by J. L. Beck
Markus never sought out pleasure, ever. If I didn’t know him personally, I might even think he was a virgin, but I knew he wasn’t.
“What’s there for you?” I cock a brow in question.
“A warm hole to sink into.”
“I can’t remember the last time you went somewhere to get pussy.”
“I can’t remember the last time you held back on taking something that is rightfully yours.” Obviously, he is referring to Elena, and again his comment sparked rage inside of me. He would be lucky if I didn’t murder him by the end of the day for insulting me like that.
“I’m still your boss, Markus. I make the rules, and I say what the fuck goes. Or did you forget that?” I hiss and shove from my chair. I wasn’t sure I could kill Markus. He was a friend who always had my back.
There isn’t an ounce of fear on his face as I walk over to him, my hand on my gun. Markus looked at death the same way I did. Eventually, it would come for us. It was inevitable. The only thing is, you never know when it will happen.
“Let’s fucking go before I murder you,” I say, pushing past him and out the door.
Calling for the driver, he arrives outside at the same time Markus and I do. We climb into the black SUV, and we drive to Dimension. Markus and I are both silent during the drive, and it gives me a moment to clear my head.
When we arrive at the run-down building, I decide there is no better time than now to check in on the staff.
“Check with the bartender and see how everything is going. Let them know we will bring someone in soon,” I tell Markus as I check my phone, my finger hovering over the camera app. Watching her isn’t going to sedate my need or help matters. I need to fuck someone, someone who can handle a hard pounding. God knows if I fucked Elena the way I want to, she would break in half beneath me.
Markus nods, acknowledging what I’ve asked him to do, and we walk in together, the two guards who usually man the doors aren’t in place, which angers me. Walking inside, I survey the bar; there are a few patrons in it, and the stage has a couple men sat eye-balling the dancing chick. Music beats through the place, and a stripper works the pole, grinding her ass against it like it’s a cock. Stale smoke filters into my lungs when I take a breath, combined with sweat and perfume.
“I’m going to go check the viewing rooms and see if I can find any available pussy,” I tell Markus, who gives me a chin nod and heads off to the bar.
The long hall off to the right of the stage is where Roberto’s office used to be and where all the rooms are for the private dances that take place, and by private dances, I mean fuck sessions.
Numerous doors lead into different private viewing rooms, and as I walk down the hall, I try and decide which room to walk into.
My balls ache, and my cock has permanently been stiff since Elena arrived. Maybe taking the edge off is what I need.
A door opens, and a dark-haired, half-dressed stripper crosses in front of me, and I don’t even think, I just react. Grabbing her by the arm, I harshly tug her back toward the door she just came out of. She lets out a gasp, which she covers with a seductive grin when she realizes who grabbed her.
Women fawn over me, toss themselves at me, begging for me to fuck them, and luckily the women here know just how I like it. Hard and fast.
“Mr. Moretti,” she purrs as I open the door and walk inside, her body rubbing against mine like a cat might rub against someone’s leg. Releasing her as if her body is fire, I take a step back. She knows why I’ve grabbed her, and she knows if she does well, she’ll get a nice tip.
“Get on your hands and knees,” I growl and watch as she complies eagerly, scurrying over to the bed without question, and nothing like I imagine Elena would be if I ordered her to. Knowing how innocent and naive she is, I bet she’d cry, and I’d have to force her.
Annoyance spreads through me like a wildfire at the thought. I want to get my dick wet since I know I’ll have to wait till next week, at the very least, to fuck my virgin bride, not be beaten down with thoughts of her while I’m doing it. My annoyance boils over, becoming pure anger. I don’t understand why every thought I have leads back to her.
The brunette on her knees looks at me over her shoulder and licks her red lips while batting her eyes.
“I’m going to fuck you hard and fast, and you aren’t going to whimper, cry, or say a word. Do you understand?”
She nods her head, and I hate how excitement bubbles up to the surface at her obedience. I stare at her round ass, the globes not quite firm. Her pussy is on full display, her slits glistening in the dim lighting, letting me know she’s ready for me, though it wouldn’t matter if she wasn’t. I’d fuck her dry; after all, she is here for my pleasure and nothing else.
The whore is pretty, but nothing compared to my soon to be bride.
There isn’t an ounce of innocence or fear in this girl, and I hate it.
She’s waiting for my wrath, welcoming it. Fuck. Flicking the button on my slacks, I move to the bed, climbing behind the whore. I take my cock into my hand, stroke the beast, and then pull a condom out of my wallet.
At the crinkling of the package, the woman twists around. “I’m clean, and on the pill. You can fuck me raw if you want.”
Chuckling darkly, I grab her by the hip and sink my fingers into her skin.
“I’m a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. Now shut the fuck up and put your cheek on the mattress.” I’m well aware of how sinister I’m being right now, but here, I can be me, and with Elena, it’s like I’m something else entirely.
Letting my eyes drift closed, I will the thoughts of Elena away, but closing my eyes only causes them to rush in. Her cheeks tear-stained, her eyes pleading, her body trembling as I take from her. Memories of the way she whimpered when I simply applied pressure to her hand as she jerked me off appear in my mind.
My cock deflates in my hand, and I know there isn’t any fucking point in doing this.
The only person my cock wants is the only person I’m not willing to take from yet. There is a plan, an order, and I need to fucking follow it. Still, her perfectly sculpted heart-shaped face and emerald green eyes haunt me like a ghost.
I’m pissed, burning with rage. I can’t even fuck someone without thinking about her. It was bad before, all the times I had to envision her while I fucked others from behind or shoved my cock down their throat. Now that she’s trapped in my web, entirely at my mercy, my body knows I don’t have to deny myself, but I am.
Pissed, I take a step back from the woman. “Get fucking dressed,” I grit out, wanting to punch something.
“What? I thought you wanted…” She whirls around to face me.
I ignore her question and confused expression and take the waste of a condom off and button my pants back up. Pulling out a hundred-dollar bill from my wallet, I shove the money at her. She looks at me then to the money before snatching it from my hand.
“Are you sure, Mr. Moretti?” she purrs, batting her eyes one last time, and I curl my hand into a tight fist. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.”
The offer is tempting, being that my tastes run rough and a little dark, but making my cock hard for someone other than Elena is going to be impossible. She’s cast a fucking spell on me and doesn’t even realize it.
“Pull yourself together. I don’t want you. The money was for your time. I changed my mind, go find someone else.”
Frustrated and annoyed, I walk out of the room, leaving the door open behind me. Elena has captured my complete and undivided attention, and I don’t know if that’s a good thing for either of us.
13
Elena
The hours drag on into eternity, and I actually find myself waiting like a dog for my owner to return. It’s a horrible analogy, but it’s the truth. I watch the sunset through the window, feeling more isolated from the real world than I ever have in my entire life. Worse, I feel myself melting into Julian’s touch.
Kindness is what he sho
wed me last night when he handed me that little notebook. It was the kindest thing he’s done since I arrived here, and it made me want to see if there is more goodness inside him. It’s such a naive thing to assume that a man who kills, steals, and buys a person has any good in him.
Darkness starts to blanket the room, and I move to turn on one of the lights at the same time the door opens. I hold back a little shriek, and I’m almost disappointed when I see it’s just a maid entering the room and not Julian. The one that gave me the note hasn’t returned since that day. It’s been someone new every time, and I wonder why she’s never come back. I’m sure Julian doesn’t know about the note since he hasn’t said anything. If he knew, he would have punished me or something.
He also didn’t pick me up for dinner tonight, just like he didn’t last night. Why has he stopped?
The maid–which I haven’t seen before–sets the tray down cautiously, almost as if she’s afraid. Her hair is long, blonde, and braided. Her features are dainty, and she looks young, close to my age.
Briefly, I wonder if I should ask about the other maid but push the thought aside when she starts to head back toward the door.
Talk to her, idiot.
“Hello, I’m Elena,” I say.
She gives me a sheepish grin. “I’m… Marie. They told me not to talk to you.”
“No one will know that we’ve talked, just you and me.” I smile, longing for some type of friendship or company at this point.
“I have to go. Sorry.” She sneaks out of the room and locks the door behind her. Like a balloon, I deflate. My stomach grumbles, alerting me to hunger, so I walk over to the tray and carry it to the bed. As I eat, I envision running through the grass and feeling drops of rain on my skin. I long for normalcy even though the world I live in will never allow it.
As I eat in silence, I become more and more aware of how late it’s getting and find myself dressed for bed, beneath the covers with my knees drawn to my chest.
Where is he? Had something happened to him? Was he still working? Worry festers in my gut even though it shouldn’t. I shouldn’t care for my savage soon to be husband. In fact, I should wish death upon him, maybe I would be sent back to my father, though that’s doubtful. I’d be given to a worse evil, I’m sure.
After what seems like hours, and my eyes start to become heavy, the bedroom opens, and Julian stumbles in. His dark hair is disheveled like he’s been running his fingers through it, and his tie is loosened, and the first couple of buttons on his dress shirt are undone.
Sleep leaves my mind as he walks in and closes the door behind him. He moves toward the bed, almost falling onto it. Looking into his blue eyes, I find them bloodshot and hungry. I can smell smoke on him from here. There’s also something else, a hint of something feminine, perfume, and that sparks something vicious inside of me. I’m well aware that men have needs, but I’m hurt and annoyed that he sought out someone else, leaving me locked in this damn room while he did it. It only reminds me further of how much of a disappointment I am to him.
“If you have to go have sex with another woman, you could at least have the courtesy to shower before you come in like you did yesterday.” I cross my arms over my chest. I don’t want to look at his stupidly handsome face, but there is nowhere else to look.
Julian gives me a coy grin. “Jealous?”
“Disgusted is a better word.” I know better than to be jealous. My father loved my mother dearly, and even he cheated. I know that in our world, that’s simply part of marriage, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.
“You don’t look disgusted, you look jealous. Red hot jealous.” He pauses and tilts his head to the side as if he’s examining my face. “Would it bother you that much if I was with another woman?”
“Yes,” I blurt out, shocking myself. “But not because of what you are thinking. I’m jealous of being outside. I’m jealous because you lock me in here while you take another woman out to do who knows what.” I don’t even want to think about that part. Did he take her to dinner before he screwed her? I think that part hurts the most. The fact that I was waiting for him to have dinner with me while he was with someone else. I waited like a dog at the door for him to show, and he let me down, not once, but twice.
Shaking his head, he starts laughing at me. He freaking laughs at me, and I want to punch him, punch that stupid smile off his face. “I think you have a very unrealistic idea of what I do with women when I take them out.”
Anger fills my veins. I’m tired of being the naive little girl. Tired of being sheltered and isolated away from the world.
“Then tell me. What do you do? What were you doing while I was locked in here waiting for you? Did you have dinner? Did you… have sex?” My throat tightens as I speak each word. I never expected to marry entirely for love, but I thought maybe, just maybe I’d marry a man who loved me a little bit, that wanted me enough to spend time with me and not lock me away like my father did.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
In a momentary burst of confidence, I raise my chin and stand up to him. “I do want to know. Tell me.”
Julian’s eyes twinkle, and he trails a finger down the side of my face. His touch is nothing more than a caress, but I feel it deep in my soul. “There are no dates. No dinners. No sweet and gentle sex. There is nothing but hard fucking, deep and fast with the occasional moan.”
My eyes go so wide, I’m scared they might pop out. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? Is that what he wants from me?
Suddenly him buying me makes more sense. He doesn’t want dates, love, and companionship. He just wants someone for sex… nothing more, and I’m marrying him. I’m being forced into a marriage that is doomed from the start.
“And they… want that?”
He shrugs. “They’re whores, and that’s their job, so I suppose so, yeah.” His tone is mocking and annoying me further. He sought out some whore to sleep with, only to return to sleep in bed with me. I feel sickened, and even though I know I’m not ready to sleep with him, I cannot stop the emotions I have from bubbling to the surface.
“So, you go to a prostitute for sex?” I struggle with my emotions then, realizing that that’s what I am. He bought be for sex, so essentially, I’m no different from the women he sleeps with now. My chest aches thinking about it. Whore. My mother would be so ashamed and sad if she were alive right now.
“Would you rather me come to you, sweet Elena?”
I know he is taunting me, baiting me to play his game. I should be stronger than this, should turn the other cheek, but at this moment, I’m too hurt already. All I have left is to lash out. It’s like everything is weighing down on me at once, being confined to this room, shackled to a man I know nothing about, not even his agenda. I’m alone and tired… so damn tired.
Looking at him straight in the eyes, I gather up every ounce of courage I have.
“You already paid for it, didn’t you? You paid for me to be your own personal whore. So why go and spend more money on other women when I’m right here?”
For a tiny instant, I see surprise flash across his face, then the moment is gone. His pale blue eyes turn dark, and before I know it, he is on me. One hand wraps around my throat as he shoves me against the mattress while his other snakes beneath my nightgown, cupping my pussy. My eyes bulge out of my head, and I struggle, gasping for air, panicking that he’s going to take me right now. I shouldn’t have pushed him. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Tears blur my vision. Feral, that’s how he looks right now, and I’m trapped in his burning rage.
Leaning into my face, he growls, “Do you think you could handle my dark, sinister needs? Could you handle my cock, owning every hole in your body? Choking on me as I fill your throat with my cum? Is that how you want me to treat you? Like a whore?”
Shaking my head, a whimper of fear escapes my lips when I feel his fingers probing against my entrance. I want his touch. I want him to want me, to see me, but not like this. I don�
��t want his hate, and I don’t want this to hurt.
“Please.” I barely get the word past my lips.
Coldness overtakes his features, and I feel his fingers move my panties to the side, one finger tracing against my folds. I shudder against him and wrap a hand around the wrist that’s between my legs, tugging on it to stop him.
“I could fuck you right now, and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He nips at my earlobe, and I start to shake, feeling fear like I’ve never felt before in his presence. “Is that what you want? You want me to treat you like a whore? Because I will. I’ll fuck you right now–”
“No,” I croak, just as his finger presses against my entrance, slipping a little inside. Wincing at the intrusion, I try and squeeze my legs closed, but there is no fighting a man as big as Julian. His strong arms overpower me with minimal effort.
Wetting his bottom lip with his tongue, he says, “Are you sure? Your cunt is wet…”
“Please, don’t do this…” I peer right into his eyes, pleading with him like I’ve never pleaded before. “Please, Julian…”
It’s then that he snaps out of it, shaking his head as if he was caught in a trance. He releases his hold on my throat and slowly pulls his hand from my panties, looking down at me with a mix of regret and anger. Scooting back against the headboard, I will my body to stop shaking.
Julian curls his lip and presses his fists into the mattress as he leers toward me.
“Don’t tempt me, Elena. I’m not a good man, and if you give me an inch, I will take a fucking mile. I want you, and it doesn’t matter to me how I obtain you. But mark my words, next time you taunt me, I’ll take what I want, and I won’t stop.”
All I can do is nod, telling him that I understand. The warning is clear, blinking a bright neon sign. He won’t let me get away again if I can’t keep my mouth shut.
Curling up, I pull the comforter over me and wait for him to join me in the bed. The only thing I don’t understand is why he wants me in the first place? He says he wants rough sex, but also that I can’t give him what he wants. If that’s so, then why am I here at all? Why does he want to marry me?
