MY SWEET VILLAINTINE

by My Sweet Villain

  I squirm at the reminder, my nipples still sore, the bruises over my breasts still fresh. I force myself to be still, to relax my jaw and accept the force of his bucking hips. He spurts, and I swallow it down quickly, making the greedy noises I already know he likes. This is a gift he is giving me—I know that now—and I will accept it with whatever silent thanks I can offer.

  He saved me.

  He brushes a hand over my cheek as he slips free, a few seconds of fingertips skimming the hollow created by his exiting cock, the briefest contact—if it weren’t for the times before, I’d think it accidental. The tenderness makes me shiver.

  “Spread your legs.”

  I do, and he touches me between them. Tests me. Where his touch had been nearly tender before, now it’s clinical. “You are not wet.”

  I shake my head, shame heating my cheeks. Dryness. Wetness. I’ve been chided for both. Either. It’s not the secretions of my body that are embarrassing. It’s the way my body won’t do what makes him happy on command.

  “I thought I bought a come-hungry slut. Was that a lie?”

  I shake my head again.

  “Use your words. Tell me what you are.”

  “Come-hungry.” My voice cracks with disuse, and the filthy words do their job, warming my cheeks, starting a steady throb in my clit.

  “Come-hungry what?” he urges, rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Twisting to the point of pain.

  “Come-hungry slut,” I pant, nearly spitting the last word, hating it and loving it at the same time, hating the way it burns me up from the inside and loosens my body.

  I hear the crack of his palm before I feel the sting. Tingling heat spreads across my face. “Don’t make me regret letting you speak. Say it right.”

  I stare at the ceiling, tears pricking my eyes, and imagine my other life. Before. The one where I had a name. The one where I wore sensible slacks and went to work at the fellowship hall and never said words like the ones he wants me to say.

  He brings it back to me with every bit of kindness. With every tender mercy he shows me. The longer he keeps me from the one who made me forget. Sir. I don’t want to go back to him.

  “I’m your come-hungry slut,” I sob, fear and relief mingling as he releases my nipples.

  “That’s right.” He strokes me between my legs again. Pets me. “That’s exactly what you are. Nothing more. I should fuck you dry to punish you for forgetting, but I have plans for you later today and I don’t want to bring you too damaged.

  I jerk to squeeze my legs shut, but he’s faster than I am, flattening his palms over my thighs and pinning me down. “Ah, ah, ah. It’s not him coming. I’ve told you. You’re mine now. He’s never taking you back.”

  I know, but my body still acts on reflex. I can’t help it. My heart beats a wild tattoo in my chest, and I can hardly think. Not him, not him, not him. My mind races, and it’s only fingernails digging into my hips that bring me back to the present.

  “Shh, shh. Should I have you touch yourself until you’re ready for me? Would that get your head back where it belongs?”

  I nod. Too eagerly because his face darkens, lips turning up at the corners in a wicked smile. “Oh, no. That won’t do at all. You’d bring yourself to orgasm, wouldn’t you?” “No, I wouldn’t. I promise.”

  And then he’s pinching my nipples again. “Did I tell you to speak? No, you can’t be trusted to touch yourself at all. I’ll have to do it myself. But how?”

  He draws a finger down the curving underside of my breast and over my belly. My mind races, following the heat of his touch. He spreads my lips, letting air caress my most secret places. “Maybe I’ll pinch your little clit again until you scream. If you’re going to make noise, at least you can make the kinds of noises I’m interested in hearing.”

  He taps the small bundle of nerves, and it’s like he struck a match, pleasure zinging like fire as I buck up off the cot. I don’t make a sound.

  “Maybe I’ll lick you. I won’t even touch your clit, just spread my saliva around until you’re wet enough for what I want. Use your words now. Tell me you want me to lick your pussy. Beg me pretty, and maybe I’ll let you come sometime today.” Oh God, I want that and I don’t. If he puts his mouth on me, I’ll come for sure, no matter the consequences. He slaps my mound, stoking the white-hot center and sending pleasure radiating through me again.

  “Please. Please. Lick my pussy. Put your tongue on my cunt. Please.” Every word is like a tiny slap. These are his words, but they’ve become mine. Everything of mine is his. His. Mine. My thoughts go hazy as his breath fans hot over my slit, his tongue dipping into my folds.

  One lazy flick and he pulls back. “Your cream is all over my tongue now. Was it the begging that did it or the dirty talk? Never mind, we’ll figure that out later. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

  I can barely form a coherent thought as he slicks his tongue over me again. Barely remember my name. But I remember the one from before. His shadow hangs heavy over me no matter what this one says. He’ll be back.

  “This is very generous of me. Say thank you while I lick you. Keep saying it.”

  I repeat it like the litany he wants. One long word. A string of syllables to drown out anything. Everything. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

  The orgasm builds and builds and builds, doubling over on itself until I feel infinite. Until I feel like I’ll die if I come or die if I don’t. His tongue slides around my clit, swoops down to gather more of my juices. My cream. And then spreads it around. Never going where I need it. Never touching the sharpness of my desire. Thankyouthankyouthankyou.

  Then he pulls back, and the wave of heat races away from the shore in a shuddering riptide of loss. I am wet and writhing. Lips still swollen from the invasion of his cock. Empty. Bereft.

  I bite back the please threatening to tumble from my mouth. I can learn.

  “Good girl,” he says, stroking my cheek again. “Now turn over. I don’t want to see your face while I fuck you.”

  MICAH

  Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and I relish her disappointment. Almost giving her what she wants and taking it away is my favorite torment.

  There is no torture like hope.

  She rolls over and gets herself up on her knees and elbows. Presenting her ass to me like an animal in heat. I spank her because I can. That’s all she is—an animal, an object—I tell myself over and over. My palm smacks against her flesh in a steady rhythm. Until my hand is numb and her ass cheeks are rosy red. Until I believe the lies I tell myself.

  “Please, Micah.”

  Her desperate whimpers break my conviction. The way she says my name. Insolent and innocent. Fuck. I want to plunge into the slick heat of her cunt and fill her with my come. Mark her inside too. Put a fucking baby in her.

  The thought twists in my gut. A monster’s child. It’s too much.

  Bent over her, lips close to her ear, I grab a fistful of her hair and shove my other hand under her mouth.

  “I’m going to take your asshole. Spit in my hand. Do a good job or don’t. It’s the only lube you get. One, two, three—” Tears hit my palm first, then something more viscous. “Nine, ten.”

  My palm is shiny, but it’s not much. This will hurt her, but she made that choice. Maybe I didn’t give her very long to…produce…but I did give her the opportunity.

  I slick her fluids over my cock and press the tip to the tight entrance. “Resist me, dolorita. Fight against my cock. Help me wreck you. I thought I wanted you whole for our meeting, but I don’t. I want you unable to sit or move or breathe without thinking of me invading your body.”

  Her muscles tense beneath me. “Wha—”

  She starts to ask a question, but it’s swallowed up in a scream as I push deeper into her channel. “We’re going to meet a man, dolorita. A man who acquires women. He says they ask to be sold. Did you answer a filthy ad?”

  “Noooo.”

  “Did you go lookin
g for something nasty on the internet and find something worse than you’d ever dared dream?”

  “No-no-no.”

  I push deeper and reach around to thrum her clit until her legs are quaking. “It’s okay, angel. I know you did. He’s going to look at you, and I’m going to make him tell us what he knows. I’m going to give you back your past. Whether you want it or not.”

  If you enjoyed Little Sorrow and want to read more of Micah and his dolorita, Shari would love to hear from you. Email her at shari@sharislade.com or stalk her on social media. You can find her on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

  * * *

  If you’d like to read another dark, dirty-talking man right now, meet the dangerous enforcer of The Devil’s Host MC in this complete bundle. It’s only ninety-nine cents for a short time so act fast.

  * * *

  When a big scary biker shows up at Jimmy's Diner fifteen minutes before the end of my shift—covered in tattoos and looking at me like I'm on the menu—I should flip the open sign to closed.

  But I don't.

  I'm too used to doing what I've been told. Too used to working and struggling and surviving to do anything different. A closed sign wouldn't stop him anyway. He's here to collect a debt. And I'm the only one left to pay.

  * * *

  ONE-CLICK THE DEVIL’S HOST MC COMPLETE SERIES

  * * *

  AMAZON

  IBOOKS

  NOOK

  KOBO

  T.M. Frazier has packed the next story with hot-as-hell bikers you may have met in the KING series… but you’ve never seen them like this before. We suggest you GET READING!

  HIS POSSESSION

  BY T.M. FRAZIER

  KING

  White smoke snaked into the night sky from under the closed lid of the huge-ass grill taking up half the back wall against the garage. The smell of sweet smoky barbecue permeated the yard. My mouth watered and my stomach growled just thinking about the piles of ribs Billy was cooking to perfection underneath that lid. The stars were out in full force. The moon was full overhead, covering the bay in a bright yellow blanket of light. The air was wet and hot. The music deafening.

  I fucking loved it.

  Our three kids, along with Trey and Bo were with Dre’s dad and his new girlfriend at some swanky hotel over The Causeway. I imagined Max and Sammy running up and down the hallways, knocking over room service trays and drawing all over the walls in crayon. I laughed at the thought.

  The music changed from an old Bush song to something by Miranda Lambert. I glanced over and spotted Ray bent over at the waist, screwing with the settings on the radio. Her perfect ass swayed to the beat. Her butt cheeks peeked out the bottom of her cut-offs, which made my palm twitch with the need to mark my girl’s perfect pale skin. Just a little smack would do the trick. Something others could see when she bent over.

  Something to remind everyone that she was MINE.

  I looked around the yard and found Billy enjoying the same view I was. I gave him a warning glare, a growl rumbled deep within my throat. His eyes widened and he looked to the sky, whistling to himself.

  Damn fucking right.

  The song changed again. This time to something poppy and auto-tuned that made me cringe. But not Ray. She was smiling and dancing to the beat. Ray liked to play the role of amateur DJ when we had a party, the problem was that she never let a song play all the way to the end, always changing it before it barely reached the chorus, which made me laugh and made the crowd stop and groan.

  As if she felt my eyes on her Ray looked back at me. The fire from the pit behind her crackled and popped, making her icy blue eyes look even brighter. When she winked at me I swear to fucking God that if Bear and Thia hadn’t walked up at that moment I would have stormed across the yard, pushed her shorts and panties to the side, and fucked her up against the speaker. Crowd be damned.

  Fuck, at least then maybe she’d let an entire song play.

  “You gonna snort all that shit at once?” Bear asked, pointing with his cigarette to the pile of blow I was emptying from a little baggie into the palm of my hand. He smiled. “I mean, it’s a party and all and I know it’s been a bit since we’ve had one without the kids, but you planning on being awake until next fucking Thursday or something?”

  “Not exactly,” I replied. Bear smirked and wrapped his arm around Thia’s shoulder. She looked up at him and smiled, but there was worry in her eyes. He kissed her on the top of the head and chuckled. “He’s like six minutes away, and he’s in good hands, Ti.”

  Thia sighed. “I know,” she said. “I’m fine.” Her stiff posture, along with the way she was chomping on the corner of her thumbnail, gave away that she was anything but fine.

  “Why don’t you go inside and call to check up. I want my girl to be able to enjoy herself instead of worrying all night long. Besides, I gotta see why the fuck King here has a fist full of blow,” Bear said to Thia.

  She smiled and gave him a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll be right back,” she said, but before she could turn to leave, Bear pulled her in and held both sides of her face.

  “You forgot something,” he growled, pressing his lips to hers, kissing her hard and deep. She stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  I cleared my throat. When Bear finally released her, Thia’s cheeks were bright red and her eyes half-lidded with lust. She stumbled a little and Bear gave her a knowing smile. “Where was I going again?” she asked breathlessly.

  Bear reached behind her into her back pocket and pulled out her phone. He handed it to her. “You gonna call and check on Trey, beautiful.” He turned her around by the shoulders and smacked her on the ass. She flashed him an embarrassed smile and took off without another word, her phone already to her ear and a smile on her face by the time she reached the top step of the porch.

  “Follow me,” I said to Bear. He put out his cigarette on the bottom of his boot and followed me across the yard.

  I tapped Preppy on the shoulder. When he turned around I threw a cloud of blow directly into his face. Bear howled out a laugh from beside me. In true Preppy fashion, he inhaled deeply through his nose. I laughed at my best friend, because it was fucking impossible not to laugh when he was around.

  And thank fucking GOD he’s around.

  “Shit’s expensive, boss-man,” Preppy said, wiping the excess powder from under his eye, rubbing it on his gums. “Things really did change while I was gone. Didn’t think you were one to waste this shit.” He smiled and his pupils grew ten times their normal size.

  “Rules don’t apply today, you should know that,” Bear said to Preppy, fishing a joint out from the inner pocket of his cut.

  Preppy laughed and took a swig from the whiskey bottle he was holding.

  “You have no fucking clue what day it is, do you?” I asked.

  Preppy shrugged. “Thursday?”

  “It’s your fucking birthday, asshole,” Bear pointed out, playfully shoving Preppy who staggered sideways.

  Preppy crinkled his forehead. “It’s my...birthday?” he asked, like he couldn’t believe it.

  “It’s your birthday,” I repeated.

  “Wow. I haven’t really been thinking about it.” Preppy grinned and took another swig. “Man, I can’t believe I’m twenty-fucking-nine. That’s fucking crazy to me. I’m almost as old as you two over-the-hill motherfuckers.”

  “Prep,” Bear said, “you’re not twenty-nine today.”

  “You’re thirty,” I added.

  Preppy took a step back and for a second looked like he was doing math. Then he started silently counting something off on his fingers. “No…fuck. I missed a birthday? I mean, it makes sense, but I didn’t really think about it. Fuck. I’m...thirty? Holy shit. I’m an old fucking man and I didn’t even know it.”

  “You’re not old. You’re still younger than us.”

  “But I haven’t prepared to be thirty,” Preppy said, staring down into the whiskey bottle.

&nbs
p; “I’m pretty sure there isn’t any preparation involved,” Bear said.

  “Sure there is,” Preppy argued. “My pants for example. They’re too low. I need to buy ones with higher waists. I don’t even suck loudly on my teeth after a meal.”

  I rolled my eyes and grabbed a beer from the cooler.

  Preppy continued. “I mean, I don’t even know what time Jeopardy starts and I’ve never been a morning person but I suppose I could learn to wake up at four a.m. to start my day of sitting on the porch. Dinner time at three p.m. Shit, there’s a lot to consider here.” He sat in the grass and Bear knelt down to comfort him.

  That’s when I noticed that Ray was no longer at the speaker and the light was on in the tattoo studio window. The possessive need I always felt for her took over and by the time I realized I was moving, I’d left my friends behind and was already halfway across the yard on my way to the garage.

  To my girl.

  MINE.

  RAY

  The studio was dark except for the small lamp on the side table. The party was raging just outside the window. I looked down to the paper on the desk and smiled.

  “Are you hiding from me, Pup?” King boomed from the doorway, startling me from my thoughts.

  I gasped and spun around, dropping the pencil in my hand. “You scared the shit out of me,” I said.

  King’s biceps rippled as he grabbed the header of the doorframe, leaning forward into the room his abs flexed under his tight black t-shirt. His dark jeans were slung low on his hips. His emerald green eyes were glowing with desire. His eyes looked me over, licking me from head to toe and back again.

  I knew that look.

  I fucking loved that look.