Ruined: A New Adult and Billionaire Romance (His For A Week Book 5)

by EM BROWN

  The question fades as his tongue delves into my mouth. I do my best to respond, but he doesn’t leave much room for me to guide the action. Warmth flares through me, stymied only by the fact that Sierra or Eric might walk in on us at any moment. But there’s no way I want this to stop. The scent of the cigar doesn’t bother me as much as that of cigarettes, and I think I could kiss Tony for hours.

  Tentatively, I reach for him. I’m not completely sure if I’m allowed to touch him, but I wrap my hand about his neck the way he does to me. He shoves his tongue harder into my mouth. I can feel the tone of the kiss change. He’s been holding back, but his ardor is rising. The unleashing of it is where it might get dangerous. But we’re not at The Lair. We’re in someone else’s place. And we don’t have the privacy of Cell Three. That should temper what he does. I think.

  Abruptly he pulls me off the table, whirls me around, and bends me over the table.

  "I thought I escaped the spanking," I protest.

  His hand is still on my back, holding me down. "This isn't going to be a spanking. It's a fucking."

  What...

  He slips his hand easily into my sweats while his body pins me to the table.

  "But Eric and..." My words disappear as he starts to rub me. I'm not an exhibitionist. Small public displays of affection are okay, but making out in public is not something I would ever consider doing. Getting fucked where people can see is beyond my comprehension.

  Only this is happening. What's worse, my embarrassment if Eric or Sierra should walk in on us isn't dampening my arousal. In fact, it doesn't take long before I'm wet for him. He rubs my damp underwear against me, and I moan, wanting more. But I don't. At least not here, bent over a snooker table. His fingers slide beneath my underwear and spread my wetness over my flesh.

  "Eric and Sierra are right outside the door," I try again.

  Just shut up and let him do his thing, my libido tells me.

  His fingers have me agitated nice and good, and I feel my hold on propriety slipping. I can't believe I'm letting this happen.

  "The patio doors are open. They'll be able to hear."

  "What will they hear? Your moans of pleasure? Or are you worried you might scream?"

  "All of the above."

  He yanks down my sweats and tears my underwear. Before I can ask him anything, my underwear is stuffed into my mouth. I try to take out my underwear, but my wrists are whipped behind my back. This is horrifying. My cum is on my underwear, which is now in my mouth, where it should never be. I think I taste myself.

  I feel his hardness through his jeans against my ass. He holds my wrists in place with one hand while his other goes back to fondling me between my thighs. Trapped between him and the table, I feel utterly helpless. I pray that Eric and Sierra stay outside. If they walked in, this would be more than a little humiliating.

  "I'm sure they're busy," Tony says.

  He's right. I can hear the occasional murmur and grunt from Sierra. Maybe the best way out of my predicament is to get it over with as soon as possible.

  No complaints here, my libido says.

  I'm gushing between the legs, desire straining for that euphoric end. I’m close. Really close.

  But he pulls his hand away. I hear him unzipping and the tearing of foil. After some jostling, his length is between my thighs, gliding along my pussy lips. A little more of that and I’ll come. Right against the table. With a wad of cotton underwear stuffed in my mouth.

  He slides himself into my slit. I close my eyes and block out Eric and Sierra not twenty feet from us. At least they can’t see us from where they are.

  My pussy flexes about him. I wonder if he will always feel this hard inside of me, or will my vagina get used to him if he keeps stretching me like this? I emit a shaky groan into my underwear as he slowly begins to thrust. Ardor presses into me, concentrating between my legs, ready to flower. He intensifies the sensation with every withdrawal and every plunge. His motions are long, measured, angled just right. I want to come so badly. Please make me come.

  I cry out and quiver as rapture blooms and ripples through me. That I’m pressed against a hard surface, the edge of the table digging into me, my sweats around my knees, does nothing to diminish the beautiful, marvelous bliss that engulfs me.

  He sweeps my hair into a ponytail in his free hand and tugs. Hard. I yelp and consider spitting out my underwear, but I need it. He releases my wrists and pulls my hair back while simultaneously shoving himself deep into my pussy. Now his rhythm is fast, his motions short but deep. I brace myself against the surface of the table, trying to push back against him so I don’t end up becoming one with the table. If he pounds me any harder, I might break a bone against the snooker table.

  The underwear helps to muffle my grunts and cries. The fucking is jarring, and my scalp starts to burn. I realize I won’t be able to speak my safety word. Not that I can remember it.

  He slows down. Thank God. I grasp the opportunity to take a normal breath. His pace is now more than bearable, and I find my arousal simmering anew. Still holding my hair in one hand, he reaches his other hand around to grope a breast. This gentler fondling is an exciting relief to the ferocity from a moment ago. Adrenaline is pumping through me, magnifying every sensation. I collect myself just in time. He grinds himself deeper into me,

  I wonder if he’s come because he pulls out of me, but I realize he hasn’t when he flips me onto my back. He sinks back in and pulls my wrists above my head, pinning them to the table. He bucks his hips gradually as his gaze locks with mine. Despite the awkward position with my legs dangling over the table, my feet unable to touch the floor, I start to crave another orgasm.

  How do you do this to me? I ask through my eyes.

  I’m such a mess. My body still feels worn from his earlier fucking, but arousal still rises. The stroking of his cock inside me is exhilarating. I want that high again, and I’ll suffer anything to achieve it. If he wants to pound me into a pulp, I’ll take it if he can make me feel this good.

  Yes, this good. So good. I’m gonna come again.

  “Ask permission first,” he warns me.

  My underwear garbles my words, but surely he knows what I’m trying to say.

  “Pardon. Say again?” he replies with a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

  I try again but it comes out, “A ah unh, er?”

  He continues his tantalizing thrusting, his pelvis pressing into my clit when he penetrates extra deep.

  Please. “EEEase.”

  Worrying that my body can’t hold out much longer, I start to beg through my eyes. He seems to note my desperation and says, “You’ve earned it. Come.”

  A few more thrusts from him, and I convulse, my back arching off the table. He pumps into me harder and faster till rapture overtakes him, too. After my orgasm subsides, I savor the feel of his body over mine, the pulsing of his cock inside me.

  Until I turn my head and see Eric standing at the threshold.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The single user handicap bathroom at my elementary school had a broken lock on it. But one day I had to go really bad and didn’t think I wanted to make it all the way to the girls’ restroom, so I availed myself of what is nearest. I wasn’t done going when Bradley, a boy in the fifth grade I had a crush on, opened the bathroom door.

  For days after, I dreaded going to school.

  The church picnic was another source of my most embarrassing moments. Somehow the grape punch went down the wrong pipe and I started coughing—right onto Mrs. Johnson, the pastor’s wife, spewing purple all over her white linen dress.

  Getting caught with my pants down, literally, with my underwear balled in my mouth is right up there.

  Tony pulls me to my feet as if nothing could be more normal. My entire face is the color of a fire hydrant as I yank up my sweats and turn away to spit out my underwear.

  “Just make sure you clean up any wet spots,” Eric snickers as he makes his way to the bar.


  “I’m...” I mutter, but I don’t bother finishing the sentence. I turn and head out of the room with quick steps. I would rather be anywhere but here.

  Back in my room, I flop face down on the bed and scream into the pillow. Given the late hour, I have nowhere to go. I’m stuck in a house up in the hills of Marin County. With at least two people I’m not thrilled to be hanging out with, and a third whom I am reconsidering whether or not I want to be with. Just because he makes my body go haywire doesn’t mean he’s worthwhile company.

  I take a brief, hot shower, which helps to calm me down. I throw on my pajama shirt and new underwear. As I brush my teeth, I look about the room and see my textbook next to the bed. I shouldn’t be here. I should be at work and in class. I don’t have much with me, so packing back up wouldn’t take long at all.

  “I warned you about me.”

  Whipping around, I see Tony standing at my door. My shame turns to anger toward him. I stomp back into the bathroom to finish brushing my teeth. He follows me and leans against the doorframe.

  “You can’t tell me you weren’t titillated by the prospect that we might get walked in on,” he says.

  I spit toothpaste into the sink and reply, “I thought the chances of that happening weren’t so high.”

  “Don’t take risks if you can’t accept the consequences.”

  “You didn’t exactly give me a choice!”

  I throw water in my mouth, then spit it out. I clean the toothbrush and try to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

  “Are you mad at me?” he asks.

  I’m mad that Eric saw us, and since Tony started it, I am mad at him. I try to pull my arm away, but his grip is hard and tight about me.

  “You didn’t specifically say that we were going to, you know, where people could see!” I say.

  “You didn’t specifically complain.”

  He makes a valid point. And maybe I was a little excited that we might get caught in the act. But that was before I realized just how embarrassed I would feel when it actually happened!

  “What does it matter that Eric saw us?” Tony presses, still holding onto me. “We’re not paying you and Sierra to play patty-cake with us.”

  My cheeks burn, and for some strange reason I’m a little hurt that he’s lumped us in the same category with Sierra and Eric.

  “So he saw my cock inside your cunt,” Tony continues. “He’s a grown man.”

  “And my underwear stuffed in my mouth!”

  His gaze heats, his eyes turning molten. “And it’s the sexiest thing he’ll ever see.”

  I flush. If he thinks he can make it all better with a compliment, he’s...partially right. When he looks at me like that, I can actually believe he means what he says.

  But my indignation won’t disappear so easily.

  I feel like my dignity is at stake even though I can reason to myself that it shouldn't matter what Eric saw. His imagination could probably conjure worse. And at least he wasn't taking pictures. After this is all over, our paths are unlikely to cross again. He's probably seen a lot more in his days. Who knows, in a few weeks he probably won't even remember. So why should I make such a big deal about it?

  And a part of me did like that what Tony and I were doing was naughty. I wasn't raised to like something like this. Well, I'm not sure what I was raised to like about sex. Lila was very matter of fact about it. I remember her telling me that it was okay to feel sexual attraction and that I would know in my heart when it was right. She had no hard and fast rules about sex except that I had to respect myself and demand that my partner respect me, too.

  "You want a clear choice?" he asks—no, demands—as he jerked me to him. Grasping my jaw, he keeps my gaze locked with his. "If you choose to stay with me, anything goes. Anything and everything."

  Before I can respond, his lips crush mine. I'm not done being angry with him, but I can't escape his hold of me. All I can do is wiggle pathetically against his grasp. I can't protest. His mouth is all-consuming.

  What is the matter with me? Why do I let him dominate me like this, and why does my body like it?

  He backs me to the wall while his mouth continues to devour me. I offer feeble resistance.

  After working my mouth till it is sore, he takes a break, letting me catch my breath and perhaps trying to catch his own. He presses his forehead to mine.

  "You up for anything and everything? Can you take it?"

  My head is spinning too much to form a coherent thought. I don't usually like confined spaces, but somehow my body enjoys being trapped by his.

  The answer is no. You don't want to go there with this guy. You're a newbie when it comes to sex and BDSM. Don't think you can play in his league.

  The defiant part of me rejects such condensation. It's the part of me that decided I was going to compete for the fourth grade science fair award because a boy in my class said that boys make better scientists. I didn't end up winning, but I was happy because another girl did.

  "What's anything and everything?" I ask, stalling for time.

  "Rough sex. Hard sex. Brutal sex."

  Hello? How can any of that sound good to you?

  But it does. With Tony, it does. Because on the flipside of all that is pleasure that I never imagined my body could experience.

  I don't have an answer for him yet. He pulls my shirt over my head but doesn't pull it off my arms. Turning me around, he twists and ties my shirt, locking my arms behind my back. He scoops me in his arms, kicks the bedroom door closed, and deposits me on the bed.

  "What are you going to do?" I ask a little nervously. I think I'm always going to be a little nervous around him.

  "Help you make up your mind."

  He pulls off my underwear. I hope he doesn't stick it in my mouth. As I sit with my knees up, he spreads my legs and swirls his finger over my clit, coaxing the bud to emerge.

  “Don't move if you want the bedroom door to stay closed."

  He walks into the bathroom and rummages through my toiletry bag. He finds a brand-new toothbrush head, which he uses to replace the one already on my toothbrush. He's going to brush his teeth?

  He grabs my toothbrush and the dental floss before returning to the bed. Setting the toothbrush down, he pulls out a long length of floss. What the heck is he going to do with dental hygiene?

  He starts winding the floss around my clit. I stare in astonishment. What the...? My clit protrudes like a pink pearl amidst the tied up flesh. He tugs on the floss, and I find myself moaning at the pulling sensation. He tugs up and down, side to side. I moan even more. He takes the other end of the floss, still attached to the plastic container, and loops it around my neck. He ties the floss, which constantly pulls on my clit unless I lean forward, but there's not enough slack in the floss for me to do so comfortably. He walks over to a pot of lilies on the dresser. He plucks off a petal, returns, and gently brushes it over my clit.

  It tickles. In a nice, almost unbearable way. When the petal brushes up, I shake and strain. God Almighty. Who thought a little ole flower petal could prove so potent?

  “Don’t move,” he reminds me when my body jerks away at the next kiss of the petal.

  I try to stay still, partly because when I do move, I end up tugging on the floss. It’s not easy because my body wants to run away from the petal, and yet, I can feel my climax, which I do want, inching closer. And I do not want the door opened. Bad enough Eric saw me with undies in my mouth. But being tortured by dental floss and a flower petal?

  My toes curl and my legs quiver as Tony intensifies the brushing. He tweaks a nipple, rolls the other one between his fingers, flicks the former one. It’s more sensation than I can take. Wetness is pooling beneath my ass. I’m actually going to come, because of a flower, with dental floss around my clit.

  Or not.

  He stops brushing me with the petal and leans in to kiss me. I pour all the frustration, tension and relief into the kiss. As if he knows I need this, he lets me, and when I have diffus
ed some of the agitation, he takes over. Clasping the back of my head, he roams over my lips, tastes the inside of my mouth, tugs and sucks my bottom lip until I whimper with need. With his thumb beneath my chin, he tilts my mouth up so that he can press down harder from above.

  I realize I’m his to do as he pleases. I let him tie dental floss to my privates for Chrissakes.

  His mouth disengages, and his thumb takes the place of where his tongue was. I suck on the digit, conveying my ardor. I want a happy end to all that I’ve endured.

  Picking up the toothbrush, he turns it on and places it on top of my clit.

  I shriek. “Holy shit!”

  I inadvertently throw my head back, which tugs my clit more fully into the toothbrush. My hapless body doesn’t know which direction to run. He takes away the toothbrush. I pant. This is crazy. He’s using my toothbrush for a vibrator, and my clit is so sensitive right now, so engorged, that the vibrations are killing me.

  “Relax,” he says. “You can come whenever you feel like it.”

  It sounds like a good thing, but I’m not so sure. He puts a hand on one knee to keep my legs from closing together. I squeal through clenched teeth when he applies the toothbrush again. I squirm, and one of my legs folds inward in an attempt to knock his arm away.

  He grabs my chin and turns my gaze toward him. “Don’t move. You want to come, don’t you?”

  I stare into his dark eyes and nod.

  The toothbrush is back at my clit. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to breathe through the overwhelming sensations. I can do this. I did it with the actual vibrator. I can do it with a toothbrush. I groan and gasp through each reapplication of the toothbrush, simultaneously relieved and disappointed each time he withdraws the toothbrush. Until he doesn’t. He places the toothbrush at my most sensitive spot and his finger on the side so that my clit is trapped, vibrating between the bristles and his digit. Within seconds, my orgasm plows into me, and I can’t stay still. I almost wish I was completely restricted because I end up pulling too hard on the floss.