Mansions

by Whitney Bianca

  How the fuck have I stayed away from her this long?

  I pick up my pace, not knowing how long I'll last. I'm not even in her pussy and she's still the best sex I've ever had. I drop my eyes to hers, needing to see her. She staring up at me, her mouth slightly open and the muscles in her neck tight. Her collarbones stand out in stark relief to her smooth skin and I want to trace them with my tongue. Her neck is red from where I handled her roughly. Her mouth is red and there's blood in the corner of her lip. I love to see the marks I've made on her.

  She isn't moaning, though. She isn't crying out. She's silently seething beneath me, her whole body clenched. I'm using her for my pleasure, but she's not giving me a damn thing. I roll my hips, letting the lust take over. I growl and thrust harder. My balls are tight but my orgasm doesn't come. “Fuck,” I hiss, wanting to punish her, but feeling like I'm punishing myself as well. I think of her juicy pussy, devouring my cock. I think of my mouth on hers, licking and sucking and capturing all of her moans. I've waited too fucking long.

  I grit my teeth and back off, ignoring the throb of my cock. I'm so hard, I'm practically flush to my stomach. I slide my hands up her tits to her jaw. I drop my face to mouth to hers and kiss her, forcing my tongue between her lips. I tangle my hands in her hair and pull her upward, roughly, to meet me. She moans against my lips and the sweet sound almost kills me.

  “Tell me how you want to be fucked,” I say, needing to hear the words from her lips. She clenches her jaw, being stubborn. I smile, because I'm going to fuck her hard and I know that's how she wants it. I push her away from me and she falls back onto the mattress. “You're going to beg me to let you come,” I say, grabbing her hips. She yanks against my belt again, trying in vain to free herself.

  “I won't,” she murmurs, her eyes practically shining with the words.

  “You will.” I shove her thighs open wide. I can see she's wet for me and I slide the head of my cock up her slit, anticipation flaring up my spine. She arches her back like she can't wait either. So I don't make her wait any longer. Flexing my hands, my thumbs digging into her hip bones, I pull her into me as I thrust. She throws her head back, exposing her throat as I plunge deep inside her. For a minute, I can't move as her slick channel clenches around me. I just let the feeling slither through me and take root.

  I love fucking Adrienne Hamina.

  Denying myself her pussy is just not an option any more.

  I buck against her over and over, watching her big tits bouncing as I do. She calls out as I grind my hips into hers and I lean over her, planting my hands on either side of her face. I dig my knees in to the mattress and swerve my hips, grinding my full length into her. She presses her elbow down and shoves herself backwards, pulling away from me. I growl in frustration as my dick slips out of her. I slap my hand around her neck and press her into the softness of the bed. She squirms but I shove my cock back inside of her and I pound her pussy until she screams. She wants to fight me and we both love it when I win.

  I drop my weight on top of her and I wrap my arms around her, pulling her close. Our hard breaths collide as we move together, inching closer and closer to the edge of the bed. She raises her thighs and presses her knee so hard into my side that I wonder if there will be a bruise there tomorrow. She lifts her head, pressing her temple against my shoulder. I can feel her whole body tighten and I know she's about to come.

  “Don't you dare come,” I growl in her ear. She moans, the sound drawn out and frustrated. She rolls her hips against me, grinding her clit into my pelvis. I hinge back, pulling my dick out of her before she disobeys me.

  “No!” she hisses. She lifts her hips and the tip of my cock slides against her wetness. I can't stop myself from thrusting deep again. She gasps, throwing her head to the side as I fill her up. Then her hands are free, somehow, and she slaps my face to the side. The belt hangs loosely from her right arm and I grab the leather, forcing her arm to the mattress. She bucks against me and snakes her free arm around my neck, holding me close. Her body presses against mine as I fuck her and the room fades away.

  She's the only thing that matters.

  Her fingernails cut into my shoulder and the pain only spurs me on. I'm about to come, I can feel it. I slow my speed, wanting the feeling to last as long as possible. She tries to lift her pinned arm and I let her. I want her to fight me. It'll distract my cock, just enough. But she surprises me. She runs her fingers through my hair and the sensation is heavenly.

  I've fucked lots of women. Shit, I've fucked a couple in the last two days. But no one touches me like Adrienne touches me. I tie them up and tie them down and don't let them touch me. I fuck them efficiently. I get the job done and scratch my itch, until the next time. I don't kiss them like I kiss her. None of them taste like she does. None of them feel like she does.

  Maybe I'm the one who's going fucking crazy.

  What's one woman, one pussy, in a world full of them?

  She tugs on my hair, hard, bringing me back to her. I bury my face in her neck and she places her palms on my shoulders and pushes backwards. I follow her, my dick not wanting to escape her tight heat. We slide a few more inches and her head drops over the side of the bed. I attack her exposed throat, dragging my teeth down the smooth skin. Her tits jiggle and I grab them and squeeze. She throws her hands over her head as we fall off the bed, trying to soften the blow. I roll us to the side, so I my full weight doesn't land on her. We land hard, and then she pushes us over, until she's on top of me. Her tits swing heavily and I'm distracted by the perfect way they move. She twists the belt around both hands and stretches it across my neck. My dick swells but she ignores it. Her hair falls in her face, her manic eyes flash mischievously, and her mouth curves up in a smile.

  I know then for sure.

  She's the most diabolically beautiful woman I've ever seen.

  “Beg,” she says simply. “Beg me to let you come.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  The leather creaks as I tighten the belt on his throat.

  He laughs.

  I've had a crazy fucking night. It's the most excitement I've had since his last visit. I'm myself again, I think. He brought me back to reality, somehow, made me focus on nothing but him. I know that I didn't really see my mother, but the vision shook me up. I haven't seen her in years. She's stayed away because I've been better. Before all of this began, I was getting better, I swear I was. But now I'm rutting Dorian Armstrong like I'm a cat in heat. I need more, more, more. I don't care about anything else.

  “Beg,” I repeat, because I want to make him pay for being such an asshole. He smiles wide, his blue eyes dancing. He bucks his hips and the head of his dick nudges against my ass. I almost lose my balance, but I press my bandaged knee to the floor. It hurts, but I ignore it. It's getting easier and easier to ignore the pain. He bucks again, raising his hips higher this time, trying to throw me off. The third time's the charm and as I tip over, he takes advantage. He's back on top of me in a flash. He throws the belt over his shoulder and angles himself against me. When he thrusts deep, it feels like a homecoming.

  I'm getting addicted to the way he feels inside me.

  I throw my arms around him, running my hands up and down his back, memorizing the way his muscles ripple as he moves. He fucks me like he needs me, like he's as out of control as I am. When he was fucking my breasts, he was cold and unfeeling. Then something changed and I don't know what. I don't care. I like him this way. I want him as he is now.

  “Beg me to fuck your pussy until you come,” he says, his lips against my ear. I shiver at his words. He shoves into me hard and I cry out, feeling the orgasm welling up again. He can feel how I stiffen up, how my thighs clench as I take him deeper and deeper. He pulls back to look at me, daring me to come without his permission. Staring at him right in the eye, I slide a hand between us and find my clit. My fingers and his cock work in harmony and my stomach tightens and my breath catches in my throat.

  He slides his hands up my bo
dy as he pounds me into the rug. When he tweaks my sore nipple, I lose it. I arch my back and jerk against him, my pussy clenching around his big cock. The orgasm sweeps over me, without his permission. It blossoms in my belly and flows outward. I feel my cream coat his cock. He makes a strangled sound in his throat and plunges harder and harder into me. Pain shoots through me and I dig my fingers into his back.

  “You dirty little cunt,” he hisses in my ear. His breath hitches and he moans. “Fuck!” The word is sharp as he crushes his body into mine. He grabs my arms and pins them above my head. I don't fight him because I can't. He's so strong and I want him so badly. I don't care what that makes me. I don't care that I hate him and I should be repulsed by him. I just want him.

  My mouth finds his and I suck his tongue into my mouth. He moans and drags his knees up the rug and arches his back. His cock is buried deep in me, so deep that I know I'll be feeling him long after he's gone. I'll dream of him, fucking me just like this. He lets my hands go and drops his to my hips. He slams into me as he holds down my hips, not letting me slide away on the floor. There's no escaping his frenzied passion. I muffle my scream against his mouth. His cock is invading me and I almost can't take it. Then his hands are around my neck again. I can't keep up with him. He's completely gone off the rails now, biting and sucking at my mouth as he chokes me and fucks me like an animal.

  I love every disgusting minute of it.

  When he comes, his whole body goes tight and his mouth freezes on mine. He tries to push away from me but I grab him and hold him tight. He drops his hands to my thighs, shoving them open wider as he thrusts hard once. Twice. He lets out a low groan and then he shoots his hot come inside my battered body. His face hardens as he comes, like he can't stand that he's lost control. Finally, his body relaxes, melting into mine. I press kisses to his cheek and his ear and then I run my nose along the line of his shoulder, smelling his sweat and feeling the heat pouring off his body.

  “I knew you'd come,” I say, muffling the words against his skin. “If I misbehaved.” He doesn't respond, just holds me down under his big self. I focus on the way the sex courses through my veins, the feeling stronger than anything else. All the other stuff fades away. The disconcerting ghostly vision. The anger. The fear. I know it won't last forever, but I focus on the feeling, because it's all I have.

  And him. Right now, I have him.

  “I don't do that,” he says, almost to himself, as he slides his cock out of me. “I don't ever do that.” He pushes up onto his elbows to watch as he slips free. I can see his come, milky and thick all over the head of him, and I can feel it leaking out of me, too. I can't tear my eyes away, even as my stomach tightens and my nipples pinch painfully. It turns me on to see what a beautiful mess we've made.

  “You prefer to come on my tits,” I say, not asking because I already know the answer. He drags his eyes up my body and then fixes them on me. They're still blazing, not cold at all. He licks his lips and I mimic him, because I want to taste him. Like he can read my mind, he drops his hand to his dick and slides his palm up his still-hard length. Then he plunges his cock back into me as he lifts his hand to my lips. I dart my tongue out to taste him, closing my eyes as his taste explodes in my mouth.

  I love the way he tastes. Salty, bitter, thick, and angry.

  “I can't get pregnant,” I whisper, dropping my head back against the carpet. He rolls his hips, lazily as he wipes his hand on my tits. I have a UTI to protect me against unwanted pregnancy, but I'm sure he already knows that. He probably also knows about my abortion when I was seventeen, too. I bet by now he knows everything on record about me.

  “What about the guy you fucked in Istanbul?” he asks, his voice rough in my ear. He bucks into me, hard, and I wince. “You let them come inside this dirty cunt?”

  “I doubt it,” I say, raising my hips to meet his. He lets out a low growl and bites my shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. I bite my tongue to keep from calling out. I like knowing I have something to use against him, something else that makes him see red. “No,” I finally answer his question. “I don't do this ever, either.”

  “You...” he trails off, and I can feel his cock swelling inside me again. “You want my come dripping out of all your holes?”

  “Mmm,” I can only moan, not form another word. Talking is difficult with his hands around my neck. So I hold him tight, because it's all I can do. I clench my body around him, not wanting to let him go.

  “Beg for it,” he says, and I can hear the triumph in his voice. He thinks he's found the one thing I'm willing to beg for. And right about now, when my mind is gone and I can't remember a time when he wasn't inside me, he's right. He loosens his fingers on my throat and I gasp in a sharp breath.

  “Please, Dorian,” I beg, no hesitation. I don't want to feel the humiliation of his cold, controlled come on my tits one more time. I want to feel the warmth of him inside of me as he loses himself. I want to see his face as his come fills me up. “Please.” He smirks like the asshole he is, but I don't care.

  There's never been a man like Dorian Armstrong.

  Not for me.

  When the time comes, I'm going to get out of here. I'm going to run like hell and never look back, but I'm never going to forget him. There's no way I ever could.

  In the morning, the sun shines through the tall windows and the room fills up with light. I wake in my big bed and roll over. My breasts brush the soft sheet and I groan as my nipples throb painfully. They're dark and bruised. My throat is sensitive as well, and I swallow lightly as I sit up. It only takes me a few seconds to realize.

  I'm alone.

  He's gone, not a trace of him left behind except for the white mess smeared and dried between my thighs.

  I can't say I'm surprised.

  But I am pissed.

  *****

  Jessica Stockton-Hamina raises her teary eyes to meet mine. In the low light of the restaurant, her tears glitter like the diamonds. Selene reaches out for her, and their matching manicured hands meeting in the center of the table.

  “They keep saying it's going to take months for the authorities to sort through all of the debris,” Jessica is saying. “They haven't found any trace of her yet but she's... gone.” Her surgically plumped lips part as she takes in a shaky breath. “Completely gone.”

  “My God,” Selene says, shaking her head, her face a mask of faux sympathy.

  “The night of the gala, I begged her to stay with me in New York,” Jessica continues. “But she wouldn't. She was always so independent. All she ever needed was a passport and a camera.” She breaks off, her eyes squeezing shut as she tries to keep in a sob. I cut my eyes to Selene, who meets my gaze with a glaring message.

  Get rid of her.

  “I can't imagine what you're going through, Jessica,” Selene says silkily. “For her to be blown up like that... it's horrific.” She shivers, her bare shoulders shaking lightly. Jessica nods, a single tear dropping from her cheek to her cleavage. She's a forty year old woman, but she's well-preserved. Her skin is milky white and blemish free. Her eyes are big and expressive. I can see what Adrienne's father saw in her.

  And she has an ass like a girl half her age.

  Luckily for me, she cares for Adrienne, which is something we have in common. And it's also something I know I can use against her.

  “Look at me,” she says, swiping at her cheek carefully, so as not to disturb her mascara. “I was just on my way out and now I'm crying all over myself. Like it'll do any good.” She flashes a watery smile and Selene nods. I can tell my wife's patience is running thin. I smile into my glass as I take a drink of water. I'm enjoying this, I have to admit. “I came over here for a reason, I swear I did.” Then Jessica turns her eyes back to me. “Dorian, I wanted to thank you for your generous donation last month. The Armstrong Corporation always makes a fine showing at the Hamina Annual Gala and you know it means the world to me.”

  “My pleasure, Jessica,” I say, my gaze boring in
to hers. “Hamina was a good man. My father thought very highly of him and so did I.”

  “He was a great man,” Jessica says softly.

  “Maybe you can set up a foundation in poor Adrienne's honor. I'm sure she would love that,” Selene gushes, but neither of us look her way. Jessica swallows hard as I stare at her.

  “I also wanted to thank you for the flowers you sent for the memorial service,” Jessica continues. “You were too generous.”

  “There's no such thing,” I say, feeling my wife stiffen beside me. “As being too generous.” Selene didn't know before this moment that I sent a small fortune's worth of flowers to Adrienne's memorial service. She also doesn't know that I sent Bryan in my stead, to observe the service and see who came and went. She's too short-sighted to care, however. She just doesn't like that I've kept her in the dark again. She likes to think she knows everything about me. She's wrong of course. Very, very wrong. But it doesn't matter. My wife's concerns are not my own. A thought is hatching in my mind, a plan. A way to take further advantage of this situation with Jessica and add to my collection.

  I allow myself a polite smile, then I push out my chair and stand.

  “I'll walk you out,” I say smoothly, holding my hand out for Jessica. She blinks, like she's unsure, but after a moment, she takes my arm. “I'll be back, my love,” I toss over my shoulder at Selene. She narrows her eyes at me and lifts her martini to her lips. She doesn't like that I'm leaving her alone at the table on account of another woman, but I don't care. I guide Jessica through the expensive restaurant, past all the people we've seen at countless fundraisers and galas. I have no interest in small talk, and I'm sure Jessica has had her fill. She clings to me, her fingers gripping my jacket as she waves at a couple in the corner.

  “If I start crying again, I'm officially going to be persona non grata around here,” she whispers in my ear.