When he stopped, I groaned.
His hand smoothed over the backs of my thighs, rubbing up and down the flesh he’d whacked with the ruler before. It was surprisingly sensitive, proving that the Lycra yoga pants hadn’t done much to protect me in the long run, but my skin tingled, heating up with his touch.
The knife made another appearance as he plucked the fabric away from my skin, and it made a scraping noise as he cut it from my body.
This wasn’t the first time he’d done this, and I knew no matter how hard I bitched later on, it wouldn’t be the last.
I enjoyed it, if I was being honest.
I liked being clothed around him. Liked him cutting it off me.
Sure, it was a waste of clothes, but I’d start going to the thrift store if it meant letting this carry on.
When my pants were in shreds, he tipped the knife backward and scraped the non-cutting side down my thighs next. I hissed at the cold metal as it brushed me there, then tensed when he scraped up. A shiver washed through me when the butt of the knife slipped between the crack of my ass, down, down, until it rubbed against my clit. My hips arched up, which instantly had one of his arms banding around my thighs and holding me in place while, with the other, he continued to rub my clit.
“Oh fuck,” I moaned, my skin flushing, sweat beading, heat popping through my system as the cold handle made its presence known against my delicate flesh.
Pushing my face into the comforter, I let him touch me there, uncaring that he was holding me down now. If anything, I liked it. I liked the grounding sensation.
A whimper escaped me when he moved the knife away, and a shiver of want rushed through me when, suddenly, it wasn’t the weapon but his tongue once more.
Which was capable of far more deadly force where my clit was concerned.
The second he touched me there, I felt like I lit up, like I was ground zero for a bomb. As if I was about to explode, shatter into a million pieces just from the first swipe of his tongue down my center.
My pussy was so damn wet that with each pass of the tensile muscle, a squelching sound emanated from the area, and unlike every other guy I’d fucked, of which there’d been many, he was the only one who’d ever made me wet. So that noise, for another woman, might have been embarrassing. For me? It was like heaven had a sound.
I shuddered as he slurped on my clit, sucking it between his lips, the little pearl palpated against them, before he sucked down hard, making me yelp as I was still sensitive from before. I jerked, pussy clenching, rippling deep inside from how fucking empty I was.
All my life, I liked being empty. With Cruz? Nope. I wanted to be full. So fucking full of him.
A keening noise escaped me when he made a smacking sound against my clit, and he took it between his teeth, carefully rubbing it there, not to hurt, just to make me feel the difference between his lips and tongue.
When he pulled back, murmuring, “You feel empty, Indy?”
“I-I do.”
“You deserve my dick?”
I released a shaky breath. Christ, I wanted to say yes, but I knew what he’d think. Knew he’d punish me first, so I sucked it up and sucked it in and rasped, “N-No.”
He hummed. “Good answer. Why don’t you?”
“Shouldn’t have bought that goddamn vibrator,” I said on a hiss as he swiped down through my slit, slipping the tip of his tongue into me. Of its own volition, my cunt grasped at it, but it was to no avail.
Cruz wouldn’t be captured.
I knew that like I knew I found it impossible to orgasm.
Unless I was with him.
I shuddered, my shoulders hunching, back bowing as he repeated that, swiping through my sex like I was an ice cream that was melting and that he needed to catch the drips. I felt like I was something delectable—he made me feel that way. Not something dirty, tainted. Something beautiful and delicious.
Groaning when he pulled back, I was prepared for the barrage of spanks. Didn’t stop me from yelping. If anything, I spread my legs wider. The clatter of the ruler against sopping wet flesh had a keening cry escaping me as he carried on, more and more until I knew my ass had to be more than just pink. I knew it would be bright red, burning like his annoyance with me.
When he stopped, he wasn’t even panting hard, but I was. My breaths drowned out the sound of my heart, my skin was clammy, my pussy was desperate, and I was running both hot and cold.
Hands clenching into the covers, I rocked my hips, focused only on one thing—him. Getting him inside me. It was a dangerous move, but I had to try. This emptiness, after a lifetime of it, was more than I could stand.
“You trying to tempt me, Indy?” he rumbled, his voice low and raspy.
I grunted. “My ass is on fire,” I hissed, hoping irritation would shadow the need, hiding it from him.
His laughter was as low as his voice. Just as wicked.
Then his hand was there, rubbing over the backs of my thighs, and I closed my eyes. The second he did, I wanted to weep over how fucked up I was. I tensed, awaiting the barrage of memories, but they didn’t show up. My nerves were tangled up with pain, with the agony of his spanking, too embroiled in the violence he’d just shown me to remember before.
They could only handle the now.
Just like every other part of me.
With every ounce of me standing at attention, I whimpered when he made it a point to really rub the tender flesh. I hissed, hobbling from knee to knee, but it was worth it when, a few seconds later, he stopped, and the bed jostled.
Groaning with relief, I waited, hoping he’d just take me, but he didn’t. His jeans were cold against my thighs, rough and coarse against the sensitive flesh. His chest still sported a Henley and his cut. He might still have been wearing his leather boots, I wasn’t sure. I just loved that he was covered. Loved it even as I wanted him bare-assed naked.
But that’d come later.
Much later.
With his knee, he parted my legs as he pushed on my shoulders, pressing me deeper into the covers so that my back arched higher. His cock was there, at my entrance. I could feel it bobbing through my folds like I bobbed for fucking apples as a kid at a Halloween party, and he covered me, all of me, his hands sliding around my waist, moving to my tits.
Kevin, for all he’d forced me, had been delicate. Gentle.
He’d kissed.
He’d worshipped.
He’d…
God, the memories.
I wished he’d been as brutal with the other stuff as he had been with the penetration, because at least that wouldn’t make it so fucking horrendous when a guy tried to suck on my nipples or when he kissed my neck, his lips trailing over my flesh as he headed down south.
Gentle and tender were reminders.
The way Cruz squeezed my breasts?
Painful.
It was a shock. Such a fucking shock that I yelped again as he squeezed, bringing blood to the surface. And as he hurt me there, in contrast to Kevin, he slid into my pussy as easy as walking through a damn door.
God, everything was a study in contrast.
He was so fucking clever.
Somehow, he knew. He fucking knew, and like my knight in goddamn inked armor, he gave me what my body wanted, what my brain needed to forget.
As I focused on the pain in my tits, it took a second to process the feeling of fullness. When I did, his hands slid to my neck and as he pressed them around me there, he jerked me up so that I had no choice but to rest my weight on the tips of my fingers. I only had a second though. As his grip tightened around my throat, it began, and he raised me higher so I had no support.
Nothing but him to rely on.
Terrifying, petrifying, but oh, so right too.
Now he was inside, it was different. My brain had clicked onto exactly who this was, and he knew it. He knew because I wasn’t struggling. I was compliant. I was here. Ready and waiting for anything this bastard, my fucking savior, could give me.
He choked me. There was no kinder way to describe it, but as he did, his words were in my ear, his heat all around me. His hands might have stolen my oxygen, but his body gave back to me in ways he’d never understand. His thrusts were hard, deep. He barely bucked his hips as he slid out and in, and with each pass, I could feel the fog as my deprived lungs strained.
“You need me, Indy, don’t you?”
“You feel my cock inside you, Indy?”
“Whose cock is fucking you, Indy?”
“I’m Cruz, Indy. Cruz. Fucking spell it in your head.”
The words had my lips trembling, my eyelashes fluttering, and I gasped out, “Cruz.”
Not a safe word.
The key to the door.
He let go immediately. One hand slipped between my legs and he began to frig my clit as fast as he started to fuck me.
My torso slammed into the mattress, my body battled to right itself after being starved of oxygen, but even more than that, it struggled with the pleasure.
It hit me like he’d hit my ass—only, it smacked me in the face. A high pitched cry escaped me, so loud that, another time, I’d be grateful no one lived next door and that both buildings either side used the upstairs as storage. As pleasure walloped me like a tsunami, shadows overtook me.
Loading my mind with a blackness that tasted of sin, scented of Cruz, and felt like paradise.
Seven
Cruz
When she let go, when subspace hit, I let myself go too. My cum slalomed into her, hard and fast as my hips bucked after I strained to reach my own orgasm. Her pussy clenched around me so fucking ferociously, it choked my cock, leaving me no choice but to slump over her in the aftermath.
Before, I’d never have done that.
I’d known she was unusual, right from the start. Things with Indy had always been aggressive. At first, it had been a turn on. The Dom in me liked that she was quick to act, willing to be violent. At first. Then, quickly, I’d realized she got nothing out of it.
Nothing.
She made all the right noises, then she’d turn off the second I touched her. I knew a woman’s body, knew hers even more. Disarming her was the only way forward I’d soon learned, then, she’d had that nightmare, and suddenly everything made sense, and I knew what she needed. Not because I was some kind of fucking guru, but because I knew Indy. She was aggressive by nature. Could butt heads with her biker brothers. Was independent enough to have made a name for herself in a male-dominated industry, and was ferocious enough to fight the way she did pre-fuck.
I warmed her up with violence. Messed with her nerves, made them clamor in silent alarm so that she could deal with skin-to-skin contact.
I teased her with control. Made her bow to me, relinquishing all thoughts, all worries, all stresses and strains.
I dominated her with strength. Taking her weakness, owning it, protecting it. Giving her rules and parameters, letting her take ownership of the one thing she did control—her body.
Finally, I fucked her with fire. Taking what I needed, knowing full well that, once primed, she was more than along for the ride.
Pressing a kiss to her still-clad shoulders, I carefully pulled out of her. Things had stopped being playful a long while back for me, and Indy was just too fucking easy to love.
I grabbed the shirt, plucking it off her back like I had her pants, then I reached for the knife I’d dropped on the mattress and cut that off her too.
I didn’t nick her bra though, because that was the one thing she hated replacing, and though she never complained about it, just sighed when she stared at the pretty bits of lace I’d destroyed, I decided to reward that by simply unfastening it until she was bare ass naked. Only then did I climb off the bed. As I stripped out of my Henley, cut, and jeans, toeing out of my boots, I studied her.
She was tense enough to stay upright, zoned enough to be insensate. I sometimes watched subs in subspace and felt envy. That freedom was something I’d crave myself if I didn’t believe freedom was bullshit. Except, with Indy, I truly hoped it wasn’t. I hoped for more. Because she deserved it. She deserved a break from the past, to be free of the cage of her memories.
As for myself, I was just glad I was the one holding the key to that cage.
Naked now, I headed to the bathroom. That was full of girly frou-frou shit as well. Considering these buildings weren’t really supposed to be residential, I figured she owned this place and had decided to live in it simply because she worked crazy hours. It was eleven at night now, but she’d only just finished up and that was because it was mid-week. Weekends, she worked even longer shifts.
Still, for all this place was commercial, she’d prettied it up. The bathroom consisted of a cast iron clawfoot tub, a small shower cubicle, a toilet and a vanity that was loaded down with candles and that dried flower shit. The stuff that didn’t really smell after a while and was just a dust collector. Well, maybe in other women’s homes, but not this one. Indy’s dried flower shit was clean. Nothing was dusty. She was pretty anal about cleanliness too. Which always made it amusing to me when I left her on the bed, cum dripping out of her pussy, dirty as fuck.
Knowing the drill, a drill we’d slowly worked into, and one that was going to pretty much be the blueprint for the future—and I definitely saw us having a future—I took a leak then started the water in the bath.
As I did, I thought back to that night where I’d seen her and wanted her. I mean, I was a guy. I’d been attracted to her for a while, but the night where I’d seen her for real would stick with me for years.
When I’d watched her, on her hands and fucking knees, scrubbing the floor with one of those nail brushes?
I’d been pretty sure I was about to cum in my pants.
Cleaning was imperative to me. Not because I was anal or OCD, but DNA was my enemy. Eradicating it, and evidence, was my life’s goddamn work. So watching her could only have been hotter if she’d been cleaning nak—
Huh.
I scratched my chin as I thought about that as my next punishment. I’d love to watch her scrub the fucking floor, pussy and tits bare, then have it end with her sucking me off.
Christ.
I was getting another boner, and I was way too fucking old for that shit. Of course, I’d been way too fucking old most of my life.
As I poured some of the crap she liked into the tub, allowing the perfume that Indy scented of most days to fill the bathroom, I sucked in a deep breath before I twisted around and headed back toward the bed.
She hadn’t moved.
That came as no shock.
If I’d ever seen anyone be fuck-drunk, it was her.
Lips twitching at the thought, I moved over to the bedside, stared at her and found myself unable to do anything other than run my fingers through the cum that was bubbling out of her slit. Fuck, I loved cream pies and I rarely got them.
That was why it was hilarious Jingles thought she could sway me with her tits and ass. You needed to double bag your dick if you approached any of the clubwhores. Where was the fun in that?
Indy had an IUD, which was a good thing because I had no intention of being a dad, not after the shit I’d done, seen, and learned, but the sight of a woman’s cunt drenched in my cum…delicious.
Even better when it was her cunt.
She twitched at my touch, but I didn’t stop. My fingers toyed with her even as I reached down and jacked off a little, not really wanting to get another boner but wanting to just enjoy the moment when Indy’s defenses were down. Not in a creepy way, just in a way that meant she was allowing me in, which was hard-earned.
For the rest of the night, she’d be pliant, until she woke up, the day fucked her over, and when I got near her again, I’d have to warm her up once more.
A douche might ask if she was worth it—just like she had earlier.
But a douche didn’t know what Indy was worth, period. Just like her.
There was a reason I was allowing myself back into this worl
d—because she needed it. She needed me to be this man, to be the kind of guy who could erase her mind like I hit Ctrl+Alt and then Delete, and when I sensed her suffering, I felt like I had no alternative but to give her some relief. To give her freedom the only way I knew how.
A moan escaped her, another clue that she was coming down from her high, and she rocked her hips against my hand.
“Cruz,” she said thickly, body undulating against the covers.
I clenched my jaw at how she said my name, how she always said my fucking name when she was like this. I sometimes wondered if this was the Indy she should always have been, before her cunt of an uncle had gotten to her, but there was no point in thinking shit like that.
Here and now, this was Indy, and while I wished better for her, I thought she was pretty fucking amazing as she was.
With my fingers sticky with our mingled cum, I pulled back, amused when I saw her lips twist into a pout. Her eyes popped open, and lazily, she grumbled, “Why’d you stop?”
“Want the water to run over?”
She heaved a sigh then, she made my dick harder by opening her mouth and accepted the offering of my fingers without my even having to say a word.
Fuck, I loved a smart sub and, without a shadow of a doubt, Indy was a sub. Each and every time she let me dominate her and loved it, I thought she’d never let me back in again, but she did. She needed this just as much as I did, but that didn’t mean she’d want me around for good.
And that was something I had to work on.
I stuck the digits between her lips, letting her suck them clean. She moaned, the vibration throbbing through my flesh as her tongue sucked between the webbing of my fingers as she took them deep. When she was done, I thrust them a little deeper, watching her with interested eyes as she gagged. Her eyelids didn’t pop open, there was no distrust or displeasure or a silent plea to stop, she just took what I gave her.
She always fucking did.
Growling under my breath, I pulled back after I stopped tickling her tonsils because I had no desire for her to puke tonight. Maybe another night, I’d be okay with it, but I really didn’t want the mess. I’d had a fucker of a day, I wanted to bathe my woman, maybe come again, then sleep with one of her tits in my hand and my cock in her cunt.
Cruz : A Dark MC Romance (A Dark and Dirty Sinners’ MC Book 5) Page 10