by Lexie Ray
Last night, I wanted to say, but I didn’t.
“Since Mama’s, I guess,” I mumbled.
Cream made a clucking noise and shook her head. “I could never go that long without sex,” she said. “You’re either strong, or bereft. Why are you holding out? We’re living in a sex god’s house. He wants you, Pumpkin.”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “In my own time,” I said simply, focusing on scraping the scorched skillet. I just didn’t know how much time I had left.
With Andrew’s methodical, constant schedule, it was easy to slip into a routine. We cleaned the same things every day, but we put music and danced around, or turned the television on, a soap opera narrating our chores. The hero and heroine would be together while I was scrubbing the kitchen sink, but they’d be broken up again by the time I got to fluffing the pillows on the couch.
Cream shared Andrew’s bed every night for a week and a half. That was how much time I ended up having before things came to a head.
I woke up hot and sticky, my teddy bunched up around my waist. I noticed that Cream was sleeping with me, which was unusual. She generally spent her nights in Andrew’s bed. I hoped everything was all right between the two of them. Her unexpected presence was probably why I was so warm—I wasn’t used to sharing my bed.
I went to the kitchen for a drink of water. When I closed the refrigerator door, he was standing there.
“You scared me,” I gasped. “What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same question,” Andrew said, leaning against the fridge as I tried to hide my nervousness by chugging the water in my glass.
“Thirsty,” I said, trying to catch my breath.
“I’m thirsty, too,” he said, his meaning different from mine. He put one hand on either side of me, effectively trapping me against the appliance.
I had a few choices here, my brain said, separating itself from my situation and helping me not panic. This was the calculating Pumpkin, the girl who scared me. I could see myself pressed against the refrigerator, staring up at Andrew with my wide eyes—even though I was looking directly into his pitch black eyes.
I could knee him in the crotch and make a run for it, praying that the door would open for me, my brain told me. I could try to fight him off. I could tell him no, though it was obvious that he wouldn’t listen this time.
Or, I could take his power away from him by asserting mine.
“I know just what you mean,” I said, squeezing his cock through his cotton pants.
That wasn’t the response he’d expected. I was afraid he had wanted me to try to deny him. He wanted to take me against my will. He wanted to make me feel the reality of my situation—that I belonged to him.
It was as easy as flipping a switch.
I slowly, slowly sank down to my knees, holding his gaze the entire time. I dragged his cotton pants down with me as I went, letting them pool around his ankles. He wasn’t wearing boxers or briefs beneath them, so I faced his erection for the first time. It was very large. Cream hadn’t been lying. It was large enough to present a challenge, but one that I had faced before.
“I hope you can quench my thirst,” I said, not breaking my eye contact with him as I swallowed him whole. I had to concentrate on controlling my gag reflex as his head pushed into my throat, but I managed, my eyes watering with the effort.
Andrew hissed between his teeth, groaning as I worked my tongue up and down his long, long shaft. I hefted his balls in my palm, feeling the weight of them, as I sucked and slurped.
“Fuck,” he breathed. “Fuck.”
Yes, thought the Pumpkin who scared me. Yes, Andrew. Fuck you. Fuck you for trying to do what you tried to do. It’s game on, bitch.
I was shocked at my own thoughts, happy that Andrew couldn’t see the expression on my face in the dark kitchen—especially with his cock occupying my mouth. My knees ached from the hard marble floor, but I ignored them. I withdrew my mouth all the way to the very tip of his dick and used my hand to pump the rest of it, which was lubricated by my own saliva. Andrew rocked forward on his feet with every pump. He looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself.
I sucked for all I was worth, reveling in the small sounds he was making. They were, in reality, quiet, but in the silence of his home, they echoed over the black marble. I liked the power I felt like I had over him. I was controlling his pleasure, how he felt. I’d control the moment he came. He wouldn’t do so a second before I allowed it.
I knew better, though, than to back away from him and leave him hanging from the precipice of completion. I was calculating, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew when a man was pushed too far. I was afraid of finding out what Andrew was capable of doing.
I juggled his balls again, squeezing them lightly, which made him gasp. At the same time, I squeezed his shaft and sucked hard on his tip. I was rewarded with a strangled gurgling, an attempt of him trying to form words, and a rush of salty seed in my mouth. He gripped my hair with both of his hands, tangling his fingers in my curls, and held my face in place as he came and came. I drank in every drop, not having another choice. The power struggle continued, I realized. I’d controlled when he came, but he was controlling when I could pull away. He kept me in place long after he’d stopped spurting, perhaps to remind me who was in charge. Or perhaps it was just as innocent as enjoying the warmth of my mouth.
There was no way of telling, really. Not yet.
Our first tryst resulted in a truce, in my scorebook.
“Pumpkin, you are full of surprises,” Andrew said, letting go of my hair and helping me to my feet.
“I like to keep you on your toes,” I said, tugging a little bit at his cock with my hand and sending him literally up on his toes with a hiss at his still-sensitive shaft.
We both laughed, easy with each other. Something about his orgasm had mellowed him considerably, led him back from whatever dark place he’d been in when he first accosted me.
“I’m beginning to enjoy it very much,” he said. “I’ll be disappointed when there aren’t any surprises anymore.”
I cocked my head at that. “Then you’re going to have to be disappointed again,” I said sweetly. “There’ll always be surprises.”
“No, I’m afraid there won’t be,” Andrew said. “One of these days, we’re going to all wake up and realize that we know everything about one another—you, me, and Cream. Then I’m afraid that life will become very boring.”
Was it just me, or was that a threat? Was Andrew implying that there would come a point when he was bored of us? Why did I dread it so much?
“There’s nothing to be afraid of,” I said, smiling and ignoring my skin crawling. “I don’t even know everything about myself. I’m very sure that we’re going to have something very special for a very long time.”
Andrew smiled, but it didn’t reach those dark, dark eyes.
“I think you’re right,” he said, kissing me suddenly and brutally. I gasped at the onslaught, fighting to keep up, nipping his tongue when it became too demanding, choking me.
“I like a fighter,” Andrew said, breaking this kiss, out of breath. His smile scared me.
“I’m not about to fight about something we both want,” I said. The trick was to continue to catch him off-guard, continue to do things he couldn’t possibly expect.
I kept myself under so many layers that it was easy to do. He hadn’t seen Pumpkin, The Sex Kitten. Not many people had.
I stripped off my teddy and threw it to the ground, lifting my chin and watching him stare at me. This was the first time he was seeing me naked, I reminded myself. Many men and the majority of my customers had been flummoxed the first time.
Andrew seemed to take it all in stride.
“You know just what I want,” he said, grinning as he took me roughly in his arms. “It’s been nearly two weeks since I threatened to bend you over that kitchen table. Is it time I made good on that threat?”
“Past time,” I said, kissing him. Despite the
danger I felt at the situation, the thin line I knew I was walking, and the fact that I was still having trouble figuring Andrew out, I was horny. I couldn’t explain the reaction my pussy was having to him. I was incredibly wet as he pawed at my breasts, tweaking my dark nipples. We kissed all the way across the kitchen, Andrew kicking off his pants and shedding his T-shirt as we made our way to the table.
When he pushed me forward over it, I gasped sharply. The coldness of the metal made me shiver on contact, made my nipples shrivel to raisins. I felt terribly vulnerable with my ass up in the air, but Andrew laughed lowly.
“You don’t know how good this looks from back here,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve heard it before, but you have an unbelievable ass.”
“I like to hear it,” I said, reminding him of our first heavy flirting in this very kitchen.
“I know you do,” he said. He parted my cheeks. “How about I take you from back here?”
He positioned his cock against my tight, puckered muscle, and I fought the urge to try to claw at the table, to try to escape. He wouldn’t be able to resist if I did, and anal sex without lube was not the way I wanted it.
“No,” I said, turning my head to rest my cheek against the cool table. “I need you in my cunt. I fucking have to have you in there.”
I kept my face carefully blank as I heard Andrew’s breath catch in his throat. There weren’t many men who could resist begging—or dirty talk. I decided to take it another step.
“Cream keeps telling me about how good your cock feels inside of her,” I moaned. “I’ve been jealous—especially since that morning I saw you together.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” Andrew said, taking his cock away from my anus—I relaxed just a little in relief—and pressing it against my pussy. “Would you like it like that, Pumpkin? Hard? You like to be spanked?”
“Yes,” I lied. “Seeing you with Cream was so hot. I—I have to tell you something.”
“You can tell me anything, sweet girl,” he crooned, teasing me with just the tip of his dick.
The table cooled my blush and helped encourage me. It was easy to lie and easier still to be caught in one. The truth was powerful medicine. I was looking to really hook Andrew.
“I’ve masturbated, thinking of you and her together,” I said, squeezing my eyes shut, not one ounce of shame faked. “I’m so embarrassed to admit it. But nothing makes me wetter.”
Always keep him on his toes. Always keep him guessing. That was swiftly becoming my mantra until I got him all the way figured out.
Andrew sucked in air and plunged into me. His cock stretched me to my limits and beyond. It hurt, even as wet as I was, but I didn’t want him to know. I pushed up onto my toes, trying to get a better angle as he thrust and thrust.
“You dirty little girl,” Andrew panted, pounding me. “You naughty thing.”
“I am,” I gasped, pushing my legs a little farther apart, still struggling to adapt to Andrew’s cock. “I am naughty.”
“I think you need a spanking,” he said, his voice quavering a little bit.
I cried out as his cock struck my G-spot. There. I had finally found the position I needed. He took my shout as acquiescence, however, and his palm cracked against my butt. The blow came at the exact same time as a push against the G-spot, and I cried out. It hurt—getting spanked always did. That wasn’t the surprise. The surprise was that within that stinging slap, the pain, and the small degree of shame, a bundle of pleasure so potent made me come undone.
“More,” I gasped out. “More.”
He spanked me again and I cried out hotly, thinking about him and Cream fucking on the bed, the time I’d seen them. I’d pitied her when he started spanking her, thinking that it was all pain and degradation. How wrong I’d been. All these years I’d made sure to protect myself from rough sex and here I was, discovering just how much I enjoyed it. It was strange the way the world worked.
I moaned as I felt the irresistible crest of orgasm, peaking and coming crashing down on the other side. I think I blacked out briefly—the next thing I felt was the warm splatter of Andrew’s cum over my ass. He gasped as he came, and it was all I could do not to slide off the table and collapse on the floor.
After a few moments, he pulled me up and off the table and turned me around to face him, his hands grasping my upper arms.
“I have to confess, Pumpkin, that that was not the way I saw our first time together going,” he said, his chest heaving.
“You and me both,” I said.
“I look forward to getting to know you better,” he said, grinning. “And for continued surprises.”
I got on my toes to kiss him chastely on the cheek—if chaste was something that could even be considered anymore—and passed by him to pad down the hall.
I slipped back into my bedroom and crawled in beside Cream, too tired to even think about taking a shower.
“What did I tell you about that cock?” she said sleepily.
“Sorry for waking you up,” I said, freezing.
“It’s okay,” she murmured, rolling over. “Glad it finally happened for you.”
Was I glad it had finally happened? I knew that I didn’t know the true Andrew, yet, just as he didn’t know me. So I still didn’t know what to expect from him, even if we had both had our first tastes of each other.
I had no idea just how interesting life was about to get.
Chapter Eight
I woke up suddenly and violently, the bed shaking beneath me. Opening my eyes, I rolled onto my side and recoiled. Cream was staring at me fear in her eyes as Andrew plunged into her, fucking her right next to me.
He was looking at me, too, glee evident on his face.
“Is this what they call a rude awakening?” he asked, sweat beading on his forehead as he grunted with the efforts of his thrusting. Cream pressed her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut before she gave a loud, long groan. She’d told me before that she always came during sex, no matter what. What if she didn’t want to, though? What then?
Is that what I’d just witnessed?
What was going on?
Andrew’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he moaned. Cream gasped and I could guess what was happening. He was coming right then and there. I was too shocked to do anything but watch.
“Don’t you just love surprises, Pumpkin?” he asked, pulling out of Cream roughly and walking jauntily out of the room and down the hallway. Neither of us moved until we heard the shower turn on.
“Are you okay?” I asked urgently, grabbing her.
She nodded. “What the fuck was that?” she asked. “Did something happen last night?”
“I just sucked him off and then we fucked over the kitchen table,” I said, clinical about it. “There was nothing strange at all.” Besides Andrew’s normal strangeness, that is. I didn’t know how to explain to Cream about how I felt about Andrew. There was some strange war going on right now, and I was having a hard time getting up to speed.
We both got up and out of bed, Cream shaking so badly that I had to support her.
“Let’s get you in a shower and wash this ugliness away,” I said, fiddling with the faucet in the tub.
“It didn’t really hurt that bad,” Cream said, sounding like she was far away. “It was just the shock of it. I was asleep, and then I was being fucked. I came, but—but—that was kind of the worst part.”
Poor Cream. I got us both under the water and soaped her up. She was still shaking badly, so I adjusted the knobs to give us the hottest water our skin could stand.
“What was that bit about surprises?” Cream asked, when she’d calmed down a bit. The steamy air helped her as much as it did me. I was being crisis management Pumpkin—strong for the both of us. “That seemed to be an inside remark between you two.”
“It was something he said last night,” I explained, lowering my voice and ducking under the stream to rinse shampoo out of my hair. “I don’t know if it’s so
mething we should be worried about yet. But he sort of implied that he would get tired of us one day if we didn’t keep surprising him.”
Cream blanched. “I think that is something we should be worrying about,” she said. “What should we do?”
“We need to start weighing our options,” I said. “Keep your eyes and ears open. We’ll figure out something.”
Andrew acted as if nothing strange had happened just now, sipping his espresso benignly at breakfast before heading out the door. It beeped and clicked behind him, and I waited there to hear the elevator sound. When it did, we sprang into action.
I rattled the door immediately, not surprised that it wouldn’t open.
“Try the lock,” Cream suggested. But even when I flipped both deadbolt and doorknob locks in the same direction and pulled at it, the door wouldn’t budge. It became apparent that there was an extremely sophisticated locking mechanism controlled by the security system.
“Do you think we could break down the door?” I asked, staring at it.
Cream leaned against it and knocked. “No,” she said. “It’s steel. We’d break ourselves before ever putting a dent in it.”
Only one way, in or out, I thought, not wanting to say it. Our escape had to be through that door. It was the only way we could get out.
Okay, so for right now we were trapped in here with him. I stepped back from the situation and let scary Pumpkin take a look. It was actually very strange that I could switch back and forth among my Pumpkins at will. That was more frightening than scary Pumpkin.
Scary Pumpkin had some bleak suggestions. Bum rush Andrew as he came home in the evening and opened the door, knocking him out or killing him and then running for the elevator. Jump out the window, to our death. Arm ourselves with things we could find around his home. Do nothing and accept whatever he had in store for us.
I didn’t like any of scary Pumpkin’s ideas. We cleaned as usual, but while I was taking care of the kitchen, I slipped a knife out of one of the drawers and put it in my pillowcase. I wanted the protection. It had been a knife that had stopped Jimmy from trying to strangle me to death. Maybe the knife would help.