by Christa Wick
I would merely be, and in being, I would free myself from Stark and the bad memories of every lover I had ever settled for.
So deep was I in the affirmation of my plan, I didn't sense his approach. I only knew he was done preparing when I felt the brush of his fingers down my back, straightening my posture as a blaze of heat followed the trail of his flesh over mine.
"Legs open."
I widened my stance, accepting what would come next, not worrying which hole or if it was his hand or cock or some other object of any size.
His fingers found me first, the tips coated with lubricant. Crowding the gusset of the panties to the side, he gently pushed into my pussy, his touch twisting to ensure I was thoroughly saturated with the liquid.
"Not that you need a coating, baby. You're always wet when I touch you."
I didn't remark on his observation. Speech required analysis. I accepted his words and moved on to the next sensation. Cold latex pushed into me, the width not quite as impressive as Collin's cock. A moan bubbled up my throat and I further parted my legs within the tight confines of the corner.
"Legs together," he corrected once he had the toy worked all the way up into my pussy. "Good girl."
He pressed his torso and thighs against me, wrapping both arms around my body. His lips trailed over my throat as he peeled open the left bra cup on the corset. His other hand sank behind the front panel of my panties.
"You're still lying, Mia. To both of us."
Stark went silent for a few seconds, stroking my clit and pinching my nipple until my knees turned to rubber. "You don't reach this place in an about face. You don't run from it then turn around and embrace it."
His mouth found the other side of my neck and he licked a line up to my ear. "There's no cure, just more wanting."
No. I wouldn't listen to him. I would let only his commands filter through my senses, not the taunts. His verbal jousting would be wasted. Touch was all I needed or wanted from this man.
Abandoning my nipple, he continued playing with my clit as his free hand found the base of the toy. A flick of his finger set the entire latex shaft vibrating and wiggling inside me.
My legs started to collapse.
His strength held me up.
"Have you touched yourself since we landed?"
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. I had climaxed the night he took me roughly. I had replayed the taking once or twice since then. Heat had burned through me but the second I thought of sneaking a hand beneath the sheets, the warmth fled. The heat turned into cold and pain.
He gave my clit a hard pinch that made me buck. "Because you know this is my pussy."
"Yes." Pussy, ass, mouth—his to use, his to possess, nothing in them unless he put it there. Only he would wring my climax from me, over and over until I became desensitized to the pleasure.
Stark backed away. "Turn around."
I did. He pointed for me to get onto the floor.
"Spread your legs all the way—I want the base of that cock inside you touching the floor."
I complied.
"Sink it deeper, Mia."
I let my weight push me all the way onto the big toy, my body jerking wildly as I fought to control my onrushing orgasm. Stark helped me, one hand curling in my hair and yanking my head back. Still holding my head, he freed his cock then hooked my jaw and forced my mouth open.
The different heights of our bodies and the forced upward angle of my neck gave the thick shaft a straight channel to fill. He pushed into my mouth and buried half his length inside my throat. Bracing one forearm against the wall, he curled his upper body over me and took shallow pumps.
"Move that ass, baby."
He wanted me to dance, to grind my hips and force the toy to mirror the thrusts of his cock in my mouth. I wiggled, bounced, moaning as I swallowed around the fat head of his dick. My fingers found his lean hips as my entire body began to vibrate.
"Deeper," he grunted.
I didn't know if he meant cock or toy so I absorbed more of each into my willing, burning flesh. Tears streaked down my cheeks as my climax slammed through me. I seized, swallowed, came again, sucking and coming and swallowing in unison until Stark broke free, unspent, and grabbed my shoulders.
He lifted, then dragged me toward the bed. Pushing me onto my knees, he grabbed the base of the toy and forced me to raise both pussy and ass high in the air as he pushed my chest onto the mattress.
"Time to fill this sweet ass."
I whimpered but didn't protest. I didn't think about how the only object that had ever breached my anus had been Stark's fingers. I didn't worry whether it would hurt. Pain would cure me faster than pleasure.
Or so I hoped.
13
Collin
"I don't like this," barked Mikhael Nazarov from across the table, his palms planted against the blueprints for one of the new oil refineries Omari's agency was building.
The big Russian was definitely one of my most valuable employees, and normally, I didn’t rush his counsel on these sort of things. But today was far from a normal day. Mia was quickly becoming an addiction I had no intention of depriving myself of anytime soon.
And that was exactly how I felt at the moment—deprived. Nearly feral for the woman.
"Qualify," I tossed back at Michael impatiently as I glanced yet again at the clock on the conference room wall, my eagerness to get back to the suite and Mia's pliant body evident in my every little gesture to those who knew me.
Thankfully, Omari wasn't someone who knew me. He nodded and repeated my directive for Mikhael to explain further on what exactly he felt was wrong.
"The way this facility is laid out isn't Western," Mikhael said, stabbing his finger at the center of the blueprints. "Not the U.S., or Canada or Europe."
Omari shifted in his seat, shook his head. "We used local architects and engineers in the design phase."
"Did they train in Moscow?" Mikhael asked.
"Where they trained is irrelevant," Omari answered. "Your company has been retained for its security expertise. You need to know the layout."
Giving the paper a swat, Mikhael sent it rolling in on itself. It continued rolling until it reached me. I opened it up, looked at it again then shot a quick glance at Mikhael. He nodded, the gesture communicating that he was confident about the source of the drawings and who had designed it.
"It's a small matter," I said.
"Completely irrelevant," Omari insisted.
I tilted my head deferentially. If he had paid any attention to me during the last week, he would have realized instantly I was anything but compliant. But, for now, he needed to think I trusted him.
Omari pushed back from his chair and signaled to one of my guards tasked with protecting him that he was ready to leave. I walked to the elevator and waited for him to disappear behind the closing doors before I returned to Mikhael.
"What do you think?" I asked the big Russian.
"That he knows I'm right."
Handing him the blueprints and the tube they belonged in, I nodded.
"Find out why he's lying."
He bounced the tube lightly against his chin, the bright blue eyes scrutinizing me. "Something's changed. Usually you'd be the dog gnawing on this bone."
Shrugging, I snuck another glance at the clock. "You're the one who recognized the origin of the design."
"Does any of this have to do with Trent acting like an old lady with her panties in a knot?"
"Probably," I agreed, then pointed at the tube. "I have to inspect that facility before we put any Stark men in there. So get your big Russian ass to work."
Mikhael locked straight in a mock salute then winked.
"I'm just so glad you noticed my ass, boss. I was beginning to think you didn't love me anymore."
Since when did one of my most ruthless employees crack jokes at me? About his ass, no less?
Whistling, Michael waved and made his exit, telling me to say hi to Mia for him as he
did.
I didn’t even wait for him to clear the floor before I turned and left the room, his amused chuckle trailing behind me, no doubt over how quickly I was making my way toward the stairs.
Yeah, well, I didn’t give a shit. He, like a lot of my men, thought that love was for the weak—hence his earlier ribbing. So, they probably thought their fearless leader was going soft, letting a woman make me weak.
Hell, maybe I was.
I never thought it would happen to me, but I guess it was inevitable.
No, that wasn't quite right. The way I was feeling wasn’t inevitable. It wouldn’t have happened with any other woman; of that, I was certain.
Feeling this way toward Mia, however, that was inevitable.
The source of all my consternation waited outside the door to my room in the suite we shared. She had assumed a kneeling position on the cold marble floor. Her head was bowed, her palms rested lightly against her fabulously thick thighs.
She seemed lost in meditation, but I knew better. She was as aware of me as I was of her. And I was deeply aware of her at that moment.
Circling Mia's body to stand in front of her, I let my gaze wash over the small triangle of fabric that shielded her fleshy pussy.
"Stand," I rasped, my cock hard and every last detail of that morning's meeting driven from my mind.
She obeyed, her legs shaky from how long I had kept her waiting. When she straightened to her full height, I issued a second order.
"Grab your ankles."
Mia rewarded me with another act of swift compliance. Moving behind her, I kept my distance, not touching, but staring at her ass and winking pussy like they were the damn Mona Lisa.
"You're going to stand like that until your pussy drips. Then I'm going to fuck you like that until you squirt."
Lust gurgled in her chest. Her thighs and ass muscles tightened, lifting the folds of her sex as she fought against a building squirm.
"Try not to wink, baby," I teased as a stronger set of contractions seemed to pulse within her.
Her breath shuddered as it left her. The cream building within her from the moment she heard me enter the suite pushed out in a steady flow. Gravity pulled it lower, wetting her thick outer labia so that it glistened.
"Didn't I say no winking?" My voice roughened at the question, the harsh tone earning me another burst of her slick juices. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a condom and removed its wrapper.
Her ass danced at the sound of the foil crinkling and again at the slow pull I made on my zipper. The flow of need from her pussy quickened, gathered weight, only its high viscosity keeping it from dripping onto the floor already.
"Such thick cream, baby. I think you need my cock in you."
She mewled her agreement, ass dancing, pussy winking and pouting as the muscles flexed and relaxed.
"Maybe I won't give it to you."
That was it, the last push. Her ass dipped then thrust high as her grip around her ankles tightened. The first drop separated, suspended for a heartbeat like a translucent pearl, and then it hit the marble floor. Another followed and then another until she was dripping and shaking.
I rolled the condom on, grabbed her by the hips, and thrust all the way to my base. The back string of the thong rubbed against my cock. I yanked on the material. It snapped like dental floss.
With a satisfied grunt, I took full possession of her hips, pushing and pulling her along my shaft, the fat head bulldozing a path in and out.
Knowing Mia couldn't maintain the position much longer, I threaded my arm between her torso and thighs and forced her to straighten. Walking backwards, I planted my ass on the dining table, wrapped a hand around the inside of each thigh and jackrabbited her up and down.
She moaned, cried. Her hands captured her heavy breasts, tortured the flesh in an attempt to keep her climax at bay.
"Give it to me," I growled, both hands palming her thick labia as I kept her grinding against me.
Her body sucked and squeezed, a tremor running through her from head to toe.
"It's mine to command," I purred before taking a nip against the side of her neck. "Now give it to me all wet, squeezing, squirting—"
She answered with a sharp cry, her body frozen on the outside except for her dancing clit and the sharp jets of her release that arced in the air.
When she thought she could relax, I showed her otherwise, the pad of my thumb finding and bullying her clit until she jerked and squirted again.
Wrapping a hand around her throat, I ordered her to stop.
Her compliance was immediate.
"Perfect, love," I said, my lips glossing against her shoulder. "I think your beautiful pussy just earned a new toy."
14
Mia
Hands bound, nipples clamped, I looked up at the man who, over the course of our second week in Dubai, had become my personal sovereign, a man who, in his most primal form, gave and took pleasure mercilessly.
I closed my eyes, re-centering my thoughts to correct them. He did not rule me. His body and touch were my tools, his passion my means to an end no matter how many times he had made me come over the last seven days, sexually controlling me each night, again in the early mornings before he left for the work that had postponed our departure, and those sweet, stolen moments during the day when he returned to the suite.
I flattened my lips, trying hard not to think of those afternoons. They slayed me. Rather, his behavior during them threatened to end my search for a cure as he invariably pulled me onto his lap. Kissing my mouth, he would lift my skirt, checking my comfort if he had left a toy in me that morning. Some afternoons, he would suck at my breasts, fingers gently exploring me, teasing me but never seeking his pleasure or letting me find mine. Sweet and relaxed, almost loving.
"Look at me, Mia."
Abandoning the memories, I opened my eyes. Stark dropped to his haunches, his all-seeing gaze studying me.
"You still think there's a cure, don't you?"
"Yes." Taking my continued obstinacy as a sign of hope, I would not change my answer to please him.
"Sometimes, I think you're right." His gaze drifted from my face to my body. With a measured slowness he extended one fingertip and whisper stroked my clamped nipple.
A shudder rolled over me, my head dipping back as my lips parted to release a moan.
"Then you go and do that, sweet Mia. Reacting like God himself caressed you instead of mere mortal me."
Hell, when he had me like this—at the precipice, bound, teased, stretched, stroked—he was God as blasphemous as the thought felt.
"I won't always feel this way," I countered.
His hand dropped back to his side and his face went through a series of micro-expressions. I marveled for a moment at how I had learned them without trying. Having abandoned my careful analysis, I had reached a state in which I intuitively held an understanding of the man before me that never would have yielded to reason.
He had decided to change tactics—the wry downturn of his mouth after a single blink told me so. "You said before, you didn't want my trust."
I nodded.
He breezed a finger down my bare side. "Why?"
Sensing a change in his voice, I forced myself not to look for its meaning or source. All week long, I had stayed true to the promise I made myself. No analysis—just sensation. Every question he asked—and he had asked so many—I gave the first answer that presented itself in my thoughts. In the process, I learned more about myself than I had ever known.
"I can't give you mine," I responded, my eyes drifting shut as he brushed the backs of his fingers against the fur of my mound.
"Trust?" His voice changed pitch again, startling my eyes open.
Don't think, damn it. Feel!
I forced another nod as a cold blanket of logic tried to wrap itself around the base of my skull.
Stark snorted. "Baby, you are on your knees, your hands bound, your throat collared, in a foreign country that..."
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He stopped and swallowed down the heresy he had been about to voice.
"You have allowed so many things these last few days..." The hand at my pussy drifted toward the set of suede tails, jealousy sparking along the surface of my skin as he stroked the toy's leather handle instead of my body.
Raising his arms, he made the tails brush up the length of my still flushed thighs he had finished heating just a few minutes before. "And you'll allow so many more before we leave."
He stopped and met my gaze as if waiting for a response.
I blinked then managed nothing more than a soft "yes" of acknowledgement that he had taken many liberties and I would offer him as many more as it took to overdose on Collin Stark.
"Love, how can you still think you don't trust me?"
My lips parted.
I stopped breathing.
He was wrong, but I would have to break my promise not to think if I wanted to prove to him that he had not received my trust, not once. My lips moved—motions that should have been a response devolved to a quivering mouth.
He kissed me, dropping the suede tails so that both hands could smooth along my sides, traveling up over the outward curve of my breasts to dust my shoulders before cupping my face and holding me motionless as the kiss deepened.
His hands moved behind me, one cupping a butt cheek as the other reached for something out of sight. Feeling the cold brush of metal, I knew which new toy he had taken from the tray on the floor. The collar should have given his intent away earlier, but I had been too lost in the crisp slap of leather against my flesh to offer any thought on what might come next.
A hook—nothing as harsh as it sounds, just a smooth metal ball welded to a curving bar that ended in a small eyelet. The ball would be in my pussy or ass very soon, with a D-ring hooked to one of the rings on my collar and to the bar's eyelet so that the slightest movement in my neck tugged at ass or pussy.