Jet

by Vivian Gray

  She’d just been really busy. She’d woken up one day, twenty-two, and the only thing she’d ever screwed was her vibrator. So when Cat suggested this – Well, Bree had put up the same fight she always did, but she was used to giving in at this point, and frankly, there were much worse things she could think of than giving it up for cash. It was definitely a better deal than just finding some random guy at a bar to fuck her and forget her.

  And Bree had kept track; her purchase price had been three times what any of the other girls had gone for. Even seventy-five percent of that was going to take care of a huge chunk of her expenses. And the guys who had been bidding on her at first, some of them had been absolutely terrifying to look at; the hunger in their eyes had sent curls of fear through her stomach and her limbs, urging her to run for it.

  But the man who’d entered the bidding war all of a sudden… there was something else to him. She hadn’t been able to make out his color from the stage, with the lights in her eyes, but there was something about his posture. He was coiled, ready for action – but not necessarily violence. Just... ready.

  It woke something in her; the same thing that had been sending heat down to her pussy since she got dressed in front of that mirror, just cheap enough that her mother would have been furious. She kept thinking how she looked like a cheap whore – and every thought sent a little pulse of need through her.

  She’d never felt like this, never felt that wet heat in her cunt, or felt incredibly conscious of how very empty she was. How urgently she wanted to beg to be filled. She tried to pull her rational mind back online, but there was no way. It didn’t matter that she didn’t really know what she was begging for; she wanted to beg.

  When she was brought to the man’s table, she saw that he had dark hair that hung down around his face. He had dark, dark eyes, but there was something about them that seemed... Safe was entirely wrong. But not actually angry or violent. And when she glanced down over him, she saw that he was rock-hard in his jeans – and he was showing off for her.

  He was huge. She’d watched plenty of porn – she was a child raised by the Internet, after all – and she was pretty sure that he was sporting something impressive inside his jeans. When he stood up and put his arm around her waist, telling her that he was taking her somewhere private, her knees went absolutely weak. She had to put her hand on his chest to stay balanced on her ridiculously high heels. From the way his mouth moved when she did it, he didn’t seem to mind.

  Even in those heels, she wasn’t as tall as him. She wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination, but he was just huge. Gorgeously huge, in every way, it would seem. He guided her along, leading her through the back of the club to a small, discreet door she hadn’t even noticed. As soon as it closed behind them, the noise of the club faded.

  She followed him down a short hallway, then up a flight of stairs. “Do you live up here?” It seemed weird to talk, but it maybe it was weird not to?

  There wasn’t any irritation in his voice as he answered, though, so that was good: “Yeah. It’s my club, so it makes sense to stay close.”

  “Oh.” Great response, Bree, very classy.

  He was quiet behind her, which probably made sense – since he was a few steps behind her, and she was wearing a very, very short skirt. God, she was soaked, and her favorite purple thong was doing absolutely nothing to contain the moisture. Were her thighs actually glistening? It felt like it.

  At the top of the stairway, he stepped in front of her again, making a very obvious show of adjusting his cock in his jeans, and then wrapping his arm around her waist again. There was a single door at the end of a short hallway, and when he unlocked it, she found herself in a small, clean apartment.

  There wasn’t a ton to it; she walked into a living room, with a big TV and a comfortable looking couch, before she spotted a kitchen and a half-closed door that appeared to lead to a bathroom. Just past the kitchen was another door which she assumed led to a bathroom.

  This didn’t look like the apartment of a guy who had just dropped tens of thousands of dollars on a girl for three days. But hey, she’d never to her knowledge met that guy before, so what did she know?

  “You need to freshen up or anything?” He gestured to the bathroom.

  Bree had a quick impulse to run to the bathroom and lock the door, but that was stupid. First, he was big enough to knock the door down with very little effort. Second, these stupid heels would probably kill her if she tried it.

  And third? Third, she’d been bought and paid for. Cheap little whore.

  “I’m fine,” she said and stepped in to wrap her arms around Jet’s neck.

  He snarled in her ear and moved faster than she’d expected. He shoved her backward so that her back hit the wall, and before she could catch her breath, he was there, pinning her. He was five or six inches taller than her, even in her four-inch heels, but it put him at just the right height to catch her mouth in a bruising kiss. She gasped against him, every part of her on fire, and he took advantage of it, slamming his tongue into her mouth. She met him, move for move, her body begging for what she didn’t know she needed.

  He caught her right leg under the knee and lifted, wrapping it around his waist. Her skirt was so tiny that it didn’t even need to move up her hips. He shoved her thong to the side, and before she could even breathe there were two thick, rough fingers crammed inside of her.

  She cried out and broke the kiss, her hands clenching at his neck and twisting in his hair. It just seemed to make him snarl harder, and then his fingers were moving. He was bigger than any vibrator she’d ever used, and when she’d fingered herself, she’d rarely needed more than a single finger to get off. He was stretching her to the point of pain, and she found herself trying to back away from him. He had her smashed up against the wall, and there wasn’t anywhere to go.

  “Fuck, you’re tight,” he snarled out, moving his fingers faster, harder. He was stretching them, stretching her, and he fit in a third as she cried out. “Almost makes me think Brass was telling the truth.”

  She couldn’t find words to answer. It hurt, it hurt a lot, and the pain somehow felt good, better – better than anything she’d ever done to herself. But it didn’t stop the hurt.

  “Please,” she cried out, her hips bucking against him in a rhythm that she’d never needed before.

  “Oh don’t worry,” he said, his fingers moving harder and faster, so much that tears pricked her eyes. “You don’t have to beg me to treat you like a whore.”

  She cried out again, pleasure and shame burning through her in equal measure. She felt another gush of wetness, making his fingers move easier. He groaned hard against her, and she felt his other hand come away from her back, heard the sound of his belt being undone and his jeans unsnap. The tears spilled over, rolling down her cheeks. His fingers hurt so much… What was his cock going to feel like?

  “Please,” she begged again. “Please, can we slow down a little?”

  He laughed at her, his fingers curling up to touch that rough spot deep inside her cunt, the one that made her arch and cry out and sometimes even come when she was playing on her own in bed. “You can’t tell me you don’t want it.”

  She was spiraling towards pleasure, she could feel it, but she didn’t want it somehow, it was too much. Coming on his rough fingers while it hurt this much, it wasn’t right. She shook her head hard, and he laughed again. “Liar.” His fingers curled hard again, dragging over that spot as he pressed his thumb hard into her clit. She screamed, trying desperately to keep the orgasm at bay.

  And then his fingers were gone, and his cock was there. He lifted her up enough to line his cock up with her cunt, her feet dangling, and then he slammed into her.

  It hurt so much she screamed, her fingers tangling in his hair and arching against him, trying to get away – but away just drove her farther down, made him fill her up more, harder. And to her incredible shame, the orgasm wasn’t being driven further away by the pain, it jus
t pulled it closer. She was going to come whether she liked it or not. She needed that release like she needed to breathe, but she was terrified of it. She suddenly realized that she’d never actually had an orgasm before, not like this was going to be, and she was going to shatter into pieces and die from the intensity of it.

  “Please, it hurts,” Bree said, trying one more time.

  “Whore. You like it better when it hurts,” the man snarled out. He’d lifted both her knees now, wrapping her legs around her waist so he could bounce her on his cock while she screamed and clawed at him. He leaned down enough to catch one of her overfull breasts in his mouth and bite down.

  The orgasm tore her up for a moment. She bucked against him hard, feeling her cunt clamp down on him as she spasmed. Her legs locked tight, pulling him closer. It was so intense, so hard and shocking and beautiful and overwhelming that she only barely felt his groan, felt him tighten and then slow, fucking her just a little more as her cunt milked him dry.

  He pulled free of her and set her down. She almost toppled over – one of her heels had fallen off, and the other hadn’t. He caught her, held her while she kicked off the other heel, and then stepped away. Bree tried to hold that sexy, porn star attitude she’d been using all night long, but it was cracked now, and she wasn’t sure how to get it back.

  She’d thought it would be rough. Everyone said it hurt – the first time. But that? That had been brutal. And the fact that it was so brutal, the fact that her cunt was aching and sore and felt bruised... that made her want it again, and more, and as soon as she could get it. And that wasn’t what anyone said they wanted.

  Bree had watched plenty of porn where people begged to be hurt, and she’d teased herself along to the fantasies on the screen, but it had never been what was in her head when she came. She’d never thought it would be what she wanted.

  Her arms curled around her stomach, and she realized she was still crying. And the man was standing there watching her, a slightly confused expression her face.

  “Hey. You okay?” His voice was gruff, but not unkind.

  “What’s your name?” It twisted something up inside that she hadn’t known, and she wasn’t sure it was an unpleasant sensation at all.

  “Jet,” he said, that confusion lingering.

  “Hi, Jet,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake. “Thanks for taking my virginity.”

  And then she burst into sobs.

  Chapter Three

  Jet stared at the girl, eyes wide, as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do next. It had absolutely never occurred to him that what they’d said up on the block was real. What girl in this day and age made it to her twenties without – Oh god.

  “Bree,” he said, trying to make his voice firm without being harsh, “how old are you?”

  She looked up at him, her fingers still half covering her eyes. The makeup she wore had to be some kind of everlasting stuff because it hadn’t budged, even with all the waterworks. She stared for a long moment, then scoffed.

  “I’m twenty-three,” she said. “Don’t worry. I’m legal.”

  “That’s not—” Okay, no, that was exactly what he’d meant. Okay, at least there was that. The part of him that had started to ratchet up into real fear slowly relaxed. “I didn’t realize.”

  She looked at him like he was the stupidest thing she’d ever seen. He didn’t like that at all, but what the hell was there to do about it? “That man – what was his name? I think they called him Brass. He said it, right out there. That was why everyone was bidding so high, wasn’t it?”

  “Well, yeah,” Jet said, trying to figure out how to say this without sounding like a complete asshole. “But all the girls say it. No one means it. I didn’t for a second think…” He took a long breath. “Look, do you want a beer? I kind of really want a beer.”

  She laughed, and there was something to the sound that relaxed him a little further. She isn’t angry, he thought. She is just... startled. And yeah, if he’d known that was her first time... Okay, he wouldn’t have gone softer, he didn’t really know how to go softer. What they’d just done was the kind of sex that felt good and got him hard and kept him hard. But he might have gone a little slower. Like she asked you to do.

  Shit.

  “Yeah,” Bree replied. “Yeah, I’d really like a beer.”

  He gestured to the couch, and she sat down. She winced a little when her ass hit the cushions; he tried not to wince in response. He knew he wasn’t a small man. She’d been more than wet enough to take him, but he’d pushed her pretty hard and far. But damn, she had loved it, she had been screaming when she came.

  In the fridge, he had a couple of options: standard store brand cans, mediocre bottles that should have been cheaper, and in cans, and the summer honey microbrew that Brass had come up with. Most of the barrels had gone to draft in the club over the summer, but Brass had bottled up enough for Jet to have it throughout the fall. He’d loved that honey brew in a way that he was hardly willing to talk about. He had enough trouble with Kane and the Red Runners wandering around and being as shitty as they were. Some asshole calling him a bitch for liking boutique beers was going to be the last thing he dealt with.

  Bree seemed like the kind of girl who would enjoy a sweet microbrew. He looked around the kitchen, trying to see what else he could offer her. He’d brought up chicken tenders from the bar last night and hadn’t eaten them; he tossed those on a plate with a cup of dressing as dipping sauce, then carried it all to the couch.

  He’d never bothered getting a table; he hardly ever ate here, just drank and slept and sometimes fucked. He’d never questioned bringing Bree up here; for a different girl, he might have just taken her to one of the back rooms of the club. But Bree... Well, he was glad. She at least deserved to have her first fuck in someone’s actual home, not just some random room in the back of a dirty club.

  This place barely qualified as his home, but it was still the best he had to offer.

  She eyed the food for a long minute, then glanced at him.

  “No, really,” he said. “You were being sexy before. Aren’t you hungry?”

  She took a long breath, then nodded. “Yeah. I was too nervous to eat before, and I was way too nervous to eat after. So. Yeah.”

  He nudged the plate towards her again, and after yet another long pause, she reached out and took one chicken tender between two fingers. She dunked it in the sauce and took a small bite – then her eyes went wide.

  “These are good,” she said, staring and taking another, bigger, bite.

  “Caroline – she works the bar and the grill – is good at her work. Those aren’t some frozen crap; she makes them herself, and she smacks me with a spoon if I ask for her spice mix.”

  Bree laughed again, a little looser this time, and Jet watched the way she moved. There was something about this girl that caught his attention. In the club downstairs, he’d tried telling himself that it was just about how she’d looked up on stage and how rough some of those perverts would have been with her – but it was more than that. She was pretty, real pretty, and there was something about her eyes that he liked.

  He scolded himself internally. Yeah, he’d paid for three days with the girl, but after what he’d just done… Damn. He’d have to make sure she was okay. Feeding her wasn’t going to be all he needed to do. “So, what brought a good girl to my stage to be auctioned off?”

  “A good girl?” She took another bite and then a swig of her beer. “What makes you think I’m a good girl?”

  He scoffed. “What other kind of girl makes it to her twenties without popping her cherry?” He winced at the language, but she laughed again. So that was alright.

  “Okay, fair.” She sighed, leaning back. It did tantalizing things to that skirt of hers, the one that wasn’t even really long enough to cover her ass cheeks, and put his mind to thoughts of burying his face in that sweet pussy. “You really want to hear my whole sob story?”

  “Sure
, why not.” He took a swig of his own beer and waited.

  “I doubt it’s really that original. My parents were struggling to stay middle class before the economy fell apart. They wanted me to go to college but couldn’t help me. I decided on a trade school – thought I’d be able to pay the bills alright. But working two jobs and going to school is a lot, it turns out, and I’m screwed for cash next semester; I’ve borrowed so much money that the bank’s not letting me borrow more, even for student loans. I thought this would be a way to get enough cash to pay my bills and maybe get a little ahead.” Her cheeks suddenly went absolutely scarlet. “Plus, being twenty-three and a virgin is a buzzkill. On the rare occasions when I went on dates, I was always freaked out that the guy would freak out that I hadn’t – you know, fucked before. So I thought this would, I don’t know, take care of that problem.”

  There was no goddamn reason that should have made his dick stand up straight again. “Not completely original,” he agreed. “But not as common as you might think, either.”