DYLAN
I scrub my hand down my face and sit back in my chair after hours of staring at my damn computer screen coding to fix the bug that had halted testing.
We knew the transition from the old processors to the new might create some kinks in the systems but even I thought we were fucked for a couple of hours there. I was finally able to do some creative rewriting of the code to fix it. In the end it was a matter of reordering some of the divides to maintain precision.
Now we’re back on track, with minimal loss of efficiency. But still, this is the fourth bug in as many days and we need to make a decision on which bid to go with soon. We have to be able to prove the RISC chips are a reliable choice now, this week, if we’re going to stay on deadline.
I’m just about to go for some more coffee when my phone buzzes.
I smile when I see it’s a text from Miranda.
Then I read it and my entire body goes stiff. Including my cock.
I’m in the alley outside your building. Come find me.
I immediately press the intercom button on my desk phone. “Malik, you take it from here. I’ll check back in tomorrow morning.”
“Yes, sir.”
Malik sounds surprised. Usually I wouldn’t leave when we’re under pressure like this, but we’ve already coded the workaround for this bug and there’s nothing to do unless something else crops up. And I suddenly have a can’t-miss meeting in the back alley.
I hang up and grab my coat and am at the elevator in a minute flat.
The elevator takes about ten million fucking years getting to the ground floor but finally I’m jogging around the side of the building.
It’s chilly and has been dark for hours so there’s no one else around, especially since it’s the weekend.
Our offices are on the outskirts of downtown so there aren’t a lot of people walking by, either.
The back alleyway is empty.
Except for her.
Jesus Christ, what is she wearing?
Or should I say, not wearing?
Is it even Miranda? There’s a light on the back of the building but it’s casting such long shadows, I can’t make out any of her features.
There’s still plenty I can see, though. The woman has on some high as fuck heels and a skirt so short it almost looks like she’s barely got anything on.
Her top isn’t much better. It’s cut so low her tits are all but spilling out and her only concession to the cold is an obnoxious pink fur cape draped over her shoulders.
She’s leaning against the back of the building with one of her legs propped up, knee out, and she’s smoking a cigarette. I didn’t even know she smoked. She couldn’t look more like a hooker if she tried.
I’m still not sure it’s Miranda as I slowly approach.
Not until she turns her head languorously at the sound of my footsteps on the pavement.
She blows out a long puff of smoke and then throws the cigarette to the ground, stomping on it with the toe of her pointy heel.
She starts in my direction.
“Miranda?” I call out, my brow furrowing. I still can’t tell if it’s her or just some working girl who decided to take a break in the wrong alleyway.
The way she sways her hips as she heads my way makes it clear she’s looking to sell, whether it’s Miranda or not.
“Jesus,” I whisper, averting my eyes in case it’s not Miranda. I only look back when she’s closer.
Thank fuck. It is Miranda.
I relax. But only for a second. Because she stomps straight up to me and rears back, then slaps me with what feels like as much force as she can muster.
“What the fuck?”
She pulls her arm back like she’s going to try it again and I grab her wrist midair.
She struggles in my grasp and swings her other hand but I catch it, too. She hisses and fights like a wildcat in my grasp.
“I don’t care if you’re some rich bastard and I’m just a whore. You can’t just take me any time you want and then throw me away.”
I’ve never envisioned a scenario quite like this but it’s hot as fuck and the idea that Miranda has come here to play instantly has me hard as fuck.
I jerk her close to my chest by her wrists and shove my erection against her stomach before whispering in her ear, “Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a whore, I wouldn’t treat you like one.”
Her eyes flare. “Get the fuck off me,” she whispers, shoving against my chest.
I only grin at her.
Oh she came here to play all right.
“I don’t think you mean that, baby,” I say, and then I lift her with one arm around her waist and drag her deeper down the alley way, into the shadows.
“You fucking bastard,” she hisses. “Goddamned fucking bastard.”
I slap her ass. Hard.
And then I shove her face first up against a huge metal recycling bin that’s as big as a dumpster.
“Maybe I’m tired of you giving it up to anybody who’ll pay for it.” I shove my cock against her ass. “How many men you fucked today?”
She turns her head and laughs in my face. “I don’t know. I lost count.”
I slam my hand against the metal of the bin. It feels too fucking good to let the leash off the beast.
“That right?” I growl, ripping at my belt and then shoving the tiny scrap of her miniskirt up. When I reach for her panties, though, fucking holy—she’s not wearing any.
“You’re such a fucking whore you don’t even bother with underwear anymore?” I bring my hand down on her ass. Once. Then again.
“You like making it that easy to bend over so anyone can come along and fuck you?”
I spank her again. Every time my hand makes contact and I hear her little cry, fuck. She’s so beautiful. So fucking perfect. Giving herself like this to me.
I reach between her legs and Jesus Christ, she’s fucking drenched.
She wants this just as much as I do.
She always does.
She was made just for me.
I don’t bother with any more words. I just shove my cock home. Where it was always meant to be. Stuffed up her pussy to the fucking hilt.
She gasps at the intrusion and her hands scrabble against the metal of the bin.
“This is what you’ve been begging for, isn’t it, slut?”
I yank back and then hammer in again. “You love being pounded with dick. You can’t fucking get enough of it, can you? Fucking can you?” I hiss in her ear when she doesn’t respond.
“No,” she whimpers.
“No, what?”
I grab her by the back of her hair and give her a rough shake.
“No, I can’t get enough of it,” she gasps.
But right after she says it, she really starts fighting me. I grip her wrists and hold her in place, fucking her mercilessly. But then she starts squirming. Liking it too much.
“Not yet,” I growl. “Not fucking yet, whore.”
I yank her away from the recycle bin and together, we go down to the ground. That fucking terrible fur cape should protect her back from the asphalt, so at least it’s good for something.
Because I don’t want to take it easy on her.
No, now that I’m looking at her, I need it.
I need her tears.
I need to fucking make her cry.
She sees it in my eyes and the slightest smile crosses her face, then the next second she’s slapping at me again. Fighting my intrusion.
But she doesn’t even know intrusive yet.
“You’re gonna fucking take it like any little whore should.”
I pull out of her pussy and then reach down to reposition myself.
At her other hole.
Her eyes widen and she bites her bottom lip as she feels me there.
Usually I go slow.
Usually I prepare her.
Usually.
But not fucking today.
All week, our lovemaking has been swe
et. Gentle caresses in the morning. Needy hands in the shower.
But this is what we both fucking need.
So I slam my cock up her asshole with only the juice of her cunt to lubricate the way.
Her entire body jolts and her features scrunch in pain.
I almost cum on the fucking spot.
I pull out and then ram back in again and fuck, oh fuck, there it is.
The first fucking tear.
I lean over and bite at her cheek before tasting it with my tongue. Salt and perfection.
“Let me hear it,” I groan as I thrust in for the third time into the impossibly tight grip of her ass.
She whimpers in pain and a shudder works its way down my spine. Again. I need it again. More.
“Give me fucking more,” I demand, pistoning out and then in again. “Tell me how much it fucking hurts.”
“It hurts,” she cries. “It hurts so much.” She’s weeping now and I cover her with my body, elbows beside her head on the fur.
“How does it hurt? Tell me. How does it hurt?”
“You’re splitting me open,” she says and then gasps, biting her bottom lip and arching her breasts up into my chest.
Oh fuck, there it is, the pleasure mixed with pain that might be the only thing more beautiful than her tears.
“That’s right I’m splitting you open,” I say harshly, reaching down to twist her nipple.
She cries out and then buries her face against my neck.
“It hurts,” she weeps in my ear. “It hurts so good.”
Jesus fuck.
This woman. This goddamned woman.
I thrust my hips, making sure to grind against her right where she needs it. One more thrust and then I feel it—her whole body shakes as she orgasms.
I let her cry it out against my neck as she clenches around my cock, wave after wave of pleasure rippling through her body if the way she’s clenching on me is any indication.
It takes everything in me but I hold it back because there’s one last fantasy I’ve never lived out with her and in this moment, it’d be perfect.
I slip out of her ass and then grab her by the back of the hair, kissing her on her forehead as I go.
“On your knees,” I whisper. “Now take what I give you like a good girl.”
When she doesn’t move quick enough, I order more harshly. “On your knees, whore.”
Her eyes flash up at me and I give a rough tug on her hair, grabbing her upper arm to help her up onto her knees.
“That’s right, on your knees. Now take everything I give you.”
I stand over her, feeling like a fucking god.
I keep an iron grip on her hair and start to jerk myself hard, wanting to see my cum splash all over her face.
“Look up at me, slut.”
But her eyes are wide and she jerks back. Oh so that’s how she wants to play it?
I smile and am about to grab her hair even tighter and jerk her back into place when she says, “Red. Red!” and scrambles back from me, holding up her hands like she’s afraid.
Like she’s afraid of me.
Chapter Fifteen
DYLAN
She looks at me like she’s afraid.
Afraid.
Of me.
My dick has never shriveled so fast. What the fuck? Have we not been on the same page this whole time? Did I do something—?
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles, getting up, wobbly on her skyscraper heels. “I’m sorry. I should never have come here like this.”
Then she moves like she’s going to try to get around me and leave.
“Miranda. Miranda!” I bark louder when she ignores me. I want to reach out and grab her but draw back at the last minute.
She had to use her safe word.
She had to use her motherfucking safe word with me.
I’m bent over before I know it and my lunch plus the shitty chips and soda I ate earlier while I was working all come back up as I vomit against the wall of the building.
“Dylan!”
Miranda’s small hand rubs my back and my eyes water as I shake and wipe at my mouth with my forearm.
I stand up and stumble away from the wall. Away from her.
“Did you not want—” I gesture back down at her fur cape several feet back by the recycling bin. “I thought it was another game. Jesus, Miranda, I’m so sorry, I thought—”
“It was,” she cries, sobbing even harder now. “I came here wanting—” She breaks off with a fresh round of sobs and it kills me, fucking kills me seeing her like this.
I reach a hand out but she just shakes her head and takes a step backwards. “I’m fucking toxic, can’t you see that? You need to stay the fuck away from me.”
“What are you talking about? Where is this all coming from?”
Then I look around. I am not having this discussion, whatever the fuck this is, in a cold alleyway behind my fucking building.
I walk toward Miranda and this time when she tries to step back, I don’t let her. I put an arm around her shoulder.
“We’re going to get in my car and drive home. And then you’re going to tell me exactly what the fuck is going on.”
She shakes her head and her whole body shudders with her sobs but I don’t let up. Something is seriously fucking wrong and I won’t rest until I’ve gotten to the bottom of it.
I only let go of her long enough to shrug out of my jacket and sling it over her shoulders, then I pull her close and walk her as quickly as I can back around the building to my car.
Being the boss, I have a parking spot right up front so we don’t have to go too far. I open the passenger side door and get her seated, tucking her legs carefully inside. She’s not crying as hard but she’s gone oddly listless. Frankly, she’s scaring the shit out of me. I tug her seatbelt across her and secure it in place.
I wish we were anywhere but out in public.
I run around the front of my Tesla and hop in the front seat. Then I drive as fast as I dare to my apartment, shooting quick glances over at her the entire way. She has her head turned away from me. I call her name several times but she doesn’t respond.
When we finally get to my building, I pull the car into valet and run around to her side. I tug her out of the car and then lift her into my arms. She doesn’t fight me, thank Christ. She just sinks against my chest as I hike her up in my arms, one arm under her back, the other under her knees.
I ignore the look that the doorman and a couple in the lobby give us and head straight to the elevator, dipping down with Miranda to hit the button for my floor.
Miranda just keeps her face burrowed into my chest.
Meanwhile I swear my heart is beating a thousand fucking beats per minute. She’s hurting and I don’t know why… except I do, don’t I?
I was the only other person in that alley way. I hurt her. But I swear to God I’ll make up for it. Somehow, I swear— Jesus, I swear I’ll spend my life making up for—
The elevator pings and as soon as the doors open, I sweep out of the elevator, unlock my door with my keycard, and take Miranda straight back to my bedroom where I lay her down on the bed.
She immediately curls onto her side, back to me, her knees up to her chest.
Just watching her sends a sword through my chest.
It’s the same position I found Chloe in that day.
For a second I can’t breathe. Can’t move. Can’t fucking do anything.
Monster.
I take a stumbling step back from the bed.
Jesus, what was I thinking, bringing her back here? I hurt her, obviously she wouldn’t want to be alone with me.
I take another step back but then she lifts her head off the bed and looks over her shoulder at me.
“Hold me?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper.
My chest clenches in gratitude and relief and lo—
I all but launch myself onto the bed and curl my body in a shell around hers. She starts to cry again and I wrap my ar
m around her waist. She clutches me, her nails digging into my forearm like she’s so terrified I’ll disappear, she has to hold on to me for dear life.
I want to ask her what’s wrong—no, I want to demand it. But I’ve never seen her so fragile. It’s a word I would usually never associate with Miranda Rose. She’s usually got that shield of armor that’s ten feet thick.
But not with me. Every time we’re together, I get to glimpse more and more of her.
And tonight, for one reason or another, her defenses have collapsed completely.
My cock stirs in my jeans but I move my pelvis back from her ass. I don’t want her feeling my need, or to know that even now when she’s so clearly distraught, I still want to fuck her.
It’s the vulnerability and the honest, beautiful core of her that’s attracted me from the start. I never needed her beautiful body or her perfect face—it was this, her willingness to crack open and let me connect to this intimate, vulnerable part of her that attracted me the most from the beginning.
I’m not sure she even realizes what a gift it is to a man like me, who kept himself set apart from human emotions for years.
“Do you know how rare and perfect you are?” I whisper.
She turns her head, her mouth dropped open and I can see by her look that she thinks I’m crazy. I can’t stop myself from dropping my mouth to hers.
I intend it to be a gentle, reassuring kiss.
But nothing’s ever simple when it comes to this woman, is it?
She flips in my arms and grabs my face, devouring my mouth and cementing the front of her body to the front of mine.
She groans into my mouth when she feels my hard-on, thrusting her hips up to grind against it.
I growl and with every ounce of discipline I have left, I pull back from her. “No, Miranda, we don’t have to. You were so upset earlier. We can just talk, or hold each oth—”
She cuts off my words with another hungry kiss. And then she reaches down between our bodies and grabs my cock through my jeans. She whispers, voice heavy with need. “Please, Dylan. I need you inside me. Don’t make me wait.”
Well fuck, if she puts it that way…
Still, the memory of her calling red and the look on her face. I breathe out hard and then roll us so that I’m on my back and she’s on top.
Hurt So Good: A Break So Soft Novel Page 12
