by E. S. Carter
He inhales deeply, testing the air for the scent of my arousal and I know he can smell it because it’s thick and heady and clings to every molecule in the room.
“I’m not going to fuck you, Princess. And the reason I’m not going to fuck you is because your glistening pussy tells me you want me to even when your other lips say they don’t.”
He speeds up his strokes, fisting his cock over and over while he drinks in the sight of me.
The buzzing in my sex is almost painful, transformed from an ache to a burning need and my thighs tighten in response, bracketing his legs and squeezing in a useless attempt to quell the ache between them. That contact, that visual confirmation of my need brings forth his orgasm. He groans deep in the back of his throat as he spurts thick strings of milky, hot cum all over my wanting lips. The heat of his semen sears through my sensitive flesh, the slightest touch of anywhere south of my belly button would likely set off my release and yet he denies it to me. Instead, he watches me as I quiver when his warm seed coats my pussy and covers my folds. The aftershocks of his release still pour from his body as the evidence of it runs down the curve of my arse and pools on the bed sheets beneath me.
I pant with exertion, despite having done nothing but lay here and take what he gave me.
My limbs tremble, my body burns and I feel empty. So empty that I know of only one thing that would quench the need inside me.
But I’ll never beg for it.
Never.
As soon as Faye warned us that Alec was likely to be at Craven Hall and not at his safe house in Scotland, Luke had secured covert surveillance of the property.
It appeared empty.
No staff, no prominent guards, the entire place looked recently abandoned.
Anyone else would have assumed her to be wrong, and that Alec had indeed fled.
The thing is, when you’re hiding from the full capabilities of an organisation like The Red Order, you need to make sure you cover all bases.
Using our limitless contacts within the British military, Luke acquired the use of a thermal imaging drone. One flight over Craven Hall and sure enough the results showed multiple occupancies.
Far more people than just Alec and his guards were holed up inside and the knowledge threw a lot into question.
Family members of some of the Pyramid leaders were beginning to be reported missing. Wives, children, mistresses, the numbers rose hourly until it became evident that Alec was securing his safety with a human shield made up of the nearest and dearest of The Red Order’s hierarchy.
That fucker was smart. Too smart. Always one step ahead, calling the shots.
All night I’d fielded meetings and calls with justifiably angry, nervous and vengeful men. Men who were willing to give up all we’d worked for to secure their loved ones’ safety.
We couldn’t let that happen.
It would not only return full power to Alec, but it would also secure our death warrants. We’d be dead men walking.
We needed to act fast before we ended up dealing with a coup of our own.
With plans in place, I had every intention of returning to my suite, changing quickly and putting into motion our plan of attack.
We’d promised with our lives to not only save every person abducted, but do so within twenty-four hours.
The stakes were high.
The cost of failing, higher.
So why did I walk into my room, take one look at the spawn of Alec Craven, and need her with an intensity that rocked my foundations?
When I should have been organising our attack, I was instead jerking off to the sight of her glistening pink cunt, using all my self-control not to ram myself inside her, wanting nothing more than to split her in two.
Was it the ticking clock ringing in my ear, telling me my time was running out, that heated my blood sending my craving for her skyrocketing?
Was it the thought of her returning to Craven Hall if I failed that made me want her with a fervour that devoured me from the inside out?
One last chance to take what may only be mine for the briefest moment in time.
One taste of a broken girl with eyes that reflected the contradictions of my soul.
I am darkness.
The blackest of black.
She is light.
Would she taint me with her goodness?
Would I find redemption in the softness of her skin and the warmness of her flesh?
Watching my cum dribble down her thighs, I realise it’s not her I’m denying. It’s not her I’m punishing.
It’s me.
“Get dressed, Princess. You’re coming with us.”
I stare into her mismatched eyes, ignoring her small, perfect breasts that heave with every intake of breath.
“Don’t clean up. I want to know I’ve left my stain on you.”
I know she will obey.
I know she yearns for my beast to show its face and take her.
And he will.
I need him unfed and hungry for what is to come. Not sated. Not replete. Not tamed by the claiming of her body.
Soon, I promise silently
Soon.
I am surrounded by hired guns in a small abandoned cottage about a mile or so away from Craven Hall. Men who are mercenaries, former SAS, and some whose credentials are simply that they are experts in killing, fill the decaying walls, all listening intently to the brothers that have paid for their services.
I should be paying more attention to what is going on around me, but all I can feel is Cole’s dried cum melded to my most private flesh and the itch to rub at it consumes me.
My husband, on the other hand, has no such problem dismissing me from his thoughts and has all but forgotten that he forced me to come with him. He commanded me to sit on the musty, filth-encrusted sofa in the cottage’s dilapidated front room and hasn’t looked my way since.
His trained killers stand in every available space as Cole and Luke bark orders while listening to information coming in via an untraceable radio link, while I sit invisible, trying in vain to push away the lust tainted images of Cole’s punishing release.
I clear my thoughts, tearing out the vision of his cock in his fist and his hot seed erupting all over my skin like one would a weed in a sea of colourful blooms. Concentrating hard on the words flowing through the room, I surmise that my father is holding all the cards in the form of women and children. The families of some of The Red Order’s top ranking members are being held hostage within the walls of Craven Hall in what is undoubtedly Alec Craven’s last stand.
He will murder them all.
I know that no one will be spared.
This knowledge is enough to bring me crashing into the present and I am hit all at once by the weight of the atmosphere in this tiny hovel that is thick with tension. Testosterone and plumes of anger bombard me in an unrelenting assault, and yet, my focus still creeps towards Cole’s brand, hidden beneath my clothing.
“We go in at nightfall. Force One, will enter the grounds first and secure the inner perimeter. They will then give the signal for Forces Two through Five to scale the walls and breach the Hall via the roof. Forces Six and Seven will stand back unless called to ensure the Principal does not escape. He is our one and only target. I want him alive unless explicitly told otherwise. The hostages are to be found and extricated with utmost urgency. Deliver them to Force Eight and resume your previous commands. Are we all clear?”
The gathered soldiers nod and grunt their understanding. It makes sense not to include me in any of this as the commands Cole just issued are meaningless to me. All I understand is that my father is to be brought out alive.
He wants to be the one to kill him.
He owns the right to wear the former King’s severed head as a crown and every man in this room knows it.
“Good. We move out in a little over six hours’ time. In the meantime, keep your secure lines open and silent.”
With his final word, all the men leave the
room except for Grim and Luke.
“You brought your fuck toy with you because…?” Luke questions, his eyes glaring at me from across the room.
“Not now, Luke.” Cole dismisses the remark, unbothered by the rage I can see openly pouring from his brother.
“She’s a Craven. She should be treated as such, not paraded before your men like something of value. She’s worthless, a fucking cum-bucket, in fact, let me take her around as an incentive, let every one of those men use her holes-“
He is stopped mid rant by my husband’s hand wrapping around his throat as he effortlessly lifts him a few inches from the ground.
“Watch your mouth, Brother. She is the reason we are here. Without her we’d be in Scotland on a wild goose chase and the Pyramid leaders would be making deals with Alec Craven to get their families back, promising our heads as a bargaining chip. So enough with the Craven whore bullshit. From now on you view her as a Hunter.”
Luke appears unaffected by Cole depriving him of oxygen, and his eyes remain locked with mine, promising vengeance.
“Do you understand?” Cole shakes him roughly, as though his six-foot odd brother weighs nothing.
Luke doesn’t even blink, despite the fact his lips are turning blue from lack of air.
“Don’t fuck with me, Luke. Faye is off limits to you and everyone else. I’ve claimed her. She belongs to me, and it is time you got used to it.”
He drops Luke to the ground like a ragdoll. Even though his lungs begin to heave much needed air into his body, he never breaks his stare.
“Understood, Brother,” he finally grits out. “But when she slits your throat, and she will, I’ll expect more than an apology.”
Cole doesn’t bother to respond.
Instead, he walks over to me, holds out his hand and waits for my acceptance.
I blink confused, not at his hand but at the brief spark of violet that surrounds him. It’s only there for a few seconds before it fades out to be overcome by his ever present blackness.
I’ve never encountered this colour before. I don’t know how to read it, or what it means, so I remain hesitant.
He narrows his eyes at me, the fingers of his extended hand flexing, beckoning me. He can see my confusion. “Take my hand, Princess.”
It’s a command, but not a typical one and my mind tumbles around like a handful of marbles in a glass jar. I look from his eyes, back down to the hand, the one that was only moments ago wrapped around his brother’s neck, and without overthinking, I take it.
“We’ll be upstairs until it is time to leave. I suggest you make sure everything is in place for our departure.” Cole issues his direction never once looking at his brother or waiting for confirmation.
He leads me to the bare, rickety wooden staircase, each step bowed and rotten and seemingly unlikely to take my weight. With a gentle nudge, he guides me up each step, the wood groaning under our feet threatening to splinter. When we get to the top, he ushers me through one of only two doors, and we enter a dusty, grim bedroom. The old bed is the only furniture left in the small space, its bare mattress stained and dirty, the metal frame blemished and rusty. I take a small step forward and survey the rest of the room. Bare plaster walls, damp patches covering both them and the cracked ceiling and rotting skirting boards lead to a threadbare carpet. The air is musty and thick, the dust we displace as we enter clogs my lungs making me cough.
Cole strides past me, pulling back the tattered curtains and letting the fading sunlight pour into the space, highlighting every ruined and rotten inch. With a quick shove, he raises the sash window an inch or two. Its frame creaks in protest, and I watch as swirls of dust escape into the open air. I’m jealous of their freedom, of their ability to float away on the breeze.
Be the breeze, float away.
A mantra that doesn’t work in Cole’s presence. His very essence demands my attention. Every molecule inside me that gives me life, the water, the blood, the oxygen, is always pulled in his direction.
“Are you scared, Princess?”
Yes.
His eyes flick from the view outside the window to my face. His gaze searches mine for an answer.
“No.”
A lie.
I’m scared of his failure. Of going back to the life of a prisoner.
But isn’t that what I am now?
“I meant of me. Are you scared of me?”
His tone is soft, dangerous.
“Yes.”
The truth falls from my lips unbidden.
I am scared of him.
Not because of what he can do to me, but because of the things he can make me feel.
Wanted. Desired. Protected.
His eyes darken, and his nostrils flare. I’ve angered him with my honesty.
“I’ve told you I will not take from you. Despite knowing you crave me, I’ve vowed that you need to speak the words, not entice me with the call of your body. And yet, you still do not believe me.”
His icy blue eyes bore into mine.
“I cannot give you what you want. I will not give you what you want. If you desire it that badly, take it.”
I shock myself with my resolute words.
I can give him what he craves, but in doing so, I will be left with nothing. I will become nothing.
His plush mouth turns into a smirk. “Oh, Princess. You will give me what I want and soon. Your mouth speaks of things you think you should believe, but your body, your eyes, your soul, they all tell me something else. Why keep fighting? You would feel so much better if you gave in.”
My fists ball at my sides and my arms shake with the need to strike out. Of course, he doesn’t miss my reaction, and it only serves to entertain him more. A smug laugh spills from his mouth, “Always such a fighter.” He turns and takes a step towards me. “That’s why my brother craves you as much as I.” Another step brings him an arms reach away. “Only, he likes to break people of their fight, while I-” Another step forward and I can feel the heat from his large frame. “-I like to harness it.”
His hand lashes out and grips my wrist, spinning me around until my back is to his front and both my arms are pinned behind me. With his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “It’s not weak to admit your want, Faye. Strength comes from being honest with yourself about your needs.”
His free hand cups my jaw and turns my mouth to his. His lips hover over mine, sucking the air from my lungs. “You tremble with it; I can feel it pulse from inside you.”
He lazily traces his fingers from my jaw, down my neck, and between my breasts. My traitorous nipples stiffen at the proximity of his touch, pushing against the thin fabric of my sweater. His hand, now moving with more purpose, runs down my belly and presses against my pelvic bone. He inhales deeply, “Even from here, I can smell it.”
He pops the top button of my trousers effortlessly; his fingers never once fumble as they dive below the fabric, and he firmly cups my sex. His thumb finds the remnants of his release and rubs the dried cum deeper into my skin.
“And now I’m going to taste it.”
He uses his foot to kick apart my legs and widen my stance.
My starved lungs suck in his warm breath as they finally expand with the need for oxygen.
Slowly, so slowly, his fingers move lower and find me wet. My body betrays me and eases his quest as he uses the evidence of my need for him against me and dips his fingers between my aching, swollen flesh.
His lips are mere millimetres from mine, swallowing down my whimpers as his fingers go to work.
With skilled movements, he plunges his index finger inside me, enthralling me with his touch. My eager pussy clenches around the invasion, begging him to go deeper still.
His movements are excruciatingly slow as he pumps his digit, once, twice, collecting my wetness and drawing it over my swollen lips, to my aching bundle of nerves that was once hidden but now begs wantonly for his expert touch.
Gently, so gently, I cannot help but squirm as he circles aro
und and around, driving me to the brink of madness. My hips thrust and grind, seeking the relief only he can provide.
“Say it, Princess. Let go and say it.” His scorching breath, so sweet on my tongue, demands my submission, and I finally let go.
“Take me.”
The barely whispered words escape my lips on a ragged exhale, my next breath stolen by the driving force of his mouth on mine. Drugging me, pillaging my lips, and taking away the remnants of my resolve.
His fingers pick up pace, flicking, circling and rubbing me, making my legs shake and belly somersault. Bolts of electricity creep up from my toes, and my head swirls with colours, despite my tightly shut eyes. His other hand releases my wrists and pushes my trousers off my hips, down to the dusty floor, while his fingers play an explosive rhythm on my clit. Then both his hands are on me, and I break free from his mouth as two fingers ram into my pussy, eliciting a scream of both pleasure and pain. I arch back, only his strong body stopping me from falling to the floor, his hungry mouth finds mine once more as his punishing thrusts and relentless fingers drive me to the edge. He reads my body’s signals perfectly and with one final and brutal thrust of his fingers inside me, he simultaneously removes his other hand and slaps my clit hard.
I scream into his mouth. Uncaring of who hears me as the waves of my release pulse through my body and pool between my thighs. My core clenches around his fingers rammed deep inside, my legs unable to hold me steady.
Both his hands leave my pussy, and he scoops me up into his arms. His forehead leans against mine as his uneven breaths pant from his lips suggesting he was the one who just experienced a mind blowing orgasm, my first mind-blowing orgasm.
My first ever orgasm.
I am spent.
Lax in his strong arms. My body and soul are floating away on the breeze.
Be the breeze, float away.
In him, I have found my freedom.
“Sleep, Princess. I’ve got you.”
And I do.
I drift away in his strong arms, uncaring that I just gave him the very last of me.
My carefully constructed world is falling apart.