Blaire Dark Romance

by Anita Gray

  A hand slides between our bodies; finds its way to my forbidden entrance. Charlie rubs me there, making me squirm, making my core buzz with hunger. I'm so wet and juicy it's ridiculous, inundating his fingers.

  “Hmmm, virgin cum,” he says in my mouth, his voice full of darkness. “You taste fucking sweet, you know that?”

  Pushing his fingers up through my soft, slick folds, he centers his attention on my clit again, teasing my inflamed bud. I cry out. I unhook my arms from around his neck and grab his arm. I'm too tender. It's too much.

  “You want me to stop?” he asks, glancing heavily between my eyes.

  “No! I just...” I blink in the sight of his flush face, not quite feeling like myself. “Please, Charlie... I just... just give me a second.”

  Smiling with pure wickedness, he deepens our kiss with a moan and works his tongue across mine, turning me inside out. He doesn't close his fiery blue eyes. He locks us in a period of visual bonding, possessing my fucking soul. I've never felt so vulnerable in all my life.

  I begin to relax beneath him, letting go of his arm. He adds pressure to my clit then, making me whimper out loud. I claw the sheets on either side of my waist, curling my hips, wondering if this could get any more intense.

  “You ready now?” he says in my mouth.

  I nod a couple of times, looking desperately at him.

  “Good.” He pecks my mouth, then licks over my upper lip; sucks me there. “Now put your feet flat on the bed so your knees are bent.”

  Obeying, I spread my legs and press my feet flat on the mattress, giving him more room between my thighs. Dripping wet fingers slide down my sex, gathering more liquid, then over my virgin entrance and to my decadent entrance.

  He circles me there with a single finger, softening my flesh, slowly kneading the tip in.

  “Why Maksim hasn't fucked you, I'll never know.” He swallows my anxious gasp as he pushes in me. “I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you if I had you at my beck and call.”

  My toes bunching in the sheets, I throw my head back in the pillows, breaking away from his lips. He's halfway in, opening me up, and while it sort of stings, it's...

  ...I don't even get a chance to figure out how it is because he pulls out, causing a tight friction to burn my insides.

  “You all right?” Charlie kisses the apple of my throat.

  “I... I think so.” I let out the breath I've been holding, blinking up at the dark ceiling.

  “Just relax,” he says, like it's that easy.

  The pressure is there at my anus again and he slips inside me, loosening me up by gently twisting his hand. He doesn't stop halfway this time. He goes all the way in until I can feel his knuckles against my butt cheeks, his finger lodged so deep inside me that I feel full to the brim.

  I moan through closed teeth, and I'm trying not to tense up but it is hard. It's the most particular sensation having him in there: burning and it... it's just weird.

  “Breathe, Blaire,” he says, reminding me to. “Don't think too much. I'm not in a rush. We'll go slowly.”

  “I'm just... a bit anxious,” I confess, getting more and more pathetic by the minute. “I've never done anything like this before.”

  His entire body tenses up, and I can’t help thinking what I just said has shocked him.

  “Don't be anxious,” he says softly, eventually. “I'm not gonna hurt you. Those oils burning help your muscles relax and I won't do anything you can't handle, all right?”

  I shakily nod, telling myself that I'll just follow his guidance. He hasn't hurt me yet, not really, and for some strange reason, I don't think he is going to. Not that it really matters. He can't hurt me anymore than Maksim has.

  Charlie doesn't move inside me for a while, just kisses my throat and across my collar bones, training my attention on his bizarre affections. This man just an hour ago admitted he's going to do terrible things to me, yet he's kissing me like he's in love with me or something?

  I wish he'd be one or the other—good or bad. A mixture of both is too bewildering.

  He's kissing over the curve of my breasts now, moaning in the deep of his throat, his hair tickling my chest. With his teeth, he kneads my nipples over the material of my bra again, left, and then the right.

  “Oh, that's good,” I say before I realize.

  The burning and stinging in my ass easing somewhat, I relax on the bed, untying my toes because I've got cramp. He gently pulls out of my ass then and gathers some more moisture from my sex. My entire body tingles because it thinks he's going to play with my clit again, but then I feel something bigger stretching me out.

  Two fingers.

  I hiss through gritted teeth, squeezing my eyes shut. My muscles feel like they're being forced to work the wrong way, sharp pains shooting up my spine.

  “Relax, baby,” Charlie whispers, pulls out to soak his fingers in my cum and then he's gently taking my ass.

  He finds a leisured rhythm that soon becomes quite satisfying, and I wonder, is this what it feels like to have proper sex?

  If it is, I've been missing out.

  I don't know why I just thought that. I want him to get rid of those oils so I can test a theory; see if they're messing with my body.

  After collecting some more lubrication, three fingers press past my sphincter and it feels like he's tearing me open. His lips are on mine before I can utter a word, his tongue swirling, taking my mind to another place.

  “I want you,” he says harshly, lost somewhere in his mind. “I want to fuck you.” He isn't lying, but I'm convinced he won't. I can feel how much control he's exercising over himself.

  Curling his fingers against a spot deep inside, he makes my core pulse. I tense my ass, clamping down on his fingers, rhapsody sizzling in my veins.

  “Ah!” My eyes fly open as he pulls me up off the bed, holding me around the waist in one arm tangled in my hair. The other is hooked under my ass where his fingers are still wedged inside me.

  “What are you...” I don't finish my question. Skin against skin, I can feel his stiff, warm cock touching my sex, every bulging vein.

  I gulp.

  Looking at me with his head slightly tilted, Charlie shifts me up his dusty legs so I'm sitting right on his lap, causing his cock to stimulate my clit with the movement. I squeeze out a moan, gazing at him in desperation, at his flush face and his blazing blue eyes. If there's ever been a look of desire, that has to be it.

  “Put your feet on the bed just like I told you before,” he rasps out, and I do, gaining balance with my legs open on either side of his waist.

  There's a peculiar smell in the air that I'm finding hot: sweat and my arousal and Charlie's natural musky fragrance. Why do I find his body odor so appealing?

  “You know, if you want me to fuck you properly,” he says, making my heart pound with fear, “I will. No one orders me about. And I promise I’ll be gentle.”

  “No,” I shake out, shuddering. “Don't do that, Charlie. I can't do that.”

  Unable to bear that expression of desire on his face any longer, and because I'm so out of my depth, I bury my face in his dusty chest.

  “No. Look at me.” Grabbing a handful of my hair at my back, he tugs, forcing me to arch and meet his glowing eyes.

  “That's better.” His voice is softer now. He leans down to kiss my lips, warm puffs of breath coming from his nose.

  I kiss him back, indulging myself, mirroring his salacious tongue actions.

  His fingers begin to move in and out of my anus, slow at first but then faster and faster, creating a wet suction sound that's quite cringing, until he grinds his hips.

  I swear, everything in me is boiling on the verge of erupting.

  Back and forth with steady, skilled motions, he rubs his cock on my sex, rubs my swollen clit. My focus narrows. I copy his motions, curling my own hips to meet his thrusts. It’s so good—so hot! Driving me nuts!

  “Please,” I beg in a state of aroused weakness, my voice choke
d with my neck trussed back.

  “What'd you want, baby?” he says on my mouth, looking at me through hooded eyes.

  That's a fucking good question.

  “I... I don't know.”

  “More?”

  I open to speak but nothing comes out.

  He must think I mean to say yes, because it isn't long before he stops finger fucking me. His hand curved under my ass, he lifts me up, and then I feel something much bigger being pushed in me, something warm and slightly wet.

  My toes fist, my finger nails digging in his hairy chest. The head of his cock is large and warm, forcing me open bit by bit.

  “Relax,” he whispers, gently pumping his hips to thrust past my sphincter.

  “Aw!” I scream through closed teeth, my insides rolling with pain.

  “Fuck, you're tight.” Charlie sounds tense, like he's on the verge of erupting himself, and his expression is so powerful.

  He stops when he's an inch in and I exhale, trying to sink into him for comfort but he won't let go of my hair. He's forcing me to look up at him, keeping my body arched.

  Cupping his cock against my ass with an open palm, I assume so he doesn't come out, he says, “Now, we can go at your pace. If it's too much, just stop moving.”

  “What? No!” I blink rapidly at him, my eyes flickering all over his face with panic. “I-I don't know what I'm doing, Charlie. Please don't make me do it.”

  There's a moment where we gaze at each other. I know I look oddly vulnerable, but I feel like that. Charlie seems cool in his domain, like he's done this a thousand times before.

  “All right.” He binds both arms around me, squeezing me to him. I want this—his comfort—I need it. I turn my head to the side and rest my face against his damp, hairy torso, feeling oddly safe in his embrace.

  “You'll tell me to stop if it hurts too much, won't you, Blaire? I don't want to hurt you.”

  I nod, and then his hips rock back and forth, urging him in some more. It burns so bad and my muscles are aching—or stinging. I can't tell the difference right now. And I feel so full that I'm not sure how he's got any more room to move.

  But he does.

  Another inch, and it's too much, my insides whirling in agony.

  “No more,” I say in a pitiable state, and I think I'm trembling.

  “Shhh,” he hushes me, stroking up and down my back over my hair. “I won't go any deeper. Not unless you want me to.”

  He stills for a while, soothing me with his touch as he continues stroking up and down my back over my hair. It's like he's massaging me.

  When I'm looser and calmer, he ripples his hips, just a few inches of his cock sliding in an out of me with ease now that I'm stretched open. There's a spot he hits every so often that makes me squeal in pleasure and agony—it's a gripping contrast of sensations. I want more now. I can't think of anything else anymore.

  Pulling on my hair, Charlie seems to want my mouth again, so I give it to him, gladly soaking up his kisses. They're tender and lovely.

  I stare at him in paralyzed muse, seeing again how much he's controlling himself. His temple is throbbing like he wants to go crazy with me and his eyes are scorching with something dangerous. He's moaning in the back of his throat. It's so hot! It turns me on even more.

  The harder we kiss, wrapped in lust and debauchery, the deeper he goes. I want more of his cock. I ask for more, as fucked up as I am, and he gives it to me, until he's sheathed in my flesh, my clit rubbing against his hairy pubic bone.

  He curses in Spanish, his fingers boring into my back.

  Pressing my feet into the bed, I rondevu with his thrusts by swaying my hips, sweat trickling down my spine. Faster and faster, my heart racing out of my chest. He's really fucking me, his thighs slapping against my ass globes, body to body, only sweat between us. He hits that spot every time now, causing ecstasy to gather at my core, until it scatters.

  “Aargh!” My arms fly up to hold him around the neck, clutching to him like my life depends on it. I don't know what the hell is happening to me. This is different to before—more powerful. I'm full to bursting yet liberated.

  I faintly hear deep moans mixed with screaming—Charlie and myself—and then he comes to an abrupt stop, crushing me in his arms as he curses to the high heavens. Buried deep in my decadency, he curls his hips around, massaging my clit with his pubic bone. It's so intense that I buck away in a tremor of spasms, my sex pulsing while my spine is tingling. Large hands clamp down on my hips, shoving his cock right inside me again, drawing out the pleasure—it's radiating supernova.

  I hide my face in the crook of his sweaty neck, scream and cry, barely handling what's happening to me.

  “It's never been this good,” Charlie hisses, tensing from head to toe. I can feel the tension in his body, in his hard muscles.

  When it's over, when he lets go of my hips, I slump on him gasping so hard that my throat is on fire, trying to come down from whatever that was.

  My ass is stinging and I can feel warm liquid dripping out of me.

  A hand caresses my back over my hair, while another is holding me to Charlie because I’m sliding down his damp body. He’s panting with great effort. I'm not sure if it's his heart or his chest drumming in my ear.

  He says something to me but I'm not listening. The come down is scarily sobering. Reality grips me, the veil that is my lust fading away.

  What the fuck have I just indulged in?

  I feel sick.

  “You all right?” Charlie says in puffs of breath, kissing the side of my damp face.

  I don't say anything. I can't. I feel strange in my own skin.

  Pressing into his chest with both hands, in time with shakily standing, I force him out of me.

  “Hey,” Charlie tries to stop me. “Hey, careful.”

  “Awh,” I wince, slapping his hands away. It fucking hurts, my muscles resisting the corrupt withdrawal. I drop back onto the bed with a loud huff of relief, roll over and curl into a small ball.

  No. I don't feel sick. I am sick. One sick motherfucker for enjoying that.

  A hand touches my hip. “Blaire?”

  “Please go away,” I say, staring into nothingness. “You’ve got what you wanted.”

  Anything good I felt is gone now, and anything I could feel, I'm blocking it.

  Charlie exhales a sharp breath and the room goes dark. There’s a burning wax scent in the air now.

  “Blaire, I'm leaving,” he says, and I feel the weight of a blanket covering my body, up to my chin. “Do you want anything before I go, like a glass of water?”

  Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.

  Refusing to answer him, I shut my eyes, desperate for the night to take me.

  11

  When I wake up the next morning, everything is fresh in my mind, and I'm fuming.

  I untangle myself from the blanket wrapped around me like a snake and roll over onto my back, arching with a breathless moan. My ass is a little sore and my hips feel like they've been banged so hard they ache. Finger print bruises on my back where my ribs are, and parts of my neck feel like a vacuum has had its way with me.

  Charlie's mouth. That sexually warped bastard.

  Trying not to tense up with anger, I take deep, balanced breaths, but with every inhale I can smell cleaning polish. It's orange and citrusy. It reminds me of when my car has been cleaned.

  My car...

  Home...

  Maksim...

  James...

  Just thinking about it all makes me so... I have no words.

  I cannot believe Maksim gave Charlie permission to do that to me. I cannot believe he let that motherfucker drug me when all he had to do was tell me my orders and I would have followed suit. How could he barter me in this sexually violating way? How could he do this to me... me! his most trusted devotee?

  Seething and on the verge of pitiful tears, I stuff the blanket in my mouth and scream so hard that I can feel my throat being ripped to shreds.
>
  I'm shaking, too.

  I could kill someone.

  I'm so glad Charlie isn't here because right now, I might do something I'll live to regret, especially when I think back on last night... about what he did to me... the things he made me feel...

  Not only am I fuming, but I'm so embarrassed it's beyond belief.

  Charlie practically had me begging for him—he even held my hand when I reached out to him and comforted me through my first orgasm.

  That's humiliating.

  I'm trained to kill with my own two hands—trained to punish and protect—and I wanted Charlie to hold my fucking hand?

  Maybe it wasn't me, I try to convince myself for whatever good it'll do. I'm not weak. I'm tough. Charlie drugged me and he had those oils burning; said they would help me relax.

  Yes, he forced my state of needy weakness. Not me.

  The memory of him grabbing my hips and shoving his cock back in my ass to draw out my orgasm makes my insides tingle, and then I feel a warm gush of liquid between my legs. Fuck. I don't even know why I'm thinking about that but it seems to be turning me on.

  I beg myself to put it out of my mind. It's too mentally consuming, and confusing, and as I've no idea when Charlie is going to show up today I need to get my shit together.

  Cuddling the blanket to my chest—I'm still wearing my bra; at least one part of me is still intact—I sit up in bed, squinting through the sun flooding the room. The sun is so bright that my head pounds for a moment.

  I hold my face, waiting for the pounding in my head to go away.

  My eyes adjust, and I'm stone cold sober. Where the fuck has Charlie brought me?

  The room is big and airy with high ceilings and dark paneled walls, a huge brass chandelier hanging over head. The parquet floors are highly buffed but old and worn. In the left corner of the room, opposite from where I'm sitting on the bed, there's a small square table housing a chessboard and a throne like chair made from redwood. An antique armoire stands next to the chair, made from the same redwood.

  It's as if I've gone back in time and I'm in some medieval showdown.

  I never expected Charlie to live in a place like this. It's just not him.