by Hannah Ford
It’s confusing as hell, and the first lash of his belt against my skin makes it even more confusing as the pain rips through my body like brushfire, hot and unrelenting.
A moan escapes my lips as Gage wastes no time pulling his hard cock out and turning my head, lining his cock up to my mouth.
“You have a lot to say tonight, don’t you, baby?” he growls. “If my belt won’t shut you up, maybe my cock will.”
Chapter 2
GAGE
Chloe gazes up at me, her eyes wide and innocent, and for a moment my breath catches in my chest. An urge pulses through me, strong and unfamiliar, to grab her, pick her up, take her up to my bed and push into her pussy soft and slow. To cup her chin in my hands as I move inside of her, to tell her I love her, that I’ve never loved anyone before, that she’s it for me.
It goes against everything I believe in, everything I stand for, and I summon every ounce of my strength and bury it deep.
As much as I want to let her in, I won’t.
I can’t.
Her mouth stays clamped shut, and she stares up at me, eyes wide and flashing with anger. But she knows she can safe word, and the way her ass is sticking up in the air, almost begging for more lashes from my belt, makes it clear she wants this.
My finger drifts over the slit of her pussy, the folds slick with her arousal.
“You like this. Don’t try to pretend you don’t.” I take my finger and brush it across her lips. “Taste yourself on my finger. As much as you fight me, baby, this is what you wanted all along, isn’t it? To be spanked and punished?”
I fist my cock as she glares up at me. I rub the head of my dick over her lips, the bead of pre-cum that’s collected there mixing with her pussy juices.
I lash her ass again, harder this time, letting her know that I’m not messing around, that this is what she gets if she tries to push me, if she tries to defy me.
She’s still staring up at me with those wide innocent eyes as I push my cock into her mouth.
“Suck it, baby. Good girl,” I say approvingly as she follows my instructions and allows me into her mouth, licking, tasting, sucking.
I slide a finger into her pussy. She’s so tight back there, so tight that I can’t ever imagine the thickness of my cock being able to slide in. She’s so turned on she’s wet and slick, and her clit pulses under my thumb.
That same urge slides through me like a wave, the urge to take her upstairs, to hold her and take her virginity soft and slow, the way she deserves.
It’s so overwhelming that I almost give in to it. The thought of her sweet face staring up at me, her legs spread as I take her, whispering how much I love her as I let her get used to the thickness of my cock, is too much to fight against.
But I do.
I summon all my strength, and I shove another finger into the tight channel of her cunt as I grab the back of her neck and push my cock all the way down her throat. I watch her choke, her eyes watering, and I wait a beat, loosening my grip, giving her a chance to safe word.
And when she doesn’t, I push further into her mouth, then belt her ass again.
I watch as the welts start to appear on her otherwise flawless flesh, red and raw, and the sight of them only serves to intensify my arousal.
I continue to belt her and choke her with my cock, making her take the whole thing until she gags.
Then, when her eyes are filled with tears and her ass is bright red, I throw the belt away and return my fingers to her pussy. I shove three of them inside of her, enjoying the way she gasps around my cock, and then, before she can stop me, I push my thumb into her asshole.
She struggles against me and I pull her back sharply by the hair, watching as she pops off my cock.
“Sir,” she gasps, and her eyes are filled with panic even as her body stills, afraid to move at all while I’m inside of her in that way.
“You’re going to come for me,” I growl, slapping my cock on her face. “You’re going to come for me while I’m filling both of my holes with your fingers, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” Her voice is small, her eyes innocent, and the way she’s looking up at me, so obviously wanting to please me, makes me pause.
But before I can let my emotions take over, I give into my baser instincts, into the pure physicality of the moment, and push my dick back into her mouth.
I leave my finger in her ass, but move the three fingers in her pussy in and out, faster and harder, as I fuck her mouth. I can feel her channel about to spasm, then feel her clench around my fingers as she comes.
I keep up my assault on her mouth, making sure not to give her a break from sucking me even as her orgasm subsides.
When she shudders and stills, I climb on top of her, holding her down with the back of my hand, as I slide my cock over her slick folds, feeling how wet my fingers made her.
“Sir,” she gasps.
I move my hips, and it’s almost like I’m fucking her without breaching her hole, and I pin her down harder and slap her ass.
“I’m going to come on your pussy,” I say. “And when I do, I want you to come for me again.”
She moans and I put my hand around her neck, squeezing her throat gently and pulling her toward me. The outside of her pussy feels amazing, so wet and slick, and it’s all I can do not to push inside of her, to take her virginity the way I know her body is begging for.
But before I can, I feel her starting to come, hear the breathy little sound she makes before she orgasms, and then she’s calling my name, and I’m shooting a load all over that tight, virgin little pussy, making sure to keep thrusting even after all of my cum is out, making sure to cover her with it.
When I’m done, I flip her over, look at her pussy smeared with my cum.
I take her hand and place it over her pussy.
“Push my cum inside of you.”
I watch as she does it, her pants yanked down, her panties pushed to the side.
“Good girl. Now get dressed and come inside.”
Chapter 3
CHLOE
I have dinner with him, just because I know that if I don’t, he will just make it worse for me. It’s a strained meal, because we both know what’s happened. He’s told me he would try, and obviously he hasn’t.
Oh, I know he says he’s trying, but I don’t believe him. Or if he is, it’s not enough.
If anyone’s trying, it’s me. Every time he dominates me, every time he hurts me, I feel like it’s another test I have to pass, another way I have to prove to him that I want him, no matter what he does.
But I’m starting to understand why they say never to negotiate with terrorists- because they will just keep taking and demanding more and more, while never following up on their promises.
So in the morning, when Gage has left for work, I creep downstairs and out the door. A security guard tries to stop me, giving me some bullshit about how he’s now allowed to let me leave. But he’s young, and therefore probably new, and he acquiesces after I threaten to call the police and tell them that he’s holding me against my will.
I can see the uncertainty on his face as he tries to work out what will be worse – explaining things to the police or explaining things to Gage – and he finally steps aside.
Once I’m outside, on the streets of New York, I take stock of my situation.
I have about sixty dollars in my checking account, no food, no water, a suitcase filled with clothes, my laptop, my phone, and my charger. I have no friends in the city unless you count Holly VanGorder, the girl I know who went to Syracuse with me and Grace.
And there’s definitely no way I can call her, because she was the last person to see Grace. Besides, it’s not like we’re super close. And she’d probably have all these questions, and I’d want to ask her all about Grace, and… God.
I miss Grace so much.
And I miss my sister, and I miss just having someone to talk to, someone who will have my back no matter what, who won’t judge
me, who –
My phone rings in my hand, the screen blinking with an unidentified New York City area code. My throat catches. Because of course, there’s the fact that my sister’s killer is on the loose, that the police think he might be trying to contact me.
My hand shakes as I hit the accept button.
“Chloe Cavanaugh?” a young woman’s voice says.
“Yes, this is she.”
“This is Stacy Clemens, assistant to Nicholas Cove.”
My heart clenches. Wait, what? I almost say, but I clamp my mouth shut. Nicholas Cove is an extremely successful venture capitalist – he basically runs the same kind of company Gage does. Nicholas is almost as successful as Gage, but not quite. I sent my resume to his office in search of an internship, but I never really thought anything would come of it.
“Okay,” I say dumbly.
“Nicholas would like you to come in for an interview tomorrow morning. Are you free?”
“Yes!” I say, sounding super loud and eager. “I’m free.” But then I realize I have nowhere to stay tonight, and no money for a hotel room. “I mean, I should be free. I mean, no, I’m free.”
“If there’s a more convenient time, we can certainly be accommodating.”
“No, it’s just… I was planning on leaving the city today, but of course I will stay for a meeting with Mr. Cove.” I wince at my words, hoping I don’t sound like I’m not interested or that I’m not eager. Especially after how eager I sounded when she first asked me. She’s gonna think I’m a total psycho.
“We can put you up in a hotel for the night if that would help.”
“Oh,” I say, “I don’t… thank you, but that’s really not necessary.”
“It’s really no problem,” she says, and I can hear keystroking in the background, her fingers flying as if she’s already getting to work finding me a room. “I’ll text you hotel details and an interview times, along with directions to our office, within the hour.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“I look forward to meeting you, Ms. Cavanaugh.”
“You too.”
I hang up the phone and look around the city -- my heart leaps. Suddenly, things are looking much brighter.
Chapter 4
CHLOE
“Can I help you with anything else, miss?”
“No, thank you,” I say, reaching into my purse and pulling out a ten-dollar bill. I hand it to the concierge. It’s a small price to pay for him taking my bags upstairs for me, and for staying in this room, which must cost hundreds of dollars a night.
True to her word, Stacy has booked me a room at the Clemente Park, a fancy hotel overlooking Central Park. My room has sweeping views of the park, a king-sized bed with soft-looking sheets, and a mini bar filled with Belgium chocolates and tiny bottles of liquor encased in gold wrappers.
An hour after I arrive at the hotel, I’m stepping out of the shower – which has a steam function that leaves my skin feeling soft and my body invigorated -- and wrapping myself in one of the hotel robes, when my phone rings.
Gage.
It’s his office number, and I’m tempted to send it to voicemail. I may have a place to sleep tonight, a fancy hotel room, and an interview at a top VC firm tomorrow, but there’s still an ache in my heart.
I want to talk to him.
I don’t want to talk to him.
I want to see him.
I want to pretend he never existed.
Finally, I answer the phone, mostly because as with almost all things with Gage, I’m afraid of what he’ll do if I don’t.
“Were you going to tell me you were leaving?” he demands by way of greeting, his voice deep and dark. So deep and dark it seems to slip over my skin and turn my lower belly into molten liquid.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I thought you would make me stay.”
“What are you doing at the Clemente?”
“How do you know I’m at the Clemente?” I glance around, half-expecting to see him lurking in the shadows. When there’s no sign of him, I look up and scan the ceiling, looking for cameras.
“There’s a tracker on your phone.”
“Of course there is.” I close my eyes tight. Even when I’m trying to get away from him, I can’t.
“I answered your question. Now answer mine. What are you doing at the Clemente?”
“That’s none of your business.” I lay back down on the bed, resting my head on the fluffy pillow behind me. Suddenly, I’m exhausted. I’m tempted to just close my eyes and go right to sleep. And why shouldn’t I? It’s not like there’s anything I have to do today. And some rest would do me good.
“Come to my office.”
“Gage.”
“I need to talk to you.”
For a second, that same old flash of hope flares inside of me, that maybe he means it, that maybe this is the time he’s going to let me in, to tell me about his past, that we’ll be a real couple with Netflix nights and takeout Chinese food from some random place down the street.
I’d even settle for, like, going to Broadway shoes and dinners at fancy restaurants. I mean, baby steps here.
But fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, three times, four times…No.
“No.” I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “I’m sorry. I mean, no, I’m not sorry. You said you were going to try, and I believe that you’re trying, I do, Gage. But it’s not enough. I’m sorry, I really care about you, I do, but…I just can’t.”
I stop myself from saying what I really want to say, which is that I’m falling in love with him, that I’m not sure I’ll ever find anyone else I love more than I love him, that I’m more attracted to, that I want to be with.
But that the only thing worse than not being with him at all is being with him halfway, the constant trying to get close to him and him pushing back. I don’t think he’s doing it on purpose. But I do think that he’s not capable of it, and as much as it’s tempting to want to believe I can be the one to change him, I know I can’t.
Every time he dominates me, every time he pulls out his belt, it’s like a test. A test to see how much I can take, how much darkness I’m willing to accept from him. And so far I’ve passed every single one, and it’s still not enough for him.
“I have news about Grace,” he says.
“What?” I’m sitting up now, paying attention, my desire for a nap totally forgotten.
“The investigator, the one I told you I would have look into it? He found something.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. “What did he find?” Please don’t say she’s dead. For some reason that’s the first thing I think, the first thing that comes into my mind. That this investigator of Gage’s has found her body. That she’s dead.
“Come to my office.”
“What? No. Just tell me.”
“I’ll tell you in person.”
“That’s fucked up.”
“I’m fucked up.”
The line goes dead.
Chapter 5
GAGE
She comes into my office like a house on fire, her eyes flashing and her face flushed with irritation. The high color on her cheeks makes me think of how her ass looked last night after I belted her, the redness that bloomed there.
She’s wearing a pair of jeans and a soft pink sweater, her hair up in a messy bun. A few strands have broken free and frame her face. She looks innocent and pure, and yet the way the sweater hugs her curves makes me want to take her over my knee.
“I’m here,” she announces.
“I can see that.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and her breasts push together, making my cock twitch. “So tell me what you found out about Grace.”
“Sit down, Chloe.”
“No.”
I lean back in my chair and press my fingers to my temples. “If you don’t sit down, Chloe, I will pick you up and put you in that chair.” It’s not an empty thre
at, and I hope she defies me so that I have an excuse to do it.
But she knows I’m being serious, so she sits down in the chair that’s in front of my desk, her eyes still flashing.
“You seem angry.”
“I seem angry? Of course I’m angry, Gage, you used news about my missing best friend to lure me to your office. It’s fucked up.”
She’s right. It is fucked up, to use information about her missing best friend to manipulate her into coming here to see me. But what else was I supposed to do? The thought of never seeing her again filled me with panic. I cancelled five meetings today, important meetings, just to get her here.
“So?” she demands. “What did you find out? Anything? Or was this just a sick ploy to see me?”
“It wasn’t a ploy,” I say, and the look on her face fills me with something else, another unfamiliar emotion, one I haven’t felt since I was a child. Guilt.
“Are you sure? Because you sure do seem to love fucking with me.”
“Oh, I love fucking with you, all right. I run my eyes up her body, over the curves that are on full display under that sweater. I’m hoping she’ll make a smart comment back, that I’ll have an excuse to touch her, to punish her, to take her over my knee, to lay her across my desk.
But instead, her bravado falters.
“What do you want from me, Gage? Why are you doing this to me? Is this fun for you, to fuck with me like this? Because it’s not right.” Her voice is soft and pleading, and there’s no trace of anything else but the trueness of what she’s asking, of the strong need she has to know the answers to her questions.
The truth, of course, the one I can hardly even admit to myself, is that I love her. I need her. The thought of not having her close to me is unbearable. The only thing that’s more unbearable is to be vulnerable with her, to let her in the way she wants me to.
She’s right, though.