Red Velvet (The Velvet Rooms Book 3)

by Linnea May

  “Answer me!”

  His command is accompanied by another finger, causing me to squeal as he forces it inside next to the other. I’m so unbelievably wet. I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet in my entire life.

  But why?

  He’s asking an intriguing question. I can’t possibly be this wet from the incredibly painful whipping he just gave me, can I? It can’t be. It must be more than that.

  “No reply, huh?” he growls behind me, an ominous threat lacing his voice. “Fine.”

  Disappointment washes over me when he pulls away, leaving me empty and exposed while he moves through the room.

  I lift my head, turning to try and see where he’s going, but as soon as I do, he snaps, “Don’t fucking move!”

  I turn my gaze away from him, back to the crimson darkness in front of me. Keeping my head low and my back arched, I listened as he rummages behind me. It sounds like he threw the flogger aside.

  Is he fetching a new one? A more painful one? Am I getting punished for not giving him a verbal response to his question?

  My heart races at the thought, unsure whether I could even cope with another whipping. My ass is still throbbing, the skin aching and sore. If even the gentle touch of his hand felt like that, what would another flogger or whip feel like?

  But when I hear the tearing of plastic behind my back, I realize that’s not what’s coming for me.

  There’s no time for the realization to sink in, as he’s back with me just a moment later, placing himself so closely behind me that his legs are pushing against mine.

  I jerk up when his erection pokes against the tortured skin on my ass, but he pushes me back down with one hand, grabbing the hem of my skirt with the other. He tugs at it, the rolled-up fabric digging into my skin.

  “Get this off. I want you naked.”

  I hurry to follow his demand, even though it means having to straighten my upper body, something he repeatedly told me not to do. I move quickly, crossing my arms in front of my chest and pulling the dress up in one swift motion. He doesn’t wait until I’m done, pushing me back down while I’m still struggling to get the dress over my head.

  My bare boobs meet the leather with brute force, pressing against my erect and sensitive nipples. I have no way to support myself, because my arms are still locked over my head, twisting and turning as I try to get out of the damn dress without ripping it apart.

  I manage to free myself just in time before I feel his hard tip pushing against my entrance. Even now, as only the tip of his cock is starting to part my lips, I can tell he must be big. He moves forward, slowly but with intent, his hardness parting my lips with relentless force.

  No, he isn’t big. He’s huge!

  I wonder if his size would’ve scared me if I’d seen it beforehand. Is that why he never gave me a chance to do so? Was he worried I’d shy away and never let him touch me?

  A groan fills the room as he pushes farther and farther, gliding just as easily as his fingers did before, but stretching my channel so much it hurts. I take him in, allowing his length to spread me inch by inch, but when he continues to shove inside, I can’t stop from reaching back, my hand finding his pelvis in an attempt to slow him down.

  Of course, that move doesn’t sit well with him.

  His hand closes around my wrist, keeping it in a grip so tight I freeze midmotion.

  “You wish, little girl,” he hisses, and before I’m able to grasp the meaning behind his words, he rams forward, sending a new wave of agony through my body as his size fills me completely.

  I cry out, and this time my response is entirely based on pain. I feel like I’m being ripped apart, somehow losing my virginity all over again, even though that event took place a long time ago.

  And it didn’t hurt like this.

  “No!” I blurt out, following an instinct but not true conviction.

  “Yes!”

  Just like before, his verbal response is followed by an immediate action. Even if I wanted to, there would be no way for me to stop him as he starts fucking me without regard to the pain his enormous girth is causing me. He thrusts back and forth in violent motions, his hands holding on to my hips to amplify the impact of his invasion.

  I feel helpless against his relentless way of taking me, clinging to the sides of the bench while my skin sticks to the leather as he assaults me from behind. I’ve never been fucked like this before, with such vicious need, so reckless and predatory.

  No one ever lost himself like this.

  No one ever hurt me like this.

  And no one ever knew I would want to be treated like this—including me.

  Every time his pelvis crashes against my sore ass, it sends a hot wave of new pain up my spine, and I groan in a blend of agony and ecstasy. Who knew the two could go hand in hand like this?

  I shift beneath him as well as I can, spreading my legs farther and arching my back even more to change the angle of his intrusion. It seems like he understands what I’m doing, because he shifts with me, modifying his motions in a way that creates a power shift between the two rivaling sensations. The pain retreats, making more room for a delight so deep it’s impossible to resist. My clit is rubbing against the bench each time he rams into me, his cock always finding that sweet spot right behind my entrance that sends butterflies through my core. Waves of sweet bliss wash over me, each of them a harbinger for my impending climax.

  Am I allowed to come? Should I ask?

  Once again, my body comes to a conclusion before my mind does, and I’m forced to throw caution to the wind and follow where carnal desire leads me.

  I’m not a loud person. I’ve never been loud during sex. Any exclamations during sex were suppressed and wary, almost prudent. I never heard myself cry out the way I am now as my climax rolls over me, blinding and deafening me before I’m able to let him know I’m about to come.

  There was no time, no moment of clarity that would’ve allowed for me to even find my voice to communicate with him in any way.

  I can’t worry about that now. I don’t want to worry. I don’t want to think.

  All I want is to ride this high as long as it lasts, to embrace every little kiss of euphoria while my mind tries to catch up to my body.

  I’m still in the midst of this wondrous elation when I hear him groan behind me, his hands digging into my hips with painful desperation. He jolts forward, staying in place while he finds his release deep inside me, his pelvis pressed against my aching behind.

  My high is receding, evolving until there’s nothing left except warm pulsations keeping my racing heart at bay. His grip loosens, but he doesn’t move an inch away from me, never breaking the connection between us.

  How will I ever return from this?

  Do I even have to?

  Chapter 15

  Kade

  “Who are you?”

  I expected to hear a lot from her after what just happened between us, but I did not expect that.

  We’re sitting on the edge of the bed with a somewhat awkward distance between us. She has the silk duvet that covered the bed wrapped around her naked body, shielding it from my eyes like a shy schoolgirl, even though I’ve already seen pretty much all of her.

  I’m still wearing my shirt and boxer briefs, something that apparently made her insecure enough to seek shelter beneath the duvet cover. It appears she’s trying to level a power imbalance between us.

  Cute.

  “I told you who I am,” I say. “Kade. Kade Armitage.”

  “Yes, but….”

  She sighs, shifting on the mattress as she turns to me.

  “I mean, who are you? Where did you come from? Why are you here now? How did you learn to do these things? Why did you—”

  I raise my hand to stop her rambling. “That’s a lot of questions at once. And quite frankly, half of them don’t make sense to me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She tugs the blanket closer, lowering her eyes to her lap. She look
s so small next to me, so vulnerable.

  Fucking perfect.

  “I just… would like to understand this,” she says in a low whisper. “To understand you.”

  I look at her, trying to quiet the alarm that’s going off inside my head. It happens every time. Every single time a girl agrees to follow me into the darkness, she finds herself faced with nagging questions afterward. Questions I don’t want to answer, questions that should not be answered.

  Questions that could destroy everything.

  “Lila, listen.”

  She jerks up as if I’d just yelled at her, fear evident on her face. She doesn’t know what I’m about to tell her, has no way of knowing, but her expression makes it look like she’s preparing for the worst.

  That’s probably for the best.

  “There’s nothing to understand here,” I tell her. “All you have to know is whether or not you liked what just happened, and whether you want to do it again.”

  Her eyes widen as her expressions lightens, but only cautiously so.

  “Again?” There’s disbelief in her question, and on her face. “You’d want to see me again?”

  I frown at her. “I’m not into one-night-stands. If you ask me, we’re just getting started.”

  “Oh. I thought—”

  “That this was just a quick and easy one-night fuck? Is that what it felt like to you?”

  The violence with which she shakes her head surprises me.

  “No, not at all! It’s just that… I mean, I’m not looking for a boyfriend and….”

  She pauses, biting her lower lip.

  Is she serious right now?

  She’s the one rebuffing me?

  “Who says I want to be your fucking boyfriend?” I snap. “That’s not what this is either. I don’t do girlfriends.”

  She swallows, cowering as if my words physically hurt her. “What do you do, then?”

  There’s bitterness in her question, a sharp edge that reveals her aversion to this conversation.

  Good. I prefer this insecure distaste to her chasing me away like an unwanted insect because she thinks I could want more from this than she does. Maybe I do, but not in the way she may suspect.

  “This,” I respond, gesturing to the room. “I do this.”

  “So, you always have sex here?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant. And I don’t just have sex. We didn’t just have sex. It’s more than that.”

  “But it’s not a relationship.”

  “You could still call it that. Every ongoing interaction between two people is a relationship in some sense.”

  A crease appears between her eyebrows when she looks at me. “That’s a very scholarly definition.”

  “Fine with me,” I say, shrugging. “It’s still true.”

  She presses her lips together, and I love the tense expression on her face, the kiss of ruined makeup that circles her bright eyes. A collar would look good on her, but that’s a consideration for another time. Not tonight.

  She’s used to certainty, to real boyfriends—real relationships, as she defines it. It’s no surprise to me that this is new to her, and neither is her next question.

  “What is this, then? You’re not my boyfriend, but you also don’t want to leave this as a one-night stand?”

  A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth, and I know there’s something condescending in the way I’m looking at her now, and in the way I’m reaching to touch her delicate cheek. She flinches away at first, visibly confused at the gentle caress. But a moment later, she accepts it for what it is, a soothing gesture to calm the chatter of her mind.

  “You really need a label for this, don’t you, little girl?”

  “Why do you call me that?”

  “Because that’s who you are to me,” I say in a low voice, leaning in closer so I can feel her rapid breath on my skin. “A naughty little girl who needs her tight ass spanked, hard. A sexy minx who craves to be bent over and fucked even harder until she comes on my hard cock. I bet you like to be choked, too, don’t you? Shall we find out next time?”

  Her eyes widen and her lower lip starts trembling. The blush on her cheeks is apparent even in this light, and the heat radiating from her small body is pulling me closer, making it so hard to resist her.

  “I bet you’re still wet right now, aren’t you?”

  She closes her eyes and surprises me by moving in for a kiss. Her lips connect with mine in an innocent brush, testing and coyly asking for more. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t resist such an offer. I let her dictate the tone of our kiss for a while, giving in to the allure of her innocence, her cautious claiming that’s so different to my approach, so different to what I’m used to. She’s like silk, wrapping my razor-sharp edges, careful not to get ripped to pieces.

  But she will be. She’ll fall apart beneath my hands.

  Her body melts into mine when I accelerate the way our tongues entwine, wrapping my arm around her slim shoulder and pulling her closer. My other hand lands on her lap, idly standing by while our kiss grows voracious. She heaves in my embrace, her legs dangling as if she’s only waiting for me to tell her to part them, like I did downstairs.

  But then she dismisses my assumption by breaking our kiss as abruptly as it started. Her eyelashes flutter nervously when she tilts her head back to look up at me.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you,” she whispers. “I’ve never had anything like this.”

  I can’t help the triumphant smile that finds its way on my face. It’s more than just flattering.

  It’s promising.

  But Lila doesn’t give me a lot of time to revel her confession. Instead, she finds a way of destroying the moment that I didn’t anticipate.

  “This could be good for me. Like you said. I’ve only ever been with boyfriends like Jim. And he…”

  She pauses, clearing her throat and straightening her back, which forces a few more inches of distance between us.

  “He was perfect, a truly good man,” she goes on, heating my blood with a taste of rage. “He did everything for me, and I would’ve been safe with him forever. I always thought that was exactly what I needed, because how could I not? Every woman wants the perfect husband, a man who takes care of her, who builds her a home and a family. And it’s like—”

  “What’s your point?” I’m not here to hear about her oh-so-perfect loser ex-fiancé. She’d better be going somewhere with this.

  She nods as if agreeing with me. Her eyes are big when she looks at me with that innocent and hopeful expression of a young girl who just discovered something really valuable.

  “You’re like a godsend,” she assesses in a low voice.

  Despite the soft tone, her words leave a shattering impact on me.

  Did she really just say that? A fucking godsend?

  I frown, suddenly relieved about the added space between us. “I don’t know about that, little girl.”

  “Oh, don’t take it too literal,” she retorts, waving me off. “You know what I mean.”

  “Do I?”

  She nods emphatically. “Yes. I mean you’re just what I need right now, and it’s like the universe knew that. A rebel, someone to push my boundaries. Someone who—”

  “A rebel? That’s what you think I am?”

  Anger spoils the air between us. Her words make me feel small, like a little boy who likes to play cowboy, or an unruly son who lives for the pain he causes his parents by his wayward choices.

  That’s only partly true.

  “I’m sorry!” she blurts out. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “Don’t make it sound like I’m an experiment to you, little girl. Like you’re the one trying me out when it’s really the other way around. Understand?”

  I catch her gaze and narrow my eyes, heavy with an ominous warning.

  Lucky for her, she seems to receive the message and remember how to be a good little girl for me. She nods, hugging the blanket even tighter as
she whispers, “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 16

  Lila

  A dull ache travels up my spine when I sit at my work desk, and the muscles in my face spasm out of control as I try to process the pain. Pulling myself together, I let out a deep breath as my body adjusts to the pressure, the pain no longer as fiery as it was in the beginning. Just a gentle throbbing remains, reminding me of the fun I had the night before.

  I have to keep it together, because my desk is in the middle of an open office space. Our tables aren’t even separated by cubicles or any kind of privacy shield, so everyone in here can see every motion as I shift on my chair, every grimace that finds its way on my face—and they’re the last people I want to know about my little secret.

  Not even my closest friend at work, Sybil, who sits across from me. Luckily she’s always pretty occupied with her e-mails in the morning, so I got nothing but a quick and friendly nod when I first walked in. She’s not in a chatty mood, and neither am I, albeit for different reasons, I assume.

  He warned me about this. He said I would still feel and see the impact of what we did last night even a day or two after it happened, that there would be marks and I wouldn’t be able to sit at my desk without feeling the lasting impression he’d left on me.

  He also said I would love it.

  And he’s right about that.

  Even as the hot throbbing continues to send hints of agony through my body, I’m sitting there smiling while my outdated computer is booting up and I’m trying to get mentally ready for my day at work.

  Easier said than done. I feel like I’m still riding that high, like I’m still coming, still reveling in the orgasmic trance that lasted so much longer than a simple peak toward the end. I was on edge and dizzy with lust long before he finally decided to fuck me, long before he even touched me.

  Everything about him is turning me on. He’s more than just handsome. He has a presence. I couldn’t quite grasp it during our first meeting, because I was drunk and flustered with my worries about ruining Elene’s wedding day, but last night I saw it—really saw it. There’s something about the way he moves, about the way he looks at me, the way he talks to me, the way he just knows what I need, even before I know it myself.