by Amy J. Heart
My hands cradling her face, between kisses, I say, “I can’t wait… I’m sorry.”
Fuck, I think, as I lift her off the ottoman. Those are the nicest words I’ve ever said to anyone I was about to stick my dick in.
I lay her on the bench, bend so I can crank it to the perfect height, and then I let my eyes feast.
Her hair is spread out like she’s floating over the dark-green leather, legs wide, panties wet, tits rising and falling fast. Jesus. I need to tap that right now. Or explode.
Her hand goes to the straps of the red-corset thing, readying to pull it down.
“No. Leave it on.”
I want to feel it, learn the texture of the lace over her nipples, over her soft, round stomach. Palm out, I jolt forward, and she flinches as if I’ve pulled a knife on her.
“Slowly,” she whispers.
My head lashes to the left. The sharks are circling. I’d forgotten about them.
The biggest shithead of all is beside me, his crisp white shirt hanging open, custom tailored pants around his ankles, and cock shoved deep into the mouth of his equally disgusting associate. The third sicko lies back in the chair, jerking leisurely at his dick.
“Move. Fucking. Back,” I say to the creep.
He stops moaning. “Come now, L, that’s not very sporting of you.”
I’m about to reach out and choke him when she speaks. “Hey, hey, L, I’m waiting for you down here. I thought you might finally be about to touch me.”
Touch her? Yeah. I was planning on that.
And then I do.
I press my shaft against her hot slickness.
I put my palms on her tits and squeeze. Man, they feel… Oh... God. So good.
Oh, God? I hope I didn’t say that out loud.
She moans, then winces. Oh, right. Too hard. I stop squeezing and run the pads of my fingers against bumpy lace. One hand moving over her hard nipple, the other heads down to play in the damp material covering her stomach. I can’t stop touching it, feeling how I’ve messed her up. Marked her.
I need to see more skin. “Okay now you can ditch this.” Wow—I made an actual complete sentence!
Sitting up, she peels the top off, and shimmies her panties down her legs. I think I’m having a heart attack.
“Fuck her, L,” the weasel says. “Put that big dick in the bitch and fuck her nice and hard.”
“Shut up,” I snarl.
He loves that. It makes him snatch the lube from the douche next to him and squirt it liberally over his reedy dick. The guy goes crazy for a nice cold serve of humiliation. He starts pumping his cock, and the guy on his knees in front of him waits. Mouth open at the ready. The sycophant.
Soft fingers grasp my hand and pull me forward. I take my scowl off the fuckhead, my eyes locking onto her tits again as she tugs me down. Bracing myself on my elbows, my mouth hovers over a dark-red nipple. I huff hard breaths over it, unable to go further.
“Come on,” she says quietly. “Take it. I know you want to.” And again, it’s like she knows I’ve never done it before. And how much I want to.
What am I thinking? She’s wrong. I don’t want to know what it feels like to suck on some girl’s tit like a weakling. I don’t need to know.
Liar.
I fucking do.
I want to know so badly that before I even decide to give it a go, my mouth is on it, my hand molding around her other fully incredible tit.
I suck, I squeeze, I close my teeth around the nipple until she writhes and moans. Then I attack her mouth, move back to the nipple, her mouth again, then the other nipple. Sucking her dry. Taking and taking.
I want to come so badly, but I don’t want to stop doing this. Not ever.
When she grips my wrist, dragging my hand down to her pussy, I flinch, completely shocked. I had no idea a girl would feel like this. So wet. And smell like this. It’s heady. Drugging. And makes me shake like a fever.
The sound of the suits slapping skin against skin, moaning as they watch, can’t even distract me.
She slides me in her juices and it feels like a miracle. No lube required there. When she slips my fingers inside her, my heart stops beating.
“Fffshit,” I say, so strung out I’ve forgotten how to curse properly.
She strokes my dick, making me pant harder and my hips buck.
And then… and then she stops guiding my fingers over her clit and brings the tip of my cock into her body. I make a sound—a strange, helpless groan, and then I push in to the hilt.
Fucking hell.
Everything else falls to the wayside. I’m so present in this moment. Only here. Now. As if nothing existed before this. I have no future—only this. And I don’t care. I’m flooded with gratitude, made of longing, and there is nowhere else in the world I’d rather be.
Fuck, it feels so… my whole body goes hot, like sweat has broken over my skin. It probably has.
“You can go for it now, L. Get it done as quickly as you need to.”
Quickly? Yes. I want that. I want to pound. I want to make her yell. Oh, yeah, I think about doing that. Imagine what it will feel like hard and fast.
But I do the exact opposite.
Lodged deep, I grip her hips, then drag her to the end of the bench. Slowly, slowly, I pull back. Heart pounding, I stare at my cock pressed against her slick folds. It’s an image I thought I’d only see in my head, never in reality.
I stare at her—spread-eagled, impaled on my dick—until I can’t take it anymore. Shit, my imagination hadn’t gone close to doing this justice. I plunge back in. Then glide out, millimeter by hot millimeter, savoring the feel. I manage six tortuously slow strokes before I’m driving into her. Fucking her good and hard.
“Fuck. Fuck,” I grunt like an idiot, announcing each time I push deep.
Gripped by her heat, I need to suck on her lips, but I’m too tall to make that work while jammed inside her. So I pull out, replacing my dick with my hand, my fingers working her pussy while my tongue works her mouth.
Then she squirms in a weird way, whimpering like I’m hurting her.
Am I?
My eyes flick down. A liver-spotted hand lies on her stomach, making its way down south. I snap my fist out before it can move any further.
Bone crunches. Someone screams.
“The cunt broke my nose!” Blood pours out of the prick, the one with a face like a pig’s.
“Keep your filthy hands off her or I’ll break your arm next—”
“L,” says the boss-weasel beside me. “Ignore him. We need you to finish this. That is, if you think you can.”
I can.
“And you,” weasel-face says to the guy who’s still bleeding and squealing, “sit down and be quiet.”
The pig does what he’s told, and the weasel gets back to pumping his own dick with increased enthusiasm.
I sneer at him, a hot surge of anger running through me. Yeah, now this feels like my-kind-of normal. Sex and anger. Anger and sex. This is how I usually roll.
Staring at my face, the weasel lets out a sickening moan. He’s digging the aggression. Bet I could break his nose, too. Easily.
The girl—Edie, her name is Edie—puts one hand on my shoulder, the other on my dick, drawing me inside her again. Then she rests back on her elbows, digs her heels into my butt, and makes me forgot about the weasel. The blood. Even the anger.
I fuck her like that, watching her tits move with each hard thrust. I’ve always hated this bench, the pathetic shits that usually lie on it, begging and moaning, but right now—right now—I love it. The way it puts her at the perfect height. Makes it so easy.
“That’s it, L, listen to that bitch on heat loving every second.”
As I turn and glare at the weasel, she pulls my head down and kisses me. And keeps kissing me while I dig my fingers into the lush flesh of her hips and fuck her. Her sounds go rough, like she’s losing it. So close to the end. Pulling at me. Meeting every hard thrust with her hips.
> I picture the night I first saw her. The glistening, wet street. The black dress. My hand on my dick that night, losing my mind to the memory of her sad eyes. I want to fuck her, fuck us both into tiny pieces till we’re nothing. Annihilated. Gone.
I won’t stop for anything. I push her back on the bench, cover as much of her as I can, and pump faster.
She says, “God. God. God,” goes tense and then shakes all over. And my cock, skin to skin, bears the brunt of every sweet clench and rolling wave as she comes. Oh, fuck. It’s too much. But I hold on.
Don’t go over.
Don’t go over.
I want to give in so badly.
She keeps spasming around me, but I don’t move. I tremble and groan. Then everything stops. Just stops, like I’ve been absorbed into a black hole. And I’m nothing.
Whatever is left within me contracts hard, then explodes. I shudder over her chest while hot waves of come spurt and spurt inside her.
Fucking. Hell.
I am lost.
We lie there, our skin slick, puffing breaths over each other. After a minute of this shockingly weak inability to think or move, I sense a foul energy move close.
It’s the weasel.
“Oh, dear boy. Oh, L. How absolutely sublime. I had no idea you were capable of that. What glorious noise. Such unsophisticated fumblings. Anyone witnessing that would think you were an untried, callow boy.”
I’m not sure exactly what that means, but I have enough of an idea for heat to wash over me, my cheeks probably turning scarlet. I swear I hear the girl make a long shhhh sound. A noise meant to soothe.
But the fuckwit keeps talking. “Anyone who saw that would have no idea of your true nature. The expert fucking machine that you are, silent and ruthless. Well, let me reiterate—that was beyond beautiful and worth every single dollar I paid. Possibly more.”
Face close, I stare into Edie’s wide eyes and consider what I’ll do to the weasel if I turn around.
My gaze drops to her lips. What would kissing her feel like now that the rush is over? No way it’d feel as good.
But, still, I’m keen to find out. My dick softening inside her, I drop my face and get my answer.
Yep. Same as before—the room goes silent.
For five seconds this time my head spins slowly as my blood heats. Her lips and tongue move gently, then she presses my face away.
“Thank you,” she whispers as she shimmies away from me, then sits up, gathering scraps of lace.
Mouth open, I stare at her. Thank you? What the fuck for?
I look around, late afternoon light softening the scene. The weasel is wiping himself down with tissues. When he finishes, he holds a bunch out toward Edie. I snatch them from him and shove them at her. “Here,” I say, sounding like a caveman.
Giving me a quick smile, she takes them, dabs between her legs, then fumbles to her feet. I feel sick to my stomach. Nauseous.
That’s weird. Ever since I’ve been a so-called adult, I haven’t allowed anything as pathetic as guilt to seep in after fucking someone. Pretty much no matter what I’ve done to the scumbags. The more badass I am the more they like it.
Speaking of scumbags, the suits shuffle around the room, putting their respectable selves back together, while I check out the dark-wooden floor.
“So nice to meet you, Eden. I do hope we see you again soon,” says the weasel.
My eyes shoot up just in time to watch her mouthwatering butt disappear through the stained-glass door. That ass was mine only minutes ago.
“You had better shut that pretty mouth of yours, L, or we might start thinking lovely Eden rocked your world.”
My jaw drops further. It probably wouldn’t mind a little rest on the floor.
Scratching his smooth jaw, dick-weasel laughs. “Well, well, well. It seems as though we might need to book her again specially to please you, Lighting. Or… let me think, perhaps to torture you we won’t invite her back at all. Tell me, my beauty, which option would you prefer?”
Even if I knew the answer to that dumb question—which I sure as fuck don’t—nothing in the world will make me tell that weasel in a suit.
Not even Cooper.
Eden
COOP IS A damn bastard.
I flush the toilet, then rearrange my street clothes in the mirror, trying to stem the flow of tears. I snatch the lace teddy off the tiles. Totally disgusting. The red and black underwear—same state, covered in copious amounts of L’s come. And, if you look closely, also mixed with the evidence of my own enjoyment.
I must be mentally unwell then, getting pleasure from that sick scene. Instead of stuffing the lingerie in my backpack, I throw both pieces into the bin.
When I push through into the adjoining suite, my pathetic crying starts again. “How could you?” I yell between ridiculous hiccups.
Coop gets up from his laptop, storms around the coffee table with his arms stretched out like his greatest desire is to offer me physical comfort.
Yeah. That’ll be the day.
“Eden… do you need a doctor? Come here. Quick. I’ll drive you,” he says, wearing a fake expression of concern.
I push his hand away and point at the door opposite. “Do not touch me. Is that the way out of this cesspit of depravity?”
“Wait. Shit. It went that badly? I knew he wouldn’t be able to do the job,” he says, frowning at me as if he gives a crap.
“He did the job, Coop, and it was horrible.” I dig around in my backpack, pretending to look for something. “And it felt like I was deflowering a virgin. Like I was the sexual deviant instead of those suited-up lowlifes out there! How could you do that to me…” I trail off, staring in horror as he bends in half, his manic laughter bouncing off the stark, silvery walls.
He pulls me toward the black sofa and pushes me down. “Sit. Sit. Fucking hell. Tell me everything.”
There’s no way I’ll tell that piece of dirt a thing.
“I’ll make it worth your while, Eden.” He sits opposite and narrows his eyes at me.
Through massive windows that run along the west wall, city buildings reflect the sky’s stormy patterns. As I stare at them, I keep my expression blank.
Elbows on his knees, he leans forward, pulls out his cell and taps over it. “I’m taking five grand off your debt. That’s how fucking keen I am to hear your version of events.” Rubbing his chest, he chuckles like a dirty slob. “So we achieved the impossible, then. Forced L to shove his end in a chick at long last. No offense, Edie.”
My eyes widen, but my mouth stays zipped. Can it really be true that L has never had sex with a girl before? Never wanted to? It doesn’t seem likely given the way things played out back there. But then again, he was pretty skittish in the beginning.
“No deal, huh? Tell you what, I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll take ten off.”
Stomach rolling, I stare ahead.
“Fuck it. How about twenty?” His thumbs stab at the phone screen then he flips it around, holds it close to my face to taunt me with the balance sheet. Shivers, he’s serious.
I suck in a lungful of air. The things he’s made me do over the last couple of years are so anti my actual personality, it’s laughable. I’m no exhibitionist. No seductress.
And what happened in that room—the way my skin, my heart, my soul was grated raw by the pain in that boy’s eyes. His intensity. His fear. Something buried deep inside me had cracked open. It felt sacred and strangely familiar. The last thing I want is to trade that like a commodity to this scumbag sitting across from me.
“I’m emailing the updated spreadsheet to you now.” Frowning, he fiddles with his phone. “So start talking, and remember I’ll get the suits’ take on it anyway. So, if your tale doesn’t match theirs, you’ll be in deep shit.”
Temples aching, I whisper, “What do you want to know?”
“For starters, show me where he hurt you. Was it… was it grisly?”
I shake my head.
His ey
ebrows twist. “But… pretty bad?”
Focusing on the lush, white carpet, I shake my head again.
“But he did hurt you, right?”
“Nope. He didn’t.”
“Bullshit. And you said that he managed to do it, that he fucked you.”
I breathe out. Then nod.
“That’s impossible. He can’t even get it up without making someone suffer… Christ.” Unbuttoning his sports jacket, Coop flops backward. The couch cushions sigh in protest. He’s a big guy. “This calls for a drink. Want one?”
“No.”
He throws off his jacket and goes to the Balinese sideboard, grabs two glasses, and pours double measures from a crystal decanter.
“Here.” He shoves one in my face.
I grimace at it and sniff. Scotch. Maybe a drink will stop my hands shaking.
I think of the farm. My dad—what he was like back before Mom left us.
Rubbing my mouth, I try to remove the taste of L’s skin, his lips, and then I force myself to speak slowly. “When I walked in there, I got the shock of my life. He was the last thing I’d expected. I thought he’d look…”
“Bit effeminate?” He laughs low. “How narrow minded of you.”
“Oh, shut up. I just didn’t think he’d be so strong, okay? I hadn’t expected some macho warrior who could snap me in half without even meaning to.”
“Why do you think he’s so valuable? The reason Lightning Boy is a legend to those guys in there is because he’s the real deal. Hard as nails and a beautiful fucking nightmare. Literally.”
Right now, my still-humming body agrees.
“So, does he do this for the money?”
“L doesn’t need the cash, believe me.”
That seems unlikely.
“Anyway, so you get in there and you’re terrified by the sight of him…”
“Well you made damn sure that I thought he might hurt me, Coop.” The scotch burns as I gulp it down. “So I had nothing to lose by trying to… at least gentle him a little.”
“Gentle him?”
I sigh. “You know, touch him. Massage him with oils… oh God, it sounds so dumb, but I tried to chill him out. Soothe. You know how it works, Coop, tame the savage beast by kissing him and…” I trail off as thunder rolls over Coop’s granite features.