Saved by the Outlaw: A Bad Boy Romance

by Alexis Abbott

  His voice holds a gravely hardness to it, the lack of sleep affecting him as well.

  “Good,” he says.

  He moves alongside me, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he reaches for the pillows just above my head. Then, one by one, he slides them under my stomach.

  I want so bad to ask what he’s doing, but I keep my mouth shut. Four pillows in all keep my hips in the air, my legs spread, my pussy on display, and he nods in approval.

  “I’m not going to bind you, but if you run, there will be consequences. If you shrink from your punishment, there will be consequences. I can’t help that; only you can.”

  His words are so dark, and yet part of me responds to that primal pull of his. The desire is mounting, but then his knee presses into the bed and his weight joins mine, his pants still casually slung about his hips. His tattoos mark his chest, some of them more faded than others, and he leans his face towards mine.

  “Do you understand, Sarah?”

  I nod, but I don’t know how I can agree to something when I don’t even know what it is.

  I suppose it comes down to whether I can trust him or not.

  His hand touches along my backside and it sends a shiver of excitement down my spine. But when it leaves and comes back with a crack, I let out a squeak in surprise. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t his large, heavy hand on my ass!

  The sound echoes in my ears, and the air is thick between us, as if the tension is palpable. As if it took on form as soon as that first blow was struck.

  Now I’m prone, vulnerable, and my ass smarts. I’ve been afraid of something worse, of my death, but this is at once erotic and terrifying, because I can feel the barely restrained power in his next strike.

  It’s calculated, planned, and I buck forward to try to escape it, but I can’t.

  He grips my shoulders, pulling me back into position. I’m expecting his words, an explanation, something, but his quiet only heightens the uneasy tension in my body. There’s no comfort to be found in his dark voice.

  I have to take what meaning I can from his hand, from the way he grips me and then smacks the fleshy part of my butt.

  I’m robbed of the sight of him, but filled with the knowledge that he can see me. How my ass must be reddening as he bears down for the fourth strike, how my sex is already wet with desire, parted slightly and so vulnerable. The morning light is in full force, bathing me in golden light, and I can’t hide anything from him.

  Not the whimpers and cries as he spanks me, not the fact that my pussy pulses with need, not how my face contorts just before his blow lands in anticipation of the sharp pain.

  Some are lighter, teasing, as if simply keeping me on edge so that I’ll never know what to anticipate.

  And then there are the hard ones, the ones truly meant for punishment that go through my entire body, pain spreading out like tendrils. He doesn’t talk, and neither do I, but for my muddled screams and cries.

  The longer he spanks me, the more intense each strike gets. Not just in terms of physical pain, with the varying degrees of power behind them, it always keeps me on my toes and even the lighter ones seem more thrilling.

  But it’s that the longer he spanks me, the more it fills my other senses. The sound resounds in my mind, the vibrations pass through every bit of my body. I can smell his clean scent, hear his deep, ragged breathing. It’s almost like we’ve become more connected, as if his body is an extension of my own that’s been separated, and every blow is us trying in vain to push ourselves back together.

  He pauses long enough to grip my hips, to pull me forward so that my ass sticks towards him more. Even a few minutes ago it would have embarrassed me to be so wantonly on display, but now it feels right. Like I’m pleasing him, simply by existing how he wants me to be.

  I wiggle my ass a little and he rewards — or punishes — me with a stronger blow, followed by three lighter ones, and I’m so horny that I can barely breathe. I want him so badly, need to feel that warm, stiff cock up against me.

  Is he hard? Is this turning him on, making him strain against his pants with his own desire?

  I pray so, and when he spanks me next I moan, pleasure overcoming me, even though when he removes his hand I’m left with a tingling sensation of lingering pain. The idea of taking this punishment and arousing him at the same time is something I’ve never thought about, but somehow, it turns me on. Is that why I was always spying on him when we were younger?

  Was I somehow, subliminally, hoping for this? That he’d hold me and touch me and punish me for being bad?

  The thought makes my clit throb and my heart race, and then there’s nothing. Dimitri doesn’t touch me. I can’t even hear him over the sound of my heavy breathing and the blood rushing through my mind. I glance as best I can without moving, but there’s not even a shadow left of him.

  I swallow, but I don’t move. I listen to my heart pounding, feel the tingling, pained sensation on both of my asscheeks and the upper parts of my thighs. I’ve gone from so much sensation to being deprived of it, and it makes everything else feel and sound more intense.

  I strain to hear his movements, but there’s no sound.

  And then there’s a light jingling of metal on metal.

  His belt.

  The thought sends a chill down my spine, but my legs subconsciously part a bit further, and I lean my ass out, presenting it to him. For his punishment.

  My breath is stolen by that first lash of expensive leather against both cheeks. It’s sharp and cold, and less controlled than his hand. It doesn’t have the personal connection, and I feel both robbed and rewarded. As if this is, truly, the punishment I deserve.

  I scream at the second lash of his belt against my ass, my face buried into the comforter as the blows come faster, harder.

  They’re relentless, blurring together. I barely know what way is up or down. I can’t tell if the heavy breathing and screaming is me or just simply noise.

  All I know is that my nipples press painfully erect towards the bed, my clit pulsing harder and faster than ever. And when that leather sneaks in between the valley of my thighs, the sharp pain slapping across my pussy, an intense orgasm crashes through me.

  I can’t hold back, even if I wanted to. It’s completely unexpected and sends me into a shivering, trembling mess as he whips my ass.

  When I finally still, he does too, and I hear the belt fall to the floor. The tension has rushed out of me, leaving me floating and light, and I expect his soft touches and warm kisses like yesterday.

  I don’t get it.

  Instead, his two, powerful hands squeeze my asscheeks, pulling them apart. I can feel his breath on my most private of regions, and a tremor of lust runs through me. I’m embarrassed, and excited, all at once.

  I try to breathe, to concentrate on not trembling like a leaf, but it’s no good and his grip tightens. Already there’s so much tenderness in my backside that it’s excruciating having that extra pressure, but I can’t squirm away. It’ll only be worse if I try.

  But when he bites my left ass cheek, I don’t know whether to laugh or scream, and the noise that escapes my throat is almost a mix of both.

  “Dimitri,” I whimper, the first words that have been spoken since he ordered me in here. My voice sounds so strange to me, so much huskier and filled with lust. The grogginess from not sleeping probably adds to it.

  But I don’t get a response. He’s intent on torturing me, trapping me in my own mind as my body gives into raw sensation. Refusing me the comfort of his words and dark promises.

  Yet there’s no way I can anticipate the sensation of his tongue, trailing from the front of my pussy to the back, a growl vibrating my overly sensitive skin.

  It’s such a sweet caress after such hardness, after the feeling of his harsh hands and wicked belt. For a second I think I’m going to come again, but he pulls away and the sensation fades.

  When his thick, throbbing cock suddenly spears me, though, it’
s a combination of both pain and pleasure. He doesn’t ease me into it, let my body adjust to that rigid shaft or how deep he impales me. I’ve never had sex with him while propped up on pillows like this and it lets him go so much deeper.

  Especially with how he pulls my ass cheeks apart, thrusting so hard as to send the ripples through my body.

  I’m screaming his name, his brutal thrusts absolutely unforgiving, and every time his hands and hips pound into my ass, a jolt goes through me. When his thumb snakes towards that cleft, though, and I feel it touch along my back entrance, the world suddenly becomes very small.

  All I can focus on is that pressure, that building sensation of wrongness. I’m battered and sore, and as that thumb threatens me, my entire body coils like a snake ready to attack.

  And then he pops the seal on my body and my vision clouds over. He feels so much bigger in my pussy, that little extra pressure adding to the intensity. It’s like I’m on drugs, my entire body shaking and spreading and wanting more and less all at once.

  It’s intoxicating and it feels so wrong, but I can’t squirm away. I’m pinned between him and the pillows that prop me into place, and his other hand goes to my head, gathering hair between his fingers before he tugs.

  My body contorts, my spine arches, my breasts brushed by fresh air.

  His breathing increases, going ragged and hard, and he growls a word in Russian that I can’t make out. He slams into me hard, holding me in place, his body claiming and possessing mine in ways I never could have anticipated.

  Fireworks explode behind my eyelids, my pussy tightening around his swollen cock as a second orgasm rips through me. I thought the first was intense, but this one was something on a whole other level. My body is already so sensitive, and as he begins to pump that thumb into my asshole to match the rhythm of his thrusting cock, there’s no holding back.

  My pussy muscles clench, and he growls, his dick pulsing more rapidly and I know he must be close. His thrusts become faster, more erratic, and then he fucks me to the very depths of oblivion, his cock thrust to my deepest crevice.

  His growls of pleasure mix with my screams of ecstasy, and when the spinning world comes back into focus I find his hand has unwound from my hair.

  I’m vaguely aware that he didn’t come. That he pulled out and there’s no hint of his juices running down my inner thigh, and I have to wonder why. I don’t know how long we’ve been in here like this, but my body has a layer of perspiration upon it, and a bead of sweat runs between my shoulder blades.

  “Dimitri?” I whimper, trying to look over my shoulder at him and seeing him kneeling over me. He looks like a God, his beautiful features illuminated in the golden sun. It shines along his pecs and biceps, perspiration gleaming and making his tattoos and muscles all the more prominent and glorious.

  But when I catch sight of his face and the storm that still rages behind his eyes, I tremble.

  He stands, his dick still hard as he walks to his nightstand, opening it up and pulling out a white bottle. He disappears behind me once more. I try not to slump, but I’m exhausted. Every part of my body is awoken to pain, sleeplessness and orgasm both combining to make me drowsy.

  My eyelids flutter shut, and I take in a deep breath, coming down from my high.

  I hear a lid opening and shutting behind me, but I pay it no mind. I have no control here.

  But when his hand spreads my asscheeks once more and cool, viscous fluid touches along my dark pucker, I gasp. It shocks me from tempting, beautiful sleep, but when I try to move, he presses down between my shoulders, holding me in place.

  He rubs two digits along my most private of areas, and though they withdraw, seconds later they’re back with more of the lube.

  “Dimitri,” I gasp, uncertain of what to make of the new sensations that threatens to undo me. But when one finger presses into my ass, it sends a strange jolt right to my clit. I’d barely been aware of how the feelings were tied together when he was fucking me, assuming they’d been separate and yet good.

  But now my pussy is robbed of any sensation but tingling aftereffects, and still I feel it. That throbbing, that dark, shameful desire. I press in against him, his finger spreading me open, and my lashes flutter down.

  I can’t handle seeing anything right now. Knowing what I must look like to him as he exposes my every little secret. It’s too overwhelming, and he adds another finger slowly, easing me open. I’ve never felt anything like this, the strangeness of the sensation combatting with the pleasure.

  “You’ve never toyed with yourself,” he states, the first thing he’s said to me in what feels like eternity. I shake my head, platinum hair mussed up from the blanket and his fist.

  “Good. How’s that feel?”

  “Strange,” I say, my voice croaking from hoarseness.

  He thrusts his fingers slowly, and I feel his cock bob against my leg, still stiff as a log. It’s humiliating and yet at the same time... to know that what he sees turns him on makes it so much nicer. Some of the tension fades from my shoulders as he massages me with his fingers, slowly spreading me open.

  It’s intense, so intense, and I suck in a breath, holding onto it.

  “What do you think I’m going to do?”

  “I... I don’t know.”

  “You nearly got yourself killed tonight, Sarah. But I warned you about that already and you didn’t listen. Even with your spanking, I doubt that would stop you from doing it again, though it might stop you from sitting for a while. And honestly, I doubt what I’m going to do would stop you either. But ever since you came back into my life, I wanted to make you mine. Wholly. Fully. Every last inch of you.”

  I shudder, because I want that too. But the darkness in his voice, that hardness, mixed with what I saw him doing earlier…

  “Every last hole,” he adds with a growl.

  If I wasn’t so exhausted and turned on and scared, would I run from him? Would I take off, disappear into New York, far from Dimitri and his crimes?

  He may have killed someone just hours ago, and yet here I am, craving for him to defile me in every way imaginable.

  His fingers withdraw, and in their place is the throbbing hardness. He rubs along me, slippery and heated. I can’t tell if he’s simply playing with me or making my nerves come alive, but either way, I love it. I want more.

  I’ve always been a pretty good girl. I made it to my twenties as a virgin, and the worst things I’ve done have all involved Dimitri.

  His hand goes to my back, tracing over the wings between my shoulder blades, the tattoo I wasn’t supposed to get. He pauses there, his cock at my rear entrance, and speaks in a graveled tone.

  “Beg me, Sarah. Tell me you want this.”

  I’m torn. Part of me wants it, and not just because I think I deserve punishment. I know I do.

  But his words speak to a more primal place, making me ask for something I couldn’t ever imagine wanting and yet with him, I do. For him, I do. Because he wants it, and because it turns him on, and because it turns me on too.

  I’ve never been ashamed of my desires, not really, but they’ve been safely tucked away, forgotten about in the chaos of life until he woke me up again.

  “I... I want it, Dimitri,” I say softly, my voice quivering with uncertainty that I don’t feel. It’s just that the words feel strange, that wanting it feels wrong.

  His hand cracks against the side of my ass, and my eyes fly open as I gasp. It’s so sharp, and so wrongly delicious.

  The same hands that were responsible for brutally beating a man just hours before, maybe even killing him, were used to make my ass sting, to stretch a hole on my body I’d never even imagined giving up to a man. It was a sick, perverse kind of feeling, and he makes me whimper and writhe.

  I can feel him pressing that thick crown of his cock against me, my poor little anal pucker stretched by his digits. My spine arches in a feline sort of manner, and my knuckles are white from grasping the bed’s blankets so tight, but he’
s forcing that dark, purple tip into me, and suddenly that warm up — that slow, meticulous easing of my tight little star — seemed like hardly enough.

  “C’mon,” he growls, using careful force to wedge his girth into that dark crevice of my body, betwixt my two spread ass cheeks.

  A searing sensation floods me, the pain and pleasure so intertwined that I can’t separate them, even if I wanted to. It was a perfect blend of punishment and reward, and I push back towards him just a half of an inch, enough to make my toes curl and my breathing hitch.

  “Oh God,” I mutter, my mind a blur. But when his hand dips between the fronts of my thighs, pressing down on my clit, I want him more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life.

  “Now,” I gasp. “Oh God, right now.”

  But it’s not like him pushing into my pussy, it’s slower. Much tougher to bear. And even though he’s easing that dick into my tight little rear so gently, it’s like having a molten rod of steel inserted into my ass. It’s excruciating and blissful all at once!

  I’ve never felt so full as when this pulsating shaft of his begins to edge its way into me. He’s grunting, grinding his teeth as he pushes in, all that power and strength coiled up in his hardened muscles, being put to careful use as he inserts himself in with the aid of my own pussy’s juices and the additional lube. Though I’m hardly aware of that at all, not with him feeding more and more of that thick, veiny girth into me with each passing moment.

  Every pulse of his heart makes his cock swell, forcing me open, filling me with sensations I couldn’t have imagined.

  “Wait!” I gasp when it becomes too much, and he stills, his hand rubbing my clit, distracting me from the pain as well as adding an additional thrum of energy within me. He’s careful, even when he’s mad at me. Even when he should, by all rights, be rid of the nosy girl that’s following him around.

  I put him in danger, and yet even now, even taking me in such a primal way, his touch is filled with affection.