“You like that?” she asks quietly, her chin tipping down as she reaches her tongue out.
I’ve never seen a sexier fucking thing in my life than her lying here on my floor, every part of her ready for me to use, her hands pressing against her tits. I lean upwards, letting her take the weight of them and driving my dick through them time and time again. She groans, her tongue managing to swipe saliva across me with every quick ram through I make.
She squirms beneath me, her pussy calling for my hand as she pants around my dick. I reach back, still fascinated by the sight of her, my dick getting closer and closer to her with every slide.
“Please, Quinn,” she pants out, her mouth managing to touch the end of me this time. She widens her legs and squirms again, the feel of her wet pussy suddenly thrust into my hand. “Please.” I smile. Dirty girl’s well and truly fucking desperate for it now. I swipe my hand through her, rubbing the slickness to her ass. She stops for a second, realising what I’m doing.
“You’re about to earn that phone call you want, dirty girl,” I snarl, my finger foraging into her. She tenses instantly, her head tipping away from my dick as I change our position a little. “Lift your ass to me.” She doesn’t. She shakes her head and tries to move away from me. That infuriates me for all the wrong fucking reasons.
I’m off her and flipping her body onto all fours before she gets a chance to make another move.
“What happens when you say no, Emily?” Her whole body stops fighting me, ass still high in the air and ready whether she wants it or not. “That’s right. You know it’s a damn sight easier on you when you don’t fight me, don’t you?” I look down at her cheek resting on the floor, watching as she gasps breaths in and waits for my hand to go where no one’s been before. “Fingers or my dick?” There’s no movement other than her panted breaths and quivering lips. Good. She’ll take whatever the fuck I feel like giving her. That’s currently my dick given her struggle against me.
I slide my hand through her pussy again, letting the action lead to her ass and rubbing the juices into it. My thumb pushes against the wall of tense muscle, my fingers kneading into her cunt to relax her. She writhes slightly, enough for me to slap at her cheek and make her still again.
“It’ll hurt more if you fight, dirty girl. Relax.”
She whimpers as I push again, sending my dick into a frenzy at the sound. Fuck, she makes such innocent noises. They’re mine. My whimpers. My mewls. My groans and moans coming from her lips. It makes me sink a finger into her mouth, letting her suck at it to take her mind off my continued pressing at her ass. She goes mad, her tongue swirling, lips sucking at it like it’s a fucking popsicle, and I force through the barrier of her ass before she has a chance to think.
She gasps instantly, a cough following, so I ream at the fucking thing, stretching it and making her howl out.
“Quinn?” she pants, her ass moving slightly in my hand.
“That’s it, move yourself on it.” She does, small shifts back and forth, getting herself used to the sensation as my fingers still work her pussy until she starts moaning again. “There you go,” I say, dragging my mouth across her back and watching her ass begin to eat my thumb, swallowing it down to the knuckle. “Good little dirty girl.” She moans again, her shoulders rising to get a better position and purchase on the wood. “You ready for my dick now?” She gasps as I withdraw the thumb and immediately replace it with two fingers instead. “You need stretching more?” I hover a third, shifting my frame around behind her and drawing my tongue through her wet lips.
She pushes back at me, widening her legs and mewling with each move back onto me. My tongue digs in deeper, swiping the length of her and rolling up to her ass.
“Quinn.”
My name groans from her lips, fucking emotion pushing it into my ears and making me hungry for more. It’s enough to take my hand to her breast again, rubbing at the nipple and teasing more sounds from her. My fingers slip from her ass as my body rises, dick ready to dive into her innocent hole that belongs solely to me. And I lean over her, pulling my hand from her nipple back up to her hair. I snatch her head back to me, flinging her torso upwards so I can bite into her neck and feel the tension she’s holding onto.
“You ready for me, dirty girl?” Her gasp makes me smile, tongue roaming over the spot I’ve bitten down on. “You gonna give me that sweet ass?” She shudders as I swipe my dick over it, coating myself in the juices I’ve put there. “You’re gonna feel me for weeks here.” I push my dick between her flesh, letting my hand hold her throat up to me. “You’re gonna remember everything about the first time I took something no one else has.” I ease at it harder, my thumb levering the tip inside and forcing the hole wide again. She yelps, a small cry of frustration coming from her as I keep shunting into her and she moves away. “You will let me all the way in, dirty girl. Push back at me.” She doesn’t. She just quivers and wavers in my hand, unsure of what she should be doing or why she’s doing it. I couldn’t give a fuck how she feels. This ass is mine now, as is the rest of her.
I tug her back again, forging my dick in harder to break that last resistance, and then groan myself as my length finally sinks inside her.
Still she remains silent, nothing but breathing and her body sending shockwaves along my dick. She squeezes slightly, as her ass adjusts to me, then whimpers against the force of my hand on her neck. The sound makes me release her and lean back to watch my dick slowly slide back out of her.
“Tell me you like it, dirty girl.”
I ease back in, slowly building a rhythm and waiting for her back to arch up to me. It does within seconds, an unconscious cry coming from her as she starts to feel the sensations building. My fingers roll between her legs again, flicking her clit to help her let go and feel the tension that’s building between us.
“Quinn, please.” It’s the first time she’s asked for it, and the shunt of my dick straight back into her has her lowering to the floor, ass higher than before and ready to take more of me.
I pull out again, leaning back over her and biting into her spine, my own ass beginning to power in as I search her pussy for everything I own. Fingers drive in, the feel of my dick in her ass making me crazy as I massage myself and her.
“You’re so fucking good for me,” comes from my lips, the strain in my balls near to making me explode. She mewls at that, and reaches her hand back, desperate fingers grabbing at flesh so she can hold onto something. I give her my hand, letting her take the fingers and mangle them into her own.
“Oh, god, please, Quinn.” Another shunt, hard drives coming from me as I grunt at her offering, come beginning to channel its way through me as the friction keeps building. “I need... Oh god, I need…” I damn well know what she needs. It’s the same thing I do.
“Tell me,” I bark at her, hauling her ass closer to me as I do, and wrapping my hand around her to press on her clit. “You fucking scream it for me, dirty girl.”
“I want to… Fuck. Oh god, I’m coming.” She gasps again. “Oh fuck.”
The sound of those words coming from innocent lips drives me insane, the need to come inside her powering my ass harder towards her and forging my dick deeper.
“Again, Em.”
“Oh god, Quinn. I’m coming. I’m coming. Keep fucking me… Please, fuck me.”
The come explodes from my balls, blinding me as I grab hold of her and lessen the intense drives. It shudders through my spine, ecstasy roaring through my cock as my lips bite into her back. She groans, her body shivering and halting its manic drive back at me.
All movement stops. It’s just me and my dirty little girl, both of us groaning and grunting, the fucking air as soiled as I’m making her. I shove in again, luxuriating in the feel of come spilling inside her, and still shaking from the pressure of her tight ass gripping my dick.
There’s quiet then, nothing else as my lips rest on her back and I look at her shaking form. Sweat glistens on her skin, making me smile and
rock into her again. It’s my fucking skin now. Not hers anymore. I’ve taken her cunt, taken her mouth, taken her ass, and I’ve taken her innocence fully with all those holes.
I lick across the sweat, tasting the salt, and slowly rock my hips again. She moans quietly, soft sounds coming as she breathes my name again. I scowl at the way it eases from her, knowing she shouldn’t be calling it so sweetly but damned if I’m going to stop her saying it. And her fucking fingers beginning to soften their grip on mine pisses me off. Enough so that I can’t stop squeezing tighter to remind her who now controls everything. She’ll let go when I’m ready for her to relax, stop clinging to me when I say she can.
The emotion is something that makes me frown at my own thoughts, still rooting myself inside her ass and wondering why she means anything to me at all. She’s not like the other whores. She’s embedded herself here somehow. Her smile, the way she manages to force me to soften for her without doing anything. It’s constant. Irritating. It’s like I lose my mind when she’s around me. Change, to accommodate what she wants. Fucking phone calls? Not a hope. It’s all maddening.
I release her fingers, sliding my dick out of her and tucking it back in my pants. What the fuck is going on? I shake my head at myself, watching her body crawl into a ball and try to hide in the wooden floor.
“Go clean yourself up,” I order, noting the come that leaks out of her.
The sight of it makes me smile regardless of my irritation with her. It makes me smile so much I turn before she sees it and head to the kitchen. It’s not fucking right. This smiling, this need to converse with her—fucking chitchat about irrelevant topics. It’s not me. None of this is what it should be. I should go put her back in that downstairs room again and bolt the door. Make her pay the rest of her friend’s debt and send her home. I snort, still amused at my own ability to cling on to the thought this has anything to do with a fucking debt anymore. There is no debt. There hasn’t ever been a fucking debt for her to pay. I played it for my own benefit, used it to have more time in her cunt.
I snarl at myself and grab a bottle of whisky, barely managing to pour it into a glass rather than glug it from the bottle.
“Quinn?” she says behind me, expectancy labouring her tone.
That fucking name. The way she breathes it. Fuck.
I tip the glass up to my mouth, downing the liquid in one gulp, leaning against the countertop to stare at the cabinets.
“I said go, Emily.” It comes from my lips softer than my intentions suggest, my eyes focused on the glassware in my vision rather than the thing I want to turn and look at. “Clean up.”
“You could come with me?” she whispers.
My hand picks up the bottle again, pouring another shot and considering just ending this. She’s right. She has a life away from this, one I’m holding her from for no reason other than selfish purposes. The thought of her going has me gulping down another shot, ire mixing with the confusion I’m trying not to acknowledge.
“Why would I do that?” I mutter, unable to stop the turn of my feet to look back at her. She stands there, hair wild from me grasping it, sweat still glowing on her skin, highlighting colours that wake my dick straight back up. “You’re the one with come spilling from your ass, dirty girl.” She frowns a little, her hands starting to twist themselves around each other.
“I just thought that maybe...”
“What? That I gave a fuck?” I snort again, drawing my eyes over her flawless body and raising the bottle to my mouth. “I don’t, Emily.” I damn well shouldn’t. “The only thing I give a fuck about is you being clean for the next time I put something inside you.” Her whole body slumps, her eyes immediately dropping from mine as her head nods. Good. She shouldn’t be getting any ideas about love or romance. There’s none here for her, no matter what my mother talks about or what my own emotions are playing at. Fuck love. “Go back to your room. Scrub that cunt and ass clean like a good girl before I have to force you to do it.”
She looks like she’s about to burst into tears, bottom lip quivering as she goes without any more stupidity coming from her mouth. I sip from the bottle again, letting the heat burn through me as I watch her climb the stairs. There’s nothing here for her but a version of a man I’ve become. No love. No honour. No Quinn in softened tones. One date or not, this fucking alternate existence between us that has developed or not, we are nothing more than a debt repayment. That’s all this Cane has to give. It’s all I can give her. And that fucking time is coming to it’s end. It has to before I lose my mind completely.
Chapter Twenty
My body aches. I feel sore all over, and the tears that bubbled up downstairs now flow unchecked down my face. I am a stupid girl, clinging to some ghost of an idea that Quinn could care for anyone other than himself.
My movement is awkward as I hobble towards the bathroom. My tender flesh is burning from his use of me. He’s been threatening anal sex since I first got here. I didn’t expect to enjoy it, or how painful it would be after.
The sick feeling that invaded my stomach when I woke up in the chair in the basement has returned. The cold and sickening feeling that I am trapped, despite some lame gestures from Quinn to prove otherwise. He is in total control of me and my future, and I can’t see anything but hurt and pain.
The glimpses he’s shown me of Quinn as a man, Quinn as a protective brother, must just be a ploy to gain my compliance, because every time I push him and see a crack in that toughened exterior, he reverts to the monster in the dark. I will only be a debt to him. A toy. His dirty girl to use and abuse.
A sob escapes, echoing in the bathroom. I hide in the shower, letting the water wash away the evidence of him still cooling on my legs. As I look down, pink water runs down the drain. I’m bleeding. He’s made me bleed.
I give up washing and just lean against the cool tiles. The water pummels my back, and I focus on the steady rhythm of the water beating down. It pulls me into a daze, my mind growing numb, unable to concentrate on thoughts or questions. I give myself this time to switch off.
My body starts to shiver, and I notice the water has run cold. I turn it off and warm up with a bath towel. I perch on the edge of the toilet seat, but I’m too tender to sit comfortably. The stab of pain brings back the evening’s events and why I shut myself off.
I am a naive and stupid girl who deserves to have her sanity checked. Why, after everything that Quinn has put me through, do I continue to look for the good? It’s too much this time. And it’s not because he sodomised me. It’s his disgust at me afterwards, that I’d dare to show some way for us to connect. It wasn’t on his terms, and so he can’t process, or won’t accept it, and shuts down.
I have to stop thinking in some sick Stockholm syndrome world. I only have feelings for Quinn because he’s the first man to… The sentence dries on my tongue before the words are spoken. I don’t know why I have feelings for this man. But I do know they are there, rooted inside of me, bending me to their will whenever he’s around. Making me see the man he could be. For every flutter or glimmer of hope I have, there is a tidal wave of shame and repulsion that follows.
I wrap myself up and go back out to the bed, gingerly sliding between the covers. My bum still hurts, so I choose my side to lie on and curl up in a small ball.
My mind plays over the last few weeks and it becomes starkly clear. I can’t stay here. I can’t be complicit in letting this carry on. Escaping or calling for help is what has to happen. Quinn won’t let me go, and he won’t tell me when the debt has been paid. I’m pretty sure that his mind has shifted where that’s concerned. I can’t pinpoint when exactly. Perhaps when he stopped whatever the Russians wanted to do with me, but regardless, he’s not letting me go anytime soon.
The big house. That will be my first stop. Reach the house and find a phone. Call for help. See if there’s anyone who can help. The woman in the window, perhaps? Or the housekeeper, Maria.
All the opportunities and possibilities start
to unfold in my mind. If I don’t at least try, I’ll never be able to look myself in the mirror. I need to do this to build some of my own sanity back, to piece together something that I lost the first time I let Quinn take me despite the circumstances. The Emily who was excited to go on a date with a stranger is a long way from the woman I feel I am now. It’s such a short amount of time, I know that, but my perception of time has slipped. The days tend to merge into one another here.
My plan dries the tears from my face and infuses me with new purpose. I slip from the bed, put some leggings and a jumper on, and pull my hair into a messy bun. I check my face in the mirror and decide that it doesn’t matter if I look a wreck. I am one. And it’s by Quinn’s hand.
I force myself to put on a brave smile and ease the door open and listen. Voices rise from the kitchen and I go to investigate. I peek around the corner and see Josh slumped over the table. Quinn lords over him, his face a picture of contempt.
“The Mortonis? Of all the fucking people to play with, you chose them?”
“I’m sorry, Quinn. I just wanted to prove to you that I had a place at the table. You wouldn’t listen. I thought I could show you.”
“And now you need my help.” He spits the words, clearly furious, a deathly silence following after. “Again.”
“I’m sorry.” Josh sounds desperate. Gone is the full-of-himself character I met the last time he visited.
I decide to make my presence known and step from my semi-concealed spot. Quinn straightens the moment I come into view. His eyes are trained on me as I walk through the kitchen, past where Josh is sitting, and pull out a mug from one of the cabinets.
“Can we help you?” Quinn asks.
“Emily, I’m glad you’re here.” Josh’s words sound desperate. I turn to face him and am shocked at his appearance. He’s barely recognisable. His previously clean veneer has disappeared. Messed up hair, a black eye and cut lip. His white dress shirt is dirty, with only half the buttons meeting in the right places. Blood splashes the collar. He’s a wreck, and that’s before I’ve even looked him in the eyes.
Innocent Eyes (A Cane Novel Book 1) Page 19