Hell by J.L. Beck

6

Lucian

I can’t believehow perfect she is. So tight, gripping me, pulling me deeper.

Submissive but fighting at the same time. Willing to do what I want. Wide-eyed, brave, and innocent.

When I take her by the throat and squeeze, still pumping in and out, she tries to push my hand away, tries to turn her face from mine. Just the way I want her to. Whether she’s faking for my sake or not, it doesn’t matter. The effect is the same, and it’s pushing all my buttons.

It’s like she was meant for me. Built exclusively for my pleasure.

“That’s right,” I groan, holding her tighter. “Try to fight me. It’s no use. You only make me want to break you when you do that.” Her eyes widen in response, and I can’t help but laugh.

I pull out, though it’s the last thing I want to do, and for a moment, she looks relieved. Like it’s over. I let her think that for a moment, stroking myself, looking down at her. “Don’t pretend you didn’t get wet,” I whisper, and the shame that washes over her face makes me harder than ever. I have to slow my strokes when instinct would have me stroke faster, my release just over the horizon.

No way am I ending this yet. Not when there’s so much more to explore.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t a little slut.” I take her by one leg and flip her over, baring her ass to me. A creamy, tight little ass, the sort of ass a man could fall to his knees and worship. When I strike it with my palm, she yelps, which only earns her another strike, hard enough to make her flesh jiggle. “Don’t pretend you aren’t enjoying this.”

She tries to push herself up on her palms like she wants to get away, but one firm hand in the center of her back reminds her who’s in charge. I hold her down while, with the other hand, I guide myself back into her tight tunnel.

Yes, she definitely got wet. She’s wetter still, so slick. I close my eyes and savor the sensation, sinking deep.

“You’re my little slut now,” I grunt between thrusts, driving her into the mattress every time my body meets hers. “This pussy is mine. This ass is mine. Whenever I want it. You belong to me.” When she tries to resist, scrambling to crawl away from me, I only take her harder.

She lets out a yelp when I grab her by the wrists, bending her arms, twisting them until her hands are pinned behind her back. “Is this how you want it?” I ask, using my other hand to pull her head back by the hair. “Do you like it this way, my little slut? Being used like this? Is that what’s making you drip?”

She’s almost beyond speaking, letting out a high-pitched cry in time with every brutal thrust. “Please… Please…” It’s halfway between a moan and a sob.

“Please, what? You think you get to ask favors now? You think it matters what you want?” I yank her hair a little harder before shoving her face down into the mattress. “You don’t get to speak. You’re here to get fucked.”

It’s not the way she moans that surprises me. It’s the flutter of her inner walls. I’m not imagining this. She’s squeezing me so tightly I have to force myself in and out. Almost like she’s—

She squeals, shudders, and her muscles ripple around my shaft. Holy shit. Is she coming? She is, and I can’t resist the way she milks me, holding me in place. I have no choice but to let go, groaning in satisfaction while spurting my cum deep inside her cunt.

It only takes a second for me to come back to my senses, and I pull my cock from her. Too late now. My cum drips out of her, soaking into the silk duvet. I didn’t use a condom. Fuck me. What was I thinking?

I wasn’t thinking. This girl is dangerous. She makes me forget everything I know—all of the rules I’ve set for myself and for my business.

She hasn’t moved, save for some trembling from her legs. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and her face is still turned away from me, half-hidden. What’s she feeling now? Shame, most likely, since I doubt she imagined herself capable of coming in a situation like the one I put her in. I’m sure she sees herself as a good girl, beyond the depravity I’ve made my stock and trade.

Now she knows the truth about herself, and so do I. The girl has hidden depths. I can’t help but want to explore them.

This isn’t the time for that. I remind myself of the agreement we made. No, there was nothing in that agreement about a second go-round per visit—in fact, we never got into specifics. I’m not such a cold-hearted monster as that. I won’t take advantage of her for not knowing enough to ask for specific terms.

I go to the attached bathroom and wet a washcloth, cleaning what’s left of her off my cock. All the while, I keep part of my attention on her, but she’s still facedown on the bed. She’s breathing, though, her back rising and falling evenly.

I gather myself together, taking my time, savoring the sight of her. Used, dripping cum, broken. I already know I’ll want her again, and again after that. This was one of the four agreed-upon encounters, leaving me three more. I don’t know if that will be enough. There are so many things I want to do to her. So many fantasies I want to play out.

Once I’m dressed, I wet another cloth with warm water and bring it to her. “Rollover,” I command, but my voice no longer carries the edge it did only minutes ago. She does as she’s told, eyes closed, her face still turned away. At the touch of the warm cloth, she flinches, her thighs closing around my hand. “Relax. The fun is over…for now.” I think I hear her snort as if she finds what I said funny. Sarcasm?

Considering the fact that she came on my cock, I don’t think she has much room to be sarcastic.

Once I’m finished, I take the cloth back to the bathroom and toss it in the hamper beneath the sink for one of the girls to pick up later, after closing. “Get dressed.”

I turn to face her in time to see her sit up, moving slowly, wincing as she rolls her shoulders, flexes her arms. There are scraps of fabric underneath her, which I realize are her ruined panties. Cheap things, easily torn. She frowns briefly but says nothing, leaving them aside before standing. I’m sure she can afford more, thanks to the ten thousand I made sure transferred to her account earlier today.

What is it about her? Everything she does fascinates me. She’s hardly the first woman I’ve taken the way I took her, certainly not the first with debt in need of paying off. That’s one of Alexei’s primary jobs, making sure there are plenty of young women indebted to our organization.

I’ve had many of them, in whatever way happened to suit me at the time. And I’ve left them in various states of disarray—sweat-slick, makeup ruined, hair a rat’s nest, clothes rumpled or torn.

Never before have I lingered, watching one of those women pull herself together afterward. Once I’m finished, that’s it. There are other things to do. The same is true tonight, but my feet seem to have grown roots. I can’t move.

I clear my throat, noting the way she jumps at the sound. “There will be a car waiting for you downstairs. The driver knows where you live and will take you there.” I have to get out of here. There’s work to be done, for one thing. For another, the longer I stay, the more I’m going to want to talk to her. That’s the last thing either of us needs.

Her head bobs up and down, hands clasped in front of her. Nobody looking at her now would guess how she just got fucked, and how much she enjoyed it. Her eyes are downcast, focused on the toes of my shoes.

Before I can cross the room and open the door, she lifts her head slightly. “When should I come back?” she murmurs, her eyes shaded by the hair cascading in front of her face.

I consider this, studying her as I do. I’m tempted to tell her to return tomorrow, but that would be childish and undisciplined. I can’t use up my visits all at once, no matter how much I want to.

Besides, that would be too easy for her. I don’t want that, either. In fact, now that I think about it, I enjoy the idea of her not knowing exactly when I’ll reappear in her life. Living in her brain the way she’ll live in mine.

“Next time, you won’t come to me,” I decide. “I’ll come to you.”

“When?” And then, as if she thinks twice about her boldness, she lowers her head again. “Just so I can be ready.”

“It might be a better idea to keep yourself ready for me. When I decide to come for you, it will be a surprise. You’ll be given no warning. Be ready. I don’t react well to disappointment, Rowan.”

She nods. “Okay. I’ll be ready for you.” And damned if the thought of that doesn’t make my cock stir as I leave her, striding down the hall past rooms now much busier than they were when I first came upstairs.

It will be another busy night, and a profitable one at that.

And I know even before I reach my office that the rest of my evening will be spent thinking of her.