He stood up and picked me up as though I was a child. I wrapped my legs around his hips and he took me to his bedroom. Another strangely empty place, but I didn’t spend too much time admiring the décor or the lack of it: the guy was an insatiable animal. I hate to admit it, but he was better than my rabbit. And that’s long-life battery operated!
It was an unforgettable night.
For the first time in my life I was no longer in control. Every time I tried to take it back, he used his superior strength and sexual expertise to subdue me. He was very strict and masterful, so fucking strong that I found myself submitting to his sheer size and force. Once I tried to leave and he simply held down my arms and legs until I didn’t have the strength to struggle anymore. Until him I had never had anyone so…well…authoritative in bed before. It was something new, something I was not used to…but something I discovered I totally loved.
In my most secret fantasy—I was a submissive.
Dawn was in the sky and I was hot and sore in a way I had never been in my life. My body really could not take much more and I knew it was time to enter the real world again and take back control of Billie. The Es were beginning to wear off anyway, and I was starting to see him without the chemical glow of ‘love’. It would be a good time to get dressed and hop it out of there with an ‘Um, sorry, gotta go’ farewell.
‘I stink of sex. I need a shower,’ I said, but apparently it was not time for a shower.
The blond beast pinned me down and had his wicked way with me again. There was something about him. Yes, he was beautiful, but I had seen other beautiful men who left me cold. I couldn’t put my finger on it and I can’t even now, but that something pulls me to him as if I was an iron filing to a massive U-shaped magnet.
I was still gasping for breath when he raised his head and smiled—slow, wolfish, his green eyes crinkling up.
‘Come on. Bathroom,’ he said, and sprinted out of bed, pulling me along. At the bathroom door he followed me in. ‘Um… I really need to wee first,’ I said holding onto the door. He looked at me coolly and said, ‘No.’
‘What?’
‘Don’t close the door.’
‘I need to wee.’
‘So… Fucking wee then.’ His eyes devoured me.
So I did with him watching. It was kind of horrible and kind of hot. Afterwards, he picked me up bodily and put me on the edge of the bathtub.
‘What the fuck?’ I protested.
He opened my legs wide and the more I swore at him the more he spread them.
‘Keep them wide open. You’re going to love this…’
The look in his eyes! I surrendered.
‘Look at your nipples. Look how swollen they are.’
I looked and I swear I had never seen them so raw and swollen. He disengaged the showerhead from its bracket and pinned it with his hip against the bathtub six, maybe seven inches away from my sore kitty and turned on the spray.
It was incredible. Lesbians around the world, take note: the showerhead is a woefully under-utilized sex aid. It massaged all of my sex nicely, but one tiny little spray of water fell without respite on my clit. Faster than any tongue or vibrator. Splash. Splash, splash. Hit, hit, hit. Mmmmm…
Pinned by his watchful eyes I hung on the edge of the bath.
‘I don’t like being watched when I come,’ I said through gritted teeth.
‘Tough.’
I turned my head to one side and tried to damp down the reaction, but it was impossible. Dark pleasures cannot be denied. My body moved ahead without me. I closed my eyes.
The hand that had circled my ankle, then insidiously massaged my calf and aroused me, tightened painfully. ‘Open your fucking eyes and look at what I am doing to you.’
‘No, no,’ I moaned.
‘Be silent and obey.’
I opened my eyes and looked down at his hands as they stroked the insides of my thighs. His fingers pulled apart my sex lips and the exposed, terribly swollen, well-used bud was suddenly and utterly defenseless against the relentless spray. My thighs began to shake with the approaching orgasm. And then all hell broke loose.
He brought me breakfast in bed, ugh, sausages and eggs. We had to stop eating to fuck. When I was leaving he asked me for my number. I gave it to him. He told me he was going away but he would call me in a month’s time.
He never did. And I never got to have that shower either. He sent me home in a taxi stinking to the high heavens of him, of us, of dirty sex.
Five
I can tell you straight off the bat that the next day is hell. I am like a mosquito using the edge of a razor blade as a landing to taxi off. I try to work, but I can’t concentrate since my sex is swollen and throbbing and the rubbing of my hardened nipples against the material of my T-shirt drives me crazy. At six o’clock I dress in a V neck blouse and a skirt—and no knickers. First he is going to explain about my phone number and then I’m going to let him fuck me.
By seven I am a living wreck, but what he sees when he walks in is me sitting on the sofa as cool as a melting ice cube. I quirk an eyebrow and cross my legs. The message is clear. I’m in charge tonight. We play by my rules.
‘Have a seat,’ I tell him.
He stalks over, drags my startled body upright and snaking his palms down to my ass slams my pelvis into him. His erect cock presses into my stomach. I don’t know how I had expected our meeting to go, but my body sings with relief. My eyes gaze longingly at his lips, my arms cry to hook themselves around his neck and my body yearns to rub itself like a cat against his hard length. Only my pride keeps my raving nymphomaniac instinct at bay.
I avert my face.
He sniffs audibly. ‘Pretend all you want, but I can smell your arousal.’ He traces the V of my top down to my cleavage. The desire to press my breast into that broad palm is shocking.
‘Stop it,’ I hiss.
With a wicked smile he cups my breasts with his hands. They are heavy and tight. He squeezes. I can’t help it, I whimper.
‘Don’t you know crossing and uncrossing your legs is considered an invitation?’ he mocks.
‘Don’t you know lesbians play by different rules?’
‘Stop me if you don’t like it,’ he murmurs.
I bring my hand up and catch his in a firm grip.
‘Do you want to know what I think?’
‘No,’ I whisper weakly.
‘I think, my little lesbian, that you’ve picked up a little addiction for cock. For my cock. Nothing’s ever been good enough since then, has it?’
I gasp at the arrogance of the man. ‘You’re a patronizing son of a bitch, you know?’ I accuse hotly. ‘You said you’d call and then you didn’t. Why didn’t you call me?’
‘It’s complicated,’ he replies pleasantly, and bringing my hand to his lips starts delicately kissing the knuckles.
It is very distracting, but I am determined. ‘Is complicated code for you changed your mind and didn’t bother to tell me and then you saw me again by accident at the Van Woolf art exhibition and thought, I’m bored, I’ll have another go?’
He stops kissing my hand. His eyes focus on mine. ‘Look into my eyes and tell me you really believe that. I thought about you every fucking day. I always knew one day I’d come back for you.’
‘One day?’
‘I told you it’s complicated.’
‘Define complicated.’
‘Composed of elaborately interconnected parts, complex, difficult to analyze, understand and problematic to explain, et cetera.’
The answer is cheeky and evasive, but the gentle finger under my chin from such a brutally masculine man has the surprising effect of making my throat clog with emotion.
‘What’s found and lost will be found again,’ he says so softly I almost don’t catch it.
It is obvious that he is hiding something and that there is a problem somewhere, but maybe I wasn’t just a one-night stand. Maybe he does care some. And I am not just some anonymous fuck.
/> ‘I want to see your naked breasts.’
‘Screw you,’ I say, but my voice is thick.
‘You always played the part of the man, the one in charge, didn’t you? You were in control, wearing the strap-on dildo and fucking the shit out of them. Well, there’s going to be some changes around here. Guess who’s gonna be fucked into submission and like it?’
‘You don’t know me. You don’t know what I want.’
‘Don’t kid yourself, Billie. What you want is exactly what all women want.’
‘And what’s that then, Mr. Rose?’ I ask sarcastically.
‘A dominant man with a filthy fucking mouth who will wet your little panties for you, crucify you with his huge cock, and fucking force you to come again and again, until you can barely walk.’ A slow smile lights up his face. ‘Guess what, babe? Tonight’s your lucky night.’
I didn’t want to admit it but I couldn’t stop fantasizing about his dick. And even the thought of being dominated by him and being made to submit to him makes my pulses race. It isn’t natural to me, but he is right, I want him to completely possess me. To get on top of me and do whatever he desires. I want to be utterly, utterly dominated by him.
I lick my lower lips and with a snarl he throws me on the sofa. Tears my top and bra off me and looks with satisfaction at my breasts. He stands and begins to take his belt off.
‘Take your skirt off,’ he barks.
I obey instantly.
I hear a sharp intake of breath from him when he sees that I am naked underneath. He drops his trousers and his boxers, never taking his eyes off my displayed body. And I am staring wide-eyed at a very large and angry-looking dick. He sheathes himself in rubber, then reaches out and tugs at my nipples. Small sharp tugs that make my back arch.
He tugs much harder. ‘Were you?’
‘Was I what?’ I grunt.
He grabs my knees and spreads my legs open. ‘Were you always the man?’ he growls, and pushes his thick meat into me with punishing force.
My head rears back against the cushion. ‘Yes, fuck you. I was the man.’
’That’s all over with,’ he snarls and pulling out of me, slams back in. ‘You take what I give you.’
I clench my teeth. My thighs are shivering with need.
He grabs a fistful of my hair and pulls my head farther back so my body is curved like a bow. ‘You do not have any say in or authority over what happens when we are fucking, do you understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Now beg me.’
‘Please fuck me.’
‘That’s not begging. That’s telling.’
‘Please, please, Jaron, fuck me.’
‘That’s just asking politely. Beg, Billie. Beg.’
Fuck him. ‘Jaron, if you don’t fucking fuck me now I am going to go crazy and hurt someone, probably you.’
He laughs, a deep growling sound, and fucks me with such brutal hunger that the sofa rocks like crazy and I feel myself being jerked about like a rag doll. The sensation is one of total loss of control. Total submission. Total possession. There is no equality. Not even the pretence of such a thing. No woman wearing a strap-on can fuck this hard. He is the man and I am the woman. It even works if he is the bastard using my body for his pleasure. I clench my muscles tight around him and hang on for a mega release. When it comes it is bigger than mega: it fucking explodes inside me. Shuddering into my muscles and shooting into my veins like a shaken champagne bottle.
‘Scream for me, bitch,’ he orders.
And I do. I howl my lungs out. And as I do I feel him reach his climax. He strains against me and pushes hard into me. For a while we are both silent and still. I hear the sound of the cat next door mewing on the balcony.
He pulls out of me, takes off the rubber, and turns back toward me. He drops to his knees in front of me and spreads my legs open. He strokes his hand upwards and opens my pussy wide and pulls back to look at it. I feel a bit embarrassed because it is still fluttering and clenching and dripping with the aftershocks of my tsunami of an orgasm.
‘I’ve missed this little cunt,’ he says.
I stare at him.
‘So plump and juicy.’
He plunges his tongue into it and the walls of my pussy clench involuntarily. My hands scrape through his silky hair as I pull him in and grind myself against his mouth. My hips begin to make frenzied jerking movements. I know what my body wants. That thing that only he seems to know how to do—when he traps my clit in the hot wet cave of his mouth and does not stop sucking until I find my release.
I find it in minutes.
Afterwards he sits on the couch and pulls me onto him so I am half lying on top of him.
‘Want to go out on a date with me?’ he asks softly.
‘And be provincial like everyone else?’
He shrugs. ‘What’s the alternative?’
I think about it. Ever since he walked into my life nothing has been the same. I am doing all the things I thought I would despise and lovin’ it.
‘What about Ebony?’
‘What about her?’
I pause. ‘So you two have, like, an open relationship?’
‘Something like that.’
‘And she’s not jealous?’
He bends his head forward to look at me. ‘She’s not your responsibility, Billie. She’s mine.’
Whoa! That last sentence hurt! Like a punch in the gut. My first instinct is to spring away from his body. As if he feels it, he holds me tight against his body. ‘Ask me whether I love her.’
I swallow hard and feel glad that he cannot see my face. ‘Do you love her?’
‘No,’ he says very emphatically.
‘OK.’
‘OK what?’
‘OK, I’ll go out with you.’
He brightens endearingly. ‘Where would you like to go? The opera? To the theater?’
‘Why on earth would you imagine I’d want to go and see a bunch of people wailing in a language I don’t understand?’
He chuckles. ‘We can go to an English production if you prefer.’
‘Are you serious? Opera in English kills cats.’
I can’t see him but I know he is smiling. ‘That’s what I love about you, Billie. You say it like it is. So refreshing.’
‘It’s just a matter of taste. Lana likes the opera.’
‘Lana Barrington?’
I nod.
‘I met her at the art exhibition, didn’t I?’
‘Yes.’
‘She’s a good friend of yours?’
‘My best friend,’ I correct.
How strange, but his body tenses. ‘Hmmm…’
I twist around to look at him, but his face gives nothing away. ‘We grew up together. I guess we are more like sisters.’
His body relaxes again. ‘She’s the reason you have this flat?’
‘Yup. I used to live on a council estate and her husband didn’t want her wandering around one whenever she came to visit me. So he bought this for me. For a billionaire he’s a cool guy.’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘How did she meet him?’
I’m not about to tell him the story of how Blake paid to acquire Lana. ‘It’s a long story and you’ll be bored.’
‘No I won’t.’
I look at him curiously. ‘Why are you so interested in Lana?’
‘I’m interested in everything about you,’ he says, and for some reason that I refuse to investigate further, his claim rings hollow. He runs his hand along my body and palms my breast. I turn around to lie with my forearms on his chest.
‘So what am I to you then?’ I ask.
‘What do you want to be?’
I shrug lightly. ‘I can’t be your girlfriend, because you already have one. So what else is left? I can be your fuck buddy or I can be your mistress.’
His voice is very soft. ‘Do you want to be my girlfriend?’
‘Not really,’ I say immediately and a shade too brightly. ‘I think I’d kinda
like to be your mistress. You’ll have to take me to insanely expensive restaurants and buy me diamonds.’
His eyes flash. ‘Do you like diamonds? Somehow I never thought of you as a diamond girl.’
‘I was kidding. I’ve never owned a diamond. Lana gave me an obscenely large sapphire pendant for my birthday. But it’s so valuable I’ve had to put it in her safe.’
‘A sapphire to go with your eyes.’
‘That’s what Lana said,’ I say with a smile and, because he is looking at me strangely, I start babbling. ‘Lana says diamonds are actually not precious at all. That diamonds are as plentiful as amethysts and should be priced the same. They are only expensive because their supply is so tightly controlled.’ I snap my mouth shut. I’ve never been a babbling brook before.
‘Clever Lana. She’s absolutely right. It is a strange paradox of this world that all the things that are truly rare are artificially kept at low prices and the things that are not are inflated to insane prices. The only diamonds that are rare are the colored diamonds and the larger sizes. All the others have no more worth than semi-precious stones.’
Taking my forearms he lifts me up and suddenly I am on my back lying where his legs had been.
‘Wow! You’re fast,’ I say laughing.
‘You ain’t seen nothing yet, baby,’ he says, and never a truer word was spoken.
Six
‘Dress sexy,’ he tells me on the phone.
So I wear the white hot pants that I bought in Thailand, black boots and a red top. When I open the door he whistles, his eyes roving my body. ‘You totally nailed sexy,’ he says.
‘Is he dead yet?’
He chuckles. ‘Nearly. He will be by tonight.’
I giggle. ‘Good, I like stiff things.’
You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2) Page 40