarter-length sleeves and is floor length, a rich jacquard-blue with twinkling beaded embellishments.

  “Look,” Ash says, smoothing her hand over the design. “It’s a bird.”

  “Beautiful. She’ll need shoes and a handbag,” I tell the women. “Wrap it up.”

  Ash preens a little, spinning and watching the way the dress swirls around her. Even in a simple dress, she’s breathtaking. It’ll be difficult hiding the way this girl makes me feel. Mother will sniff it out and demand answers, that’s for damn sure.

  But unlike most mothers who want their son to find a good girl and get married, my mother will be ready to shred Ash’s life hunting for reasons why she isn’t good enough. That’s exactly why I want to avoid the subject of my seeing someone. Eventually, after Ash attends enough events with me, it’ll become a conversation I�
�ll have to have with Mother, but until then, I’ll evade it as long as possible.

  Ash goes back into the fitting room. I rise and follow after her, eager to ruffle her feathers a bit. She gasps when I slip through the curtain. Her hazel eyes are wide as she stares at me in the mirror.

  “Let me assist,” I rumble, stepping close to grab hold of the zipper.

  She stills as I unzip the dress. Gently, I push the dress off her shoulders and down her arms. Her tits jiggle in her black bra, looking like two tasty temptations wrapped in sheer lace. I help her out of the dress, ignoring the way my dick strains in my slacks when I get a prime view of her sexy ass in matching panties.

  I take the dress from her and hand it to the woman waiting outside the dressing room. She rushes off with it, leaving us in privacy.

  “Good girls deserve rewards,” I growl as I stalk her way.

  She turns, her brow arched high. “Like an eight-thousand-dollar dress?”

  “The free kind of reward,” I clarify. “Sit on the bench.”

  “Winston . . .” She frowns. “They’ll hear.”

  “They’re busy wrapping up your dress. Let’s get to it if you want privacy.”

  Hesitation flashes over her features before decision settles in her hazel orbs. She sits down on the bench. I kneel down in front of her and wrench her thighs apart.

  “Oh, how the mighty hath fallen,” she taunts, clearly loving that she thinks she has the upper hand.

  “I can still own you from my knees, Cinderelliott. Mark my words.”

  Dipping down, I inhale her cunt that is fragrant with her arousal. She whimpers when I run my nose over her clit. The lace is wet.

  “Dirty girl,” I croon. “Always so needy for me.”

  I lick her pussy over her lacy panties, loving the way she bucks and her head hits the wall behind her. Reaching up, I pull down the cups of her bra to expose her tits to me. At first, I tease her with a tonguing all over her pussy. She squirms and fidgets, clearly needing more.

  “I need you,” she breathes.

  “Not yet.” I smirk at her and then nip at her pussy. “Soon.”

  Lifting her ass with my palms, I maneuver her as I eat her pussy in a teasing way. It would be easier to rip her panties off, but I love that she wants to be penetrated. A sheer piece of fabric keeps my tongue at a safe distance. Her frustration is evident by the ways she wriggles.