by Leah Wilde
My cheeks flushed red as I realized what he was talking about. I was already wet.
“Maybe I should have offered you this deal in the first place,” he said. I felt the tip of him press at my entrance. “Of course, what’s the fun in that?”
I didn’t get a chance to answer. He pushed the head of his cock in, the initial insertion stretching me wider than I’d been stretched in a while. He gave me a second to get used to him, to adjust to his huge size, then he plunged inside.
The length of him filled me up until he hit the very back of me, my body screaming in a mixture of pleasure and pain. I cried out.
“Fuck, baby, you’re tighter than I thought,” he grunted, his hard body held over mine by his strong muscled arms. He seemed bigger in that moment. And not just his engorged cock inside of me. He was like a cage capturing me, holding me within his walls of bone and delicious flesh.
God, I didn’t want to want him. But I did. I wanted him.
He began to move, his erection pumping short and fast at first, then sliding all the way out of me. I felt suddenly empty after that forceful entry, but I didn’t feel that way for long. He shoved back inside of me, hitting the back of me all over again and whether I intended to or not, I groaned in pleasure.
“That’s it,” he growled at me and I saw that his gaze was fixated on my breasts. “I like women with big tits and you’ve got fucking nice ones. Guess I should be grateful that you’re a hot momma.”
I bit my lip to keep from responding, because I was half afraid that I’d tell him that I liked his dirty words. I liked the fact that he was talking while he was screwing my brains out on his desk in the back of a diner.
His hand reached up to grab my bra. I realized what he was going to do and made a move to stop him—the only move I’d really made since this started. “No. I want my bra intact when I walk out of here.”
He laughed a little, the sound sending pleasant vibrations down my body where we were connected, then said, “Alright. Then take it off.”
Gritting my teeth, I lifted off the desk just enough that I could reach behind my back and undo the clasp. It took some wiggling and Mason was content to watch as I struggled rather than help me out, but I managed to slide the bra off. I set it off to the side, then his pace started up again and I swore it was twice as hard.
His thrusts became harder, faster, the sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. He grunted above me, taking what he wanted from my body and enjoying every second of it. The problem was, I was enjoying it, too. More than I should have been.
Unwilling to watch his expression as he looked down at my exposed body, I let my head fall to the side. But that was a mistake, too, because then I caught sight of Clay standing at the door. His dark eyes were fixed on us, watching as his boss pumped into me. He seemed completely unperturbed by this whole thing and while I was horrified…I also found that I liked it a little.
He was watching us. Watching me as I was fucked into oblivion. And while he remained motionless—except for his eyes, which moved with us—I thought that his slacks looked a little tight. He was enjoying this, too.
Jerking my gaze away, I caught sight of Mason again. He was staring down at me hungrily, his eyes wild with lust, his skin flushed with exertion and arousal. “Fuck, you’re a pretty little thing,” he said to me in a strained voice. “All softness and curves. Perfect to hold on to.”
But he’s not holding on to me, I thought a split second before he said, “So fucking hold on.”
I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, but a loud groan escaped my lips instead. It should have embarrassed me, but I was too far gone, lost in his thrusting hips and the way his hardness stretched me open.
“Grab your tits,” he ordered me. “Squeeze ‘em for me.”
I didn’t even bother fighting or ignoring his order. Instead, my hands reached up and fondled my breasts. I squeezed them as he asked, flesh spilling out of my hands which were too small to really hold them.
He groaned. “That’s it. Now pinch your nipples.”
I grabbed my own nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, rolling them until they were hard pebbles, then I pinched.
He hummed appreciatively. “Good. Now move lower.”
I licked my lips, then let my right hand slide away from my breast, down over my ribs. Pausing there, I waited for the next order. I knew it would come.
“Lower,” he demanded at the same time he shoved his entire length into my body. I cried out and he groaned. “Lower!” he told me again, forcibly.
I moved my hand down to my navel.
“Lower.”
I swallowed. His voice had become little more than a deep growl, a rumble in his sculpted chest. My hand shook as I let it slide over my mound. I left it there between our bodies, not quite touching his throbbing cock as it continued to piston into my body.
But that wasn’t low enough for him and as he grinned down at me wickedly, it finally clicked what he wanted. “Touch your clit until you come.” I opened my mouth to protest. It was one thing to make me do this, but that didn’t mean I had to come.
His grin widened—the devil’s own smile. “Do it or I’ll fuck you until you’re raw. I’ll come and you’ll just have to stay here until I’m hard and ready again. I’ll use your body over and over until you finally give in and lose yourself while I’m inside of you. I don’t care how you want to do this. I’ll get what I want one way or another. And what I want is for you to come.”
I was angry with him for putting me in this position, and I was enthralled by his dirty words, his hard body, and the forceful way he claimed my body. So I relented. I let my hand slip lower, dipping just barely between my swollen, moist folds. I found the little nub instantly and a tiny touch with the pad of my finger was enough to make me scream, “Fuck!”
He groaned and started moving even faster, his hips colliding with mine as he pumped his hard length inside of me. “That’s it, momma. Come. Spill all over my dick. I want it and I want it now.”
They shouldn’t have affected me like they did, his words and demands. But they did. They sent me spiraling into an orgasm that was like an explosion. It swallowed me, leaving me shuddering with pleasure so intense that for a moment I wasn’t even there. I was gone somewhere else, my vision gone, my body nothing but a burning ball of light.
And when I came back, I couldn’t even make myself care that Mason Marsh was cooing little nothings in my ear as he spasmed into me three more times before pulling out and spilling himself across my stomach.
Suddenly, there was silence. The only sound filling the room was my hammering heartbeat and Mason’s spent panting.
Then he slid off of me and turned around. I took a moment to appreciate the hard muscles of his back, the firmness of his rear, and those long, well-defined legs. Then the bastard spoke.
“Now go. Our transaction is done for today. I’ve got your number and I’ll give you a call when the next one is due.”
And like that, disgust ran back over me like a river. How in the hell had I honestly forgotten that this was Mason Marsh and that I’d just traded my own body for his “protection”?
I’m a terrible person, I thought as I sat up and slid to the edge of the desk. I was still covered in Mason’s…stuff and that didn’t exactly make me feel better about anything. I looked around for something to clean myself off with, but there was nothing. Not even a paper towel. And Mason didn’t seem particularly eager to help me out with that.
Narrowing my eyes at him, I spotted my panties from when he’d thrown them. They’d gotten hung up on the corner of the desk in his hurry. They’ll do, I thought glumly and snatched them up. I used the sparse fabric to wipe up his mess, then threw them promptly in the trash. Mason watched me, his expression amused.
I grabbed my pants then and shimmied them on. I was grateful that my bra was fine and happily slipped that on. Being covered made me feel a little better, but not much. My blouse came on next and I just grabbed my shoes;
I’d put them on in the hall. When I reached the door, Mason called to me, “Clay will escort you out.”
I cringed, shooting a nasty sideways glance to the large man that had been fine watching as I was forced to have sex with his boss.
Fucking asshole.
“Don’t bother. I remember the way,” I told the pair of them. Then I stepped outside and slammed the door behind me as hard as I could. I made it two steps before sliding down against the wall, tears sliding down my face. “What did you do?” I whispered to myself. I took some deep breaths.
Then I wiped away my tears, pulled on my boots, and stormed out of there like I had a shred of dignity left.
Chapter Eight
I spent the rest of the day not at home. It was easy to tell Steph that I needed to work some things out at The Beehive and that I needed her to watch Nick. Since she had the day off anyway, she said it was no problem. She was the best and I felt a little bad about lying to her about what I was doing.
“You sure you want another?” asked the pretty bartender who looked like she was either five years younger or older than her makeup suggested.
I nodded, my head lolling heavily. “It’s been a rough day,” was all I told her. And when I said “day” I meant morning. It wasn’t even noon when had I walked into the bar, the only one in town that was open.
She smiled at me sympathetically. “I hear you. Sometimes a stiff whiskey’s the only thing that’ll cure what ails you.”
I raised the shot she’d just poured to that, then downed it in one gulp. It still burned a little as it went down, but it was getting a little easier with each one. “I shouldn’t be here,” I told her bluntly. “I should not be wasting money on this crap.” Then I felt bad about calling this stuff crap and apologized. “Sorry. This is your job.”
She laughed at me. “It’s alright, honey. I get it. And it is crap. It’s the good stuff, but all alcohol is crap in the end.”
I nodded. “Yeah. That’s smart.”
She shook her head a little at me. “You wanna talk about it?”
I felt some of the whiskey try to make its way back up my throat. Did I want to talk about it? Hell no. Not if it was my judgement day and I was standing in front of the pearly white gates and the only way to get in was to confess my sins. I would take it to the grave and ride the one way ticket to hell before I spoke of what happened in Mason’s office this morning.
“Life sucks,” I told her instead, then I let my head rest on the counter. “And it sucked before, too.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” the lady told me seriously. “I really do feel for you, but you know you can’t sleep here. That’s the rule, eleven am or eleven pm.”
With effort I lifted my head up again. “Sorry. You probably don’t have to say that this early in the day very often, do you?”
She shook her head. “Not usually, no. Look, why don’t I call you a cab?”
I frowned. “I have my car.”
Raising an eyebrow at me, she said, “And I know you weren’t thinking of driving it, because a smart lady like you doesn’t need any more trouble, right?”
It felt like my mind was trying to process things through molasses, but ultimately I found myself nodding in agreement with her. “Right. A cab would be good.”
She turned around behind her and picked up the phone, quickly dialing a number. She said a few quick words to the cabbie, then hung up. Turning back to me, she leaned forward and said honestly, “I hope things get better. Just remember, rock’s the bottom. You can only go up from there.”
I felt like laughing and crying. “Have you ever done something unforgivable?”
Her expression froze over, and for just a second, I could see the wheels behind her eyes turning, wondering if I was talking about something more than boy trouble. Something like maybe murder. Then her face softened again and she smiled a little ruefully, like she was embarrassed that she’d even thought it. “Honey, nothing’s unforgivable. Trick isn’t looking for someone else to forgive you, it’s learning to forgive yourself.”
I left with those words rolling around in my head, getting all kinds of mixed up. The cabbie dropped me off at my place and I stumbled in through the front door. Thankfully, Nick was coloring in the living room and Steph caught me before he did.
“What the hell?” she asked, but she only asked it once. Then she came over and gave me a big hug. “It’ll be okay. Go upstairs. Shower. Take a nap. I’ll stay for a while.”
I felt tears prick my eyes, more than a little grateful for my friend’s kindness.
# # #
Steph stayed for dinner and a movie afterwards. She babied me through my hungover state and humored Nicky who picked up on my not so pleasant mood. But in all honesty, I was grateful when she went home.
I tucked Nick into bed, but after I kissed him on the forehead, I nearly cried.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I bit my lip, then forced a smile. I shook my head. “Nothing, baby. Just go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I love you,” he told me and I parroted it back to him. Then I left. I took another shower, the third of the day, and slipped on a big, baggy nightshirt. It was heather gray and fell to my mid-thigh. Normally, I just slept like that, but I was weirded out after first my dream of Mason, then our tryst that morning. So I pulled on a pair of boy briefs and crawled into bed.
I had hoped that I’d fall asleep almost instantly after that. Head, pillow, sleep, just like that. But instead I found myself staring at the ceiling, wide awake.
Despite fighting against it, I couldn’t help but think of the devil’s bargain I’d made. It wasn’t my idea, it wasn’t what I’d wanted, but I didn’t have much say in the matter. I tried not to think of the way Mason touched me, the way we did the deed under the watchful eye of his bodyguard. And I definitely tried not to think of how I’d had the most powerful orgasm I’d probably ever had in my life all because he’d pushed me to it.
Clenching my eyes shut, I tried counting sheep to fall asleep, and to keep from thinking of Mason, but it was impossible. My mind kept circling back to him and his wicked deal.
“What kind of a person am I?” I whispered to the empty room. “What kind of a woman let’s someone—?” I broke off unable to say it even in the privacy of my own room.
I rolled over in my bed and tried to get comfortable, but it was pointless. There was no spot that would be comfortable enough. I thought of Nick asleep in his room. How was I supposed to be a good mother when I was some beck and call girl for a drug dealer?
It was worse than just that though. I wasn’t just some prostitute, which was bad enough, but now I was going to be an accomplice for a man who was going to use my salon to store his drugs. God, I didn’t even know what kinds of drugs they were.
“What if it’s cocaine?” I asked the ceiling in a hoarse whisper.
I told myself it didn’t really matter. Drugs were drugs and even if it was just pounds of weed hanging out in the back of my store, it would be a problem. Weed wasn’t legal recreationally and I definitely didn’t have a license to be storing it. But at least I wouldn’t have to worry about people overdosing.
Overdosing. Jesus, why did I have to think of that?
I could be an accomplice to murder!
My heart started beating loud and hard in my chest, anxiety causing my body to warm and my palms to sweat. My skin felt like a live wire all of a sudden and it really hit me just how bad all of this was. I was going to be storing an illicit drug in my store that might or might not cause people—kids even—to overdose. They could die. I could be partially responsible for the death of kids with brothers and sisters and mothers.
Pulling the covers up over my head, I clenched my eyes shut and tried not to hyperventilate. I told myself that none of this was my fault. I’d done the right thing. If anything, I was a victim here.
Right?
Uncertain and feeling worse and worse about the whole thing, I counted sheep.
>
Sleep. All I needed was some goddamned sleep.
Chapter Nine
The next week was a nightmare. I was haggling with the insurance company who didn’t want to cover any of the damage, citing that it was my fault for not keeping the electrical wiring up to code. I had my hands full fighting them on it, providing as much official paperwork and photographs as I could get my hands on to prove that my shop was up to legal standards.
Without the insurance money, I had exactly nothing to donate towards removing the debris from the convenience store. Not exactly great for business.
I pulled the curtain across the divider and cleaned up the register as best I could, but that was about all I could do for the moment. It would be okay for the summer—though I’d already had dozens of customers comment, gossip, and even walk out as a result—but come winter, things would have to change. Nobody wants to come into a freezing shop to get their hair done.
