by Sophie Haas
“My orgasm, not yours,” he said in my ear and then he drove hard into me, slamming my pelvis into the unforgiving stone.
“I’m going to fuck this beautiful ass and I want you to feel everything. You will not move. You’re now a vessel to be fucked. You will not come because I get off on orgasm denial especially when my sub is lost in the pleasure of being my fuck vessel. Understand?”
“Yes,” I moaned and then he began to fuck. Shallow thrusts that I felt all the way to my cunt. I grew wetter, my body adapting to the erotic assault that was Wellsley Darling. The zipper of his slacks pressed into my ass, while his chest settled against my back and the buttons on his shirt dug into my skin. When I rocked into the motion, he caught my hips and stilled me, reminding me I was only a vessel. A vessel for his cock, for his pleasure, for his control.
The realization made my pussy constrict. Every back and forth glide made me wetter and wetter. I felt muscles relax and loosen as the idea of being Wells’s fuck vessel spread from my stomach to my chest and finally curled around my brain.
I felt the tension in his body, the need that was shared with my body with every pulse inside me. I felt his utter control of the moment, felt how he held me bound in his power. I no longer felt alone as all that shit from earlier melted away because he needed me.
He needed me.
His tempo changed to short, hard thrusts that made me gasp and cry out because, God, it felt so good. Nothing mattered but the cock plunging and pumping. I swore I could hear his body moving inside mine I was that wet. I could no longer contain how amazing it felt to be fucked by him, cries spilling out with each hard thrust inside me. My hips pumped him, guided by his hands. He moved faster, harder, deeper until with one last hard thrust drew a sharp, ringing sound from me. He was coming in me. Hot silky spurts of cum filling this empty vessel. My toes curled as I fought my orgasm because vessels didn’t get to come. We didn’t fuck. We were fucked and it was amazing.
“Good girl,” he whispered in my ear. My body contracted and I fought my orgasm. I took all that amazing cum deeper into me so I swore I could feel him everywhere inside me. “One more.” And another shot of cum came from his hard roll. I unravelled then. My body lost to me as this Dom gave me his pleasure. “Hold me in now.” He slowly pulled out and I automatically slid my hands down to my ass to keep him from spilling out. I wanted to keep every drop of his satisfaction, every drop of his pleasure. Every drop of him.
I swore I melted into Surrender as my own orgasm danced out of reach.
“Surrender.”
“Yes,” I whispered, unable to give him any other answer.
“Come.” He pushed his fingers into my cunt, fucking me until my body clenched and I screamed as I came.
His clothed body held me in place as the remaining ropes were cut away. I don’t know how long we stood there, Wells once more having sent me into the quiet with Surrender and him.
The bathroom he carried me into was like everything else in his lake house. Sleek and modern with a wall of solid window. The other three walls were glistening black tile with a thin line of dark silver going vertically from the ceiling to the floor in the wall opposite of the window.
“Arms up, girl.”
Limp muscles obeyed and when something latched around my wrist, I looked up to find out he had cuffed me to the shower head. “Kinky.”
He winked as he stepped out the shower. Warm water rained down on me and a gasp had me looking up. Drops exploded against my face and I looked at the shiny metal links that connected to silver handcuffs. Trust Wells to accessorize his bondage with his space. I closed my wrists together so I could touch the cuff, exploring the glistening steel that held me locked beneath water. The feel was far different than Four’s leather cuffs.
This was more immediate. The feel unmuffled against my skin. I gave a tug and the clink and rattle made a shiver slide down my back. Where it pressed against my skin, I tingled. I yanked again because I loved the sound, and the way the cuffs dug into me a little.
Closing my eyes, I gave into the sensation that there was nowhere for me to go. I was here because Wells willed it. Warm water trailed down my neck, over aching breasts and swollen nipples. Down my spine droplets trailed to where my ass ached and throbbed from having been so thoroughly taken.
“Fuck,” I whispered, my heavy head falling back. I still felt him there. The dark erotic thrill of him pushing his cock into me, the focused way the man fucked.
God, so much control.
Resting my cheek against my biceps, I opened my eyes to see he was still fully clothed. He even made sitting on the toilet sexy. His elbows resting on his knees, he watched me get wet in more than one way. There was zero chance of hiding from him.
I was utterly bare to him. And not just every extra curve and bump, but in much more terrifying ways.
Could I afford to do this again? To be the Dog Pound’s puppy who followed him around, begging for a bone? I was already drowning in me. I couldn’t afford to drown in him too. And I would. That was the toxic lure of him. I hadn’t been ready for him at seventeen. I was pretty sure at twenty-three I was far less prepared.
My wrist twisted in the cuff and I looked up, frowning when I realized I couldn’t get away. I gave a sharp tug that was interrupted by a hand flattening over the chain.
Wellsley and his fancy, sex suit stood before me, watching me.
“I’m not going to tell you to stop but I am going to keep you from hurting yourself.”
“Everything is all wrong.”
“Yes.”
When I went to pull, he snagged the chains and pulled them together, his fist making a block so I couldn’t move at all. “Why am I here? Can I go? I want to go.”
“In a minute.”
“No. Now.”
“Amy--”
The bliss was fading. “Are you going to say it again?” I couldn’t even voice what it was. He said nothing, just stared at me and I knew he was going to say those horrible words again. This man was horrible with aftercare. “Shouldn’t I have a safe word?”
“I’m getting tired of you running from me, Amy.”
I sighed, my arms going limp as I stared at him. “I’m getting tired of you hurting me.”
He blinked. “Fuck.” He eased my arms down then freed my wrists. His thumbs whispered over me and he studied my bare skin. “You drive me crazy, girl. You are in this shit storm but you refuse to come out. Tell me about that envelope I saw from your school when I was making coffee.”
I flinched and because he was so close, he both saw and felt it. His lashes lifted and he stared at me, the look saying he wasn’t letting go until I answered. He saw that? Fuck. Of course he saw it. Wells was an observant guy. My stomach churned because I hated what the envelope meant. “I may or may not be on academic probation for not going to classes,” I admitted in a quiet voice, feeling very small and breakable. My chest hurt just saying that. Failure. Not only in my academics, but if nothing else, that envelope meant I was not handling my life well. At all.
For the longest time, all I wanted was to be successful and secure so I never had to face the same situations as my father. I had picked finance not because I had a torrid love affair of numbers and money but because I had been homeless and hungry. I never wanted to be that again.
Now...
Now I had so much money I’d never be hungry and I had a home but it was all worthless and empty.
“And the drinking?”
The problem with observant people is that they were observant. “Where are my clothes?”
“Amy, you’re a beautiful mess right now. Both of us know that so let’s skip the pleasantries and get right into the nitty gritty of it.”
I didn’t want to. “My clothes? Why are you even here?”
“I was working at the hotel. You can run, little girl, but you can’t hide.”
Yes, I could. “This isn’t happening again.” I flicked my hand between us. “I’m not doing this anymore.�
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He bent his knees so we were eye level. “Yes, you are.”
“Clothes?” I hated that I sounded desperate but I needed to get away from him. Forever? Ouch. But I needed to not do this again. I couldn’t. I wasn’t, I hated to admit it, strong enough. What he wanted I couldn’t give. I was a mess. A fucking hot mess.
“On the couch. This isn’t over, baby.”
“Yes, it is.”
The house looked like a hurricane had struck. A five-foot-two, twenty-three year old hurricane named Amy. The bear was gone. So was the buck head above the river stone fireplace. Crossing my arms over my chest, I walked up the stairs to the room that had been mine. The dead, creepy owl no longer looked down at me from the rafters. Impressive.
Everything looked the same. The unmade double bed was beneath the vaulted ceiling. An old, abandoned pair of purple flip flops were placed side by side as if waiting for teenage Amy to come back. Some clothes were still neatly folded in the drawer, forgotten from me fleeing the lake. I found the sheets but made no move to make the bed. I went down the pine stairs and stared at the open door.
Everything should’ve been covered in a layer of dust. Someone was keeping the house clean. I was thankful. Seeing the neglect was a blow I couldn’t deal with.
Jack’s bedroom seemed to be waiting for him. Like mine, the bed was unmade. Nothing said this place wasn’t expecting either occupant to come back like unmade beds. Jack’s stuff cluttered the dresser and nightstands. Signs that Jack spent a lot of time here. Photos were in frames and I tidied them up, studying the faces of the Dog Pound. There was one of me from my high school graduation. Picking up one of the two of us, I stared at Jack. His absence was like a cavity. His dark red hair was messed up and his mirrored glasses reflected his phone from the selfie he had taken. I don’t remember where we were or what we had been doing. We wore goofy expressions. God, but I loved him – missed him.
Clutching the picture, I took in the rest of the moments of his life. There was a picture of him and Five sprawled in a boat that floated on the lake, Jack flipping whoever took the picture the bird while Five was caught in the middle of an almost shy laugh. Both looked so relaxed and carefree.
Clothes waited for him in the drawers and closet. I slid on one of his flannel plaid shirts. Wandering into the bathroom, I touched the razor and flicked one of the toothbrushes in the cup. My idle snooping discovered a bottle of his cologne that reminded me of a rain-soaked forest, a half used tube of lube and an almost empty box of condoms. Carrying the cologne and photo, I returned to the bedroom and sat on the bed.
I didn’t know what to do.
About anything.
School. This house. This stupid bottle of cologne. Wells.
Amy.
I especially didn’t know what to do with her.
The reason why I was here came back to me: Wells and his theory that Jack had been my Dom.
I hated that that was now the prevalent thought when it came to Jack. I hated that Wells had said it, planted that seed.
What a horrible seed. Jack had been the brother I always wanted. That was it. Full sentence, full stop.
And fucking Wellsley fucking Darling could just go fuck himself.
Chapter 10
The last person I wanted to see stood on the other side of the glass door. Feeling battered and bruised from our conversations, I was tempted to just walk away. Again.
An elegant eyebrow arched up, as if he was daring me to do just that. Instead, I cracked open the door, bracing my foot at the bottom as if that alone would keep Wells out. Folding my arms defensively over my chest, I glared up at him. “Fuck off.”
Go me.
Instead of responding, he reached out and rubbed the collar of Jack’s shirt that I wore. I grabbed his wrist when I really meant to flick his hand away. “You’re wrong, you know.”
The look he gave me said I was delusional. I wasn’t. The thumb that rubbed along the side of my neck was surprisingly gentle. When he gave a little nod of his chin, I found myself stepping aside to let him in. He pinched the collar and led the way into the front room. A black bag was set down on the sofa. A slow blink had me finally focusing on him.
He was wearing old jeans and a grey T-shirt that was so old the image had vanished leaving a ghostly imprint. In all the years I’d known Wells, I’d never seen him in jeans. These weren't old looking on purpose but from wear. Wellsley Darling was wearing jeans. My eyes dropped down and another blink had me focusing on the fact he was wearing flip flops. Who was this man and what had he done with Wells?
He sat on the sofa and drew me between his legs. I watched as his hands opened the fly to my jeans then pushed the denim down. Automatically I stepped out before I realized I was mad at him and had vowed he was never going to touch me again. I glared at him and he flicked my thigh hard enough that it hurt. I mouthed an “ow” as I rubbed the spot.
“Don’t think that because we’re alone, I won’t follow through on that punishment. I’m not here to fuck you,” he said as he unbuttoned the front of Jack’s worn shirt. He eased it off, draped it over his knee and turned me to open the back of my bra.
“Undressing me says otherwise.” His hands skimmed down my arms taking the bra away so I was now only in my panties. I hated that when he turned me around, my nipples were hard, pointing right at him.
He retrieved the shirt and surprised the hell out of me by slipping my arms into the sleeves and drawing the fabric up. He didn’t button but he did cover my breasts.
“On your knees.” Funny how three words had the ability to make my stomach clench and my hands tingle in anticipation. He held onto the front of the shirt as I sank down without any hesitation. His “Good girl” made me feel warm and pleased. I watched him open the bag and pull out an intimidating blindfold. The leather was a pretty pink with a massive eye covering. He stretched the elastic back and eased the mask over my head. I reached up to touch the hard leather then ran my finger over the padded inside as he untucked my hair from the elastic.
“Once this blindfold is in place, there’s no talking. You speak and I will gag you.”
“No fucking?”
“I’m not here to fuck you,” he repeated. His elbows rested on his knees and he leaned towards me, his stare full of truth. That I felt a bit of hurt at that statement was ridiculous. I was mad at him. “Here we go.” He drew the blindfold up and I caught his wrist before he sent me into darkness. “I won’t leave you alone.”
“Promise?”
“I told you. I’m a shitty man but I’m not a shitty Dom. Deep breath in then let it out slowly.” As I exhaled, he covered my eyes and adjusted the elastic band. Hands pressed on my shoulders until I sank down onto my heels then he turned me around. When he squeezed the back of my neck, my eyes closed.
It was quiet, really quiet as I knelt there. I heard the brush of fabric on fabric then the soft rush of bare feet on the hardwood. On my thigh my hand fisted before I made it relax. He wasn’t leaving me alone. I had to trust in that.
The squeak of a hinge had my head shifting towards the kitchen. A clink made me think of glass. A soft splash followed and I realized he was filling a drinking glass. His feet returned and another light squeeze on my neck told me Wells was back. Fabric rubbed on fabric and denim brushed my arm.
His hand rested on my head and I listened to get a hint to what was going on. There was nothing. Part of me wanted to speak just to break the silence.
Reaching up, I touched the blindfold, tracing the edges that curled around the side of my head so I saw nothing, not even a hint of light. With neither of us speaking and me in pitch black, all I could do was feel. Feel the cool floor beneath my shins, the cotton of my panties against my heels, the shirt so washed and worn it felt silky on my breasts, the brush of Wells’s jeans against my arm and his fingers combing through my hair.
I tensed at the sensation, my body prepared to turn and my mouth open to speak before I remembered the threat of the gag. He’d use i
t. I had no doubt, just like I had no doubt if I told him to go fuck himself he’d follow through on his threat of forced orgasms. So I made myself sit there as he lightly ran his fingers over and through my hair. Something he had never done before and yet something so achingly familiar it made my throat grow tight. Slowly and steadily, he kept up the rhythmic caressing.
I don’t know how long I sat there, unsure of how I felt about the touch only that I missed it. So, so much.
With a sigh, I rested my head against his knee, my fingers finding the hem of his jeans. How many times had I sat like this between Jack’s feet while he petted my hair? It had been soothing no matter how Kendra had snarked that it made me Jack’s puppy. I felt safe and cared for, like everything would be okay because he was at my back.
Despite the fact that he had almost run me over, I had trusted Jack almost immediately.
My brain grabbed a hold of Wells’s comment about Jack being my Dom but it floated away as fingers raked through my hair, along my scalp to my neck then back to the top of my head. I listened to myself breathe in and out as strands of hair whispered out and down.
The quiet wrapped around me like a contented embrace, familiar and safe. My thumb rubbed over the bony protrusion of an ankle, the skin both cool and warm, soft with a little roughness.
I knew this place. I missed this place where the simple touch conveyed so much. I wasn’t alone. He was here. There was nothing to fear. Everything would be okay.
I fought to grab the reality that Jack wasn’t really here and nothing was okay but the thought drifted away, caught and pulled away by the fingers. A sharp tug on my hair that pulled my head back made me gasp at the suddenness of it. A shiver moved through my body and I became aware of so much more than the quiet. The soft cotton of his shirt brushed over tight nipples and full breasts while the gusset of my panties grew wet. My scalp tingled from the pull and a soft exhale left me as the gentle combing sensation resumed, drawing me deeper into the quiet. My hands resting on my thighs relaxed as my whole body felt like it was floating in warm air.