by S Williams
“No. That would be way too easy for me and you know it,” he mumbles, and our lips are way too close. He cocks his head to the right. “Don’t say anymore. Go upstairs.”
I look towards the staircase, blinking slowly, but I don’t go. He can’t make me. His nostrils flare and he grips my elbow, shoving me towards the stairs. I try and fight him off by squirming but he’s too strong for me.
He keeps me wrenched by the elbow until we reach the top of the staircase and then he shoves me away. I stumble forward, but catch myself just in time.
“Skirt and panties off!” he barks with his fists clenched.
I frown up at him. I know the routine already, and even though I’m pissed, my hands are shaky as I pull my skirt down. Even shakier when I manage to get my panties off too.
I’m completely naked in this room again.
In front of this damn bed.
I can feel his eyes running all over me, and when he steps in closer and brings a hand up, I flinch.
He pauses, remaining still for a split second. In no time, he continues with what he was about to do. He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear. Chills run down my spine from the gesture. It’s almost too warm.
“Get on the bed, on your knees, and then face me.” I glance up, but his hard brown eyes are already on me.
I climb on top of the bed and then turn around, looking right up at him. With short strides he steps forward. Grabbing my wrist, he pulls my hand up and forces it on his chest. Gradually sliding my palm down his upper body, he lets out a ragged sigh, as if my touch is enough to satisfy him.
I’m confused, but I keep my lips sealed.
When my hands meet the V carved into his waist, he stops me. “Unbuckle my belt.”
With unstable hands, I do as told, gaze plummeting. The buckle jingles as I loosen it.
“Unbutton my pants,” he demands with a low voice.
I unbutton them, and he slides them down to his ankles. He’s wearing a pair of gray briefs, and I see the solid bulge there. He’s so hard, and I honestly don’t know why.
How can such a “disobedient” girl make a strict man like him so hard? If anything, I should be turning him off for going against his word.
His hand comes down to stroke my cheek. His thumb runs over the area where the stitches are and I wince. When he pulls away, he steps out of his pants and then picks them up.
Yanking out the belt from the loops, he folds it in half in one hand and then tosses the slacks aside.
The thick leather hangs in front of him, and the sight of it causes fear to strike me. I begin to panic, fidgeting on my knees.
He grips my shoulder to keep me still.
“Rest on your stomach, but keep your head up.”
He forces me down to my belly. I keep my head up, watching…waiting. My heart can’t take this. It’s pounding so hard. Dangerously hard.
“You’re going to suck my cock, Gianna,” he murmurs when his lips come closer to my ear. “And as I fuck the shit out of that beautiful mouth of yours, I am going to spank you with this belt. And I will continue spanking you with it until I feel myself coming deep down your fucking throat. After the trouble you’ve caused—that I had to clean up—you fucking owe me this.”
Pressing down on my shoulder, he lowers me until his rock hard bulge is directly in front of my face. When he pulls away, he tugs his briefs down and his cock springs free.
And oh my fucking goodness.
He’s enormous.
Thick and veiny, with a bulbous tip that would stretch me wider than ever before. He’s perfectly hung, and for a second I think about Toni, and how he would envy a man with such a beautiful, massive cock, showing it off to me.
Why couldn’t it be small and ugly and pinky-sized?
Why does it have to be so…big?
My breathing accelerates when he moves his hips forward and presses the tip on my mouth. My lips are still sealed, but he grips my face, forcing me to spread them apart.
“Resist,” he growls, lifting the belt in the air, “and this will end up being worse than it needs to be for you.”
I unwillingly open my mouth, and he shoves himself right in. No hesitation whatsoever. I gag from that first thrust, my stomach clenching as I try to claim oxygen.
He puts on a wicked smirk as his smooth, hard flesh draws out and then rams into my mouth again.
Tears form in my eyes as he grips the top of my head with one hand, using the other to lift the belt.
The leather stings my bare ass, and I yelp around his throbbing cock. But he doesn’t stop. He spanks me again.
And again.
And again.
He doesn’t let up.
My ass cheeks are scorching, and my throat is getting sore already. My stiches are pulling, almost like they are about to pop, but I can’t stop, no matter how much any of this hurts.
He squeezes my hair in his hand, easing up with the belt. He drives harder, quicker, fucking my mouth like the true savage he is.
“Why haven’t you learned yet, niñita?” he groans, slamming in. I gag around his length, feeling him deep in my throat. “I am trying to be good to you,” he grunts, shuddering, “but you just keep taking what I have to give for granted.”
I moan as he grips my hair tighter in his hands. The belt comes up in the air again and he spanks me harder this time. The smack of the leather is so loud that the sound bounces off the walls.
I twitch, gagging and rolling with pain. The belt strikes me all over again, and I beg inside for him to come.
Just come already. Please!
I’ll swallow it all if that means the belt will stop.
He whacks me with it again, grinning down at me, still hammering my skull. He then drops the belt and spanks my ass with a heavy hand.
“Look at that sexy ass,” he rumbles. His thickness glides deeper. He is balls-deep in my mouth, the tip of his cock lodged in my throat. “Fuck, niñita. That shit feels so fucking good.” He spanks my ass again with his large, rough hand, shuddering, and then slamming down as I moan.
His abs are resting on my sore forehead and his cock is much harder now.
He’s close.
I can tell.
I ignore all pain and suck like my life depends on it, reaching up to play with his heavy balls. That gets him going. He intensifies his strokes, circling his hips as I mercilessly choke on his dick.
And then it finally happens.
One final plunge and he explodes.
His hot, salty come slithers down and I choke. He pulls out in the nick of time, allowing me to draw in a breath before completely swallowing his thick, hot load.
He steps back sluggishly, glaring down at me. Some of his hair has fallen onto his damp forehead, feathered lightly over his eyes. He watches me swallow it all and then forces me to sit up.
“I should have fucked your pussy instead,” he gripes, tugging on my hair. “I should have fucked the shit out of you. Then I’d know you wouldn’t try something that stupid again. Because my cock, niñita,” he murmurs, bringing me closer by the hair, “is what makes bitches like Francesca so obsessed with me. She hated everything about me…until I fucked some sense into her.”
When he pulls away, he puts on a devilish grin. One that makes my skin crawl. He releases my hair and shoves me back, going for his slacks in the corner.
“You will sleep in here tonight. I have something to take care of, but when I get back, you better be here and you better be ready for the rest of your punishment.”
The rest of my punishment?! Wasn’t this enough? Nearly fucking my throat away? His smirk proves only one thing to me.
He’s not fucking around.
He knows I’m not enjoying this, and he also knows I can’t protest or resist.
He has me right where he wants me…and I fucking hate him for it.
Chapter Fourteen
Day 12
The clock on the left has just struck midnight.
I haven’t slept
a wink, though I feel like I should have. I’m exhausted beyond measures, but I’m too afraid to rest. I don’t know what he’s going to do to me now. After that hateful throat fuck, what else is there to expect?
Maybe it won’t be sexual. Maybe it will be something involving guns and knives.
I hope so.
Then maybe I can manhandle one and kill him with it.
I rub my raw, bare bottom. It still stings. I pull the blanket over me and curl up.
1:00 A.M. rolls around and that’s when I hear distant footsteps.
They are slow, and when the door squeaks on its hinges, my heart sinks. The measured steps continue forward, up the stairs. When I don’t hear them anymore, I know he’s close.
I can feel his presence.
I nearly stop breathing as I wait for him to say something. Do something.
But he doesn’t.
The bed dips, and I hear a long, weary sigh fill the empty space surrounding us. He sounds exhausted.
I remain perfectly still, hoping that if I pretend to be asleep, he’ll skip the punishment he owes and spare me all together. I was just in a car wreck, for fuck’s sake. Show a little mercy.
When the dip in the bed is gone, I hear him walk around it. He tosses the blanket off of me, and I shut my eyes, but not too tight to make it look forced.
A hand runs over my hips while another forces my shoulder back.
I’m flat on my back, and the hand centers itself between my thighs.
I try not to move, or flinch, or open my eyes.
But it’s difficult.
The hand hovers around my pussy, toying with my clit and then dipping a finger into my hole. The finger slides in deep, but still, I hold it in.
I try and adjust myself, acting as if I’m slightly disturbed in my sleep.
I move my leg to the right and turn over, trying to push the hand away with the insides of my thighs, but it doesn’t budge.
The hand actually clamps down on my thigh, and I squeeze my eyes tighter as I bury the left half of my face into the cool fabric of the pillow. He forces me onto my back again.
My legs are craned wider apart, the bed dips in the gap between them, and then something hot and wet presses down on my clit.
I gasp, and that gasp alone is what pulls me out of my invented slumber.
I can’t hold it in.
Because that something hot is his tongue. It’s perfectly wet and as it rubs circles on my clit, my body jolts violently.
When I look down and see his wicked brown eyes locked on me, I feel like I’m in some sort of dream. Maybe a trance, or perhaps even a nightmare.
But nightmares don’t feel this good.
Nightmares aren’t this damn tempting.
He eats me whole, sucking on my clit as his fingers hatefully fuck me. His tongue applies just enough pressure—not too light or too heavy. My back bows and I moan loudly, clutching the sheets.
“Draco,” I breathe out. “Stop. Please.”
“Fuck no,” he says through full sucks and licks. His tongue slides down and pushes inside me. In and out. Making me wetter than I already am.
When he comes back up, he sticks his fingers inside me again and triggers the sweetest spot of all.
My g-spot.
As he flattens his tongue on my clit and watches me with those fierce brown eyes—I know I won’t be able to withhold or outlast him. He grinds his tongue on my clit with gentle force, his fingers running in and out, swirling, and dipping.
I hear my stickiness wrapped around his fingers, and then I hear him groan.
“Oh—fuck.” My eyes roll to the base of my skull. My head falls back and a sharp gasp fills the entire galería as it finally happens.
I finally come.
My body is like a fucking bomb.
Every single part of me explodes over and over again, detonating in the best and worst way possible.
The worst because it’s him there—doing this to me. I hate him and the tongue that has forced this orgasm right out of me.
The best because…my fucking word. I am shattering, writhing, and crumbling and as I push my pussy closer to his face, demanding that he doesn’t stop, I feel on top of the fucking world.
Like a queen, really. Having this man eat me.
Knowing what he’s done to ruin my life.
In a sense, I feel as if I’m ruling him—forcing him to take what I give, but knowing, for him, that it will never be enough.
In my own fucked-up little head, I own this haunted devil. I am making his tongue, lips, and entire face my bitch, and I don’t stop until I see my nectar coating all of him.
When my body finally collapses, I feel absolutely numb.
My lungs work hard, my panting wild.
I can barely move.
I don’t remember the last time I came this way.
Wait—have I ever come this way?
So hard? So angrily? So rebelliously?
No, I don’t think I have.
Draco pulls up, plants his hands outside my head, and hovers above me.
“That was the rest of your punishment.” He watches my eyes, searching for something. I’m not sure what. Bringing his hand up, he sticks his thumb into my mouth and my eyes thin out as we watch each other.
I have the urge to bite it, but I’m stuck.
On his eyes.
On him.
When he presses his thumb into the print of my bottom teeth to wrench my lips apart, he lowers his face, and consumes me whole.
His lips are soft and greedy, the kiss heightening sensual parts of me that it shouldn’t.
His hard cock rubs across my thigh, and he lets out a throaty groan. My core clenches as he grabs my wrists with his hands, pinning me to the bed.
“Look at you,” he rasps when he breaks the kiss. “So fucking ready for me. I should fuck you while you’re so soft and wet, but I won’t. Because that’s exactly what you want from me. Your pussy is hungry for my cock, but like I said before, only obedient little girls can have it.”
I writhe beneath him. “Just get it over with,” I mutter.
He vibrates with deep laughter, pulling away and sitting up straight. He knows I want it…and deep down I know it too. Lust, constantly betraying me.
He climbs off the bed with a massive hard on, adjusting himself as much as possible. “Juanita told me you don’t have a concussion from the crash. You’re tired. Go to sleep, Gianna.”
He walks around the bed and takes the stairs slowly. I watch him go without looking back, and I don’t bother moving a bit.
I don’t hear a door open or close.
He’s still around. I hear him moving things down there. I hear water run and then stop.
He’s about to paint. He’s not leaving this room, probably for the rest of the night.
I sigh and stare up at the vaulted ceiling.
My body is in dire need of rest. My womanhood is glowing and I’m way too relaxed right now. I am ashamed of myself…again.
What the hell is happening?
I hate this man. I hate this man!
I do.
I hate the way he makes me feel.
He’s confusing my body, but he won’t get to my mind.
My heart still hates him. My brain as well.
As long as I have them on the same side, my satisfied pussy is just a confused organ that doesn’t know any better.
He will not win me over like he did Francesca.
I will use my body as much as I can, but my heart and mind will keep their distance from that vicious man.
I don’t get the welcoming warmth of the sun this morning.
This room doesn’t have any windows.
My eyelids pull apart and all I see is the vaulted white ceiling.
It’s quiet in here. I don’t hear any movement. I sit up and push out of bed, tiptoeing towards the railing. I look down, but don’t see anything.
I go back to pick up my panties and make my way down half the stairs. I ben
d over to look where his canvas is.
He’s not here.
Does that mean I’m free to go?
I rush back up the stairs and sit on the edge of the bed for a moment to think. I check the alarm clock and it’s 7:15 a.m. I should probably go and get changed for breakfast. I bet that’s where he’ll be, and he’s probably waiting for me to arrive.
I grab my skirt, slide it on, collect my shoes, and then jog down the stairs.
My torn shirt is on the table in the center of the room. I pick it up and slide my arms into it. Wrapping the ends of it around, I make sure to conceal the private parts of me before walking out. I don’t know who’s lurking about.
If Bain is around, I damn sure don’t need him to see me like this.
I walk to the door and pull it open. It screeches a bit, but I keep moving. The hallway is clear when I make it up the first set of stairs. I rush down and when I pass the dining room, I’m relieved to know it’s empty.
I hear the chefs and butlers in the kitchen. I can smell something sweet and something salty. It all smells really good.
As I make my way down the corridor, that’s when I spot someone standing a short distance away.
And it’s just my fucking luck that it’s Bain.
He’s standing in the other kitchen with an apple in his hand. When he spots me through the corner of his eye, he turns fully, narrowing his cold gaze.
I walk faster to get to the staircase.
He stares even harder. He even takes a step forward.
I fucking hate that man.
I hate how he stares at me like I’m a piece of meat. If he doesn’t stop this soon, I may just end up ratting him out. I’ll say he touched me. Maybe Draco will get so pissed that he’ll fire him.
Shit. Who am I kidding? Bain is clearly his right hand man. He handles everything from what I’ve observed. Whenever Draco needs something done, he sends Bain first. He trusts Bain too much to let a girl like me interfere.
Patanza steps up to his side and they both watch me ascend the steps. When I can no longer see them, I release a ragged breath. I know they’re talking about me, and probably Draco too.
I’m practically undone. A torn shirt and no shoes on my feet. I’m sure my hair is a disheveled mess and my face is fucked up from that damn crash. I’m too afraid to even check the mirror.