by Anne Jolin
Reaching up, I run my nails down the length of his chest. “Yes.”
“Good,” he groans, “because I don’t know how much longer I can go this slow.”
“I want to feel you in the morning, Jayden.” I give him my permission. “Make me sore,” I beg.
The last thread of control in his system flees our bedroom and his hands dig into the fleshy parts of my hips. Lifting my hips, he drives his cock in and out of me in a relentless rhythm, the steel ring on his head intensifying my sensation every time he bottoms out inside me.
“Mine,” he growls, the blue of his eyes never leaving mine while he claims me.
I whimper and moan when he releases one of his hands to play with my clit before pressing and pitching the sensitive nub while I squirm underneath him.
The feeling is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. I want to both crawl away from him on the bed because it’s all too much and to dig my nails into his ass and pull him towards me.
Our bodies are slick with a fine sheen of sweat as my orgasm builds inside me.
“Oh, God!” I scream, throwing my head backwards onto the sheets.
He stops abruptly, and as a hand closes around my throat, my eyes fly to his. I’m appalled at the fact that not only doesn’t it scare me, but I can feel my already dripping pussy get wetter.
“Look at me,” he demands.
When I nod against his hand, my body shivers, silently crying out for him to fuck me again.
“Good girl.” He releases my throat, pulling both my ankles up to rest on his shoulders. When he finally starts his ruthless fucking again, all thoughts of sanity flee my conscious mind.
It’s all too much.
He both punishes me and makes love to me at the same time.
“Come for me, Peyton,” he rumbles.
My body obeys his command, colors bursting behind my eyelids as the abyss of my orgasm beautifully destroys me.
The sound of my name leave his lips as his strong frame shudders before collapsing on top of my naked chest.
“You’re perfect,” he praises me, rolling onto his back and taking me with him, all the while keeping our bodies joined.
Resting my head snugly in the crook of his neck, I trace the patterns of the tattoos across his chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” I tease.
“I can feel you smiling.”
Nuzzling his hot skin, I press a kiss near his collarbone. “You make me happy.”
“Good,” he says, threading my hair through his fingers.
The weight of the day settles down around us, and it’s hardly a few minutes before sleep takes me.
I dream of Kings, but not the kind that live in castles or sail across seas. No, I dream of my King, unique only to me. His skin is draped in ink instead of expensive silk, his eyes the ever changing blue of the sea, and his heart broken and fragile but perfect for me.
It’s hard to harbor hate for sins of the past when it is our wounds and scars that sealed our hearts together.
He is mine.
I am his.
We have chosen to keep each other, despite all of our ugly.
“Morning,” his rough and sleep-laden voice whispers into my neck.
Opening my heavy eyelids, I lift my head up to see that we’ve not moved at all from where we fell asleep. “Morning.” I smile, a small whimper vibrating in my voice when I realize he kept his promise.
I’m sore.
And I’m still filled with his hard cock.
“Shower with me?”
My eyes fly to the door. “Jackson?”
“He’s out of town visiting a job site for a few days.” He winks playfully.
Rocking my hips slightly, I slide up and down on his dick. “Shower sounds nice,” I purr before climbing off his lap, my knees weakening at the loss of him.
“Don’t tease me, Peyton.”
“Why not?” I chew on my bottom lip, backing up towards the door.
He swings his legs off the edge of the bed before he stands, the muscles across his naked body tightening with the movement. “I’ll spank you.”
“You wouldn’t,” I gasp, surprised at the way my core tightens in response to his words.
He stalks towards me, and my hand closes around the doorknob. “I would and I will.”
I yank the door open behind me.
“Don’t you dare run, sugar,” he chides.
A smile tugs at the edge of my mouth. I’m not sure what is it about rules that make grown adults want to break them like children, but nonetheless, the opportunity to play with him is far too good to pass up.
“Catch me if you can, handsome.” I wink before taking off out the door.
AS HER TIGHT ass bounces out of the room, my dick twitches in response to her disobeying me.
Fucking her last night was perfect. Her body was made to be taken by mine, and I was officially an addict running on the high of an addiction.
My addiction was her.
Taking off after her, I nearly crash into the bathroom door when she shuts it. Trying the handle, I groan when I find it locked.
“Open the door,” I growl, need coursing through my system.
I bang on the solid wood with my fist. Then the sound of her starting the shower taunts me from the other side.
“Too slow, baby,” she sasses. “Better luck next time.”
“Peyton, so help me God, if you don’t open this door, I will break it down to have you again.”
Her laugh singsongs, and I hear the curtain close, which signals that she’s stepped under the spray now.
She has no idea how serious I am.
I storm into the kitchen to rummage around in the junk drawer. Two minutes later, I find what I’m looking for and then return to the bathroom door, unscrewing the handle on my side. The doorknob on the other side crashes onto the bathroom floor.
“Are you serious?” she gasps just as I barrel through the door stark naked, with a raging hard-on.
Throwing open the curtain, I see her standing there, her hands on her hips, glaring at me.
“I told you not to run from me,” I growl, grabbing her around the waist. “You’ll pay for that.”
“Wh-what?” she stammers.
After dragging her out of the shower, I set her down in front of me so she’s facing the mirror. “Grab the edge of the counter and bend over,” I demand.
She obeys, eagerly doing as I asked.
“I’m going to spank you once for every minute I had to wait to touch you. Understood?”
Her body quivers, and I know my girl wants her punishment.
“Tell me you understand.”
Her eyes lift to meet mine in the mirror. “Yes. I’m sorry.”
I trail my hand down her wet back before rubbing my palm over one of her ass cheeks and biting down on her shoulder blade. “No, you’re not.”
She watches me intently, desperately trying to anticipate my thoughts.
Then I slide my hand between her legs to dip a finger inside her. “You wanted this. You teased me on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she confesses breathlessly, pressing her backside against my hand.
Upon pulling my finger from her wet pussy, I suck it into my mouth. “Sweet girl,” I murmur.
She’s staring at the hand by my mouth, vision so clouded with lust, she doesn’t expect the first time I spank her. The open palm of my hand lands sharply on the juncture between her ass and thighs.
“Fuck!” she cries out, her legs shaking underneath her.
I rub my hand in slow circles over her abused skin. “Count your spankings, sugar.” I nip at her shoulder again, all the while keeping eye contact with her.
“One,” she whimpers.
Using my other hand, I spank her a little harder on the juicy part of her ass, the sound ricocheting off her wet flesh in the small bathroom.
“Two,” she pants.
Fisting my hand into her wet hair, I yank her head back a little. “Thi
s is the last one, Peyton. Three minutes it took me to get in here. Don’t keep me from what’s mine again,” I growl.
My hand comes down hard on the space between her legs and the edge of my hand spanks the opening of her pussy.
“Oh my lord,” she moans.
Scooping her quivering body up into my arms, I kiss her quickly on the lips. “The lord has nothing to do with it, sugar.” I step us into the hot spray. “He doesn’t make you come. I do. Don’t forget that.”
Setting her down, I keep one arm wrapped around her waist until I’m sure she can hold herself up. Kneeling down, I eye her tattoo through the clear bandage. She whimpers when my hands trail down her sides, and her small hands grip my shoulders when I blow air across the lips of her pussy.
Teasing goes both ways.
Dragging my attention back to her ribs, I peel away the bandage and then toss it out of the shower. Running my fingers over the raised flesh, I admire the way my work looks on her skin as I slowly wash the area, occasionally brushing my knuckles against her heavy breasts.
“Jayden,” she whimpers, trying to tug on my hair, but it’s too short.
I smile at myself, knowing she’s worked into a frenzy. “Did you learn your lesson?” I ask, sliding my hands up her backside as I stand.
Appearing dizzy from lust and the craving of a release, she nods. “Yes. I promise.”
“You promise what?” I ask, pressing my hard cock against her stomach.
She tries to position a hand between us, but I grab it, pulling it behind her back. She groans, frustrated.
“I promise not to keep you from what’s yours.”
“Good girl.” I release her hands, turning her around. “Palms against the wall.”
She quickly presses them against the cool tile, wiggling her ass in the air.
Lifting her ass up, I slam my cock into her pussy without warning, fucking her with abandon.
“Fuck. I’ll never get enough of you,” I grunt, the sound of our wet bodies slapping against each other echoing in the small room.
The walls of her pussy tighten, and I reach around, rubbing her clit with my hand.
“Say my name when you come, Peyton. Remind your body of who makes you this way.”
She shudders, crying out my name, the sound battling with that of the water spraying down around us.
Not giving her time to recover, I spin her around on my dick and then slam her back against the wall. She’s so tiny that I can move her anywhere I fucking want to and I love it.
“Arms around my neck,” I rumble, spanking her lightly on the ass.
She laces her fingers behind my neck as I thrust into her roughly, chasing my own release.
“Come for me, Jayden,” she whispers against the shell of my ear.
The plea in her voice has my seed filling her pussy up.
I rest my one hand on the wall beside her head, using the other to grip her ass and keep her around me. When she squirms a little, I squeeze her with my hand, shaking my head.
“Don’t move,” I growl.
Lifting an eyebrow at me, she runs her nails over my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sugar,” I groan. “I’m in fucking heaven.”
IT’S SATURDAY, THE last day of my first successful week back at work, and I’m walking on cloud nine. Sitting down in my chair, I wince a little and suck in a breath of air.
We’ve been having sex more times a day than I can count, and it seems I have an affinity for disobeying Jayden. Thus, my ass always seems to be a little sore. Whether I disobey him because I have an inner brat in me or because I happen to like the punishments he’s so fond of doling out, I’m not entirely sure. My money would likely be on the latter if I had to choose.
The rest of the girls have already gone home for the day, and I am left to close up the salon after my last client. It’s not normally common for me to close up, but given the fact that the other girls have been working longer shifts and more hours to cover for me while I was recovering, it seemed like the least I could do.
I’m flipping through one of the discarded editions of Cosmopolitan, reading the article on author Aurora Rose Reynolds’s success story, I’m in the middle of reading her current novel, when I hear the door to the salon open.
Alyssa’s chipper voice rings through the air. “Hey, you.”
I fight the urge to scrunch my face up at the sound of her shrill pitch. “Hey.” I fake a smile.
Colt called last night and said that Alyssa was in desperate need of a new stylist and could I pretty please fit her in today.
“Hey, Colt.” I say into the phone, swatting Jayden’s groping hands away.
“Hey, slugger. I have a favor to ask.”
Trying not to giggle, I shift my cell phone to my other ear and lean away from my horny boyfriend. “Anything.”
“Alyssa wants to get her hair done, and I was hoping you could do it for her?”
Ugh. Okay. Anything except that.
“Well, I’m kind of booked up . . .” I let my voice trail off, doing a shit job of hiding my disgruntled tone.
He scoffs on the other end of the line before trying again. “You don’t have any time at all, Peyton?”
Pursing my lips, I roll my eyes at the ceiling and lay my head back on the couch. “Colt, I—”
He interrupts me. “Listen, I know you don’t like her that much or whatever, and that’s fine, but I need you to at least try.”
I fight the urge to bash my head against the wall.
“I don’t need you to be her best friend, Pey, but I put up with that asshole boyfriend of yours. The least you could do is spend forty minutes with my girlfriend. It’s not going to kill you.”
“Okay,” I sigh heavily.
I can feel him smiling into the phone when he says, “Guilt trip is a success!”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m closing tomorrow. Have her come by around seven and I’ll wrap up with her as my last client. Deal?”
“Deal,” he repeats. “Thanks.”
After ending the call, I toss my phone onto the couch. Uninterrupted time with Alyssa—how fun! Not.
“Thanks so much for fitting me in,” she singsongs, sinking into the chair I directed her to after I washed her hair.
Once I’ve secured the cape around her neck, I run a comb through her hair. “No problem.”
Actually, it is a problem, but I’m here because, for some reason, my stupid friend thinks you’re all that and a bag of potato chips.
I smile bigger to offset the cold tone of my voice.
“Colt talks about you all the time,” she says. “You really are quite something.”
Weird.
“Yeah. We’ve known each other some time now.” I don’t want to delve into Colt’s and my history without knowing how much she’s aware of.
“When did you move here from Beaconsfield?”
Apparently, they do talk about me.
“A little over two years ago,” I reply, making sure to work quickly on her hair so I can get rid of her as soon as possible.
“Why?” she quizzes, the sparkle in her eye and the honey in her voice seeming as fake as they were the night I met her.
Pretending I didn’t hear the question, I switch the blow dryer on and don’t turn it off for at least twenty minutes. She watches me intently in the mirror, surveying my movements and never breaking her Stepford-wife smile. Creepy.
“You’ve done so well for yourself,” she says, a little too thick on the praise.
Bringing the flat iron to her hair, I give her a weak smile. “Uh, thanks.” Deciding it best that I control the conversation, I launch into self-propelled conversation. “Where did you meet Colt?” I ask.
“I bumped into him one morning at the gym a couple months ago.”
“Cute.” I admonish.
“He really cares about you.”
Awkward.
“Okay. I think we’re done here,” I chirp, removing the cape from her shoulders.
> As she turns her head from side to side in the mirror, her lips curl up into a smile. “It’s perfect!” she squeals, grabbing me in an exaggerated hug. “You’re a genius.”
Flinching at the contact, I pat her back awkwardly. “You’re welcome.”
She offers to pay, but I wave her off with some bullshit line that any friend of Colt’s is a friend of mine. Which seems to satisfy her, as she subsequently trots back out the front door with her new hairdo.
After cleaning up my station, I set about turning off the lights before sending Jayden a text message. He has been chattering nonstop about a surprise he has for me for nearly three days now. I am just about desperate to know what it is.
Me: Just finished with Alyssa. I’ll be home in fifteen minutes for my surprise!
Just as I turn the lock to close up the shop, my phone vibrates in my hand.
Jayden: Don’t make me wait, sugar.
Rolling my eyes at his bossiness, I walk towards the parking lot. Once I’ve climbed into my car, I turn the key over and nothing.
Shitty car.
Upon pulling the key back out, I try again. Nothing but sputtering.
Fuck.
Reaching across the front seat, I go to rummage in my purse when someone taps on the driver’s-side window.
“Jesus Christ!” I scream before rolling the window down. “You scared the shit out of me!”
Leaning her head down into my open window, she frowns. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I answer harshly, looking up into Alyssa’s eyes.
“What’s up with the beater?” she asks, scrunching her nose up. “Colt said your car was a piece of shit.”
I resist the urge to snap at her. My car is, in fact, a piece of shit, but that doesn’t mean I want her saying that it is. But regardless of my poor attitude, she’s just being nice.
“It’s dead. Won’t start.” I face-plant into the steering wheel. “Of course it’s on the night when I actually need to get home,” I mumble—more to myself than to her.
“Well, I’m headed to Colt’s now. I could give you a ride home if you want?”
Lifting my head up, I look into her doe eyes. God, I’m a bitch. She’s so nice and I’ve said nothing but shit about her.
“You don’t have to,” I protest.
Waving me off, she shakes her head. “Nonsense. I’m going that way. I don’t mind.” Then she circles around the hood of my car before pulling the passenger’s door open and grabbing my things from the seat.