by JR King
Teasing, I pulled out of her slowly, played around in the moisture with my cock-head, and then slid in hard.
“More,” she cried. “Why didn’t you kiss me then? Why didn’t you take me like this?” She arched her back and tiptoed to tilt her hips, which allowed more of me inside.
“It would have been fucking wrong—and semi-illegal—to do that, Elena. I jacked off to your image at least three times a day that week, though.”
“It was all right to let that douchebag rape me?”
I put one hand on the cross to steady myself. My chest heaved as I sucked in air. “I cannot predict the—,”
“I hate you!”
I knew she was close. I smiled. “You don’t hate me. You love this,” I whispered in her ear. “Will you come for me?” I felt her flesh flutter uncontrollably around me as I licked the shell of her ear. “Maybe you hate me because I know what a little slut you are. You, my kitten, are more dominant than submissive, and I love that. I love it because you have a slutty streak when you’re horny, but the problem is you cannot bear for anyone to know how much you love being used like this.” She kept whimpering something about God coming to her aid, and I picked up my pace until she screamed violently as she came. I fucked her through the contractions and waited until I was past them before saying, “That’s a good pet. Another one.”
“I love you, Alex.”
What did I tell you earlier?
“Love you too, Elena. Best if you use my name in here. I hate math, my head is spinning due to your infractions.”
“You’re really obsessed with me.”
HA! We now had a future. Time to grow up, no more jackass stuff. Little white lies can be good, right? “Oh, fuck it! It’s too hard, Elena, I won’t make it.” I bit into the soft flesh between her neck and her shoulder, groaning and emptying myself. Once finished, my body wilted against her. I released her hips to clasp the sides of her head, pressing my mouth to her temple. “I needed that. Thank you,” I explained in agony.
I freed her from the cross faster than I’d attached her.
We lay against each other on the bed. Elena’s expression was sorrowful. Brushing the hair back from her face, I looked into her eyes in an attempt to gauge what she was thinking. “It’s this room, isn’t it? I’ll make the arrangements.”
For an endless moment, we gazed at one another in silence, and then lastly her lips parted as she spoke. “I like this room. Don’t get rid of it.”
It wasn’t what I was expecting to hear, and my eyes widened in surprise. “Really?”
Biting her lip, she suddenly looked vulnerable.
“But you want assurance that I won’t use every implement on you,” I finished for her. I choked on a laugh because she kept nodding.
She frowned for an instant before saying, “It’s not funny. Do you know what it feels like to be paddled and caned?” Her eyes delved into mine with reproach.
“I know it like the back of my hand,” I told her sincerely. My eyebrows furrowed in recollection.
“You’ve tried just about anything, haven’t you?”
I attempted to stifle a grin, and failed miserably.
“Rake. Libertine.”
Her observation brought forth a chuckle from my lips. “That’s why you love me.”
She lifted her fingers to the back of my head and pulled me toward her until our mouths met, forming a passionate kiss. When she released me, there was a look of wonder on her face. “Thank you, Alex.”
I nibbled on her earlobe. “It has only begun. You’re going to get healthy, military style.”
She raised her head and leveled her gaze with mine, her mouth curling upward as she leaned in to whisper in my ear. “You worry and plan too much. I’ve found grey hairs.”
“I’m getting old,” I sighed resignedly. “What do you think?”
“It suits you, it’s…kind of distinguished. It shows that you’re a man of experience.” She said this with grudging admiration.
Heck, the ghost of reverence in her voice made me feel younger, it even swelled my heart with emotion. “I’m experienced all right. There’s many a good tune played on an old fiddle.”
“Too experienced for a girl like me.” She laughed that full belly laugh that I always found infectious. We went to the master suite and spent time reading and talking within its cozy confines. If anywhere, we both belonged here. I was reading financial reports in my birthday suit, and Elena was curled up with an Alex Cross novel beside me, white socks on her feet and hair pulled back into a messy knot.
I held her while she slept, not moving lest I woke her from a peaceful dream. Played absentmindedly with her hair. It was spread like a night curtain over my chest, and I kept blowing on one of the tendrils that lay on her temple, watching it lift and fall.
A few hours into sleep, I woke up and debated whether to get up or keep Elena in my arms. I held her for another moment before extricating myself. After what seemed to be the longest urination I’d ever taken, I hurried back to hold her. She was so pale, resting against white sheets. Her cheekbones pressed against the skin of her face so hard as if they wanted to escape. Her arms were merely white sticks poking out from beneath the covers. How’d I miss the signs? Rage simmered in my veins and bubbled up to my stomach.
Elena stirred, and when I locked eyes with her, her brow was creased. “Can’t sleep?”
Tucking my tongue in my cheek, I hid my anger. The abstruse effort she’d put into her game as she tried to hide her eating disorder merited a great deal of punishment. I smiled and when our naked bodies met, my cock started swelling against her warm flesh.
With eyebrows pitched in consternation, she asked, “What?”
“Don’t purge yourself again. The consequences will be dire.”
I brought her to orgasm with my mouth, delaying my own release—almost turning my balls blue.
Elena Anderson
The Jealous Lovers
Upon finding out about my relapse with food, Alexander’s need to control came out in full force. I counted my calories and joined a grueling gym bootcamp. He also wanted minutely details of my day and, if he had any doubts about my answers, Robert’s men traced back my steps. Spring was blooming and stores were decorating for Easter. I wasn’t allowed to snack on sickly-sweet Scharffenberger or similar Belgian delicacies; Alexander acquainted me with other pleasures of life. The lake was still too freezing to swim in, but he and I would go out there and lay and talk about nothing and listen to nature. Despite the sterile routine, in keeping with his rules, my life was awfully good.
Days more, and I changed my tune about career. Every day, I left work around 5 PM, and with good intent. Then I was jogging alongside hills, my running shoes squeaking with sweat, the give of rubber beneath my feet encouraging me. Each time my legs lifted and moved, I felt muscles respond, jumping to action when I picked up my pace and pounded down the hills. Forty difficult minutes went by. I increased my speed as the finish line came into sight. Wheezing, I stopped, hands wobbly on my thighs, the burn in my chest matching the cries of my muscles.
I forced myself to power walk on the treadmill, my muscles sighing in relief at the leisurely pace of my steps. I shook my arms out, the muscles loosening when I rolled my shoulder and neck. Glancing at the screen, the frozen stopwatch indicated a shorter distance but a faster pace than the day before. I cleared it so the time returned to the display, and started a boardwalk stroll to finish off. Burning calories while high on endorphins made it all worthwhile. Yoga and Pilates are for pussies. I’d grown accustomed to cardio training.
One day, “Good evening, babe,” I heard. I paused, eyeing Alexander cautiously before continuing my walking motion. Here’s the shocker; it was the same day I ran into Mitchell at work. Alexander seemed oblivious. My first thought was to tell him to go away. I looked like a mess, sweaty and stinky, and I didn’t want him to see me like this. My eyeliner had run and there was lipstick on my cheek from where I’d tried to wipe off the sweat. He didn’t wait
for an answer, just walked up behind me and grabbed my waist.
“Don’t!” I squealed. I made no effort to contain my fury when he deactivated the treadmill.
“Take a big breath.” He pulled off his jacket, let it drop to the floor, and pulled me into his arms, backward. I whipped my head around to look at him. Unpalatable, he wore an Anderson & Sheppard suit that was rubbing against my sweaty body. “How’s your gym life?” The tone of the question was absolutely nonchalant, as if it were just like any other inquiry.
“I hate it.” A laugh bubbled in my throat.
Bending down, he pressed his lips to the side of my face. “Because you love the wrong kind of food so much,” he murmured, moving his lips to my ear, “you must learn the hard way.”
“Learn what? Will you teach me?” My words were strangled by arousal. “I do want to learn.”
“Cock-tease.” His breathing was slow and loud. The heat of it slid down my neck and across my shoulder, giving me shivers. I closed my eyes. “You enjoy leading men by their dick, don’t you?”
Warm wetness seeped between my thighs. I nodded in slow motion, and his lips brushed across my ear as I moved my head. “Alex, I’m smelly.”
“This is fucking hot. You smell delicious.” I thought I’d detected a smug sort of amusement in his tone. I could tell he wasn’t lying because I could feel his hard-on poking into my lower back. He slipped his hand under my tank top, found my breast, and gave it a gentle squeeze. A very pleasing noise of arousal rose from his chest.
Caught in the reflection of the wall mirror, I watched him watch me watch him. “You are beautiful, Ariel,” he breathed, brushing his hand over a breast, thumbing my nipple until it peaked. I groaned in frustration when he ducked his head and took it in his mouth. I saw his other hand slide into the sweatpants that barely hung off my hips, totally disappearing. His fingers rubbed and squeezed, and I screamed little obscenities.
“Lift your arms,” he told my reflection. “Put them around my neck.” I reached up to let him pull the top off me, and then clasped my hands behind his neck, locking them there. With arms back across my chest, he pushed his hips into me. One hand slid lower, pressing two fingers into my core while he rubbed my clit with the heel of his palm.
Bringing his lips to my cheek, he said, “Do it.”
Magic wire tripped, my hips rolled, helping him move inside of me.
“Don’t be so jumpy, make it last,” he urged.
I ground myself against his palm. He raised his head to watch as I pleasured myself on his hand. Long fingers spread across my chest, trapping a nipple and pinching it. From out of nowhere, a climax hit me like a gust of hot wind. I gasped and let out a low, stuttered moan as I started to come. To punish me, his fingers plunged into me repeatedly, drawing the orgasm out until I thought I was shouting words with no meaning. In order to pull his hand out of my pants, I had to let go of his neck.
“Hmm. ‘Fraid someone’s not a good girl.”
I let myself bask in the floating sensation of post-orgasmic bliss, squeaking when he hauled me toward an exercise mat. Moments later, I felt pleasingly vulnerable lying naked on it with him towering over me. It was like being covered with a huge, heavy quilt.
Warm, full lips plucked at the side of my mouth before they engaged mine, kissing me gently as his fingers stroked my cheek. He kept kissing, slowly, evenly, the sensation mind-blowingly delicious.
Out of pure lust more than considerable frustration, I begged, “Please, Alex.”
He grinned down at me. “Please what?”
“Please take me.” My voice was low and breathy, the type of voice I used whenever I wanted something from him.
“Just-in-time delivery.” He tilted his hips just slightly and, as he pushed down, the head of his cock nudged me. Letting out a satisfied groan, he pushed in deeper, easing himself back and forth. He slid his arms under my back, enveloping me, bowing my back so my nipples grazed his chest as he moved. “I love you. I fucking love you, kitten.”
“Wait.” There’s always that moment you wish you could take the words back after you said something stupid, but unfortunately, you can’t. “I have to tell you about Mitchell.” My hand flew to my mouth when I realized what I’d said.
The next thing I noted, Alexander was putting my clothes expertly back on with very little help from me. Orgasm-deprived, it felt like I was slipping in and out of consciousness. Physical reflexes virtually dead, things were moving too quickly, the room swam before my eyes. Momentarily I found myself staring at the solid wall of a broad, muscular chest encased in the finest British tailoring.
“Take a shower and come meet me in my office, pet.” His voice had upshifted to cold, his eyes piercing into mine.
Regardless, the command propelled me out of the laxness, my brain going into hyper-drive. I told myself not to think of any consequences. Showered and dressed for dinner, I walked up the hallway, past the library, and, stiff as a poker, I knocked on the door.
“Enter.”
I opened it. A piney scent hit me. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders and set foot inside the gale. I appreciated the masculine, cigar bar-like feel of his home office. My breath annoyingly caught at the depressing sight in front of me: Alexander was lazily slouched behind his computer, one hand on the wireless mouse, the other massaging his neck.
“Have a seat.” He waved toward a chair.
I walked to the outsized leather armchair and sat down, waiting like a little girl being called to the mat, guilty of disgraceful behavior. I extracted a reverent sigh of his name, regretting the shrillness of my voice.
He paused, but only for a moment, and then continued typing.
“Rain check?” Another sigh-worthy pause—this one longer than the last—and he resumed typing, but more haltingly this time. I listened to the stuttered ticks for a few moments before I found my voice. “Let’s attack the elephant in the room.”
His jaw clenched and released. “Mitchell came to see you at work?” His hooded gaze intimidated me.
“I think so.” I was loath to admit this only because it set the stage for war. “Nothing happened between us. And now he knows I’m in love with you.”
“Write your resignation letter tonight.”
“I won’t…won’t quit my job,” I stammered bitterly, declaring something I wasn’t—technically—sure of myself.
“Who said something about quitting?” His voice was low and calm. “You’re going to change jobs.”
“I’m not going to work for you.”
He looked perplexed. “Find something else, then.”
My tone racketed up a notch: “If I don’t?”
He planted balled fists on his desk. “That puts me in the mood to ruin Cross Investments.”
I flinched at his threat.
“Would you have told me about Mitchell if I hadn’t declared my love while fucking you balls-deep?”
As the inopportune query fell down on me, I didn’t have a leg to stand on in my defense. Be sharp-tongued and badass, I resolved. “Oh, bite me. Why’s Mitchell important? Why are you so insecure and jealous? He just gave me the rundown, then asked the same of me.” A lie. Mitchell wanted to get back together. To raise and invest money, he’d acquired two floors in The Pru, and together with some brainiac friend he started a prestigious venture capital firm.
Extricating himself from the office chair, Alexander turned his head this way and that. “Insecure? Intrinsic loyalty is what concerns me. But, you’re right,” there was hurt and shock in his voice, “I should be fine with you seeing Mitchell just like you should be fine with me seeing Carina. Grown-up, that’s what we are.” To add insult to my injury, he walked out the door and yelled, “Good night, Elena.”
Carina’s wedding had been postponed. You don’t need to be the sharpest knife in the drawer to figure out that it wasn’t because of the professional reasons excuse. Pain of jealousy zinged through me, tears of regret springing to my eyes. I couldn’t pull off i
ndifference like Alexander Turner.
Chasing the bastard, I caught up to him in the bedroom. “I don’t want Carina in your life!” He placed his hands on my chest, but not to hold me, rather to hold me off. “Motherfucker!” I lurched forward and bit his neck.
“Bitch.” Returning the favor, he gave me a particularly harsh bite on my shoulder, and even as I cried out, he bit harder, emphasizing his bite with, “I don’t want Mitchell in your life. He’s fucked you and he’s set his sights on doing it again.”
“I want you to fuck me.” My mouth was bone dry. I peered up at him questioningly. “Just you.”
Shoving me against the wall, he pinned my wrists high above me and pushed my legs apart with his knees. “It appears we’re both clingy and needy lovers.” His breath tickled my ears. “You’re mine, angel.” He stripped me of my tailored dress. With deft fingers, he unclasped my brassiere and slid the straps off my shoulders. Bending, he put his lips to my breast, suckling my nipple.
I arched my back and mewled at the sensation. “Yours.”
“Promise, kitten?”
“Promise.”
He caressed my sex, gently opening my labia. “My dear, you’re soaking wet.” I wanted him to pinch my sensitive flesh, hurting and pleasuring me through a concomitant act. His hand was hot and cruel; he almost made a fist, gripping my sex painfully. I heard the sound of a belt buckle. With little more warning than that jingling sound, he rammed inside me. I keened as he began pounding me against the wall. I knew this was meant to be punishment, but I felt myself starting to build toward an orgasm all the same.
Roughly, he asked, “Do you want it harder?”
“I want you to hurt me,” I whispered in a watery voice.
“You want pain, Elena? Take it, then,” he lowly growled, tightening his hold on my waist. His hand was going to leave ugly bruises. I didn’t mind, because it gave him a reason to pamper me better. The smack of flesh meeting flesh loudened, his turgid balls slapping against my behind. His thrusts felt as if he were trying to plant himself skin-deep. Laced with ache, my orgasm swept me up like an inferno, searing through me. I clenched my eyes shut and witnessed a scattering of colors, feeling the intensity of a supernova and the soothing calm of a gentle breeze collectively.