Heartless Lover by Faith Summers

10

Summer

Amuscle quivers at his chiseled jaw as he walks into the room and closes the door.

As I look at him, I’m not sure if I should be more worried about the fact I disobeyed a direct order or the fact that he caught me and just closed the door, closing off my escape route. The only other way out is through the window to my left, which is closed and probably locked.

That I’m staring at him blankly with my mouth open doesn’t exactly bode well for me, but I’m trying to think of what to say, what to do.

I can’t exactly tell him I got lost or I was trying to find the bathroom.

When he walks up to me, my knees turn to water, and my back goes rigid like it might snap under the weight of his endless stare. No longer am I the ballsy woman I wanted to appear to be. No longer do I have any form of ground to stand on, and I have a feeling that something has shifted between us in the worse way.

He glances down at the opened drawer and scans over the condoms, then the restraints on the bed. Lastly, he looks at the memory stick in my hand, and then his vapid gaze flicks up to my eyes.

“Strike three, Summer Reeves. Strike three.” He nods and takes the stick out of my hands.

“I’m sorry I—”

He catches my throat, cutting off my words, and my whole body freezes with the anticipation of what he’s going to do to me.

He gives me an irresistibly devastating grin, and I hate that I think anything of the sort because I also see pure wickedness in that grin—sinful wickedness and darkness. Darkness so dark it makes me think his soul must be as black as coal—obsidian black.

As his smile morphs into that mocking smirk I’ve grown so used to, it’s a tell I’m not wrong. That smile is the kind a predator would exude over its prey just before it’s ready to devour it.

He tightens his grip around my neck and angles toward the shell of my ear.

“Teper' ty moya, kukla,” he whispers, his hot breath caressing my skin.

I don’t know what he said, only that it sounded like Russian.

“What? I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“YA nakazhu za eto tvoyu kisku.” He bares his teeth and glares at me.

I couldn’t be more confused than I am. Since we met, everything about this man has bamboozled me, including my stupid body reacting to him. He could be telling me he’s going to kill me, but my brain thinks he sounds sexy as hell when he speaks in Russian and the way he sounds when he speaks it.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re saying to me. Speak English,” I retort, trying to move against his grasp. And his eyes. I don’t like the desire I see lurking there.

“Don’t worry about me speaking English or Russia, Babydoll. You and I are just getting started.”

“But I’m sorry.” Fear returns to me, snuffing out my arousal.

“No, you don’t get to apologize for something I told you not to do.” He releases me. His smile fades, and his features tighten. “Bend over.”

My eyes fly open. “What? What are you going to do to me?”

I’m so stupid. He already told me. He said he would spank me so hard I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week.

I didn’t disbelieve him when he made the threat, so I’m not sure why I’m having a hard time believing he’s serious now. Because he is. Serious as fuck.

“Bend over and take your punishment.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“That’s five.”

“Five what?”

“I will spank your ass five fucking times, and every time you defy me I’ll add five more for every minute that goes by. Clock’s ticking, baby.”

Christ. He’s insane.

He opens his mouth again, about to add the extra five, but fear of the pain of how badly ten blows will hurt forces me to submit. I bend over before he can get the word out. As my hands hit the cool silk sheets on the bed, raw humiliation washes over me for my ill-fated decision to venture into his room.

As if things weren’t bad enough already.

I didn’t think I was going to get caught, and definitely not by him. I never even heard him coming. Not a footstep or anything until he wanted me to know he was there watching me fuck up.

One warm hand rests on the exposed flesh on the center of my back, and then before I can take my next breath, he lifts the hem of my dress and lands one hard slap across my ass.

The impact jolts my body forward, and with the pain that ignites, I grasp the sheets.

One more blow comes down hard on my ass that makes me see stars.

“Stop, it hurts.” I wince.

“It’s supposed to fucking hurt.”

I don’t know if I can take another hit like that. But I guess at least he’s not choking the life out of me like Ted did. Nobody, not even the entitled douchebags at the club, were as cruel as Ted.

But that doesn’t mean the pain is any less.

One more slap hits my ass, and when I try to scramble away, he grabs me and tosses me over his knee like I’m a petulant child who just got caught misbehaving.

“You’re not getting away from me,” he promises, giving my stinging ass cheeks a squeeze.

I don’t know what happens, but I feel that same intangible thing from moments ago shift.

It takes me a few breaths to realize it’s his touch—him touching me, holding me.

When he runs his finger from the top of my ass then traces down to my pussy and lingers there, I wonder why he stops. It’s not until he brings me closer to the hard walls of his chest that I feel the moisture beading between my thighs. Moisture that grows when he strokes the nub of my clit through the lace fabric of my panties.

“Bad girl,” he taunts, and I try to move away from his grasp. “You like being punished.”

“Let go of me, you fucking asshole.”

“Why would I want to do that when I’m turning you on?”

My hair falls forward over my face when I look back at him.

“Fuck you.”

“No, like I said the other day, Babydoll, I would love to fuck you.”

“I’m not going to fuck you,” I say quickly, and instantly it feels like some useless affirmation I’m trying to tell myself.

“But you want to.”

“No.”

“Your wet cunt says otherwise, Babydoll.” The smile returns to his face, and he gives me one hard slap, followed by another and another.

That’s more than five. But as he continues to spank me and rub hard over my clit, I’m so aroused I can no longer feel the pain. Something wicked takes over my body, and the sound that comes out of me sounds more like a loud moan than someone who’s supposed to be in pain.

Shit. I feel like I’m going to come.

What the fuck?

“This is for lying to me and yourself.” One last slap comes down hard on my ass. “The rest was to soak your cunt.”

I suck in a deep breath when he rises with me and plants me on the bed. He’s so fast I barely register what he’s doing until he grabs my wrists and the restraints lying next to us on the bed.

I don’t even get to pull away before he bounds my wrist together and secures my hands above me on the bed. He hooks the restraints into somewhere. I can’t see where, but I’m hooked up, and I’m not going anywhere unless he lets me go.

I know that he’s in a class all his own when he tears my dress off in one swift move. I gasp, and I’m about to protest or do something to fight and protect myself, but every word dies in my mind when he dives between my thighs, moves my panties aside, and pushes his face right into my pussy.

Everything else frazzles from my brain when his slick wet tongue thrusts into my passage and laps over my clit.

I thrash, squirming against him and the restraints, but he keeps me in line with a more powerful thrust and starts sucking hard on my clit.

Pleasure, raw and primal, shoots through me on a rippling wave that scorches my body clean. Every lap of his tongue shatters my senses, and that’s the moment I give into him with total surrender and succumb to the control he wields over me.

“Good girl, stop fighting,” he says beneath the mind-numbing buzz of the energy that steals my sanity, and I come.

I come on his face so hard I scream and arch against the restraints, making the headboard smash against the wall.

A dark chuckle rumbles from his lips, and I give him an indignant glare.

I dare not say anything, though. I’m in no position to challenge him. This is not like the other night when he chained me to the wall.

I’ve just shown him an angle he can hold over me, and fuck knows what I’ve stirred by my curiosity.

Arousal builds within all over again when he laps up the rest of my juices, licking me up and down until I’m clean. Clean and wanting more.

When he straightens up, I notice the unmistakable bulge pressing against his pants. I felt it when I was over his knees, now I have more of an idea why he needs to wear extra, extra-large condoms.

When he rubs his hand over his cock, my lips part, and I wonder if he’s going to fuck me.

I can’t do this, not like this. Not without some control on my part.

I wince when he slides up to my face and licks over my neck. I remember then what he said about tasting. I don’t think he means just licking, though.

“Let me go,” I mutter, but even I don’t sound convincing to myself.

“I’ll let you go when I’m finished with you, Summer Reeves. You taste good, and I want to play with you some more.”

“No more playing,” I argue.

“Like it too much? The choice is yours; allow me to eat out your pussy again or spank you.” He strokes his cock again and starts undoing his pants. “Answer me.”

I don’t know what to say that won’t make me sound like I want him. All I can do is choose the lesser of the two evils.

I grit my teeth and look away from him. “Eat my pussy.”

He catches my face and guides me back to meet his eyes. “Eyes here. I want you to look at me when you talk to me. Now say it again, Babydoll.”

“Eat my pussy,” I say.

The corners of his mouth slide into a dark smile, and he goes right back between my thighs.

“Spread your legs for me, Summer.”

Reluctantly, I do.

He dives back in, nuzzling between my thighs. As his tongue lashes inside me again and he works the nub of my clit I lose myself all over again.

This time he seems to be taking his time to taste me. Taste everywhere he can reach inside me. It drives me wild, and when I hear his name tumbling from my lips, I think I have indeed lost my mind.

His merciless tongue sends me spinning into the arms of ecstasy. Ecstasy I shouldn’t feel. Not for him, and not now in my grief-stricken state.

But… I feel it, and again it makes me want more. More of him and what he’s giving me.

The more I moan, the more he gives me, satisfying my every need. Blistering pleasure seizes me, unlike I’ve never known taking my heart rate up another million beats, and I throw my head back as I erupt into his mouth once more.

“Fuck!” I cry.

My poor body feels like it can’t take anymore. Not physically or mentally. I’m spent from him in every aspect of the word.

He’s not finished with me yet, though.

He straightens and shoves his pants down his legs, releasing his cock. I don’t have to wonder anymore about what it might look like. I can see it.

What I think of now is what he might feel like inside me. So, I guess I must have been lying when I denied wanting him to fuck me.

I don’t think I can hide my inner desire anymore, even if I want to fight. The truth of the matter is, I’ve never come up against a man like this before.

That’s the truth. Now every inch of my body hums with expectancy of what he’s going to do next.

“You should see your face,” he mutters as he strokes over his length.

However, I’m too absorbed with looking at his dick to feel the shame I think I should feel. I look over the bulbous head of his cock and the precum beading at the tip like it’s calling to me to lick it off. The thought horrifies me and throws me for a loop at the same time. But as he works his cock harder, and it grows bigger and thicker, something sparks inside me that feels like satisfaction at making him so aroused for me.

Eric Markov wouldn’t be the first man to get worked up over me, and I’m sure he won’t be the last. But the fact that it’s him has my head spinning every which way.

He’s already hard and perfectly erect, so when he starts pumping his shaft, it doesn’t take long for him to blow his load all over me: As intended.

Hot cum sprays onto my chest, splashing as it hits. It catches the swells of my breasts first, then drips and runs down the valley between my deep cleavage to the flat of my stomach. He doesn’t stop until he empties himself, then he shocks me further by unhooking me and lacing his fingers through my hair to bring me closer.

“Open that smart mouth of yours and clean the rest off,” he orders.

I lower my head to his cock and lick off the remains of his cum, tasting him now.

As I do, the taste of him seals itself to my taste buds with that same taunting vibe he has about him.

He thrusts into my mouth once and pulls out, then releases me, presumably satisfied I’ve cleaned him off enough, or he’s finished with me.

I gaze at him as the reality of my punishment hits me, and I feel outraged at myself and him.

He undoes the restraints from my wrists, releasing me completely. When I realize I’m free, I move to flee, but he catches me again, securing a firm grip around my arm while he tucks his cock back into his pants.

“The next time I tell you not to do something, you listen. You don’t go snooping around anything and certainly don’t go wandering into my room. Unless you want me to fuck you. Is that fucking clear?”

“Yes,” I grate out.

“Good, now get out.”

Like the whore I am, I scramble off the bed, and I don’t even bother to collect the remains of my dress. I just leave.

When I get through the door, I run and wish I could run away again.

I’m always running from something or someone.

I wonder if it will stop one day.

I wonder if one day I might get to wherever it is I think I might be safe.