by Red Garnier
She’d envied those women. Those loose women he always accessorized with, one on each arm, each exposing an ample share of cleavage and legs.
Cleo had been jealous but she’d swiftly smothered the feeling, telling herself repeatedly those women were whores, hussies and sluts. They had no brains and were valued solely for their bodies. Cleo frequently found herself thinking how she should pity those poor, lost creatures, and how she—Cleo Sonterra—was worth more than that, more than just a sexy body, for she had a beautiful soul. She was a giving person, intelligent and dedicated. She was worth more than those whores, more than those women who got to feel Sebastian’s hands on their naked bodies, more than those women who got to be held in a limp hypnosis in his sleek, muscled arms. Cleo wasn’t worthless because Sebastian didn’t want her, didn’t love her back. His lack of want didn’t make her worthless. It just made him mean and stupid.
Because Cleo had loved him more than anyone ever possibly could.
She didn’t love him anymore—she couldn’t. Not after he’d crushed her heart repeatedly and rendered it incapable of such an emotion.
She didn’t even like him.
He had no scruples. He was a beast who broke women’s hearts with no regard to their feelings. Lying, cheating, stealing—he did it all for the hell of it. His laugh was always cynical and he constantly cursed the world and everything in it. He was not a man she would ever introduce to her parents.
Yet she’d wanted him, still wanted him. And perhaps more than fear him, she feared her desire, for it was wild and untamed and dangerous. And it was always there. Always this longing, this wanting.
Him. Sebastian Russo. The meanest son of a bitch who ever lived.
Chapter Four
Sebastian groaned at the feel of her body, plush, pliant and shivering beneath him. This was all he’d wanted throughout his college years and every single minute of his life afterward, and though it might have been a rough way to go about it, hell—he was drunk, he was horny and he wanted her. Cleo.
Her sweet pink cunt tasted like heaven to his lips. The juices spilling from her vagina all but flowed into his mouth and her muscles tightened wantonly around his tongue as he buried it deep inside her.
Growling, he cupped her buttocks and lifted her hips higher to have better access to that sweet, tight pussy he’d so often ached to taste. She rewarded him with a soft little yelp. The sound reverberated in his insides like a penance, sending a jolt of red-hot lightning to his dick.
She no longer fought him. She was now as limp and pliant as a rag doll, and yet she was hot to the touch, sweaty with the heat of her desire. It had been useless for her to fight him anymore, just as it had been useless for him to fight this inexplicable madness of wanting her.
He’d thought four years would be enough to get her image out of his mind but instead he’d been tortured, nearly gone crazy over not being able to look at her, even if just to tease and torment her.
It bugged him—she bugged him. At every gathering during their college years she’d hardly looked at him, hardly recognized his presence, as if he were unworthy of her precious attentions. He’d sworn to himself he’d seduce her, only to realize she was immune to him, pushing his hand back when it strayed, jerking her eyes away when he looked at her with lust and thinking he was mocking her whenever he spoke one of his very rare, very sparse compliments.
All she’d done was ignore him. Brutally so. And like a brat wanting Mommy to look his way, he’d misbehaved, wanting her to turn, to look, even if just to wrinkle her perfect button nose at him. And yet not even to do that would she spare him a glance.
Even though he knew with painful certainty that she absolutely, irrefutably hated his guts, she still wanted him. By God, she did. He’d be damned if he’d misinterpreted the dewy-eyed look she’d been sending his way tonight. It was a look filled with lust and years and years of wanting. He recognized a goddamned look like that when he saw one. And by God, he’d fuck her. He’d fuck her whether she wanted him to or not. He was way past caring now. All he cared about was possessing, marking her as his own, and if wanting her like this made him the devil himself, so be it.
He heard sounds behind him—a man’s low growl, a woman’s soft whimpering—and he imagined his friends were already screwing their drunken brains out. He didn’t give a shit who was fucking who and how. All he gave a damn about was the little piece of ass he had in his hands and the cunt he was eating from, which was about the best-tasting pussy he’d had in his life. Her flavor was spicy, and it was hot and scorching on his tongue, making it tingle after a taste.
He lifted his face and looked into her eyes. Those eerie doe eyes were clouded with lust and her breasts heaved heavily with every breath she took. She had the biggest breasts he’d ever seen. Round and full, with small, perky nipples in such a soft shade of pink they almost blended with her skin. She’d been a fool to think she could hide those tits from him with those ridiculous loose dresses she wore. She’d all but made them look bigger, saucier…more enticing.
He ran his hands along her hips and up to cup that tiny little waist. Her skin was as soft as churned butter, and how that little waist could properly carry the weight of her breasts was beyond him. When his hands cupped those huge, melon-sized fruits he growled with delight. They filled his hands, overflowed his fingers, and her puckered nipples brushed against his palms, begging for attention.
He moved up to draw one perky crest into his mouth and sucked it full force, making her whimper. He sank his teeth into her skin and bit her fiercely while he sucked. He wanted to mark those breasts as his, and if he drew blood, so be it. She cried out, sinking her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer.
He didn’t need more encouragement than that.
Snarling, he squeezed her other breast with his hand until she whimpered, her nipple taut and hard and ready. Shifting his attention, he drew the hard little pebble into his mouth and sank his teeth around it while he sucked. She screamed beneath him, a scream filled with pain and pleasure and loud enough to echo in the sky.
Sebastian felt drugged and out of control and for some unholy, sick reason, he needed to hear her whimper and moan, harder, louder, be it from pleasure or pain or both. God knows he, too, was feeling both. It was painful to touch her, painful to have watched others touch her, brutally so.
“You shouldn’t have let Jason touch you,” he breathed as he gazed down at her with hot, lustful eyes. Her lips were wet and swollen, and the amber specks in her chocolate-brown eyes glimmered like gold in the night.
“He asked me nicer than you did,” she said breathlessly.
Grinding his teeth, he squeezed her breasts so hard they could have exploded in his hands. “I’ve taken all the shit from you I can take. Now you’re going to admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you’re a fucking little bitch and all you’ve wanted is for me to fuck you.”
“No.”
“Say it, damn you!”
“What do you want me to say?” she screamed in desperation.
Growling, he moved forward so that his face was a breath from hers. “I want you to say you want this. I want you to admit you want me.”
She was panting hard beneath him, her eyes fevered and her lips trembling as she gazed up at him. The rise and fall of her breasts drew his eyes and he gazed down at them in ownership, at the red marks his mouth had left and the slightly indented marks of his teeth. Her creamy skin gleamed with a fine sheen of sweat and he ached to lick it…lick her everywhere.
There were so many things he wanted to do to her. And yet he couldn’t stand the pressure in his cock, the pain in his balls. If he couldn’t think straight, it was because every drop of blood in his body was settled between his legs and pulsing wildly in his cock. He ached to bury it deep inside her and fuck her until he bled from the effort.
“Please, Bas…” she whispered softly.
Pulling back slightly, he scowled down at her, furious at t
he way the plea in her voice tugged at his insides. He’d be damned before he let that tiny, pleading little voice of hers get to him. He’d be damned before she convinced him to switch from fucking her to cuddling before a fireplace and eating bonbons while they chatted the night away. All he wanted to do, all he’d ever wanted to do, was take her, claim her, fuck her. He was not stopping now, not even if that voice yanked at his heartstrings and strangled him with them. “I’m not stopping, Cleo. Whether you like it or not, you’re mine tonight.”
“You’re…hurting me,” she whimpered softly.
“I’m not even touching you.”
She shook her head, specks of runaway sand glittering in her hair. “You’re killing me.”
The hell he was. He framed her face with his hands and looked deep into her heavy-lidded gaze. “No. You’re killing me.”
Cleo clutched him tightly, fisting her hands in the thick mass of his hair. “Sebastian…”
He heard the need in her voice, low and clear and beautiful, and it robbed him of his breath completely.
There was a deathly silence while he slowly raked her face with his eyes, attempting to memorize those sweet, wholesome features which now, sweaty and hot and needy, were the most beautiful he’d ever seen.
“You want me.” It was a whispered statement, delivered with more confidence than he felt. His heartbeat seemed to completely stop as he waited for her answer.
It was just a breath but he heard it. Heard it while he watched her plush pink lips form the words he’d waited years to hear.
“God help me, I do.”
He’d dreamed of this moment. He’d dreamed of prim and proper Miss Cleo begging him to fuck her. In his wildest dreams she’d yelled, “Screw me, fuck me, you bastard, please!” but he supposed he would settle for anything. As long as it meant screwing, fucking, mating—her.
His lips crushed hers with shattering force, sending shudders all through her body in shock waves. A soft little whimper escaped her lips but the sound was barely audible as he muffled it with his mouth.
Behind them someone was coming, and coming hard, their shouts high and mighty as they reached their climax.
The sounds invigorated Sebastian, inviting him to seek his own release, release inside her, inside this woman—this reluctant little bitch. Feeling her pliant, soft body beneath his and the warmth of her skin seared him, burned his soul like a stake right through the heart.
He kissed her fiercely while a finger ambled down her stomach until it sank into the glorious place it sought—the tight, wet sheath of her pussy. She was swollen with need and the walls of her cunt clenched around his finger and sucked it in like a magnet. He was sweating profusely and every gleaming inch of his body was tense and burning for her. He wanted to sink his cock inside her and spill himself, mark her as his, but at the same time he didn’t want this to end. He wanted her now—now and always.
“You feel so tight, like a little virgin, Cleo.”
The words were breathed against her lips as he slid another finger inside her, stretching her walls to accommodate both. She was tight, slippery. Jerking his wrist, he screwed both fingers inside until she arched her back and moaned in pleasure. The feel of her nipples brushing against his naked chest tore a curse from his lips.
Cleo shifted her hips, wanting his hardness to fill her, but he caught her pelvis with his hand and stilled her. If she’d inched her pussy even a hair closer to his cock he’d be buried deep inside her and spilling his semen within seconds, and he wanted to take his time. He’d already waited a lifetime for this moment. He’d be damned if he didn’t make it last.
She exceeded even his wildest, wettest dreams—which had been plentiful, and all of them starring little Miss Cleo. Soft, pliant and womanly, with a body fit for a porn star, a body that, just looking at it, made a man want to jerk off and come. This was Cleo, and she was moaning under him, her tongue kissing his mouth like a hungry—no, starved—little slut who hadn’t had an orgasm in years.
Sebastian would be more than happy to oblige. He’d make her come like she’d never, ever come before. While he was going to come everywhere, make sure every inch of her plush little body had his mark. So that if he never had the fortune of touching her again, she would at least remember this forever—remember him forever.
Chapter Five
He touched her slowly, his fingers sliding in and out of her pussy with a mind-jerking lack of haste that drove her mad. She protested with a weak whimper and lifted her hips to meet his movements. Wanting more, needing more.
“You’re begging for it, aren’t you, Cleo?” His voice was gruff and thick with lust. He dragged his body downward, took her knees and bent them until her legs were completely folded, her knees touching her shoulders, her sex wet and pink and open to him. She panicked, tried to straighten her legs but he halted her.
“Let me look at you, Cleo. Don’t move.” His eyes glazed and burned with desire when he spread the labia of her sex open with two fingers and stared right into her.
She bucked with shamefulness, feeling exposed and vulnerable, but he shushed her with softly spoken, unintelligible words, gently keeping the folds open as he bent down to lick her. He drank her up as if he were in the middle of the desert and she were an oasis. Thirsty, starved, like a man gone mad.
Her toes curled with tension when a long, probing finger sank slowly into the tight back entrance of her ass. Cleo jerked from the intrusion, suddenly realizing the helpless, pitiful yelping sounds reverberating in the air were coming from her.
The combination of his finger—now slowly stroking the puckered entrance of her ass in gentle, teasing circles—and the merciless thrusts of his tongue on her oozing sex could have been enough to kill her. But she held on for dear, dear life, wanting and needing to find out what other things—bad things, good things, any things—he planned to do to her. It was heaven, it was hell and it was all she wanted. All she’d ever wanted. Him. Loving her. Touching her. Kissing her.
Fucking her.
He groaned low and deep in his throat, indicating with that painfully sensual sound that the excruciating pleasure Cleo felt in receiving was similar to what he experienced in giving. An ache to please him, to see his face straining with desire like it had been when Haley licked him as he took Luella from behind, burned inside her like a death wish.
Suddenly switching places, his tongue traveled lower to kiss the rosette of her ass while one of the fingers that had kept her swollen labia parted now slid deeply inside her. One finger then became two, and two became three, until his fingers spread her cunt in a way she thought would make her burst. A tension unlike any other coiled in the pit of her being and though she thought it impossible, the tension tightened further at each thrust, each touch, each kiss. She writhed as he slowly kissed and licked her ass, first teasing her with his lips then using his powerful, wet tongue.
“I can’t stand this, Bas,” she breathed, lifting her head to look at him.
But he was buried between her legs and all she could see was the silky black mane of hair at the top of his head as he cocked it sideways to continue his conquest. Before Cleo fell back against the sand, she caught a quick glance of her friends watching in a stupor as Sebastian made wild, sweet, bad love to her.
She wasn’t ashamed now…now the only thing that mattered was Sebastian.
She could have sworn she was a breath away from reaching that point, that point where all was lost to her for an infinitesimal second, where nothing mattered except a fierce, overwhelming need to just let go.
She gasped as she neared it, rocked her hips against his touch, and as if he sensed her orgasm was close he stopped weaving his magic, his overpowering black magic, and rose. In a second he settled his big body on top of hers, bracing his upper body on his hands as he gazed down at her.
Her legs were still bent, her breasts crushed beneath her thighs, her knees tight to her shoulders. Sebastian’s weight pinned her down, keeping her sex completely open a
nd exposed to him.
Cleo writhed beneath him, seeking him, inviting him, for she knew that no one could fill this emptiness, this aching desire, except him. He moved his hips and paused, poised at her entrance where she could feel the tip of his cock lightly brush against her swollen pussy.
“Say it, Cleo,” he said in a strained voice. The light in his eyes was dark and fierce and breathtaking. Their gazes locked for what seemed like an eternity.
“Fuck me, Sebastian,” she finally breathed.
When he buried his cock inside her he cried out, the sound resembling that of a pained, dying animal. Cleo gasped, mesmerized by the feel of him so deeply embedded inside her, filling her, completing her. She clutched at his shoulders then spread her hands over the muscles of his back, pulling him closer.
“More, more!” she cried.
“You sexy little slut,” he breathed, humping her with superhuman strength. “This is what you wanted wasn’t it, you horny little bitch?”
“Yes, yes!” She rolled her head from side to side, desperate and straining for release. Whimpering, she slid her hands past his waist and clutched the hard, straining muscles of his buttocks, lifting her hips and urging him as deep inside her as he could manage.
“Look at me, Cleo.”
She turned her face, her eyelids feeling heavy and hot as she gazed up at him. Sweat beaded his brow and his nostrils flared as he struggled for breath and stared down fiercely into her eyes. His jaw was tight with effort as he rammed inside her, veins straining against his neck.
“I want to watch when you come,” he said heavily, his voice hot and broken with desire. All the while he kept thrusting and thrusting and thrusting inside her. “I want to see your pretty face when you come for me.”