I throw her on the bed, not gently, but harshly, the way I'm used to, but then I freeze for a second, trying to figure out if I'm acting too rough with her.
Do I really care if I scare her? Of course not. She knows what to expect; I warned her that I love a hard fuck.
Then why do I want to make her enjoy it more than I care about how I feel?
I take a look at her once again. She doesn't seem offended; her blurred gaze is filled with lust and anticipation, and the way she looks at me makes me want to roar with hunger.
I feel as if I haven't had sex for ages.
I start unbuckling my belt, slowly, enjoying the way she looks at me.
"I will tie your hands with this belt if you provoke me," I say, taking it off and throwing it on the bed next to her.
"Provoke you?" She raises an eyebrow, a mischievous smile appearing on her face.
"You have to obey what I say or else you'll be punished," I continue, taking off my shirt.
She places her lower lip between her teeth when she sees me naked, without even trying to hide how intrigued she is about what she’s seeing.
Just like a little lamb would do when she sees a wolf for the first time. Before she finds out how dangerous he is.
I bet she has never been fucked by a real man before. She probably goes to some fancy college with all those guys in Ralph Lauren polos and cashmere vests who learned how to fuck by watching porn.
I can feel the blood rushing to my head, and my temples begin to pound with anger.
For some reason, I can't stand the thought that someone touched this little lamb, treating her in a way she was not born to be treated.
I banish this thought; it's not my business. Her personal life doesn't concern me; she can do whatever she wants.
I take off the rest of my clothes, and when my boxers are on the floor, her jaw literally drops in surprise.
I smirk, enjoying the way she looks at my dick as if she has never seen a man's cock before. That once again proves that no one has ever fucked her with the dignity she deserves.
"Are you ready for me, lamb?" I ask with a smile, getting onto the bed.
She shakes her head, grabbing the sheets with her fingers.
"I don't believe you," I whisper and lean closer, placing my palm between her thighs and pressing my fingers to her center.
She licks her lips and throws her head back when I touch her pussy.
My little lamb is so sensitive, so responsive.
"Your panties are saturated, lamb, not even just wet," I say with a smile, imagining how her wet pussy will squeeze me inside that tight little hole.
But a couple of minutes torturing her before that would give me no less enjoyment.
I slowly take her panties off, exposing her bare, fully shaved cunt.
She prepared herself well for tonight.
My eye twitches at the thought that some other predator might have gotten this lamb's pussy today instead of me.
I don't fucking care, I think, hardly trusting myself, trying to change the course of my thoughts.
I lean closer, placing myself between her thighs, inhaling the scent of her honey.
She tries to squeeze her legs together when I press my nose to her clit, but I spread them sharply to the sides of my body.
"Don't even try to hide this cunt from me," I bark, pressing her legs to the bed so she can't even move them and licking her pussy from the hole up to her clit.
She moans, arching her back. Her eyes shut, and her fingers are clenching into the sheets.
"Do you get it?" I ask again, squeezing her thighs in my palms.
She nods silently without even opening her eyes.
"I asked, do you get it?" I slap her pussy with my palm.
"Oh, God!" she cries out, opening her eyes in surprise, unable to believe it. She tries to close her legs, but my chest does not allow her to do that.
"I'm not a god, lamb," I say as I move higher to her chest, my dick stroking her pussy on the way. "I'm the darkest devil you'll ever see in your life."
And then I pull down her bra hastily and press my lips to one of her swollen nipples, sucking it with my mouth as hard as I can.
She cries, this time louder, in a low, animalistic way, arching her back and grabbing me by the shoulders.
"Do you get it now, lamb?" I ask again and slap her pussy one more time, biting her nipple with my teeth simultaneously.
"Yes!" she screams, scratching my skin with her nails, trying to hurt me.
But she doesn't; she only increases my pleasure. And the way I touch her is exactly the way she needs because when I go lower, down to her pussy again, I see that her juices are already flowing out.
I press my lips to her center, sucking her clit as hard as I can, squeezing her ass in my palms at the same time.
She screams and tenses, trying to scissor her legs and moving her hips to increase friction, and I realize that she's going to come any second.
The most responsive woman I've ever seen.
I take her lower lips between my fingers and squeeze them, massaging her clit with my tongue.
It takes a couple circles before she starts shuddering, shaking like a leaf, exploding all over my face.
She's so tasty, so delicious. She's like a dessert, and although I don't like sweets, I could eat this cream the whole day if she'd let me.
I massage her pussy lips, pulling out every drop of her honey, trying to prolong her climax as much as I can, until I feel her muscles start to relax in my arms. Her legs fall to the sides of my body.
This woman is incredible. She's definitely one of a kind, and I almost regret that I never see women twice after having sex with them.
Almost.
I can't let myself do this to her; she doesn't deserve a man like me. She'll probably get married soon, right after graduation, to an Ivy League man who works as a lawyer, plays golf on weekends, and fucks her twice a week.
The man who will be approved by her parents. Someone who's definitely the opposite of me.
"Such a responsive lamb," I whisper into her pussy, loosening my grip and letting her lower lips rest a little before I torture them again. "So sensitive, even though I haven't inserted even one finger into this sweet cunt."
And then I lubricate my middle finger with her juice, and slowly, inch by inch, I insert it into her pussy.
She gasps in surprise, and I freeze.
What I feel inside of her is definitely the opposite of what I've expected.
She's a virgin.
Chapter Five
Savannah
I get up on my elbows, trying to pull away from him, but he grabs me by the hips, not letting me move.
For a moment, we simply stare at each other, and I can see clearly how the lust in his gaze turns into fury.
Like a lion attacking his prey, he jumps on top of me rapidly, without even giving me time to realize what is happening.
"Who are you?" he barks, placing his hand on my throat so I can't breathe.
I freeze; my eyes are locked with his, and the rage inside of those eyes makes my legs cold.
In a second, I comprehend that it's not his hand that’s not letting me breathe because he’s not holding my neck that tightly. It's my inner fear that’s stopping me; it’s paralyzing me.
"Who sent you here?" he roars once again when I still don't say a word.
He lets my neck go, and I gasp for air, trying to get up, but he doesn't let me, pressing my shoulders to the bed.
"How much did they pay you to set me up?"
I don't know what he is talking about. Still, the way his mood changed scares me so freaking much that I already regret coming to this club tonight, despite having had the best orgasm in my life.
"No one sent me," I say with a trembling voice. "I came by myself."
"Don't lie to me!" he roars, letting me go but not pulling away. "Why are you here?"
He leans on his arms, his torso hanging in the air inches from my body,
and I'm stuck in between his hands.
There's nowhere to run. Even if I scream, I'm sure no one will hear that. If they do, they'll just think that it's some kind of sex game. Because no matter how fancy and high priced this hotel is, almost everyone stays here because of the sex club in the basement.
I have to stay strong. I have to show him that I'm not afraid.
Can he hurt me? A couple of minutes ago, I thought he would never do that. I was starting to trust him. I was on the verge of giving him my virginity because of how passionate and gentle he is.
But he's not gentle anymore. He's looking at me as if I just stabbed him: furious and a little disappointed.
As if I really hurt his feelings.
If he hurts me back, no one will ever know that I was even here.
"I'm not lying," I continue, looking straight into his eyes to convince him. "I came here because my boyfriend cheated on me. I did the fake invitation. I wanted to get revenge."
His teeth clench, his lips press into a thin line, and his gaze travels over my face as if he's trying to decide what to do with me.
"Please don't hurt me," I beg, and a tear runs down my cheek. I hate myself for being such a coward.
After he sees me crying, his face softens a little, but he doesn't pull away, watching as another tear runs down my face.
I want to wipe it off and hide my face in the pillow. I hate it when someone sees me crying.
But I'm too terrified to do that.
"Is that what you think of me?" he asks, calmer this time. "That I'm a monster capable of hurting a woman?” He shakes his head as if telling me he cannot believe it, looking to the side. "Then why did you stay?" He looks at me again. "Does the thought that you may get hurt turn you on?"
"No." I shake my head immediately, but I’m not sure if it's true.
I don't know what turns me on; I was never this passionate with Liam. I always thought that my passion would increase with time. After I knew what sex was like, I'd understand what I like in bed and what I don't like.
But with this man, I have felt what real passion is. It's a tornado, coming out of nowhere and taking you by surprise without leaving you with a chance to get away. Even now, when I'm scared of him, I still want to feel his lips on mine again.
"There are rules in this club, and they are strict," he continues, pulling away from me and taking a seat on the bed. "All people must be over twenty-one because we have a bar here, and I don't want to get kids drunk. Before sending the invitation, we check everything about the person to make sure that the information provided by the claimant is real. There is no rape in this hotel, and no accidental deaths, even during BDSM games, because of how much we know about each person who comes here. They want privacy, and I give it to them, but they also know that they shouldn't cross the line."
I rise up slowly, taking a seat next to him, and his gaze drops lower to my body.
And then I realize that my panties are off, and my bra is lowered to my waist, while the shirt is fully open, so I'm totally on display for him.
He looks away immediately as if he's ashamed that he could ever touch me, as if he forbids himself to even look at me now.
I cover my body with the shirt, even though I’m still bottomless, I hold it over myself.
For some reason, I feel guilty that I didn't tell him I was a virgin. Maybe if I’d told him the truth, he would understand.
No, of course, he wouldn't. He would throw me out of his club, and I would never experience what I'd just felt again.
I really hoped that sex would be just as impressive with other men. I don't want to think that this man had given me the best orgasm of my life.
"How old are you?" he asks, looking into my eyes again.
"Eighteen," I confess, stroking my wet cheeks with one hand and holding the shirt with the other. "I turned eighteen today."
"Fuck." He lowers down, placing his elbows on his knees and taking his head in his palms, scrubbing his hair. "I can't believe I almost slept with a child."
I'm not a child! I want to scream, but the words stick in my throat.
He's thirty, maybe thirty-two, but it doesn’t seem old to me. I've been an adult for a long time already, no matter how old I was yesterday.
He does something I wasn't expecting at all. He leans to the bedside table, takes a pack of tissues, and holds them out for me.
"I'll give you another shirt, and my driver will get you back home," he says, not even looking at me, and gets up.
I remove the remnants of tears from my cheeks and watch how this gorgeous and still naked man is walking to the wardrobe for another shirt for me.
I can't believe my birthday ended up like this. My mom offered to throw a massive party in my honor. I’d declined it, thinking that I was going to spend the night with my boyfriend in a luxurious Beverly Hills hotel, which I'd dreamt of visiting since I’d watched "Pretty Woman" when I was twelve. Yeah, I've been slightly obsessed with Julia Roberts and Richard Gere since then.
When I found my boyfriend cheating on me, I was too terrified to tell my mom about it, even though she's my best friend, and we really do share everything. She didn't like Liam from the second she saw him, and I was perfectly aware of it. That's why I didn't want to tell her. Not because she would reproach me that she was right, but because she would get upset, and I didn't want that.
I imagined I'd come to this club with my fake ID and invitation, have a couple of drinks at the bar and meet a man who was gorgeous and old enough to be attentive for my first time. I thought that man would be thrilled that I was a virgin—isn't that what men want when they meet a young woman? I imagined that we'd have incredible sex and maybe meet once or twice again afterward, just to consolidate what I’d learned.
But I definitely had never imagined that the night would go this way.
When he returned to the room, he was fully dressed, holding a hanger with a light blue shirt in his hands.
"The elevator goes straight to the underground parking. The black Rolls Royce will be waiting for you right next to the doors," he says, avoiding my gaze and holding out a shirt for me.
He turns away for me to change, and it's so silly, as if he hadn’t seen me naked just a few minutes ago.
It pisses me off that he’s treating me like a baby.
"Is that it?" I ask after changing the shirt, and I can't hide the irritation in my voice.
"What do you mean?" he asks, surprised, and finally looks at me.
"This." I point to the bed. "What has just happened. Is that it?"
"I'm not gonna sleep with you," he retorts, taking a step closer. "I'm thirty-four years old. I don't sleep with barely legal women."
He's thirty-four; I’m happy he told me that. Maybe I'll somehow be able to figure out his name now.
I googled the name of the owner of this club, but there's nothing. Nobody knows who it is, not a single photo. There's only guesswork and gossip about Hollywood celebrities who have been here and who might be the owner.
"This is my birthday," I remind him.
I don't know why I said it; it sounds so pathetic. As if I want him to pity me and have sex with me out of mercy.
And I don't want that. I want him to want me the way he did when we first kissed.
"I don't care," he chuckles, taking a step closer, and now he's inches from me, looking with his menacing gaze down on me again. "You'll walk out of this club, and I'll never see you again. Do you get it?"
I swallow. His scent, the heat of his body mixed with the smell of me all over his face...that turns me on so much that I want to start crying again—not out of fear, but out of sadness that I'll never see him again.
"What's your name?" I ask, inhaling his aroma deeply, trying to remember it to think about when I go to bed at home.
"It's better for us not to know more about each other." That’s the only thing he says before walking me to the door.
On my way down to the parking garage, I get off on the ground floor to
the hotel lobby. I already texted my friend Sky to take me away from this place.
Chapter Six
Daniel
I pour a glass of ice tea and take a seat on the couch.
How could I be such a fool? I knew from the very first second I saw her that she was a virgin, that she was innocent, that she was like a lamb lost in a forest with wolves. I felt it in my gut.
Then why did I touch her? How could I let her in my bed without checking everything three hundred times?
I don't often sleep with club visitors. Usually, my one-night stands are women who work for the club or for my manager. Those are VIP hookers who never ask questions and do whatever I tell them because that's what they're paid for.
And when I sleep with the club clients, I already know who they are: models, actresses, housewives who want to have a night free from marriage duties, just like their husbands do. But who am I to judge them? I give them what they want if they want it—it’s a win-win.
But this girl, I already knew I was in trouble when I saw her. I felt it. That's why I wanted to throw her out of the bar so quickly. I knew from the very first second when I laid my eyes on her that she was different, in the right way. She's immature, inexperienced, like a blank page that hasn't been written on.
And I wanted to write something on that page. I wanted her. I wanted to fuck her hard and fast, roughly, torturing her, pleasing her for the whole night, and then tying her to my bed and torturing her again, until she begged me to stop.
Fuck, I still want her. My dick gets hard again, just from the thought of her. I'm lucky that I felt her virginity with my fingers before inserting my cock inside of her.
I can't believe I let it happen. I can't believe I went that far with her. My emotions took over my mind, which never happens. I grew up in a society where you can't rely on your feelings, you have to think before you act, or you may get hurt… physically, mentally, and emotionally.
I came to the club tonight not to get laid, but to get drunk. I was sober for almost twenty years, but I wanted to change that today.
Take Me Gently: A High School Forbidden Love Steamy Standalone Romance (Dirty Elite Academy) Page 3