My scalp tingles, my knees tremble, and the coiled tension from my groin explodes out. I come, shooting my spunk down her throat.
"Swallow it," I snarl, "Do it, Gigi."
Her throat moves and tears roll down her cheeks, as I keep coming. She swallows down my cum. The sticky liquid spills over the edges of her mouth. Her breathing roughens, her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
I pull out, and the white streams of cum spray across her face, her clothes.
She licks her lips, back straight, shoulders squared. Her hair sticks to her forehead. I grab her under her arms, yank her to her tiptoes, and close my mouth over hers.
The taste of myself combined with her sweet breath, the honeyed taste of her lips, the complex notes of our joined-up essences… All of it sinks into me. Something stirs in my chest. No, no. I will not be drawn to her. Will not allow myself to feel for her. Will not allow her to reach though the carefully cultivated layers to find the part of me I have guarded for so long. I tear my lips from hers, scan her flushed features.
I tilt my head, "I hate you."
20
Victoria
With those few words he shatters the peace that I’d found in his arms. When I'd opened up to him, and asked him to set me free... I'd meant it. Until that moment I hadn't realized how much I'd wanted to let go of my inhibitions, to not worry about what the world thought of me, to revel in what turned me on and own it... if this was the chance to do it, then I was going to embrace it. Then he'd gone and said those three words.
"What?" I tilt my head, "Why would you say that?"
"Because… I can?" He lets go of me so quickly, that I stumble.
The backs of my knees hit the bed and I sit down with a thump. "I… I don’t understand."
He zips up his pants, then yanks off the belt. The leather whips through the air and I eye it warily. If he thinks I am going to be afraid of his implied threat, he has another think coming.
"Is this another one of your games, Saint?"
He bares his teeth, "Is that what you think it is, Victoria?"
I squeeze my melting pussy together, "I… I don’t know what to think."
"Good." He folds the strip of leather, then jerks his chin towards the settee in the room.
"What?" I frown.
"Lean over it."
"You must be joking."
He glares at me and the blood rushes from my cheeks. Guess not. I rise to my feet. Move. Do it. I force myself to take a step toward it, then stop, "Give me one reason I should agree to your stupid ideas?"
The belt whips out, catches me across my breasts. I cry out, stare at him. My nipples harden. He glances at my chest, and his lips twitch. "That’s what I thought. You like it, don’t you?" He reaches out and pinches one of my rigid nipples.
I yell, "Jesus."
He laughs.
"Your ego is so big that I wonder you haven’t been crushed by the weight of it yet," I snarl.
"That’s what I think every time I look at my—" He looks down at his crotch.
"Seriously?"
He jerks his chin toward the settee, "Go on."
I swallow. He raises his belt; I head toward the blasted settee.
I hear the whine through the air a second before pain grips my backside. I stutter, speed up my pace. When I reach the settee, I pause.
I hear his footsteps behind me. Shit. I fall forward until I am draped over the arm. Butt in the air.
Bloody hell, what have I gotten myself into? Had I known he had this streak of meanness running through him from the beginning? Had I sensed it? Wanted it, even? Wanted him to strip me of all dignity, to tear down the pretense I had clung to, that I was in control? Because I’m not. I haven’t been. Not since the day Nina disappeared. I didn’t know what had happened to her and I allowed my mind to go to all of the usual places, picturing her lying in a ditch somewhere next to an overturned car, crying for help. I allowed my fears to create a story that couldn’t possibly be true. Only to find out the truth was much worse than I could have ever imagined.
They’d taken her. And then...because I just wouldn’t give up and kept looking for her, insisting the police do their job...they took me. My entire life had unraveled around me. And I had watched, helpless, unable to save her or myself. A part of me had fought back and clung to something indistinct, had wanted to hope that I was still there, hidden inside. The girl who was a fighter, who had never backed down from a challenge.
The part I cling to now when he jerks my skirt up my legs. Air hits my exposed back side.
A beat. Another. He hasn’t moved from his position behind me. I sense his presence though. Hard. Heavy. Throbbing. That immovable dominance that vibrates off of him and pins me in place. Waiting…waiting. I squeeze my thighs together, hear the whine of the belt as he snaps it.
I cringe, clench my buttcheeks. He laughs, "Fooled you, hmm?"
"Asshole."
"What was that?"
"Nothing," I mutter.
"So much sass, Gigi?"
Hate the name… No, I lie. It does strange things to me when he calls me that. I’ve always been Victoria. I’d hated being called Tory, especially by them. And no one bothered to find a nickname for me…before him.
I sense his gaze on my back, down the crease between my buttcheeks where my panties are bunched up. I reach behind to pull it out and he clicks his tongue.
I redden. Shit, I hate that. Hate it when he demeans me. Treats me like I am his toy, his slut. His. I squeeze my eyes shut. Where did that thought come from? My
