Controlled: The Dollhouse, Part Two

by Stacia Stone

  Julian watched me closely, as indecision and desire warred inside of me. He must have seen the resolve inside of me break because the small smile that crossed his face was frankly predatory.

  “Come here.”

  And I went.

  Chapter Six

  His hands felt like they were everywhere at once. He pulled me against him until we were enveloped in darkness. I couldn’t see him, but I could feel him. He was all hard muscle and a heat that threatened to consume us both.

  A hard mouth crashed into mine. His teeth pressed hard into my lips and his tongue demanded entrance. I opened underneath him like a hothouse flower blooming in winter.

  He wrenched my hands above my head and held them there with one hand. My body fought to be closer to his, my back arching until the hills and valleys of our forms meshed perfectly together.

  The kiss deepened and he pressed down harder as if he would crawl inside of me and truly make us one.

  A fire burned in the pit of my belly, so deep that it was nearly painful. I could feel his erection straining hard against his tuxedo pants as it pressed into the soft flesh of my belly.

  He broke the kiss and I whimpered at the loss, but his mouth moved lower. It slid over my chin and down to my neck like a trail of fire that burned even as he moved on to the next sensitive spot.

  His free hand came up and pressed against the front of my shirt. He ripped hard at the fabric, tearing it. Buttons clattered to the floor as the shirt was split open.

  Cold air rushed across the skin of my chest that was covered only in the lace bra that I wore, raising goosebumps. His head bent and bit my nipple through the thin cloth, just before sucking it forcefully into his mouth.

  I dissolved. Shudders rocked through me at the painful pressure of it. He still had my hands caught above my head. I pushed against his grip, desperate to touch him — desperate for release.

  But he only pressed my wrists harder against the concrete wall, the force of it bruising my skin. I was caught between the pressure of his hands and his mouth, unable to fight what he wanted.

  Never able to fight.

  His mouth did not cease its relentless pressure but his hand moved downward and slipped easily inside the waistband of my pants. His fingers moved through the small patch of hair, searching and finding the center of me.

  A thick finger pushed inside of me and I moaned.

  “Always so wet,” he murmured against my overheated skin. His head came up and he gently bit the side of my chin. “Is it just for me or do you walk around like this all of the time?”

  I shook my head frantically, unable to answer. My hot cheek pressed against the cold stone behind me, but it wasn’t enough to soothe the burn.

  He kissed me again and the action was harsh and possessive. “I’m going to fuck you, Dalea. Right here against the wall.”

  “Oh, God—“

  “Julian works too.” I felt his smile against the skin of my neck but his voice was stern. “Tell me that you want me to fuck you.”

  A second finger was added to the first, stretching and filling me. I barely had enough brainpower to form a coherent thought, much less figure out how to make words. But I would also do anything to ensure that he didn’t stop.

  “I-I want it.”

  “No.” His voice was sharp, but one thumb pressed against my clit in small, tight circles. “Say it. Tell me that you want my cock inside of this tight little pussy. Say that you want me to fuck you.”

  A flush bloomed on my cheeks. If there had been enough light, I knew he’d be able to see an embarrassing pink spread on my exposed skin.

  “I can’t…please.”

  His fingers moved wickedly inside of me, pumping in and out in an agonizing rhythm.

  I gasped when his lips moved back to my breast, sucking and biting hard enough that it would leave a mark.

  His hands tore at my clothes, shoving my pants down to my ankles so I could kick them away. I pushed the suit jacket off of his shoulders, desperate to have more of him exposed. My fingers ran down the ruffled front of his tuxedo shirt, wishing I had the nerve to rip it off of him.

  He worked at the zipper of his pants until his erection sprang free. I felt it bounce gently against my hip. His hands moved away and I cried out at the loss, but then they were at my hips.

  Julian lifted me up until my feet left the floor and I hung on the shelf of his hands. The tip of him rested against my entrance as his chest rose and fall with harsh breaths that were in tandem with mine.

  I strained against him, desperately wanting to finally consummate the dance we had begun so many months ago. But he pulled away before we could make any further contact and his grip on me was like a steel vice.

  “Say it, now.”

  I could feel the rapid speed of his heartbeat where our chests pressed together, but his voice was emotionless, as if he could wait for me indefinitely.

  “I want you to fuck me!”

  Chapter Seven

  He plunged inside of me and I screamed. The sound echoed in the stairwell and probably carried all the way up to the roof for the whole hotel to hear.

  It was unlike any sensation that I had ever experienced. I wasn’t a virgin, but the fumbling attempts at sex I’d experienced from the few guys I’d been with was nothing compared to this.

  His lips pressed against my neck as he withdrew and pushed in again slowly — so slowly!

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he murmured against my neck, nipping lightly at the skin with his teeth. “Put your legs around me.”

  My hips rose and I wrapped my legs around him, my feet hooking together at his back. The new position allowed him to go deeper, pressing into what felt like the very end of me. He was big enough for it to be just on the right side of painful. But each push of his hips sent frissons of pleasure coursing up my spine.

  He began to move faster, maintaining a steady rhythm. I heard faraway voices in the hallway outside the door as a group of people walked by. I was suddenly reminded of the fact that we were in public. The door could swing open at any moment and we would be discovered.

  The thought only excited me more.

  I tightened around him and he groaned. His thrusts became harder and faster, but still he maintained control of himself. I desperately wanted to break that careful restraint.

  My hands moved to caress the sides of his face, knowing that he couldn’t stop me if he wanted to keep holding me up. The beginnings of a five o’clock shadow were rough underneath the tips of my fingers.

  This time I kissed him, so light that it was barely more than the touch of a feather. He kept his lips soft and pliant as I moved over them, kissing him in a way that was sweet and untutored, but full of emotions that I couldn’t adequately describe.

  His fingers tightened on my hips, digging harshly into them, and I moaned into his mouth.

  He drove into me, over and over again until it was nearly to much to take. There was no tenderness in his movements, only need and pure lust. Pleasure mounted in an ever-increasing spiral of sensation. I tensed against him, every muscle in my body straining for release.

  “Come for me, Dalea,” he whispered against my mouth. “Come with me.”

  The orgasm shuddered through me, more powerful than any that I had ever experienced before. It left me gasping and shuddering against him. I heard his answering groan and his body stiffened as a greater wetness bloomed between my thighs. My body collapsed against his in exhaustion, my forehead falling to his shoulder.

  I was barely conscious of him lowering me to the floor until my feet touched the ground. He continued to help support my weight as I slowly came back to myself.

  He collected himself quickly. The cold mask swiftly descending over his features was apparent even in the dim light. He methodically straightened his clothes — adjusting the crooked bowtie and doing up his tuxedo pants. The jacket lay in a rumpled heap on the floor and he quickly brushed it off before donning it.

  Aside from the s
tray strand of dark hair that flopped messily over his forehead, he could have come straight from the ballroom. It was as if the last few minutes had never happened.

  Anger swelled in me — irrational, but too powerful to subdue. I knew what would happen next, he would go back as if nothing had happened and leave me here — desperately wanting more — just like he always had before.

  Only instead of the bruises on my body, he had left me with a wet ache to remember him by.

  Because I had finally figured it out. I knew exactly what kind of a doll I was — a marionette. A doll on strings to be posed and danced to the whims of its puppeteer, then cast away in a collapsed pile of limbs until it was needed again.

  Julian must have noticed the change in me because he watched me closely, green eyes bright even in the darkness. “Are you alright.”

  “Of course.” I reached down and pulled up my pants, feeling suddenly dirty.

  “I want to see you again.”

  I gave him a humorless smile as I buttoned my shirt. “I’m sure that you do.”

  He adjusted the fold of one of his sleeves, but didn’t take his eyes from me. His calculating gaze reminded me of a predator searching for weakness. “Will I?”

  “I don’t know.” It felt like I was hurtling through space, too fast into a vast unknown. “I guess it depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On whether or not you’re willing to tell me about your wife.”

  Chapter Eight

  “On whether or not you’re willing to tell me about your wife.”

  I watched his face shut down, a cold mask descending over his features that obscured any emotion that may have lain underneath.

  For a moment, I wondered if he would answer me at all. His eyes revealed nothing, but I refused to be the one to break the silence.

  “And what do you think there is to tell?”

  “You are married.” It wasn’t a question. Even in the dim light I could see the glint of the wedding ring on his left hand.

  “Yes.”

  It shouldn’t have rocked me — the simple declaration that I already knew to be true — but I felt a cold settle over me. It was as if my heart was gripped by icy fingers, hard enough that I could barely breathe.

  “Is she here tonight?” I asked, proud of my voice for not cracking.

  “Yes.”

  I could only imagine it: some gorgeous and cultured woman, dressed in a fancy dress to go to a party with all of her friends to honor her husband. I wondered if she sat at one of those front tables and proudly watched him take the stage.

  Did he even finish his speech before running after me?

  A small, dark voice whispered inside of me, flattered at the thought. You see, it said, how much he wants you.

  “And this isn’t the first time, is it?” I wasn’t just asking about this, but about everything — the Dollhouse, all of it. I knew what I was, but I wanted to hear him say it. I was one of probably dozens of girls. Not nameless, but so close as to be nearly interchangeable.

  “No, it’s not.”

  I laughed but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Of course not.”

  He looked at me oddly, like I’d said something that didn’t quite make sense to him. “What do you want from me, Dalea?”

  “Nothing.” At least, nothing that you’re willing to give. The pain of it made me bold. “What does your wife think of you fucking random girls in the stairwell?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. My relationship with my wife is…complicated.”

  “I know you’re cheating piece of shit.”

  “Watch your mouth.”

  He advanced on me so quickly that I didn’t have a chance to react. His hand was on my chest, mere inches from my throat, and shoving me hard against the wall.

  I pushed at his hand with both of my mine but it was like trying to move a boulder. My heart beat too fast, not from excitement and desire this time, but from real fear.

  We stared at each other, his angry face only inches from mine. His nostrils flared with each harsh breath that he took.

  Whatever he was planning to say or do, I wouldn’t ever know. Just as his lips parted, the stairwell door was thrown open. A group of loud people in fancy clothes crashed past us, their voices echoing off of the walls.

  Julian attention moved away from me, and his grip on me loosened. I used his distraction to slip from between him and the wall

  I managed to make it to the door before he could stop me, but his voice carried over me in the darkness.

  “You can’t run from me, Dalea.”

  Chapter Nine

  “How was the benefit?”

  Miranda’s smiling face was the first thing to greet me when I walked into the diner on Monday for my lunch shift.

  The diner was completely empty, save for the two of us, despite the fact that we’d been open for at least an hour. Miranda had offered to open by herself so I could sleep a little later, but I wondered if I should have bothered to come in at all.

  “What?” It took me a minute to parse her words. I’d forgotten that I ever told her about it. “I mean..it was good. Easy money.”

  “Be careful of that easy money, baby girl. It always ends up being harder than you think.”

  Her gaze was a little too knowing as she watched stick my bag in the cubby hole under the register.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, shaking off the feeling of unease. “It was just a one time thing, believe me.”

  Miranda nodded and the heavily hair-sprayed beehive on her head barely quivered. I always wondered if she’d had the crazy hairstyle sewn in place.

  “Whatever you say, sugar.”

  I slid past her to get behind the counter. The black aprons hung on a hook on the wall just like they always did. I wanted to grab them all and fling them across the room. It felt like the walls were closing in on me and I couldn’t escape.

  “Did you have a good weekend?” I asked Miranda, desperate to distract myself.

  “Always.” She gave me a cheeky grin. “Did I tell you, I signed up for some classes at the community college. Pre-nursing stuff.”

  “That’s great!” I said and meaning it. “Starting in the fall?”

  “Hopefully. I still have some placement tests to take.”

  “You’ll do great.”

  “I know I’ll be the oldest one there, but it’s never too late right?”

  “Of course not.” If anyone deserved something better, it was Miranda. I wished I had a way out that was that clearcut.

  “I got you a catalog, too. You know, if you’re interested.” Miranda gave me a knowing look. “Getting back to school might be good for you.”

  I shook my head and focused on neatly arranging the salt shakers that lined the shelf below the counter. “I don’t have the money to take classes, Miranda. I need to work, you know that.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Between grants and maybe a scholarship, you could probably get as much money for going to school as you do working here.”

  I really didn’t like the turn of this conversation. “I don’t have time for classes right now.”

  “You just did so well last time, it seems a shame to let it all go to waste.”

  I would kill to be able to go back to school and graduate. Maybe someday have a job doing something that I could actually be proud of.

  But even if I managed to get enough money in scholarships and loans to pay for the classes, that didn’t do much for getting the rent paid or keeping food on the table. Who was going to pick up the slack for my family while I was out doing something for myself?

  Fucking nobody, that was who.

  “I think most schools frown on you moving your family into your dorm room,” I said, more testily than I intended.

  “No need to get snappy.” Miranda gave me a reproving look. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” I sighed and surveyed the empty dining room. At this rate, even with a lunch rush, I wa
s looking at taking almost nothing home today in tips. “I’ve just been really on edge lately.”

  Miranda dramatically rolled her eyes. “Oh, I’ve noticed. You’ve been walking around here like you swallowed a porcupine and you’re just waiting for it to come out the other end.”