by Cynthia Dane
Oh my sweet merciful justice, he is so hot. Her thighs trembled as she wiped sweat from her forehead. Vincent stood beside the bed, ripping off his shirt and discarding his trousers. His cock, wet and glistening from Nala’s climax downstairs, faced her and prompted her to open her legs to him, each toe curling around the edge of the bed as she propped herself up on her elbows.
“Now say that you want me.” His voice as he completely disrobed before her made Nala tremble. “I want to hear you say it. I need to know what you want from me.”
Both of her hands pressed against her forehead in a futile attempt to recharge. “I want you to completely take me over. I…” She wasn’t going to say it, and then she saw him standing before her, his lascivious eyes drinking her in as the rest of him became firmer, harder, more determined to devour her in this bed. “I want you to own me.”
Those were not words Nala Nazarov would say out loud, even if she fleetingly thought them. She was supposed to be independent, a woman who didn’t bend to the will of a single man – not like she was wanting to now, as she gazed up on Vincent’s muscular form and felt herself completely melt into his bed.
Those were words Nightingale would say… but that identity was pushed away for now. Realizing that every thought she had belonged solely to Nala, her true self, was almost scarier than anything Vincent could physically do to her.
“That’s funny,” Vincent said, crawling between her legs and spreading them wide with a touch of his hand. “I was hoping you would say that.”
“Are you going to do it?” Her meek voice belonged to someone else. As much as she wanted this, she was afraid. Afraid of what? Losing her independence? Any respect Vincent still had for her? Why should I be ashamed? I told him to stop being ashamed! Now I’m getting what I want! She should be happy that Vincent was willing to give her his all after feeling so bitter and guilty a while ago. “What are you going to do?”
“Do you want to hear?”
She bit her lip. “Yes.”
He was between her legs, hovering above her, head lowering until his arms bent on either side of her head and his breath, hot and commanding, touched her ear. “I’m going to own you, Nala. I’m going to take you until you know, well and good, that you belong to me and no other man – or woman. Nobody else can have you like I do. You’ve awakened the beast in me. Now you must face him.”
Vincent held her arms above her head, his hands clasping hers. She knew to leave them there when he lowered his hands and cupped her breasts, freeing them from her bra and pinching nipples already hard from arousal. Nala nearly cried from the renewed pleasure it gave her.
“I’m ready,” she whimpered, legs wrapping tight around his waist. Although her thighs were sore, and her slit almost too wet to bear, she was ready. “Do whatever you want to me. Make me feel like there’s no other man in the world but you.”
The look he flashed her said that he could make that sound easy… but deep inside, he would be doing his damndest to make it a reality. Even men like Vincent couldn’t make the world bend at the knee. They had to earn it.
“Tell me you want this,” Vincent said for the hundredth time that night. He guided his cock to her opening again, pressing it into her folds. I feel so easy right now. Nala was not a woman of any upstanding quality. She had already been used by Vincent once tonight. Just a matter of time before he used her again, this time for his own ends. “I need to hear you say it.”
“Fuck yes, I want your damned cock.” Nala felt her whole body jiggle as Vincent sat up and moved the bed from his weight alone. “And this time I want you to finish.”
“That won’t be hard.” He made her close her eyes, every inch of him slowly taking her again. There’s no resistance now. Nala’s body was prepared. It knew what to expect. It wanted him, tonight, tomorrow, probably a year from now.
“And I…” Nala bit back her words as she was temporarily shaken with new pleasure. “I want you to talk dirty. For fuck’s sake, give me the full treatment like you almost did the first time we did it.”
“I was angry then.” Vincent loomed over her, his cock back where it belonged. “I’m not angry right now. I don’t want to be angry at you.”
“I didn’t say to be angry. I said talk dirty, sir.”
“Oh, it’s like that?” His cock thrust up into her, once, eliciting a gasp of surprise from Nala’s throat. “You want to hear what kind of girl you are?”
The smile on Nala’s face could break bones if anyone gazed up on it. “Only if you’re as harsh on yourself too.”
“I always am, darling.”
His body crashed into hers. From how quickly he pulled out again, Nala knew this conversation was over for now.
Fine.
Her nails, cut nearly down to the cuticle because she could never be assed with them, attempted to dig into his shoulder blades as he thrust into her again and again. She wailed, she cried out, she whimpered in surrender as Vincent Lane, a man she happened to meet completely by chance and shared a similar history with, showed her all the reasons she belonged to him, even if only for tonight.
“You’re so tight on my cock even now,” he growled into her ear, taking her to a new level of pleasure – the level she briefly experienced the first time he fucked her. “Even after all that, Nala, you’re still exactly what my cock needs. You fucking succubus.”
Yes, yes, that was it. Nala wanted to know she was a demon, like Vincent was. They were both broken, shoddy angels no longer good enough for Heaven. They lurked in the shadows, sipped from the cup of bitterness, and spent their days searching the earth for their next victims. So happened that succubus Nala set her sights on an incubus like Vincent. What a formidable pair.
“More,” Nala pleaded, wondering how much longer she had before Vincent finished inside her. “Please!”
“How dare you, Nala. How dare you do this to me? I’ve made it this long without faltering. Then you…” He stilled within her, reorienting himself. “Then you come along and transform me back into this insatiable beast. All I want is your damned cunt. The wetter and warmer you get, the more I want to feast upon this body of yours.”
Oh, Heaven! A glimpse of the Heaven she had been cast from!
“Take it!” Vincent clasped her arms, holding her shoulders down on the bed as her hands flailed above her head. Her legs shook in the air, the bed straining beneath the force of Vincent impaling her. “Take it, you fucking she-demon. You…”
Say it! Nala wanted to hear how easy she was. How much she loved this sort of thing. How disposable she could be, if her Master no longer found her amusing. He’ll never. He’ll want me forever.
The word fell off his tongue and burrowed in her ear, filling her body with the new spark needed to set off her biggest orgasm of the night.
Soon nothing in the world existed outside of Vincent. Vincent. This man. He had achieved what he set out to do, which was to make Nala think he was the only thing in the world that mattered. Not hard to accomplish when she was solely at the whims of the fate they conjured together. So great was this moment that Nala could feel her heart split in two: the side that rejected any and all emotions, dismissing them as futile. And the side that went straight to Vincent, begging him to take her in and keep her safe forever.
“Nala!” The roar echoing in her ear only brought her back to reality for a moment. That moment was long enough for her to see the look of exquisite pleasure on his countenance as he held himself within her, directing her hips up so she could catch every drop of his passion.
The warmth flooded her with promise. The swelling of his cock, rippling through her loins, made her feel more vulnerable than she ever had before. It was beyond her comprehension, this experience. What made her think that such a thing could happen to someone like her? How had she seduced this man again and again? Who was she, other than some stupid girl too brash for her own good? The only thing bringing them together was their thirst for knowledge and justice. What kept them together?
/> It wasn’t…
No, it couldn’t possibly be…
Nala wanted to laugh, but she was too involved with the feelings surging through her body in the form of a man named Vincent Lane.
He collapsed on top of her, breathless, his cock lodged deep within her. He moaned her name a few more times, languid kisses falling on her throat and sauntering up to her lips. She lay like a lifeless doll, too exhausted to function.
“That was amazing,” Vincent muttered into the crook of her neck. “You’re amazing.”
Nala pushed her hair out of her face and took a deep breath, forcing herself back into the real world. Not an easy feat after what had transpired.
She was in a fog, a haze as Vincent dislodged from her and attempted to bring her into his hold. She didn’t want to fight it. Everything in her heart told her to turn over and give in to the temptation, like she gave in to all the others so far.
It was intimate. It was romantic. Her, in his arms, feeling him breathe steadily against her body as his seed emerged and reminded her to whom she belonged. Yet as the haze gradually dispersed from Nala’s brain, her fight or flight response kicked in, yelling at her to leave.
“Oh, no you don’t.” Vincent pulled her back down as she fought to get up. “I know you want to leave like you always do. I’m not saying you can’t go home tonight, but give me at least a few minutes of feeling your body next to mine.”
Good Lord, she would find the one man in the world who wanted to cuddle after sex. Nala gave into it, letting him rest against her as his fingers slowly caressed the curve of her back. She leaned her cheek against his chest and stared into the darkness before her.
Don’t fall in love.
Her heart leaped in her throat at the prospect.
Don’t fall in love.
She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling the natural scent of the man she so wanted to flee from. Soon. She could go home soon. Until then, she was his prisoner, fighting to escape.
Entry #11
Nightingale’s words continue to echo in my head. What I did to her replays even more.
Other things happened tonight, but what I remember most are her harsh admonishments about how I behave toward her. And what I do to her.
I told myself… I told myself I would not feel anything more than physical desire for her. It’s just sex, I tell myself. We’re hopped up on desire because of the nature of our infiltration. Surrounded by sex all night. It’s only natural for me to get a hard-on around a beautiful young woman. Let alone one who apparently finds me attractive as well.
But isn’t it fucking hilarious that I’m acting like the needy one. ME! I had to beg that woman to stay a few extra minutes tonight so I could, what, “bathe in the afterglow?” I don’t know how else to say it. I gave her everything I had. I told her that she had awakened the beast roaring inside of me, and she had to face it. She did. She did so well that I think she may actually get off on how rough and coarse she makes me.
We are a sick pair.
It’s insane. Even now, spent from sex and with the usual droopy eyelids, I can only think of everything I want to do to her. Tie her up until she can’t move and at my whims. I want to mount her like a monster and leave my mark all over her tiny body. I’m not a really big guy, by all accounts, but she’s so petite that I feel like a giant compared to her. It’s so easy to wrap my whole body around her and consume her fucking soul.
No woman has made me feel like this. No woman, ever. Not even Desirée stirred such monstrously possessive feelings inside of me. I’m sure the potential was there, but I was a normal guy back then. I didn’t know what it meant to be so angry and bitter. I didn’t have those black emotions to channel through sex. The first woman I was with after Desirée… well, after she died… the first woman was five months later. I felt so guilty, so ashamed that I purposely got fuck-plastered drunk with a woman and probably spent a whole two seconds inside of her before we both passed out only to wake up with regretful hangovers.
I’ve prided myself on staying true to her memory, even though I know it’s not realistic. Most men have moved on by now. They still care, they still love the woman they’ve lost, but they move on. Nala reminded me of that tonight. The idea that I could love again… that there is room in this fucked up heart for more than one person is so beyond me. Desirée was it. I knew she was the love of my life two months into dating her. The way our hearts sang together was like the art we created in bed.
Now I hear a bird chirping at my window this late at night. It’s hours after dusk and even more hours until dawn. Yet it sings. A nightingale. It’s all in my head, but it’s there, nonetheless.
Nightingale may have ran from me, but her spirit is here, singing to me. The most beautiful voice I’ve heard in three years.
Is it wrong? Was she right? I wish Desirée were here to give me an answer.
Would you be mad, Desirée? Can I still see you in Heaven even if my heart moves on?
The only thing I fear in this world is losing someone I love. If I love Nightingale, I will have to fight to keep her alive. And fight to keep her by my side, never running away again. I feel that the first will be easier than the latter.
Chapter 7
“New info came in,” said the text from Vincent. “Next Aviary meeting is at Crow’s house in the West Hills. This is going to be our big chance to find evidence. Hope you’re ready to put that sneaky body to good use.”
Nala looked up from her phone and stared into her half-eaten bowl of oatmeal. I wish I had work today. As much as she liked a good day off to rest and recharge, she hated sitting around that crappy house. She couldn’t afford to go out and sit in a café for a while. The weather was too shitty to go to the park – besides, last she checked, a new homeless camp had set up there. Nala often wasn’t that bothered by them, but her last few strolls down a busy avenue led to her being harassed more often than not. A girl could only take so many dick flashes and requests to smile.
Finally, she replied, oatmeal spoon in her other hand. “Sounds good. Tell me when.”
“Tomorrow.”
Oh, joy. Work and then tearing up Crow’s fancy mansion. Where would Nala find the time?
“How are you doing? It’s been a couple of days.”
Ah, shit. Vincent wasn’t getting clingy, was he? Ever since Nala finally snuck out Friday night, she had been avoiding texting him, even if she had a question he could quickly answer. I think I inspired him too much. When Nala told him to get over his shame for being human, she hadn’t anticipated him focusing his romantic efforts on her. What is a girl to do? A handsome, athletic billionaire wanted her pussy 24/7. In a perfect world, Nala would be counting her good fortune and calling her mom up to brag. However, this wasn’t a perfect world. There were many barriers left up between them, and besides…
There was no way they could ever pursue a real relationship until this Aviary thing was over.
Men. They were so high maintenance.
Because she wasn’t being tortured enough, Kathy and Steven stopped by to shoot the Mary-Jane breeze with Patrick in the living room. Nala pulled out headphones to block out their asinine conversations, but she couldn’t escape that sweet, heinous smell of marijuana as it sparked up and seeped deep into the living room walls. The worth of this place is totally shot. It being Portland, however, probably meant the shoddy house was only worth 500k instead of 600k.
Once she finished up her meal, she escaped into her closet, since that was better than being subjected to the pothead triplets. Nala curled beneath a blanket and played on her new phone. This thing is cooler than I took for granted. Vincent had bought her an unlimited data plan, meaning she could look up anything on the internet that she wanted. Watch videos. Listen to music. Play on social media. Finally, after who knew how long, Nala was finally starting to feel like a real young adult. Too bad she couldn’t print from her phone and still had to go to the library to do that.
While she perused an article about the dyin
g bee plight, her phone buzzed with another message from Vincent.
“I have something for you. It was supposed to be delivered to your house, but there was a miscommunication and it was delivered to my office instead. I’m leaving early. You home?”
“You don’t have to do that. You can give it to me the next time you see me.”
“I’d like to give it to you before tomorrow.”
“Maybe later.”
She thought that would mean later that evening. Maybe that night. Not five minutes later when she heard someone knock on the door and one of her stoned housemates stumble to answer.
By the time Nala realized that it might be Vincent, it was too late. She was up in her closet, but her closet door was also opening without her permission.
“There she is!” Patrick said, his finger pointing right down at a mortified Nala. “This is her room! Have fun!”
Oh. My. God.
Nala’s mouth dropped open so Vincent’s wouldn’t have to. His eyes bulged, however, taking in the sight of Nala’s bullshit of a “room.” Did not help her ego that he was dressed in his work outfit, slacks crisp and burgundy shirt hiding beneath a plain black suit jacket. She could smell his aftershave all the way down there. This is it. This is the pinnacle of my shame. Nala had to look away before she cried.
“I, uh…” Vincent pulled a hand from his pocket. Whatever he had intended to give her remained in his pants. For once it’s not his dick. Oh, God, why did she look there?
“This has happened.” Nala forced herself up, nearly knocking her head into the closet rod holding all her clothes, including some of the nice dresses Vincent had given her. “Get a good look right now. I live in a closet.”
“What?”
Nala had never been forthcoming about that. It was not any of Vincent’s business, although surely he had assumed she rented a whole bedroom like a decent human being. Now he faced the brutal truth. Nala, his fuck buddy and sugar baby, was living in a dilapidated house for potheads and barely had a closet space to call her own.