Stroke of Midnight

by K. Webster

  I easily bring her to orgasm with just a few urgent strokes of my tongue over her clit. The beautiful girl shudders, shamelessly moaning my name. Once she’s good and sated, I rise to my feet and pat her on the top of her head.

  “Good girl,” I say with a smirk. “I’m sure the whole store heard how fantastic I am with my tongue.”

  She groans and starts slinging on clothes, flustered over our act. I’m grinning as I exit the dressing room. One of the women stands by awkwardly, her face painted purple with embarrassment.

  “A nice tip for your silence about what you think you heard,” I say to the woman in a no-nonsense tone.

  “Hear what?” she asks, smiling. “Candace will take your card up front.”

  I leave her be and make my way over to Candace. She swipes my card, and I scribble down a generous tip for the both of them. My phone rings. I groan to see it’s Perry.

  “Have her meet me outside,” I say, tipping my head. “I need to take a call.” I answer the call. “What, little brother?”

  “Love you too, Winny. You got a second?”

  “Depends on what for.”

  “Something you really want to hear.”

  “Then I have all the time in the world for you, Perry. Speak and tell me who the Constantines are destroying today.”

  He laughs which means I’m right. “I’ve dug up some dirt on the buildings around the Baldridge Plaza building.”

  News on my plan to fuck over the Morellis. Wonderful. A fantastic addition to an incredible day.

  From behind the fence, I watch the Pembroke Preparatory School lacrosse players practicing. I revel in the taste of victory even though I’m not the one on the field. When you have brains, you don’t have much need for sports. The terrible fucking triplets don’t have a half a brain between the three of them. If they did, they wouldn’t have fucked with Ash.

  I’m not sure what their obsession is with her, but it goes beyond being normal overprotective brothers. They’re possessive over something that belongs to me.

  Big fucking mistake.

  Sparrow and Sully aren’t the worst of the three. Since that day I had to rescue her from them in the restaurant bathroom, I’ve had Deborah dig up all she can on them.

  Scout is the ringleader.

  Monster in charge.

  The one who I’ll enjoy ruining the most.

  As though he senses his name inside my head, he trots to a stop on the field, his eyes squinting as he scans the parking lot past the fence. I know it’s Scout, because he’s the only one of the three who looks like a serial killer in the making.

  I tip my head at him, smirking.

  Got you, motherfucker.

  When he realizes he’s not going to Harvard, no matter how much money his mommy throws at the institution, he’ll remember this moment. He’ll remember me. It’ll be absolutely clear who did that to him.

  Based on the psychopathic expression on his face, he’ll try and retaliate once he realizes the damage I’ve inflicted. He’ll come after me this time as he should. Man to man. I’ll be ready for him, too. If I have to shred every part of his life to make a goddamn point, I will. I can already tell this fucker is going to test me.

  Bring it on, kid.

  20

  Ash

  I’m in too deep. After Winston and I left the dress shop a week and a half ago, we’ve fallen into a depraved pattern. One that sinks lower and deeper each day. So low, I’m not sure I’ll ever dig myself out. I’m not sure I even want to.

  It’s not about the money anymore.

  I have more than enough for my first year of college. Just over a hundred grand thanks to Winston. It was hard, strange work on my part, but I earned every dirty dime.

  Now, it’s about him.

  About us.

  It’s messy and complicated. He enjoys filming his wicked acts. I like watching them when he’s busy with a client or asleep. Just like he predicted, I get myself off watching them. It’s incredibly erotic hearing my moans as he says degrading crap to me and makes me try new toys.

  It’s complicated because he still won’t spend a whole night in my bed and after being turned down several nights in a row, I don’t ask to go to his. I hate the closed-off feeling I get from him after we’ve gone down our dirty hole. He’s able to erect his walls and continue being the same unflappable Winston Constantine. I, however, shed more layers of myself each time. All that’s left is a bare, vulnerable version of myself nearly desperate for his affection.

  We also haven’t slept together.

  He’s only entered me the one time, in his office. It was a brutal invasion of my ass that left me sore for days. This, too, feels like a rejection.

  Tonight, it all changes. I have a plan. I’m going to seduce him.

  Even though I have no idea how that will go down, I plan on attempting it anyway. I’m almost tempted to fish out Perry’s business card from my purse in an effort to pull information out of him about Winston. Maybe if I know more about his past, I can go into this thing well-armed. But, knowing Winston, it’d probably just piss him off. I want to have sex with him, not send him running.

  Every time I try and analyze why I want to sleep with the villainous monster, I can’t pinpoint a reason. I’ve made a list on my phone of pros and cons. The pro list is short while the cons list goes on and on. Still, I want him.

  My phone buzzes, and I expect to see a text from Winston. He stayed late at work to meet with Nate and sent me home. Perry gave me a ride and also gave me his card in case I ever needed a friend to talk to. It was sweet, though I feel like Winston won’t think so.

  Dad: Your dress arrived, sweetheart.

  Me: What?

  Dad: The one for the Constantine event tomorrow night. Manda said it’s a little simple, but she’s hired a stylist to come over at five to do your hair and makeup to make you stand out.

  Gee, thanks, Dad, for believing Manda that I’ll be the most boring belle at the ball without her swooping in to save the day.

  Rather than saying what I think because it’ll be wasted breath since he’s so in love with her, I type out a different reply.

  Me: The dress was supposed to come to Winston’s.

  I pause to think after I send the text. I’d been so flustered after the orgasm Winston gave me, I wasn’t paying too much attention when Tara, the dress clerk, asked me where to deliver the dress and accessories.

  Crap.

  Me: Oh no. I think I messed up.

  Dad: It worked out then since Manda has graciously offered her stylist. I miss you anyway. Look forward to seeing you.

  My heart clenches at getting a small glimpse of the dad who raised me.

  Me: Miss you too, Dad. Love you.

  Dad: Same, sweetheart.

  I open Winston’s text conversation and send him what I hope will be the first step in my seduction.

  Me: I want to negotiate a deal.

  His response is immediate.

  Winston: What do you want, little girl?

  Me: You. I’m willing to pay for it too.

  Winston: You want to pay me to have sex with you?

  I try not to cringe at how crazy it sounds. But I relax knowing he’s probably smiling and hoping I’m embarrassed by his words.

  Me: Yes. 50k.

  Winston: That’s expensive, Ash. You have college to think about . . .

  Me: I’ll earn more later. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I need this.

  Winston: What happened to a freebie?

  Me: I have certain requests . . .

  Winston: Oh?

  Me: I want you to treat me like you’re going to keep me forever.

  Winston: Needy fucking girl.

  Me: And I want to sleep in the bed with you. All night long. If you abandon me, you forfeit the money.

  Winston: It’s just money.

  Me: Fine, if you abandon me, you forfeit me.

  Winston: Elaborate, brat, because you’re starting to piss me off.

 
A flare of heat burns through me, pooling in my gut.

  Me: I need this, Win. These are my terms.

  Winston: Time for me to negotiate . . .

  Me: Name your terms.

  Winston: I’ll discount it by half if you let me call you names and make you cry.

  I should not get a thrill from his words but damn if I’m not turned on.

  Me: Doable.

  Winston: I’ll knock five more off if we film it.

  Me: Deal. Oh, and I get to see you fully naked. Add five back on for that.

  Winston: Write ‘Winston’s Dirty Whore’ on your stomach, wait on the bed naked, and I’ll discount it by ten.

  Me: So fifteen for a mean fuck where you degrade me but you’ll hold me all night?

  Winston: And I’m coming inside you.

  Thank God I remembered to get back on the pill last week, because I want nothing more than him to do just that.

  Me: Deal.

  Winston: I’m on my way.

  I toss my phone on the dresser and then go on a hunt for a Sharpie. I can’t believe we’ve negotiated this deal. It’s so fucked up, but I want him. I need to feel this connection between us. Quickly, I make my way into his condo office. Of course, his office at home is just as immaculate as his one at Halcyon. I stop to admire a photo of his family when his father was living. This week, knowing I’ll have to see his family tomorrow, I’ve researched all I could about them. His father died in an accident five years ago, and the family has been fractured ever since.

  I locate the black Sharpie and then rush back to my room. After stripping, I awkwardly write “Winston’s Dirty Whore,” though it’s hard to read because it’s difficult to write upside down. Once I finish, I send a picture that coincidentally has a picture of my tits too. Like he promised, he continues to pay me for pictures, but he pays a lot more for the ones with nudity.

  I receive money from him before a response.

  Typical Winston.

  Winston: Anyone ever tell you you’re wife material?

  I roll my eyes but secretly preen at his words. Just like he needs to say depraved shit to me, I need his praise. He layers it on thick, and it’s always bullshit, but I still love it, nonetheless.

  Me: Yeah, some guy in the elevator earlier . . .

  When he doesn’t reply right away, I have a flare of panic as I imagine him firing every person who works in the building.

  Me: Kidding! Abort mission to kill everyone.

  Winston: I’m whipping your ass with the belt for that one.

  Me: No way!

  Winston: I’ll buy you a car.

  Me: Winston! You can’t buy me a car for whipping my ass!

  Winston: Anything you want. It’s yours. I get to make it hurt . . .

  I’m so sick.

  So, so sick.

  Me: You’re over the top. Maybe I’d let you do it for free.

  Winston: And give you a chance to pussy out? Fuck no. I want an iron-clad agreement. My belt gets you whatever the fuck you want. You need a car anyway. You’re giving me ulcers with your Uber threats.

  I laugh as I crawl onto the bed and wait for him.

  Me: Fine. As long as you coddle me after and make me feel loved.

  He sends me a bunch of eyeroll emojis.

  Winston: Little girls are so fucking high maintenance.

  Me: You’re the one who started this fucked-up ride. Too late to get off now. We’re going full-speed ahead.

  Winston: Fine. I’ll baby your ass. Happy?

  I send him heart-eye emojis that earn more eyeroll emojis.

  I’m laughing until I hear the front door open. Shrimp sings happily from the living room. He always has a special chirp for Winston. Winston doesn’t get it, but it’s a big deal. Shrimp doesn’t warm up to people easily, but he likes Winston.

  “Look how fucking dirty you are,” he growls as he enters the room. “Striking deals for sex. You’re wicked, Miss Elliott. Give me your phone.” I toss it to him, and he sets it to record before arranging it on the dresser.

  I drink in his handsome appearance. He’s hot in a three-piece light-gray suit that makes his blue eyes pop. His dark blond hair is styled in his usual perfect way, and he’s sporting a small amount of scruff that I crave to feel between my thighs.

  When he starts undoing his belt, heat floods through me. I love the efficient way he unbuckles it, a feral glint in his intense eyes. My heart stutters in my chest when he whips the belt off with a swoosh.

  “Your butt plug still in?” he asks, his brows furrowed.

  “Yep.”

  His lips curl into an evil smirk. “How’s that new size working out for you?”

  “Once it’s in, I barely notice it.”

  “You wish it were my dick instead.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself. That hurt. Definitely not looking forward to that ever again.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Too damn bad. I’m fucking that ass soon. I might even do it tonight.” He arches a brow in challenge, but I don’t back down.

  “It’s not a part of this negotiation, but you can work it in to the next one.”

  “Flip over and bring me that ass.”

  I scoot down toward the end of the bed, hanging my legs off, and then twist until I’m on my stomach. His palm runs down my back and then he squeezes my butt cheek. Then, he playfully tugs on the butt plug. I groan at the sensation. It’s too big to just pop out. This size takes work to get out.

  “Hold onto the covers, Ash. Scream all you want. No one can save you from the villain.”

  I squirm, a nervous thrill trembling through me. “Maybe I don’t want to be saved.”

  “You’re a pathetic damsel in distress,” he bites out. “Needy and desperate for an old man’s attention.”

  His mean words make my pussy throb. I can’t begin to understand why my body responds to this like it does.

  “I’m going to stripe your white ass,” he rumbles. “If you want to quit, you tell me ‘I quit’ so I can stare at what a fucking disappointment you are.”

  “I won’t quit, motherfucker.”

  He chuckles, teasing my ass with the leather of his belt. “Liar.”

  “I can handle whatever you give to me. You just . . .you just . . .”

  “I know,” he bites out. “Kiss you and tell you you’re pretty. You’re so predictable, little girl. A needy, bratty child whose daddy doesn’t love her so she has to find a new daddy. One who spanks her disobedient ass and makes her behave.”

  I shudder with anticipation. “You’re the one fucking a girl barely out of high school. You can’t shame me when you’re worse—”

  Slap!

  Fire tears across my butt cheeks, making me clench painfully around the plug in my ass. Instant tears burn my eyes. I’m barely able to clutch onto the covers before he slams the leather back down over my sore ass.

  “Ahh!” I scream, the tears freely leaking now.

  He hits me again, this time striking the backs of my thighs. I sob uncontrollably, my mind muddied by the pain.

  “Say the words, little girl. Tell me to quit.”

  I shake my head, defying him. Fire tears across my ass again. My entire body trembles as I cry hysterically. I choke on my breath, trying desperately to suck in air.

  “Needy,”—slap!—"needy,”—slap!—“whore!”

  I start to crawl away, unable to take anymore. He grabs my ankle, dragging me roughly back to the edge. I yank on the covers hoping to hold on but fail.

  “I need the words,” he growls. “Say them and it ends.”

  Shaking my head, I brace myself for more.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  My ass hurts so much, I can’t breathe. I don’t understand why I’m so stubborn I can’t just say that I quit.

  “You’re stubborn as fuck. Like a petulant child. You don’t want a lover, you want someone to spank you and boss you around. You want me to wipe your ass too, kinky bitch? You’d probably get off on that shit.” He tosses the
belt on the ground. “Sit on that sore ass. I need to see your messy face.”

  I quickly scramble to obey him, hiccupping through my tears. He grabs hold of my hair, jerking my head back so I can stare up at him.

  “Does it hurt?” he growls.

  I squeeze my eyes shut, sending tears leaking out as I croak out, “Yes.”

  “Good.” He smacks my cheek. “Look at me.”

  I’m blinking in shock that he smacked me. Not hard, just enough to get my attention. Lately, I’ve been reading up on erotic humiliation. Turns out, we’re not that weird. Apparently, getting whipped is a turn on for a lot of people.

  Including me.

  “You like that, you dirty fucking girl.” His dark blue eyes flash with appreciation and lust. “I give you work to do at my company, but you slack off watching porn.”

  “I don’t—”

  He smacks me again. “Remember, I have access to your computer. I get to see all the sites you go to, little girl.”

  “I just wanted to learn.” I pout, loving the way his nostrils flare.

  “You like getting smacked around, don’t you?”

  I nod, swallowing down the shame. “As long as you hold up your end of the deal after.”

  “You’re fucked up,” he growls. “You should see a fucking shrink.”

  But he’s fucked up too.

  His arousal is evident in the way his dick tries to burst from his slacks.

  “Lie back,” he barks. “I can read your dirty mind. You want me to smack your pussy.”

  My core clenches, and I nod. His lips curl up on one side, pleased by my agreement.

  “You know what I require at the end,” I choke out. “Do whatever it takes to get us there.”

  He tugs at the knot of his tie. “You’ve unleashed a monster, you dumb, dumb girl.”

  21

  Winston

  She smiles.

  The beautiful, messy girl smiles at my words.