Taylor squats down so that our faces are barely an inch apart. “So what I am telling you now, is you are going to tell me how I should punish you right now. Because I know you want me to. I can see how tight your nipples are through your blouse. I bet your cunt is dripping right now. I think you do shit like this on purpose just so I will act out. I think when Rick kissed you, you remembered that no one else makes you as hot as I do. No one makes you come so hard you cry. No one makes you fucking scream and writhe because when I fuck you, you can’t even tell the difference between pain and unimaginable pleasure. Because I like to fuck shit up Shy, and most people don’t.”
Taylor stands tall again, unbuckling his pants and revealing his raging erection. “So you want to tempt me? You want to push me to my limits of patience, Shy? Well then, tell me how you want me to fuck you up.”
I let out a shaky breath, almost dissolving under his aura. I am stunned; I am frightened. Not necessarily of him, but of who I become when I am with him. Because he is right, as much as I try to be some sort of moral compass for Taylor, I fucking love that he is a bad motherfucker—I love the ugly side of Taylor.
“Tell me,” he says, stroking his thick cock just in front of my face as he waits.
“I want you to bend me over and hit my pussy with your belt.”
Taylor lets go of himself and pulls me up to my feet. He rips the front of my dress open like it was made of paper. My heart races so fast I become lightheaded. I need him to relieve all of this tension he has built up inside of me. He pushes me onto the coffee table face first, but keeps my legs spread open and planted on the floor so that my openings are completely available to him. Then he rubs my entrance, his hands slipping over the wetness just as he had predicted.
“Fuck. Your pussy is dripping. But I think you know you don’t deserve to come yet.”
“Do it,” I plead.
He takes the edge of his black leather belt and slaps it against my already sensitive pussy. I cry out but it quickly converts into a moan of pleasure. “You like that? Don’t you?”
“Do it, make it hurt.”
Taylor slaps with a little more force. “Fuck!” I call out. I want him in me so badly, but this is a punishment. I have to earn the privilege back. He does it again. I pound my fist on the table as moisture streams out of my eyes. They aren’t from sadness or fear; I am completely overwhelmed physically, to the point where it manifests itself in tears.
“I want you inside of me, Taylor,” I call out in a quivering voice.
“You determine your punishment, Shy. Tell me, do you think you deserve for me to fuck you?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“Fuck my mouth. Hard. Just do it.”
Taylor, without hesitation, pulls me upright and pushes me down onto the coffee table. Then he mounts me, upside down, so that he could easily lick my pussy, but he doesn’t. Instead he angles himself up and shoves himself into my mouth and thrusts. Mercilessly, he fucks my face underneath him, and I take it, digging my nails into his thighs and choking underneath his size. Barely able to breathe, I gasp as he gives me what I know I deserve, but also what I want. Rick could never give this to me and Taylor knows it, but that won’t stop him from making his point.
Taylor lets out a loud moan as he releases into my throat, jaggedly thrusting. It leaves me wanton, still craving for him to fill me with his hardness, but I also derive pleasure from the complete control he displayed over my body.
He stands up, looking down at me. His face is upside down from my vantage point, but I can still perceive that the look of intensity has not escaped his face. Taking my mouth has not softened him.
“I’m not finished with you yet,” he says, stroking his semi-erect penis. “You are going to take me in your mouth again.” I sit up, and gravity does its job as the wetness from my eyes streaks my cheeks. “But this time, the ball is in my court, you little dirty pain in the ass. And this time, I will fuck you.”
I nod obediently.
“Lick my balls,”
I suck and lick them as he rouses his phallus, making it impossibly harder than it was the first time around. He knots my hair in his hand and pulls my face up, sliding himself in my mouth again and throwing his head back in pleasure as he rhythmically pumps into my face. The thrusts are shallower this time, but more rapid. “Fuck…fuck,” he mutters as he painfully pulls at the roots of my hair.
Taylor stops and pulls me to my feet, throwing me on the couch, face first, like a rag doll. He pulls my hips up high, but shoves my face into the cushions, so hard I can barely breathe.
“You like it when I scare you? Don’t you? When I make it hard for you to breathe?” I nod my head frantically as I instinctively swallow for air. Then a booming sharp clap erupts as fire burns the spot where he slapped my ass. I try to scream, but the sound muffles into the cushion. He does it again, and again. And it hurts so bad at first, but in between each slap the pain melts and it tingles like soft flames at my nerve endings. They dance along my backside and onto my pussy, making her more greedy for Taylor’s firmness.
“Oh god,” I call out, having nothing left to say, just an empty prayer.
Then he shoves a few fingers into me, sliding in and out, but I am so wet, there is barely any friction. I need the girth of his cock. He slides the wetness of my pussy up and along my backside to where he took my virginity last night. I tense, still being sore from yesterday.
But I know what’s about to happen as he uses the slickness of my pussy to moisten this much tighter opening.
“I was far too fucking gentle with you yesterday. But I’ve opened you up, and now we are going to do it my way. Hard. Because that ass is mine.”
He takes his slicked fingers and slides them into me, spreading them to stretch me. The pressure is not as intense as it was yesterday, in fact it’s more of a feeling of fullness. He pumps them in and out of me and I clench the sofa cushions below me and rock back and forth against his hand. The once foreign sensation is becoming familiar and pleasurable.
He pulls his fingers out of me and I raise my face from the cushions for a second, but he immediately shoves my face back down. “I didn’t say you could fucking look.”
Taylor’s words are followed by the distinct sound of him spitting into his palm, and there is a tense second of silence before Taylor pushes himself into me. Despite him having prepped me, the thickness of his cock has to forge its own path and there is a steady resistance as he shoves his entire length into the tightness. At this angle it is sharp and painful and it hits a spot so deep inside of me that I scream even louder than the pillows can contain.
He pulls me upright by my hair, so that my back presses against his sweaty chest, and he pumps into me savagely. He yanks my hair, exposing my neck and he bites and sucks without any mercy. He kneads my breast roughly and pinches my nipple so hard that my steady moan becomes a throaty cry.
He reaches forward and softly slaps my clit in rapid succession as he brutalizes me with his dick. And I lose myself. It’s something I can’t even explain other than to say it becomes an out of body experience. I become totally lost in the physical and sensual connection so that I just melt onto him, becoming one jumble of all the things I am feeling. The room becomes quiet though I am crying in twisted pleasure. Together, we hit some new level of sexual connection, and it’s only because I trust him enough to use sex in all of its capacities: to connect, to love, to punish, to hurt, to rage. It’s all happening at once, and I can no longer tell where my body stops and his begins.
And then I am jarred back to the moment, suddenly hyperaware of every individual potent feeling in my body, and it’s because I am about to come. “Taylor!” I call out, reaching behind me, clawing for him. I didn’t expect this, to climax from him violently fucking my ass, but it’s happening, and it’s so overwhelming, so filling that it is almost too much. My instinct is to fight back, to get some sort of release. I feel like a volcano with its top blocked: bubbling,
bursting, with heat and energy, but I have to get him out of me, or I will implode.
“Fuck,” he screams, because I am scratching at him like a feral cat.
He pushes my face back into the cushions, even harder this time, and grabs both of my hands, pinning them behind my back with his other hand. He keeps himself inside of me, massaging my walls with his dick, as I completely implode around him, seeing stars as I let out a guttural scream of his name into the pillow. I am unable to get any air, which is exactly how I want it. My body convulses as Taylor holds me down, my tears wet the sofa cushions, goosebumps erupt all over my skin. The sensation of fullness and pressure is unrelenting as his cock expands into my tight asshole just after I come.
And then he releases his grip on me. I fall to my side, curling in the fetal position, and look up at him through blurry eyes. The orgasm tore through every part of me, using all of my energy to reach its apex and absorb its impact. I have no energy left to do anything other than dissolve on the couch as my ears ring in the aftermath of the implosion.
Taylor looks like he’s been through a war, his hair is a mess, he’s panting and sweaty, his thighs and shoulders are covered in red scratches. But his eyes: I can see the blues and greens again, as if a storm had cleared.
I stare at him for while, still unsure of what to make of what just happened. And then he extends his hand out to me, and I take it. He pulls me up as if I weigh nothing, and presses me against the firmness of his body.
“Don’t fucking do that to me again,” he pleads breathlessly in my ear.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and slide my fingers through his hair. “I’m an idiot. I should have told you. It was inconsiderate and self-centered. I love you more than you could ever know in a thousand lifetimes.”
“And I, you.”
Chapter 23
I lie on the couch in silence, still befuddled as Taylor quickly gets dressed.
“You’re going back?”
“Yes, I’m not done dealing with the factory issues. Unfortunately, I had a more pressing matter brought to my attention,” he says smugly.
I feel myself shrink in response. “Are we…okay?”
“We worked it out, didn’t we?” I guess that’s what you could call what just happened. “This won’t be an issue any longer.” The statement almost carried the tone of a question, but truly, it was more like a warning.
“I already told him that we shouldn’t see each other. That we can’t maintain a friendship at this point.”
“Ever.”
I don’t press an issue that is such a distant possibility.
“You said some things…that you would hurt people who get in our way. Taylor, he is not that person. You don’t have plans for him, do you? He’s not like Eric.”
“Are you asking if I am going to hurt him?”
“I don’t know. They were your words.” Taylor adjusts his cuffs in silence. “Taylor, he’s harmless. He’s just lost. His father just died, and we have to be fair to him. We get to have each other, he has no one. He is a good person. A really good person.”
“I’m not going to do anything to him. I don’t just go around hurting people. As long as he keeps his distance, there is nothing for me to do. He just needs to respect our relationship.”
“He knows we’re engaged. I told him.”
“Was that before or after he kissed you?”
I sigh in frustration about how my reunion with Rick unfolded. “After. I am sure your pictures tell the story. I pushed him away and made it clear there’s no chance because I am with you. Period. Then I left.”
Taylor nods to indicate my response was satisfactory.
“I should tell you that our plans are finalized for Montana to confront Lyla. We are going the Saturday after next.” His affect is flat, but his words make my heart jump.
“Everything is set?”
“Yes. And your mother’s travel is taken care of as well. As far as anyone knows, I am going to look at vacation homes with my fiancée and future mother-in-law.”
“Who knows? If all goes well, maybe we get one.” My attempt at humor bombs. Taylor gives me a look out of the corner of his eye and lifts his eyebrow. “I was joking!”
“I realize that. Do you realize that the fundraiser is tonight?”
With everything that occurred today, I had almost forgotten that the gala was this evening.
“Uh, yeah! Of course!”
Taylor shakes his head at me with a disapproving grin. “We leave the house at six-thirty. My father and Nan will be there. I plan on announcing the engagement to them before we enter the party, just so you know.”
“All sounds great,” I say giving him a thumbs up. Can’t wait to watch Stone Cold Nan Holden, the matriarch of the Holden empire, nibble on a few carrots while I plow into my steak. “Seriously, I am excited about the foundation. I am honored that you thought of me. I hope your dad and Nan will be excited about the engagement.”
“I am sure they will be. Well, Nan will be as excited as she can muster for anything, but Randall will be relieved I think, despite your suspicion that he would rather not gain you as a daughter in law.” Taylor grabs his jacket. “I drove myself here, Harrison can take you back.”
“I don’t want to see him right now.”
“Are you upset with him?”
“Frankly, yes.”
“You went into a vehicle with an unidentified man after telling him to wait for you. He was concerned for your safety and his job security.”
“Is that why he felt the need to take pictures too?”
“That falls under job security.”
“You wouldn’t fire Harrison.”
“I wouldn’t, but that’s because he’s great at what he does. This includes informing me when you’ve gone AWOL. I take very good care of him and his family and I have earned his loyalty. I am sorry if that makes you feel betrayed, but he has to do the things he does. Yet, you’ve slipped behind his back several times now and made his job impossible. You asked him to take you to the church, so you put him in a tough spot. Yes, I would prefer he take you everywhere, but you’re an adult and that’s your call now that Eric’s gone. And he would take a bullet for either one of us. He’s the reason you and I can sleep in peace from Eric and never being linked to Eric’s disappearance. So remember that as you sulk on your ride home with him.”
“Fine,” I concede. I guess he has a few valid points. “But it would have been nice to know the level of monitoring I would be under.”
“Well, now you do.”
“And who monitors you for me, huh?”
“Maybe you can get Mr. MacAllister, your trusted P.I., back on the payroll,” Taylor says snarkily.
“Touché.”
“I really need to leave if I have any chance of getting back home in time tonight. Please get your ass back home, and for Christ’s sake stay out of trouble for the next few hours.”
***
Driving up to the fundraiser brings back bittersweet memories of the gala in St.Petersburg: the way Taylor looked at me in my gown, spending the night hooked on this intriguing man’s arms, the jealousy I felt when Tatyana stole his attention, our alone time admiring the the surreal glow of the white nights. Mostly importantly, it was the night I admitted to myself that I truly wanted this man enough to risk my relationship with Rick. Everything changed that night.
And now, here we are seven months later. Warm summer breezes have turned into biting cold gusts; never-ending days have become long nights; opalescent skies are now muted; colorful landscapes are cloaked in snow. I could never have imagined the events that have transpired since then, as it seems it would require a lifetime for such things to unfold. Taylor and I are both such different people, having grown in ways that only could have happened through finding each other. I walked into the gala in St. Pete’s an administrative assistant, a prop to help a man I hardly knew deal with demons that he had carried his entire life. Today, I walk into this fundraiser as th
e person with whom he will spend the rest of his life, a woman who has helped him begin to confront those very demons that consumed him, but also the woman who has helped summon new ones to replace the old. Except now, the demons that haunt us don’t seem as powerful because we have each other.
Taylor is quiet the entire ride. Yes, these things have become easier, but they will never be easy. His anxiety will always exist. Unlike that Russian gala, here he is the center of attention, representing the Holden family name and their charitable efforts. It’s the first time I feel the pressure as well. We’ve kept our relationship private, but today I will be on his arm, presented to the world as his fiancée. I too will represent the powerful Holden family name.
Up until today, it hadn’t been so difficult because Taylor has always guarded his private life from the public eye.
It’s pretty simple to stay out of the news. You just do it. In my line of work, you have to want to be famous to get in the tabloids. It’s not like I’m a rock star or an actor.—His words when I asked him how his private life stays that way. That included a promise to me that he would never appear as a guest judge on Shark Tank. I thanked him excessively for that.
Taylor’s look today is also different from the gala in Russia: he has grown back the facial hair that he shaved off upon our return from our trip, maintaining well-groomed scruff. It’s something he never would have done before as he always maintained a clean-shaven face for the office and public events, but I told him I liked the scruff. He never said as much, but I assume he kept it because of my comment. Taylor’s head, however, is still just as well-coiffed as it was last time, contrasting perfectly with his beard. This time his tux is navy with black lapels, the look polished with a classic black bow-tie. The olive undertones of his skin and the blue in his eyes pop against the midnight hue of his suit.
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