by Rina Kent
It’s the best way to get rid of accumulating tension, but there’s one tiny problem about that.
Ever since I fucked Anastasia three weeks ago, I haven’t had the appetite for anyone else.
It’s not that I don’t want to fuck. It’s that I want to fuck her. No one else but the lying, conniving thief that I should’ve outed by now.
The background check Daniel did on her is squeaky clean, which is suspicious as hell. Just like her.
And I’ll handle it.
I just haven’t figured out how. Because every time I see her, I picture my dick in her mouth or her tight pussy.
And that’s not very productive. Or maybe it is, depending on which angle one looks at it from.
I leave my briefcase in my office and take the lift to the car park. Someone stops it a floor below, one of the assistants. She smiles and I fake one right back.
It’s easy now, to pretend that I’m normal, that I can automatically smile upon seeing another human instead of having nefarious thoughts about throwing them from the highest floor.
I might act friendly, but I don’t trust people. Not after the kindest-looking ones made mine and my sister’s lives hell.
The rotten people looked posh, elegant, and had all the right connections and money to hide their nefarious tendencies. They used their power to prey on the vulnerable and feed their fucked up animalistic urges.
Which is why I made it my mission to make them pay any chance I got. The press and everyone in the law circuit says I’m picky, but they don’t know the actual reason behind that.
I refuse to represent a person if I doubt they’re rotten.
They have a stench—the rotten ones—and I can smell it from a mile apart. It’s a sixth sense that I’ve had ever since I was a child.
Don’t get me wrong. That doesn’t mean I give a fuck a fuck about justice. At least not in the traditional sense.
If a woman comes to me because she murdered her abusive husband, good for her. I’ll get her out of prison in a heartbeat.
If a man killed his gold digging, emotionally abusive wife, good for him, too. I’ll give him a new page so he can start over.
Yes, I get murderers out of prison, but not any murderers.
Not any abusers.
Just the ones I don’t smell that rotten stench on them.
When the lift is about to close, I spot a very petite and very familiar woman walking at a brisk pace in the opposite direction.
I don’t even think about it as I hit the button that opens the doors before it closes. This is not the IT department, so what’s she doing here?
That girl is shady as fuck, and today, I won’t let it go.
I follow after her, keeping a safe distance. She doesn’t notice me, though, since she has that nerdy way of being so focused either on her computer, or on her feet, like right now.
She’s carrying her laptop case and lowering her head as she cuts the distance in record time. She’s fast, but not forceful, almost like a breeze passing through.
Her destination is, apparently, a staff supply room that’s rarely used. She stops in front of it and checks her surroundings like a thief before breaking and entering. I hide around the corner until she goes inside.
I wonder what the little daredevil is doing on a floor that shouldn’t concern her and in a supply room. I doubt it’s because a tech was needed here.
Instead of following right after, I wait five minutes. I need her to be engrossed in whatever her task is so she doesn’t get the chance to hide.
I’m patient like that. Hunting doesn’t happen with only speed. Stalking before the attack is the best way to leave the prey with no way out.
Once the five minutes are up, I stride to the door and slowly open it. Sure enough, she’s sitting cross-legged on the floor in the midst of stacks of papers and typing away at her computer.
The blue light reflects in her glasses as her fingers move at lightning speed. She’s facing me, so I can’t see what she’s working on, but she doesn’t notice me, even when I close the door, trapping us both inside.
Click.
The sound echoes in the air and she lifts her head, her lips forming an O.
With the door closed, the only light in the pitch-black supply room comes from beneath the door and her laptop. There’s light, but I don’t use it.
For me, darkness is familiar. Light is not.
Due to the blue glow, I can make out the parting of her full lips. Lips that should’ve never left my dick since that first time.
“W-what are you doing here?”
“That should be my question.” I stalk toward her. “What are you plotting now? Another identity? Another name?”
She tracks my movements as if I’m indeed the predator that’s coming after her. I lean forward to peek at the computer. “What do you have there, Anastasia? Why do you need to come here to do it?”
As if just realizing what I’m after, she slams the laptop shut, filling our surroundings with dark shadows.
“Do you think that will stop me?” I reach for it and she tries to curl up around it.
I slip my hand onto her stomach and she’s forced to get on her back, keeping the laptop overhead so I can’t reach it.
So I climb on top of her, my chest glued to hers, and that stops her from wiggling about. She strains, her fingers clutching the laptop in a death-grip.
“What are you doing?” She pants, half-mortified, half-strained.
“I told you, I’ll uncover you, and now is as good a time as any.”
“There’s nothing to uncover, let me go.”
“Hmm. I would’ve believed that if you weren’t going through so much trouble to protect your crime weapon.”
“Laptops are personal, asshole.”
“Not if they’re at the crime scene.”
“Ugh…you’re crushing me.”
“Then give it up.”
In one last-ditch attempt, she tries to knee me in the balls. I grip her knee with one hand and stroke her thigh. A smile stretches my lips, a real one, though it probably looks like an evil smirk in the dark. “You really shouldn’t have played dirty. Now, I’m tempted to do something.”
“D-do what?”
“Make you squirm.” My fingers inch closer to her hips, and even though I’m touching her through her clothes, I feel her warmth and the shudder going through her body.
“Y-you said you wouldn’t touch me.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Because your body gets so pliant underneath me and I might like that.”
“It does not.”
“Hmm. Should I prove it?”
“D-don’t.”
“Challenge accepted, my little butterfly.”
After all, she’s the reason I lost my sexual appetite and it’s only fair that I get it back through her.
Yes, she’s a liar, but she might be the best form of distraction I’ve ever had.
9
ANASTASIA
My little butterfly.
That’s what he just called me, right?
My chest tightens and my eyes grow in size, desperate to make him out. In the darkness, I can’t see him, but the sharp lines of his face are visible and so is the glint in his intense eyes.
I’m trapped beneath the hardness of his body and the sheer size of him. I’m crushed and can’t breathe. And that cologne I searched for at the department stores? It’s suffocating me now, robbing my thought process and stopping me from thinking beyond this moment.
“You…you have my butterfly?”
“Why would you think that?”
“You just called me a little butterfly.”
“Could have done that for any reason.”
“But it was specific enough.”
“Hmm. What are you going to do to find out whether I have it or not?” His voice is deep, dark velvet that’s wrapping itself around my neck.
“I…”
My words
trail off when his hand that’s been on my thigh glides to the inner side of it.
I clench my legs together tightly, even though it tingles, even though every illogical thought in my head is urging me to let go.
I can’t.
Not when I can sense ripples of darkness emanating from him. The same darkness I fought tooth and nail to leave behind.
I think I’ve always sensed it on him, even during that night in Jersey, but back then, it was fine because it was a one-time thing and I foolishly thought I wouldn’t see him again.
I foolishly thought I would just keep him in my memories and that’s it.
But he’s right here, and he’s coming after me and that’s not good.
It’s downright frightening for Babushka’s and my destiny.
His fingers hover at the apex of my thighs and even though he’s not forcing entry, he’s lingering there, biding his time.
“What’s going on?” There’s slight amusement in his tone, bordering on sadism. “Feeling shy all of a sudden?”
“That’s not…oh…” My words end in a moan because he’s pressing a finger against my clit now, and although it’s through my pants and underwear, I can feel the throbbing of my veins in my core.
“You shouldn’t be.” He’s speaking against my ear, his voice hotter and sexier in the low range.
For a second, I’m so focused on that, on his voice and range, that I momentarily forget what’s at stake here. My brain has tuned out all environmental elements so all I can feel is his cut body that has a warrior tattoo hidden beneath the prim and proper suit.
A lot of muscles, too, that I saw that day and currently feel against the softness of my belly and breasts.
Everything about me is so soft while he’s so hard and big that he makes me feel small. So small and breakable, but instead of becoming apprehensive, my skin catches fire and a strange type of arousal spreads inside me.
That’s wrong, though, isn’t it? I’m not supposed to be turned on by our size difference. If anything, I should be wary of it, should think of what’s at stake.
Like my laptop.
Knox must’ve gotten this close to aim for my laptop that I’m holding with both hands and keeping it out of reach above my head.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he flicks his tongue on the shell of my ear and I can’t help the zaps of pleasure that burst in waves across my sensitive flesh. When his deep whisper follows, I’m on the verge of something so harsh, it steals my breath.
“You shouldn’t be shy. After all…” He digs his fingers in my pussy and I bite my tongue to suppress a moan. “I made this cunt bleed for the first time.”
Shit.
Why does he make the act of taking my virginity sound so hot? It shouldn’t, not when I always considered it a burden that could be used to marry me off to the first suitable man my family found for me. Not when all I cared about was getting rid of it. But hearing him say those words makes everything sound more twisted, perverted, and completely deviant.
“Open.” The firm, non-negotiable order sends a blast of sparks inside me.
He doesn’t need to use his fingers to force my legs apart, because they fall open on their own. My mind is conditioned to all the delicious authoritativeness that I felt that night, to the surrender I experienced for the first time in my life.
And it’s not the forced type where I had no choice, because I did, I had the option to walk away, but I chose not to.
I chose to stay.
Because for the first time, I wasn’t the daughter of a dangerous family or the fake Jane. It was just me.
As if he’s thinking the same, Knox reaches for my glasses. I want to stop him, but I can’t let go of the laptop, and just like that, he removes them. I don’t think he’s able to see my eyes in the darkness, and if he does, he’ll only look into the contacts. However, when he does look at me, it feels different, like we’re back at that moment.
Where we were anonymous.
“Open wider,” he commands, and this time, I don’t have to part my legs much since his hand is already on the zipper of my pants. He easily pulls them down, then slides his fingers into my panties.
It’s a jolt, a shock reaction that causes my back to arch off the floor and my hands to become sweaty on the laptop.
This isn’t the first time he’s touched me this intimately, but it feels like it is.
“Hmm. Someone got turned on by the wrestling” It’s that sadism again, but it’s mixed with a foggy type of lust.
Or maybe that’s me.
He rubs the length of his massive erection on my stomach and I go still, my breathing shattering. “Your little wiggling got me rock-fucking-hard, beautiful. You will take care of that, won’t you?”
I don’t understand what he’s talking about, partly because his fingers continue rubbing my soaking folds, and partly because his erection is growing by the second.
The sound of his zipper echoes in the air and I hold my breath, even though I’m overwhelmed by all types of sensations. Even though my heart is about to jump out to where his fingers are on my pussy.
The way he touches me is slow and firm, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing and where he’s taking this. And I’m helpless in front of that, completely and utterly caught in a trap I can’t escape.
Then something happens.
His erection that I was feeling on my stomach only a few seconds ago replaces his fingers, rubbing against my panties-covered pussy.
The sparks of pleasure turn into full-blown bursts, but that’s not all, because he’s thrusting against my opening while it’s still covered and for some reason, that feels perverted and causes more arousal to coat both of us.
“I want to fuck you,” he grunts as he thrusts, rubs, and slides his cock up and down my panties. “I want to yank down your fake identity’s clothes and pound into your tight cunt until you’re screaming.”
Do it, I want to say.
Just do it already. I’ve been having withdrawals I didn’t think I would suffer from ever since the first time he touched me.
Ever since I found out what sex is all about.
And not sex with just anyone. Sex with him and his deliciously intense dominance. Ordinarily, I’d run away from it, but with Knox, I’m slamming straight into it.
Consciously and subconsciously.
“See how your cunt is swallowing me, my liar? You want my cock inside you, don’t you? You want me to fuck you hard and fast and with no restraint.”
I’m on the edge and I can’t look away from it. I’m right there and it’s not only because of the pace of his cock. It’s a combination of everything.
It’s due to his dirty talk and the deep tenor of his voice.
It’s due to his firm touch as he takes what he wants without an ounce of apology.
It’s due to the air that’s rippling and crowding with tension, oozing with sex and his intoxicating cologne.
But the most important element of all is him. The man who should’ve been a one-time thing but is turning into more.
And that’s strangely a turn-on. A button that I didn’t think I even had inside me.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Anastasia?”
The sound of my name should’ve quenched my desire, but it heightens it to a wildfire.
He knows me—well, not really—but he at least doesn’t think I’m the fake I worked so hard to build. And while usually that would be alarming, it isn’t right now.
Because it’s me.
“Do you?” he insists, and I’m so close to shouting it, to telling him to fuck me.
It’s only a one-time thing anyway.
That’s what I said the other time and I was obviously wrong.
But I nod anyway, it’s barely-there, but he notices it and picks up his pace. If it weren’t for his chest on mine, I would be jumping up from the heat of the sensations.
“I won’t, though, not until you tell me a truth about yourself.”
/> “Ugh…” The frustration that spills out of my throat is spontaneous and it makes him chuckle. But the sound is nowhere near light. It’s dark and somewhat disturbed.
“You thought I would let you play me, my little liar?”
“That’s not…I’m not…”
“You’re not what?”
“Playing you.” If anything, he’s the one doing that, toying with me until I’m about to burst.
“Then say something.”
“Anastasia is…my real name.”
It’s a little information, something that he was suspecting all along, but saying it aloud knocks a weight from my chest.
“I already knew that.”
“You…didn’t know for sure.”
“Hmm. I still can’t fuck you, though.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have a condom on me. Usually, I don’t come to work with plans to fuck an employee.”
My nails dig into the laptop and I nearly scream from frustration. I bite my tongue instead, not wanting him to feel how much of an effect he has on me.
How much his words just filled me with inexplicable disappointment.
“But I’ll change that going forward.” He thrusts his dick against my opening a few times with increasing force. The tiny jerks are so pleasurable that I subconsciously release my tongue.
The orgasm hits me with a blinding force and then I’m falling, shattering, but there’s no landing in sight. Not even when I blink rapidly, trying to rein in my reaction. The force of the pleasure is stronger than my attempts at self-control, and I just scream.
He wraps a hand around my mouth. “Shh, people will hear.”
Shit.
I completely forgot about that, about the fact that we’re at the firm and that I’m protecting my plans in the laptop from him, even though my hands are still over my head.
As the wave slowly subsides, I lie there, catching my breath and my thoughts. I’m a bit sleepy, too.
It’s a problem if I constantly want to collapse after a powerful orgasm. Doesn’t that defy the whole purpose behind it?
In my haze, I make out Knox climbing up my body until his knees are on either side of my head. His dark shadow falls over me like doom, a thrilling one at that. One that I can’t stop staring at.