“Why did you tell them my name?” I asked her, my voice quiet but burning still, just under the surface. She watched out the window, hid herself from me. She held her fists in her lap and I could see how tightly she clenched them, digging her nails into her palms. Blue streaks stained the backs of her hands.

  But then she shrugged like she wasn’t hurting herself to gain control. “I don’t know. It was the first name that came to mind.”

  “And how did you have my phone number?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t. They did. I told them I was staying with you.”

  “Goddamn it, London. This is my life you’re fucking with.”

  “I’m sorry, Alex,” London answered, but not to me. To the window. “I didn’t think.”

  When she said my name she crossed her arm over her lap and touched the bruises I left for her around her wrist. It was an absent minded sort of gesture.

  But I noticed. I believe now that’s when I decided I wouldn’t be taking her home that night.

  4

  I pulled outside my apartment building and hit the break a little hard, throwing her against her seat belt. I slammed the door and went to her side because I didn’t trust her not to run. She fumbled for the seat belt and had it undone just as I wrenched open her door, grabbed her by her bicep and pulled her down from the cab. She stumbled in the gutter water and up onto the curb.

  “What the hell, Alex, let me go! Let me go right now.” Her attention revived and she actually had the nerve to dig her nails into my hand to gain her freedom. I pulled her hand away and pushed her forward, guided her across the street at a jog and up the front steps. I held the door open for her and pushed her inside.

  “Make scene, London. I dare you.”

  I don’t know what my neighbors would have thought if they had looked out then and saw me dragging London up the stairs to my apartment. They would have been half right, whatever they thought.

  She squirmed but took my threat to heart and didn’t make a scene in the hallway outside my apartment door as I unlocked it. I shoved her over the threshold and let her go, the one exit shut and locked behind me. She froze in the middle of the room, balled her fists and inventoried her surroundings. Her only light came from the neon and lights out on the street.

  I had to calm down, remind myself I didn’t want to hurt her, but I wouldn’t take her home until I knew this wasn’t going to happen again, that she wasn’t going to pull me down with her self-destruction. If she was going that way, fine, but she wouldn’t take me with her. I wanted to tell her about just who Jorge Reyes was, about who I was, and I wanted to drag the truth out of her lying mouth about who she was. Instead I unloaded my pockets onto the table next to the door. I didn’t look at her at first, and when I did, when I saw her standing there in the dark, circling slowly, gaining her bearings, taking in my world, my heart started racing again and that savage, hungry thing inside my chest roared to life.

  When my back was turned to her she broke for the door, got her hand on the door handle, but the dead bolt held and I grabbed her, spun her back against the door and pushed her there, pushed her hard with my body, captured her with my size and she moaned, low in her throat, that beautiful caged animal sound. She closed her eyes and though her body was tense with apprehension, she was pliable, let me slide my hands down her smooth, soft arms to her wrists. I turned them up and pinned them against the door. She trembled from the inside and fuck, oh fuck it drove me over the edge.

  “Stupid, selfish, rapacious girl.” I buried my face against her neck, inhaled the scent of her and I was so fucking turned on when I realized I could smell my cologne on her skin from when I held her like this earlier that night. I growled against her skin, brushed my mouth up her throat to the soft area behind her ear. “I’d like to punish you for what you do to me.”

  London’s voice came out strained, hurt. “Don’t make fun of me.”

  That was too much. I released her wrists and took her hands, threaded my fingers through them and held them against the door, just above her ears. I exhaled against her skin, pressed my face against hers. She was so beautiful like this, eyes closed, lips wet and humid with her panting, held by my body and she had no idea why, why I held her like this so she couldn’t leave me. Why I wanted to rip her apart and put her back together and love her and hurt her. She didn’t know. She thought I was making fun of her.

  “Give me your mouth, London.” My voice deepened with the intensity of my desire, the restrained, violent heat of my desire. She made that mewling, moaning noise again and tried to turn her face away from me. “Give it to me.” I commanded. I begged. “Give it to me, London.”

  She turned her face a fraction toward mine and I pounced on it, crushed her mouth with mine. I bit her tongue and sucked it between my lips, lathed it with the flat of mine and chased it back into her mouth. I tasted her moans and violated her mouth until it hurt us both. I broke away, latched onto her throat with the same ferocity, forced her to tilt her chin up and her head back and she made the most gorgeous, submissive noise against my lips. I sucked at her neck and left her bruised, like some lovesick, inexperienced teenager. The tremble in her body I’d mistaken for fear grew to an uncontrolled shudder, her thighs especially and her arms where I held them.

  I raised London’s hands above her head, crossed them at the wrist so she was fully extended. I held her that way and kissed, sucked at her jawline, her throat, her mouth. “Don’t move,” I warned, and released her hands. When she obeyed, when she stayed in that position, I descended on her, fondled her body excessively, quickly, clutching her big, full tits like a man possessed. I crushed them in my hands, ran my hands down her waist to her hips, slid her tank top up and stroked her stomach, moved down to her ass and grabbed handfuls of it, which was surprisingly toned for its roundness. She responded by arching her back like a cat against the door, pushing her hips against my body salaciously. She swayed her back and dropped her head so I couldn’t see her eyes but her appreciative noises, half begging, half lost and consumed by what I was doing to her, gave me her consent.

  I stepped back so we weren’t touching and she continued to obey, continued to stay with her hands crossed over her head. Her eyes opened when I let her go. She looked at me in alarm, curious too, but cautious. I stepped back until I was in the middle of the living room where a block of light from the window fell. The light was yellow from the street lights, crossed with green and red from the neon sign from the bar across the street.

  I snapped my fingers at the square of light. “Right here. Now.”

  London took orders well and hurried into the space, watched me cautiously, like a cat who expected there was a better than average chance she’d be beaten rather than pet, but too starved for attention to run away. I circled her and she turned her shoulders one way and then the other to keep me always in her field of vision.

  “Take off your shirt, London.”

  She moved her hand to the hem where I’d already shoved it up her stomach a little bit. I could see her belly button. “I…you don’t want that.”

  I closed the space between us, my chest to her back, and strengthened the anger behind my command.

  “Take. It. Off.”

  I stepped back and she did what she was told, pulled it over her head and dropped the small piece of fabric on the floor just outside the square of light. The streetlamps bathed her in a dusty yellow, like fairy dust, making her look completely beautiful. She crossed her arms, so unsure, over her stomach, her breasts, dropped her hands back across her belly button. She didn’t know what part of her to cover first, what part I wouldn’t like. I had the strangest sensation that she desperately didn’t want to displease me with the sight of her body and god, it fucking killed me. Briefly that sad, defeated look came over her. The one I’d seen in the mirror in her bedroom that night.

  “Your bra, London. Slowly. I want to watch your breasts fall loose.”

  She battled her inner demons in front of me, in that sacred square of light. I stood out of her view straight on, in the dark space outside her peripheral, so she couldn’t see how hard I was getting watching her, couldn’t see me rub my swelling cock through my pants. She reached up and unhooked her bra, so unconvinced I’d accept her, pulled her elbows back and slid one strap, then the other, down her arms so both breasts fell forward together. They were round, big, handfuls of soft, pale skin with dark pink areolas. I could see the tan line where the sun had marked her bikini straps, where she’d laid out in the sun half naked and dared us to look at her and reject her. London would hardly be considered a heavy girl, she had soft, large breasts and the most delicious, sexy hips I’d ever seen, but she seemed ashamed of it anyway. I liked the little bit of extra weight around where her cargo pants fell. There was something so natural and touchable about it. She was clearly afraid though, that I’d be disgusted by her.

  I stepped behind her, lifted my hands under her arms and spread my fingers to take as much of her tits into my fists as I could. I rubbed them, rolled them in my hands, felt her nipples harden against my palms. I wanted to put my mouth on them, all over them. She could hardly contain herself and her head fell back against my shoulder.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered, her voice hoarse with hunger and panic.

  The animal growled, squeezed her breasts hard. I wanted to bite them and leave marks on them. I wanted to fucking claim them. I wanted to possess her, all of her, wholly and without resistance.

  “Because your body turns me into a monster. Every day I have to fight to not take control of you.” It was so brutally honest it shattered us both.

  “You want to hurt me?” she whispered. It was impossible to tell if that’s what she wanted or what she feared or both.

  “I want to worship you.”

  She gasped, a soft kittenish sound, and turned her face toward mine and I kissed both her eyelids. I swept my hands around the perimeter of her breasts, massaged and pinched them. I left her nipples for last, rolled and pulled at them, rubbed the flat of my thumb across them, in circles teasing them, and she very quickly lost all dignity to me, moaning and rubbing her body against mine with inviting, carnal lust.

  There were too many clothes between our bodies and we both knew it. I ceased my relentless pursuit of her tits and took her wrists again where I could already see bruises from my fingers blushing her skin. I stroked them, brought them up to my mouth and kissed and sucked at them, coaxing a whimper from her pressed lips. I returned my hands to her breasts, slid them down her stomach. She relaxed beneath my touch, the tension easing out of her limbs, sinking her weight into the floor. I rested my hand across the top of her pants, waited for her to stop me, then unsnapped two vertical buttons. I took the zipper tab between my thumb and forefinger and pulled one tooth at a time. I could feel cool sweat break out across her arms as I slipped down her body to pull her pants down, her shoes, and helped her step out of them.

  She stood before me then in her panties, vulnerable and adorable. They were purple, dark like the bruises on her wrists, little scalloped lace around the bottom edge and a glossy black ribbon woven around the top to a little black bow at the front. They were so girlish and gorgeous and I took my time admiring the high cut on her thigh and the way they bent around her firm, full ass. While I was on my knees I kissed her hip bone, the small of her back, her spine – all the way up to her neck. Her chin was resting against her chest, her whole body had stilled and calmed and she trusted me.

  So when I gathered her curls into my hand, twisted them together gently and slid them over her shoulder, moved my mouth behind her ear and whispered, “I’m going to punish you now, London, for what you did tonight,” her body responded with an adrenaline rush of fear, broke into a sweat and shook, begged with each panting breath. I almost came in my pants it was so hot, so fucking beautiful.

  “Bend over, London. Grab your ankles.”

  “Alex,” she whispered, panted for breath. “Alex, no, please…”

  I moaned softly against her skin, her begging voice almost too much for me. I’d dreamed of girls like this, so soft and giving and trusting. I’d never known a woman to do this, to go so supple and compliant in my hands so easily. She wanted me to control this moment, and I wanted to control her. Like I’d never wanted anything before.

  “Yes baby, yes mija, my beautiful girl. Bend over. Take your ankles.”

  My London obeyed me, bent over at the waist, formed a triangle with her body and wrapped her hands around her ankles. I became momentarily enraptured by her chipped pink nail polish, such a small, sexy detail. Imperfect when she was so otherwise perfect to me. She closed her eyes and hung her head between her shoulders and I circled her like a predator. She was so vulgar and exposed like this, and provocative. Sweet in a way she could never be in the daylight. It was my pleasure to cup her hips, slide my fingers around the band of her panties and pull them down her body. Once past the curve of her ass they fell from my fingers easily and pooled around her ankles. Deflowered, symbolically. Beautiful. She was so beautiful and so very mine. It took all my control not to bury my face between her legs and lick her exposed sex. She smelled delicious, musky, sweaty.

  I petted her skin, her ass, and the back of her thighs. This was my indulgence, my softness. It was a little unfair, making her relax under my hands again. I stepped away from her, unbuckled my belt, and slowly slid it free from their loops. I made sure she heard what I was doing and in the quiet, dark room I could hear the light traffic, people talking outside the bar, a door shut, and her panicked breaths, short and shallow.

  I folded my belt and held it in my fist. Strong. Sure. I didn’t want to hurt her, not beyond what she wanted, what made her pussy lips swell and ache in anticipation. I had to control myself as much as I controlled her.

  I ran my hand over the curve of her backside one more time, then drew my hand back and cracked the belt across her beautiful white ass.

  She gasped but didn’t scream like I expected her to. It sounded like a gun shot against her skin, and left a mark I could see in the dim light. My hand shook even after just one and I had to wait, wait an agonizingly long time to control myself.

  I pulled back and hit her again and again twice, fast and serious and this time she strangled her cries. I stopped again, held my hand still because I didn’t know which of us would collapse first. My cock reacted powerfully to this, throbbed like it would burst, jerking and spitting pre-cum with each strike.

  My voice came out husky, drunk with perverse lust. “Are you ok, mija? London?”

  She couldn’t catch her breath and I could see the muscles in her arms shake to hold her pose. Her thighs glistened in the dusty, dreamy light.

  “Yes,” she begged. “Yes, Alex.”

  “Alejandro. Please, mija. Please say it.”

  We were annihilated, her and I. I didn’t even know which of us was in control anymore.

  “Alejandro,” she begged.

  “Yes, mija. Yes.” And I whipped her again. Then across her thighs, twice, three times, then across her ass once more, and then, God, the devil possessed me, and I slapped the leather across her wet, swollen pussy. This time she screamed, lost all control of her beautiful mouth and screamed my name in English. In Spanish. She lost her identity to me and I to her and she started cumming like a wild thing. I whipped her pussy one more time and then dropped the belt and caught her around the waist as she began to collapse beneath her pain and uninhibited pleasure. I captured her body and fell to my knees with her. I turned her around and took her around the waist, pulled her knees in and she wrapped her arms around my neck. I tucked her face against my chest and held her beautiful, sobbing body. I held her as her climax spread through her limbs like wildfire, shaking and penetrating her in the most stunning, ravaged way.

  London was lost in her pleasure, drugged by it, and I carried her in my arms to my bedroom, laid her out for me where her call for rescue had woken me hours before. I stroked her breasts, her belly, her thighs. I kissed her wrists, the inside of her elbows, her breasts and nipples, and the hollow at the base of her throat. I kissed her belly button, licked her cum from her thighs, kissed her knees and ankles. She kept her eyes closed, didn’t trust herself to look at me, like it might all be a dream.

  I unbuttoned my pants and climbed out of them, pushed them onto the floor, and while her eyes were closed I turned her onto her stomach, moved her hands to either side of her face. I climbed on top of her. I pulled her hips up, admired the red, stinging marks I’d made across her body, and cupped my hand between her legs. It pulled away wet, soaked, and I gazed in awe at my submissive beauty. I was still rock hard, leaking pre-cum, and I need to be inside her, need it like I needed to breathe and I needed to live. After so many fantasies, of me making love to her and of me forcing myself on her and of her taking it, fighting it, begging for it, I wasn’t going to end this until I’d had her, all of her.

  She drifted away from me, lost to the sensations in her own body. I wasn’t sure she even realized I was mounting her until I took hold of her hips and dragged the head of my cock along her slit. She roused, her eyes opening in alarm and the moment she gasped, “Alejandro, no…” I shoved my cock inside her, split her pussy open, and buried myself shaft deep in the most exquisite, groaning pleasures I’d ever experienced.

  She trapped me inside her tight cunt, her little muscles still shuddering from her long, delicious climax. I panted with the effort to slide out of her again, and I felt a ravaging pleasure to drive it back into her. Her screams, gasping and wide, mouthing my name in devastating bliss, woke the beast in me, reminded me of everything she’d done to me that night, everything I wanted to do to her for so long. I grunted like an animal, mounting its prey, and started to fuck her hard, forcing my way into her clenched, sopping cunt.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8