by Abbi Cook
“Yes,” I whimper, practically begging for him to make me feel that way again.
I wait for his mouth to give me what I want, but instead, I feel him slide a second finger inside me, stretching my body to accommodate them. I’m as wet as I’ve ever been, but I can barely handle the pressure they produce as he thrusts them hard into me.
Tilting my hips to give him easier access, I feel my release begin to uncoil inside me. But that’s not possible. I’ve never come from being fingered.
My brain seems to shut down, and then I feel King’s mouth on my pussy again, sending me over the age into the abyss of ecstasy. His tongue creates waves of pleasure that add to my orgasm, making me lose control like never before in my life.
King rides each wave, his fingers fucking me while his mouth pushes me to higher and higher heights. My fingernails dig into my palms through the sheet, tiny stabs of pain that ground me as every other part of me soars.
And then his fingers and mouth disappear from my body, leaving me desperate for more. I open my eyes, reeling from my orgasm, and see him strip off his boxer briefs. He turns back toward me and smiles wickedly, as if he’s got more in store for me.
“Up on your knees, little one,” he orders before flipping me over onto my stomach. He stuffs his hand into my hair and yanks me back hard, bringing tears to my eyes. I cry out, but it’s cut short when I feel the tip of his cock and those piercings nudge my opening. I hold my breath and close my eyes, and then King tugs roughly at my hair for a second time.
Leaning forward, he grazes his lips against my ear and speaks the words that make me run wet. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, and you’re going to beg for it even harder.”
A mixture of fear and desire tears through me, but there’s not enough time for me to think before he pushes his hips forward and buries his cock completely. The feel of him so large inside me takes my breath away, making my head spin.
He begins to thrust in and out, those metal studs gliding against my tender skin inside me. They leave trails of pleasure that push out through my body, making me yearn for more. I moan with each time he enters me and miss the feel of him filling me when he pulls back.
King tugs my hair, sending waves of pain across my scalp, and in my ear he whispers, “You’re so tight, little one. Feel me stretching your cunt with each time I pump into you?”
I try to answer yes, but the word is lost in a moan as he savagely thrusts into me and then stills himself when he fills me up. Jesus, this man fucks like a beast, just as I imagined, and with every inch of his cock inside me, I still want more.
His hand slips from my hair and slides down to around my neck even as neither of us move another muscle in our bodies, remaining perfectly still and joined completely. I arch my back, tilting my head back as he tightens his hold on my throat.
I should be frightened. This man controls the very air I breathe, but all I feel is need. If only he’d start to fuck me again…if only he’d slide his hand down to my pussy…if only he’d speak again and send me over the edge.
And then, as if he’s reading my mind, he moans low in my ear, “What do you want, little one? Say it.”
This time I can answer. “Please, fuck me. Hard. Give me what I need.”
A sound like a growl comes from him, and he sinks his teeth into my earlobe. “Oh, baby. Be careful what you ask for.”
Turning my head, I look into his eyes and whimper, “Fuck me. Make me forget all the bad of this place.”
He doesn’t say anything, but I see in his eyes he understands. I don’t know if this place is horrible for him too, but for tonight, it can be something else. Even if it’s just a chance to lose ourselves in each other’s bodies, that’s enough.
I feel him pull away from me, and then a second later, he pushes forward and touches somewhere deep inside no other man has ever reached. Over and over, he pounds into me as he presses his fingertips against my neck, and then one last time he fills me before my body unravels around him.
“Milk my cock. Fuck, your cunt feels so good, Sophie.”
He pushes into me once more before I feel him come, and then we both fall still as he fills me up one last time. His hand releases its hold on my neck, but I miss the feel of his possessive touch instantly. When he eases out of me, a chill runs over my back, and a moment later, the time we’ve shared is over.
Exhausted, I collapse onto the bed and close my eyes, unsure what will happen when he returns. I don’t know how he acts, though, because I’m so tired that I fall asleep. When I open my eyes, it’s morning and I only see the back of him as he walks out of the bedroom. I hear the click of the lock on the front door, and then I’m alone again.
I stretch my legs and feel an ache in the pit of my stomach. He didn’t even say goodbye when he left. His ability to fuck me and then ignore me the very next morning makes me wish I didn’t give in to my desire.
What did I think he’d be like? He’s holding me against my will here. No matter how heroic he’s painted himself to be in his own mind, I know better.
At least I should have.
Feeling foolish, I walk into the bathroom to take a shower. His scent clings to every inch of my body, and I want to rid myself of it. I can’t forget what I am to him and how much I want to find a way to escape this place.
The apartment door opens, and before me, two men flank King with each one holding him up. Bruised and bloodied, he staggers in with their help. As they pass me, I’m shocked at how bad he looks.
No one says a word to me, and they all walk toward the bedroom. I don’t know if I’m supposed to wait in the living room or go in to help him. As I try to figure out the right thing to do, the two men march past me and slam the front door behind them.
The sound of King’s moaning hits my ears, and I look in to see him sprawled out across the bed. I creep over toward him and quietly ask, “What happened?”
Opening his eyes, he smiles and shakes his head. “Just a normal day at the office.” He pushes himself up with a low groan, but when he tries to stand, he falls back onto the bed.
“You look terrible. Do you want me to get you a damp cloth for the blood?” I ask as it rolls onto the bed sheet from a gash on his cheek.
“No. Help me up,” he says, grabbing onto my forearm and nearly dragging me down on top of him.
I steady myself on my feet and pull him off the bed. He sways left and right, almost knocking me over, but after a few seconds, we’re both able to stand up straight.
“Is this because of Tap? Did he do this to you?” I ask as he leans on me to take his first step.
King laughs and then lets out another painful sounding groan. “No. This was a bunch of motherfuckers who ambushed us on a job the boss sent us on. Help me into the bathroom.”
We walk across the apartment, step after each shaky step with me doing the job it took two men before, but finally we reach our goal and he grabs onto the door so he doesn’t collapse onto the floor.
“I’ll start a bath. It will make you feel better resting in the hot water.”
I leave him clutching the doorframe to turn on the water, but by the time I turn around, he’s found his way over to the sink. White-knuckled, he holds onto the porcelain and leans forward to look at himself in the mirror.
“Fucking-A. Those bastards got us good,” he says and then lets out a heavy sigh.
“Sit down on the edge of the tub and I’ll help you get your shirt off. Then you can take the rest off and get into the bath,” I say as I gently turn him around toward the bathtub.
He sits down and looks up at me so I can finally get a good look at his injuries. His left eye is swollen shut, and the right one is so bloody I can barely see its unique color. A gash along his left cheekbone oozes blood and looks like it might need stitches.
“You’re almost unrecognizable.”
“Some might say that’s a good thing,” he says with a smile that shows me at least he didn’t lose any teeth in this ambush that got him.
>
“I’m going to take your shirt off, so I need you to lift your arms, okay?”
Easing it over his head, I toss it into the corner and turn back toward him to see his chest is bloody too. I quickly search his torso for any injuries, but I can’t find any.
“Were you cut anywhere but your face? Where’s all this blood coming from?”
King hangs his head and sighs. “Angelo. He didn’t make it. I tried to help him, but there were too many of them.”
Sadness clings to each word, and even covered in blood, his expression shows how much the loss of his friend affects him. I don’t know if I’ve ever met this Angelo person or if he was one of the men in that office, but my humanity and King’s emotions make rejoicing about the loss of him impossible. I want to be hard, but clearly, I’m not cut out for that part of this world.
“Let me clean you up a little so you’re not sitting in bloody water,” I say as I grab a washcloth and dampen it.
“Thanks.”
I drag the cloth over his skin and wipe the remnants of his friend’s blood off his muscular chest and shoulders. It only takes a few seconds to make the white washcloth deep red, so I rinse it out in the sink as King sits gripping the edge of the tub.
“This won’t take much longer,” I mumble as the reality of what I’m cleaning makes me want to burst into tears.
Another man’s blood. A dead man’s blood.
Finally, I get it all off his skin and rinse the cloth of as much of the blood as I can. Forcing a smile, I avoid meeting his gaze and say in my best happy voice, “That’s better. Now let’s put something on that gash in your cheek or all that work I just did will be for nothing.”
“I think I have something that will work,” he says, lifting his chin toward the vanity mirror.
He doesn’t let go of the tub to help me as I pull open the cabinet door, and a quick glance at the contents on the shelves shows me he’s got bandages and tape that will work fine.
I clean off the skin around his injury and cover it with a large bandage before taping it to his cheek. “My guess is you’re going to need stitches, but this will do for now.”
Needing to push away my feelings and unable to keep pretending none of this bothers me, I turn away and check the bath water. It’s hot, but it will do him good to ease his pain.
“This should help a little. I’ll leave you alone so you can relax.”
I step around him to leave, but he stops me by grabbing my arm. “I need your help with my pants.”
As much as I need to escape this room before my emotions spiral out of control, I have to help him. Barely able to push the memory of the last time I had to kneel before him, I crouch down and tug his pant leg while above me he unzips his pants. The sound stops me for a moment, and I freeze there as he pulls his foot out.
We repeat this with his left leg, and I toss his pants over on top of his shirt on the floor in the corner while he removes his boxer briefs and socks. As ridiculous as it seems after last night, I turn away so I don’t see his naked body.
“Not sure what this modesty is all about, but I can’t make it into the tub without your help.”
I wince at that truth and take a deep breath, letting it out slowly as I turn around to face him. Focused on his battered face, I nod and take my position next to him to help.
“Okay. Just go slow. I don’t think I could keep you up if you start falling.”
As he hobbles into the tub, I hold him up so he can safely get in. He lifts one foot and then the other, and I can’t help but be amazed at how someone so strong can be made so vulnerable.
“I’ll leave you to your bath. Call me if you need anything.”
When I reach the door, behind me he says in a low voice, “Please stay.”
For a moment, I consider running away from that room so full of the evidence of King’s horrible world. I don’t want to think of Angelo dying or King being knifed or anything else that did this to him. My hand grips the doorknob as all of this runs through my mind, but the sound of pain in King’s voice stops me.
When I turn around, he’s staring up at me looking so beaten that I’m taken aback at the sight. I don’t know how I’m going to keep my emotions from rushing out of me, but I can’t leave.
“Okay. Do you need help?” I ask, unsure where to stand or what he wants me to do.
As if my answer does something for him, he leans back against the tub and closes his eyes. “No. I just want you here.”
I take a step toward him and stop. Those two guys who helped him into the apartment probably didn’t lock the door when they left. I might be able to get away.
But then as I’m standing there considering what I’ll encounter after I make it down the stairs, he moans and something about the sound of him in so much pain and seeing him look so bad hits me deep inside. I should leave. I should risk it because I might never get another chance.
I take another step toward the tub and crouch down next to it. Water beads on his tanned chest, and I can’t help but remember the feel of his skin against mine last night.
Reaching for the soap, I lather up the bar in my hands and gently begin washing his arm. Dried blood comes off with just a little rubbing, leaving his skin clean. I lather up my hands again and touch his chest, feeling his taut muscles.
King opens his eyes and groans as I slowly move my palms against his side. “Careful. I think I’ve got a couple busted ribs.”
I wince at the thought of how much pain he must feel from broken ribs and return to focusing on his chest. Slowly, I make my way down to his abs and wash off the blood that’s dried on his skin there.
As much as I don’t want to look between his legs, it’s impossible not to. I don’t know if it’s because I’m a completely perverted person or because of what we did together last night, but I glance at his cock and see he’s nearly hard.
“You have a wonderful effect on me,” King says softly and chuckles.
My cheeks grow warm, and I turn to see him grinning. “I’m getting the feeling you’re not as hurt as I first thought.”
King shakes his head and groans. “You have no idea, little one. My body feels like someone’s used it to go twelve rounds. I might have to live in this tub for a while because I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to move any time soon.”
“And yet, you’re well enough to get hard. How does that work?”
“That works, dear Sophie, because it has a mind of its own.”
I don’t know how much I believe that, but I’m not sure I want to keep talking about his cock at the moment. I already feel like something’s wrong with me because I keep glancing at it. Thank God King can barely see out of one eye.
“One of these days, you’re going to have to tell me about the boys you’ve spent your time dating.”
“Why?”
“Because there must be something very wrong with all of them if you know so little about how men work. It doesn’t matter what kind of shape I’m in. If you’re around, I’m hard or getting there. Any man who doesn’t feel that when you’re nearby is either gay or a fool.”
I think he means this as a compliment, in a strange way, and I can’t help but smile at his assessment of my former boyfriends. “I don’t think any of the guys I dated liked other men.”
“Then they were fools.”
The way he says that so definitively makes me wonder how he can be so sure of that. “I don’t know. One guy was a physics major, so I don’t think anyone would say he was a fool.”
“Well, if he didn’t get excited when you were next to him, then maybe he had some kind of other problem. All I know is if you’re nearby, I’m ready to go, no matter what shape I’m in.”
“Maybe you’re just oversexed. Ever think of that?”
He slides his hand down his body and wraps his hand around his hard cock. It’s a purely masculine move that I can’t deny thrills me. There’s no shame, no shyness about displaying it in all its glory. Even in his large hand, his cock is
thick and sensual with those two silver balls on each side of the top of it.
“I’m a red-blooded American male with a healthy sex drive. Nothing wrong with that.”
As he talks, his hand slowly moves up and down the shaft from his balls to those piercings. Curious, I finally work up the nerve to ask him why he got them.
“Did it hurt when you did that? Got pierced, I mean,” I say, stumbling over my words.
He thinks about my question for a few moments and sighs. “A little. Nothing too bad.”
I wish I could ask more questions since I’ve never seen anything like that in my life, but I don’t want to sound naïve or stupid, so I don’t say anything else about those metal studs that I find fascinating.
“I think you like the way they look, don’t you, little one?” he asks seductively as he continues to stroke his cock.
“I think I like it better when you call me by my name,” I say, deflecting so maybe I can get control of the conversation back.
But he doesn’t let me.
Closing his eyes, he moans low and deep. “You didn’t seem to mind my nickname last night.”
I’m thankful he can’t see the blush that I’m sure is making my face bright red. Just thinking about last night makes me weak in the knees, among other places on my body.
“Do you want any of those painkillers the doctor gave you for your leg? I can get you a glass of water to take some,” I offer, happy to change the subject.
King slowly shakes his head but keeps his eyes closed. “No drugs.”
“Okay. Then you just relax. Call me if you want me to run more hot water for you. I think if you keep it warm it will make you feel better.”
I stand and he looks up at me, his eyes narrowed in pain. I wish he would consider taking something, especially if he has bruised or fractured ribs.
Then he speaks, and I know the look on his face isn’t because of his injuries.
“You can’t wait to get away from me, can you? They probably left the door open, but make sure you keep away from the likes of Tap or you’ll end up in worse shape than me,” he bites out.
His anger toward me comes off him in waves I can practically see, and I don’t want to try to say I haven’t thought of that because I can’t lie that well. I turn to leave, and the last thing I see is the look in his eyes that I swear seems like betrayal or hurt.