by Shandi Boyes
“Please,” I beg when the tension tethering us together as if we’re one becomes too much to bear. His mouth is an inch from my pussy, my orgasm is just as close to the finish line. This is the cruelest form of torture.
Panicked sexual deprivation is only the beginning of his punishment. I skate my hand toward my pussy. One flick of my aching clit will have me freefalling off the cliff. That’s how crazy the tension is between us.
My hand makes it halfway to my pussy before Dimitri snatches it away. “When you touch what isn’t yours, you lose fingers.” The heat trekking through my veins becomes dangerous when he growls out, “If you don’t believe me, ask the guest I just showed out.”
The trickle of desire surging through me turns catastrophic. I hate he felt the need to intervene when his guests get overly friendly, but I also love it. I’ll never make anyone feel guilty about protecting me. I’ve been seeking this level of protectiveness since I was three. Furthermore, his comments imply that he classes me as his. That excites me more than how dangerously close his thumb is hovering near my clit.
When nothing but needy breaths fill my ears for the next twenty seconds, I get desperate. “Please, Dimi.”
My rare use of his nickname sees his eyes locking with mine. They’re not the same withdrawn pair I’m used to seeing. They’re still full of danger, darkness, and recklessness, but there’s a yearning gleam to them that makes them unique. “Please, what?”
Desperate, I blurt out without thinking, “Touch me. Please. I’m begging you. I won’t intrude on your time or seek more attention than you’re willing to give. I just can’t take it anymore. The tension is too much. I feel like I’m about to explode—”
My shameful beg is cut off by Dimitri sucking my clit into his mouth. When he tugs at the bundle of nerves with his teeth, I call out in an erotic scream. He gives head better than the many daydreams I’ve had about him doing precisely that the past five days.
While his tongue snakes out to toy with my clit, I weave my fingers through his dark locks. My frantic tugs on his hair has him eating me more expertly. He pokes his tongue inside of me, drags it up my slit, then tangles it around my clit until I chant his name on repeat. Then he does it all again just for fun.
My predication months ago was one hundred percent accurate. His skills at giving head are out of this world. Every lick, nip, and suck doubles the fiery warmth spreading across my midsection. It burns me up as much as the tension that’s raged between us the past five days.
“I fucking knew you’d taste delicious,” Dimitri moans into my throbbing sex when he takes a breather to survey the damage he caused. “As did every man here tonight. They wanted to taste you, fuck you, and smear their cum over every inch of you.” His dangerous aura that mesmerized me since day one beams out of him when he says, “Then there were the ones who wanted you for so much more than your virginity.”
His confession has him eating me faster, more aggressively. It’s a painstaking blur of bites, licks, and nips that have me riding his face like our exchange won’t cost me a thing. It’s silly of me to believe, but right here, right now, I don’t care. He can have my soul for all I care. I’d give it to him willingly if he promised not to end our exchange until the bomb in the lower half of my stomach detonates.
“Oh, God,” I pant when he drags his tongue up my slicked slit before circling it around my clit. The flicks he hits my clit with are delicious as is his tight grip on my ass. They have me freefalling so quickly, it should be embarrassing.
While shuddering and shaking in the cool evening air, Dimitri’s name rips from my throat in a husky moan. The blistering sensation blasting through me lasts for several long minutes. I’ve never experienced anything close to this in all my life. It’s better than I predicted and has me craving a second hit even with the first one still occurring.
When my orgasm finally relents its firm clutch of my senses, I’m emotionally and physically wiped. It wasn’t building for days, weeks, or months. It’s been gaining intensity for years. Its body-limping strength is a sure-fire proof of this.
“Fuck…” Dimitri growls in a low, shallow tone as he soaks up evidence of my arousal with two hearty licks. “You taste better than predicted, but you hit the target for speed.”
The shame burning my cheeks shifts to desire when he stands from his seat so he can work his trousers down his thighs. Even with his trunks hiding the mouth-watering visual I’m dying to see, I’m confident in saying he’s harder than he was when he blew his load on my chest. The sheer girth of his cock has me hopeful my taste was addictive enough to have him craving me time and time again.
The primitive part of my brain takes hold when Dimitri frees his cock from his trunks. Precum is already wetting the head of his perfect manhood, and it has my mind blank on how much pain a cock that size will cause. His penis is large, angry, and arrowing toward an area of my body that won’t stop clenching in anticipation.
“Are you sure you want this, Roxanne?” Dimitri asks as he fists his cock to give it a hearty squeeze, “Because it’ll hurt. Your tight little cunt is going to feel me for days once I’m finished with it.”
I nod, a better response above me. I thought my earlier orgasm was as powerful as they’d get, but the image of Dimitri working his cock in and out of his fist while staring down at my drenched sex reveals I starkly underestimated their abilities. The one cresting in my womb now feels like a tsunami, growing more devastating when Dimitri loses the ability to harness his desires for the second time.
He doesn’t plunge his thick cock into me like my devious mind was hoping. He falls to his knees, spread my thighs wide, then burrows his head back between my legs. “You taste too fucking good for only one sample.”
After notching a single finger inside of me, he delves his tongue around his frozen digit, easing the burn his fat finger caused. He eats me for the next several minutes before adding a second finger to the mix.
I don’t realize how noisy I’m being until my moans bounce off the walls of Dimitri’s office. I grunt and moan on repeat while fighting the urge to tell him to stop. I don’t want him to stop, but if I don’t say something, I’ll explode into a blubbering mess of wetness and sin even quicker than I did the first time. I hadn’t considered the thought of him fingering me and giving me head at the same time. None of my college boyfriends could multitask. I either got one or the other, there was no option for both.
Seemingly linked to my inner workings, Dimitri grips my ass, thrusts my pussy off his desk, then eats the living hell out of me. I’m brought to climax by his tongue within seconds.
“Yes,” Dimitri hisses into my pussy when my nails grip the top of his shoulders. As scream after scream rips through me, I ride the intensity of my second climax like its more vital than my lungs needing air to function.
I’ve barely merged from hysteria when Dimitri attempts to squash a third finger inside of me. Unlike his earlier penetration, this one can’t enter without protest. I’m drenched from front to back, but no amount of wetness will simplify this process. It’s not meant to be easy.
“You’re close to taking a third finger,” Dimitri mutters under his breath as he swivels the two inside of me, “But it won’t be done without pain.” His bedroom skills are undeniable when he continues finger-fucking me without pause while standing to his feet. “I want to hurt you, but I don’t want to hurt you so much, you’re out of action for days on end.”
Any worries on me drying up fly out the window when he fists his cock in his other hand for the second time. He doesn’t choke it to calm it down. He strokes it to bring himself to climax like he did when his jealousy got the better of him. His pumps are fast and fluid despite the fact his eyes never once leave my face. He watches me watching him come undone, his stroke quickening the more my eyes dart between his face and his impressive cock.
I moan when the heat of his spawn mingles with the fiery warmth between my legs a few seconds later. Instead of coming on my chest t
o intermingle our scents, he ejaculates on my pussy, so his climax slicks with mine.
As his nostrils flare to cool his dangerous body temperature, he rubs his climax around the opening of my pussy before he pushes it inside of me. Once he’s confident I’m the wettest I’ve ever been, his cock’s head overtakes the helm of our scorching exchange. He coats himself in my juices before lining up, gripping my hips, then driving home.
I won’t lie. It fucking hurts—a lot.
While kicking out, I scream like I’m being murdered. This is worse than I could have comprehended. It makes me convinced I should have joined a nunnery. There was no way I would ever take a man the size of Dimitri without pain, but this goes beyond that. He’s doesn’t have impressive length, he’s got eyewatering girth too. I’m full to the brim and doing everything I can not to cry.
As shards of pain claw through me, Dimitri drops his thumb to my clit. His dedicated attention to my achy bud lessens my pussy’s vicious clutch on his cock. He circles the bundle of nerves on repeat, bringing me back from death one delightful swivel at a time. Within seconds, I’ve withdrawn my application to sainthood and resubmitted one to the fiery depths all orgasms come from.
It’s amazing how responsive my body is to his touch. He could beat me to the point of death, however, and I bet my body would still respond positively to him. It’s fucked up to consider, but the most honest I’ve ever been.
Only seconds later, I’m more frustrated with Dimitri’s calm than terrified about additional pain. Excluding his initial thrust that pushed me to the brink of hell, his cock hasn’t budged an inch. He’s inside of me—very very deeply rooted—but he isn’t rocking his hips how his delicious ‘V’ muscle is designed to move. He’s completely still, frozen like a statue.
The worry blistering through me nosedives toward the negative when I lock my eyes with his face. He is inside me like no man has ever been, but he isn’t in the room with me. He’s far far away from here.
“Dimitri?” I gabble out on a groan when he withdraws his cock as quickly as he jabbed it inside of me.
I thought the blood smeared on his rapidly deflating cock would have his chest swelling with pride—it was clear tonight the men in his realm view virginities as a gift. They’re willing to pay over a hundred thousand dollars just to secure a night with a virgin, however Dimitri’s chest is filling more with anger than smugness. He once again looks set to kill, and once again, all of his fury is directed at me.
After tugging up his trousers with enough aggression the thread around his zipper pops, he says, “Get dressed and go straight to your room.”
My hands instinctively move to cover my chest, suddenly vulnerable about the angsty in his tone. “Is everything okay—”
“Get dressed and go straight to your room!”
Tears almost spill down my face when his roar makes me jump out of my skin. When he spots their sudden arrival, the mask over his face is the sternest I’ve ever seen him. He appears as if he wants to strangle me until the light he lit in my eyes has been extinguished, or better yet, until I’m dead.
Confident I won’t defy him for the second time tonight, he pivots on his heels and stalks to the door. “I’ll be back to deal with you later.” The way he says ‘deal’ confirms my earlier worry. Dimitri Petretti no longer wants to claim my virginity. He wants my life.
Chapter Thirty-One
Roxanne
I brush away stupid blobs of wetness sitting high on my cheeks when the creak of a door breaks through my quiet sniffles. I’m so angry, so fucking mad, but more than anything, I’m hurt. I gave myself to Dimitri in a way I can never repeat, and what did I get for it? Another cold, hard rejection.
He made me come undone twice, marked me with his cum, then spat me out as if I was worthless the instant I fell for his tricks. God, I thought I was smart! I didn’t have the best upbringing, and my parents loved drugs more than me, but I’ve always had a good head on my shoulders.
Well, I did. Perhaps I lost more than my integrity in the alleyway all those months ago. Maybe this is punishment for my wicked sins.
I continue my deliberation on my opposite hip when the shadow from the door moves to my side of the bed. I know its Dimitri because I can smell myself on his skin like his sudden departure from his office was too important to wash off the desecration my desperateness shrouded him in.
“Roxanne.”
When he tugs on my shoulder, I stay perfectly still, my body ignoring his touch as skillfully as my mind does his snapped delivery of my name. I’m not scared of him anymore. How can I be scared when all I’m feeling is embarrassed?
“Roxanne.” Dimitri’s voice is louder this time—as is his shove. “I know you’re not asleep.”
I almost bark out that he doesn’t know me well enough to know when I’m fake sleeping, but hold back the urge. I’m done playing his game as much as I’m done playing nice.
“Do you want to know how I know you’re awake?”
More silence—lots and lots of silence.
“Your nipples always bud when I touch you, but when you’re asleep, you instinctively roll onto your back, begging for more.”
I don’t know what to respond to first. His confession that he touches me when I’m sleeping or his lower, more controlled tone. I can feel how worked up he is, smell it roasting on his skin, but he’s fighting to keep his anger under wraps. For why? I have no clue.
The stranglehold of emotions clutching my throat flies out the window when Dimitri tries a different tactic. “We got a solid lead from one of your contacts tonight.”
I roll over, too inquisitive for my own good. “Who?”
Dimitri’s smile when he calls me for being a sucker shouldn’t make me hot, but it does. “Dr. Bates.”
“The OBGYN?” I sound shocked. Justly so. Dr. Bates was the least creepy of the bunch. He was half the age of my other suiters and wasn’t shy about his intentions. He didn’t just want a virgin for the night. He wanted something more long term.
When Dimitri nods, I scoot up in the bed. “What type of lead?”
He fiddles with the cuffs on his shirt, a sign he’s stressed. “His practice ordered more prescriptions, fertility drugs, and pregnancy supplements than what was needed for the number of patients he’s had the past three years.”
His confession appears to be a solid lead, but I’m a little lost. Smith went light on details when he explained what happened to Dimitri’s wife, but he let it drop that she wasn’t given any type of anesthetics, so what does a prescription scandal have to do with any of this?
When I advise Dimitri of my confusion in a way that won’t drudge up bad memories for him, he shunts my horror into terrifying blackness. “Tonight’s guests weren’t here solely to bid for your virginity. Some are involved in the baby-farming market.”
“Farming? As in, they produce babies—”
“For well-to-do clients who can’t have their own,” Dimitri fills in as if I’m talking slow for any other reason than confusion.
Although his see-sawing personality has me all types of baffled, I can’t hold my curiosity back. “But that isn’t what happened to Fien, right? You paid to keep her safe.”
An unfamiliar expression hardens his features when I say his daughter’s name, but he’s quick to shut it down. “The incident with Fien is different than what we’re investigating, but like most things in life, there are a handful of common links I can’t ignore.” When I remain quiet, too confused to speak, he keeps talking. “Over the past couple of days, I’ve been led to believe that the people who took Audrey didn’t realize who she was to begin with. They didn’t know she was my wife.”
I twist my lips. “That kind of makes sense. They’d have to be nuts to go against a man as powerful as you.”
I thought my comment would lift a thousand bricks off his shoulders. Regretfully, it seems to have had the opposite effect. “A baby farm nets a tidy profit every year, but its overhead is high. You have to feed the women,
cloth and house them—”
“Let alone a woman can only give birth on average once a year. You might get a rare one who can pop out two kids in eleven months, but that’s generally not recommended.”
A spark darts through Dimitri’s eyes before remorse strangles it. “That’s why they changed tactics. The upkeep of a baby is nowhere near as expensive, especially when you have a father willing to pay any amount requested.”
“About that, something has been bugging me.” It’s obvious Dimitri isn’t familiar with two-way conversations. He doesn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed by my interruption. “Why are Fien’s ransoms so minute? The figures tossed around by your guests tonight were ridiculous, and then there was the money being laid down for gambling last week. You’d have to be making a killing, so why are her captives only asking for a little over a million dollars every year. If I had an endless money pit at the ready, I’d milk it for all I could.”
My throat grows scratchy when Dimitri’s eyes narrow into tiny slits. “Perhaps if you’re still around tomorrow, you can give me your opinion on a fairer amount.”
Still around? Am I going somewhere?
A rock-hard mask slips over Dimitri’s face when he spots my unvoiced questions in my eyes. After standing from the bed, he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt like his night isn’t close to ending before he nudges his head to the door. “Come with me.”
A part of me wants to tell him to go to hell. After what he did, I don’t owe him a thing, but the stonewalled expression on his face keeps my lips locked tight.
The desire to bend in two bombards me when Dimitri hands me my dressing gown. He hates it as much as Estelle. I’ve heard him threaten to burn it under his breath multiple times the past five days. “It’s cold where we’re going. I wouldn’t want your lips turning blue.”