Left of the Slash, page 13
“Yes, Sir,” I say before I can stop myself, then I do as Quinn has told me. I forget how expensive my keyboard and mouse are, or the fact that they are still connected to the CPU. I don't care about any of it. I knock it all to the floor: pens, stapler, paperclips, folders, and anything else in my way. All of it crashes to the carpet before I wiggle out of my pants, remove my panties, and climb onto my desk, bending over and giving Quinn the view he asked for.
“Goddamn,” he exclaims from behind me. “You really will do anything I tell you, won't you?”
I nod, poking my ass in the air even higher. “Yes. The more you earn my trust, the more I’ll be willing to do.”
“Is that right? Then I have my work cut out for me, but I like it. I want to earn that trust so you’ll give yourself over to me completely. I fucking love it,” he says, rubbing my ass with his hand. “You wanted to know what else I wanted to do to you. Well, you're about to find out how badly I've been wanting to spank this perfect ass of yours. You want me to spank you and make you forget the world?”
“Yes, Sir. Please make me forget it all,” I reply, giddy at how quickly he is picking up the Dom mantle.
“Fuck. Hearing you say please makes me want to cover you in my cum. It’s so fucking hot, Olivia. My fucking knees quiver when you say it. Do it again.”
Trembling from how badly I want him, I say, “Please. Please spank me, Quinn.”
“I fucking can't get enough of you,” he replies, just before he slaps the palm of his hand against my ass.
The smack echoes off the walls and threatens to shake the pictures off, and the pain rockets through me, starting with my ass before climbing up the rest of my body. The second slap is even harder than the first, jolting me forward and filling me with a painful bliss I have needed for far too long. Quinn makes me forget that he isn't used to being a Dom, picking up the role effortlessly and covering himself with it. He smacks my ass over and over again, ignoring any feeling he may have to be gentle. There is nothing gentle about it, and I know I will be sore for days—a feeling that will put a smile on my face every time it stings me.
“Goddamn, you're incredible,” he says, finally stopping to look over his work like an artist appraising a sculpture. “And look at how fucking wet you are. Do you realize you're dripping for me? You've made a mess right on top of your desk.”
I take a moment to look between my legs, and I have to bite back a smile when I see that he's right. I'm so wet that I've dripped onto my desk right in front of him. I'm thirty-five years old and that has never happened before, but what I turn around and watch Quinn do next is something I never thought I would see, no matter how old I got.
While stroking his dick, Quinn leans forward and licks up my mess. Sticking out his tongue, he licks it right off the desk like a dog at a bowl of water, swallowing all of me down before standing up straight again.
“You taste so fucking good,” he says, sending me reeling. Then he grabs my ass and forces me to turn over. “Now, lay on your back. I want to taste it right from the source.”
With my heart trying to burst from my chest, I carefully spin around on the desk and lay on my back with my legs spread wide. The second I'm safely centered on the wood, Quinn drops to his knees and engulfs my pussy like he has been doing it for years and already knows exactly how I like it.
“Holy fuck,” I exclaim, barely able to hold my legs up as he sucks my clit into his mouth.
I lay back and let Quinn devour me, slurping up my clit before letting his tongue walk over my pussy. Not a single crevice is ignored, and I can already tell that this man absolutely loves eating pussy. He eats it like it’s his favorite pastime, alternating between licking and sucking before slipping two fingers in and working both at the same time.
He fingers me while focusing on sucking my clit, and as if that wasn't enough to bring me to the brink, I look down and see his free arm moving back and forth. My eyes widen as I realize that he's stroking his cock while he's eating my pussy, and I lose all sense of control in a flash as bright as an atomic bomb. The sensation quickly builds to a crescendo that I am unable to stop. I can't even tell him that I'm about to come, because I am silenced by an orgasm that hits me like a train.
All I can do is scramble for any part of my desk that I can grab, and I squeeze the wood until my fingers hurt as I explode into Quinn’s mouth. He doesn't back up a single inch, taking all of it and swallowing happily. The bliss holds me in its clutches for what seems like an hour before letting me go just as Quinn’s body begins to shake violently.
“Oh fuck!” he shouts, his words muffled by my pussy on his face. Then he crumbles into a million pieces, moaning and convulsing as he shoots cum all over the carpet in front of my desk. I nearly come again just from watching the beautiful scene play out in front of me.
When it’s all said and done, Quinn gets up and offers me a hand so that I don't fall off the desk, then he sits in the chair while I kneel on the floor right next to his cum.
“Wow,” I say, shaking my head. “That was everything I needed it to be.”
“Glad to be of service,” he says with a proud smile that reaches his ears. “I've never seen anyone get that wet before.”
“I've never had anyone make me that wet before,” I admit, still stunned by the fact. “And I can't believe you came like that. It was so fucking hot. You didn't want to put on a condom and come inside me? That’s what most guys are dying to do.”
Quinn frowns like I've offended him as he shakes his head. “Clearly, I am nothing like other guys. I hope that becomes more obvious to you the longer we know each other.”
“Admittedly, I knew it the moment I first saw you.”
“Good, then don't forget it,” he says. “I came exactly the way I wanted to—with your cum still sliding down my throat. What happened here tonight is the kind of thing I've wanted for a long time. In fact, I'm not even sure I knew I wanted it like this. So it was more like getting everything I never knew I wanted. Well, maybe not everything, but definitely close.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
His smile never wavers. “It’s indescribable, Olivia. You are, too.”
I hesitate before I respond because I don't want to give him the wrong impression, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't thoroughly enjoy what just happened, or that I didn't want it again as soon as possible. So, I let the words out of my mouth, hoping he doesn't take them further than I intend for them to go.
“So are you,” I reply, and when I see the look in his gorgeous green eyes, I look away quickly, making sure my eye contact doesn't linger.
NINETEEN - Quinn
What exactly is the dark devil? I don't know if I've ever taken the time to really define or diagnose it. It’s a darkness inside of me. One that is more than just how I feel when I'm having sex. It’s volatility. It’s an urge to let go and fuck shit up. No laws are safe from being broken, no face safe from being slapped if I feel disrespected, and no kink too dark for me to explore.
I've been running from it for a long time—since my father was arrested and taken out of our home nine years ago. Seeing him carried out in handcuffs filled me with shame and embarrassment, and I knew that if I gave into the darkness, I would end up just like him, and that was the last thing I wanted. But now that I'm with Olivia, I want to understand the depths of what I'm feeling. There is a new and growing part of me that doesn't want to run from it anymore, even though I know I should. But I need to make sense of all of this, because I feel myself slipping away and becoming what I’ve always feared.
Why do I want to hurt her? Being with Olivia today showed me something. As she knelt before me, looking up with eyes made of black magic and asking me to make her forget the whole world, a new desire came into my body and took it over. This desire possessed my heart, and when I tried to fight it off, Olivia’s encouragement kept it in control. It grabbed me by the throat when she kneeled, and it took full control when she lifted her ass for me on that desk. When I hit her, I knew it was undone, and I fucking loved it.
I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to see her skin change colors from each time I smacked her ass. The sound intoxicated me. The sting on my hand was a beautiful pain. The way her ass shook with each blow, and the unimaginable beauty of her skin blemishing made my cock as hard as fucking diamond.
When I came, it was an explosion of monumental proportion. My vision blurred. My muscles cramped. My world detonated, and I knew in that moment that everything I’d just experienced was what I'd been missing for so long. Linda couldn't give it to me, and before her, I ran too fast for the darkness to catch me. Well, today, the darkness had its way, and I think I learned something brand new about myself. Something I never would've imagined being true.
The dark devil is my truth. It’s how I really feel. It is my deepest desires fighting to manifest in my reality. It is all of the depravity, violence, and rage that I want to unleash on the world, and my desire to watch the world bleed for me. The darkness is my light. That’s why I feel no shame for what I've done after I've done it—I only feel fear beforehand. It is everything I want. It is the answer to all of my questions, and it makes sense that it terrifies me, because people usually do fear the truth. But how do I own it when I know what it makes me? The label of it. The name society will stamp on me and weaponize. I know what it’s called, and I'm afraid to claim it. I'm scared to own it, but I know it’s true.
The dark devil is the real Quinn King, and I am a sadist.
TWENTY - Quinn
“Hey, what’s up, big dog?” Rob’s voice booms through the speakers of my car.
“Rob, you're not going to believe what happened at the end of the day today,” I say aloud as I zoom down the highway with my GPS set to a location I've never been. There was no way I was going to get there without telling my best friend about it.
Rob lets out a loud sigh. “Bro, I took the day off so that I wouldn't have to think about work. Why are you trying to ruin my life?”
“Relax, it’s not even really about work. I just needed to talk to somebody about what happened with Olivia today, and where I'm about to go right now.”
“Goddamn, Q, you're like an ex-virgin who just had his cherry popped. Running around all excited to tell us about how good sex is. We know, man! We just talked about how you hooked up with her in her office again after she promoted you. So if you have a new sex story, just keep it in your pocket, bro.”
I hit my blinker and get ready to exit the highway. “First of all, I don't know why y’all are hating on me. You and Marcus are supposed to be my boys—the people I can talk to about anything. Secondly, I don't have another sex story … yet. So shut up and let me tell you what happened before I run out of time. I’m almost there.”
“Almost where?”
“Olivia’s house.”
I sweat I can hear Rob’s eyes widening through the phone. “You're going to her house now? Since when?”
I let out a laugh. “Since now. That’s what I'm trying to tell you. I don't know what to make of it, but Olivia went the entire day without even looking in my direction, which is pretty crazy since seeing as how she came in my mouth last night.”
“See, there you go with the goddamn TMI, man,” Rob interjects, but I barrel over his words like they’re not even there.
“So, I'm in the office wondering if she's going to call me in after everyone leaves again. Bro, I sat at my desk like an asshole while everybody walked out, thinking she would call for me to come do what we do on her desk. Then, as I'm sitting there like a frozen statue, I see Olivia walk past my office without saying a word. She doesn't even glance in my direction. So I get up and stick my head out, only to find that her office is as black as midnight. She left for the day.”
“Oh shit,” Rob says, suddenly interested in my story after all of that complaining.
“Right. So, I'm mad as hell. Like, damn, not a single word or even a prolonged moment of eye contact. I stomp back over to my desk to shut off my computer, and I see that I have a new email that just came through while I was peeking out the door. Bro, it’s from Olivia. She sent me an email saying she wanted me to come over tonight so that we could have dinner and talk. She gave me a time to arrive, and then dropped her address at the bottom. She ignored me all day, just to send me this little gift at the end. I swear, the woman has my head in a constant tailspin.”
“Damn, that’s crazy,” Rob says. “But I see you decided to go, tailspin be damned.”
I scoff. “Of course I decided to go. Listen, if you could see the memories in my head from what went down last time, you’d know why I’m going with no hesitation. Trust me on this. I wouldn't miss this for the world. I have to see what happens next in this story.”
“Just don't get too wrapped around her finger,” Rob advises. “I get it—the woman is gorgeous and you are having great sex, but try not to lose yourself in it. Don't forget what she said about not wanting love.”
I turn the car into a residential area full of luxury houses. “I'm not even worried about that. I'm not falling in love. I'm just enjoying my time on the ride.”
Rob releases another sigh, one that he usually does when he's shaking his head. “Alright, bro. Well, go have fun, I guess. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Alright. I’ll see you.”
Rob and I hang up, and I can't help but wonder why he suddenly seems so concerned about me being wrapped around Olivia’s finger. My boys know that I'm in this to get what I want and to give Olivia what she wants, and that’s great, mind-bending sex. I get to unchain my dark devil and satisfy cravings that have been in the background of my life for years. I'm exploring and having fun learning about who I am and what I want. It has its struggles, like coming to the realization that I'm a sadist, but Olivia makes me feel like it’s okay to have a love for the darker things in life. If she’s down to explore with me, then I’m going to take the journey.
Before my thoughts can delve any deeper into my situation, my GPS tells me that my destination is on the left. I look over and turn the car into a horseshoe driveway that rests neatly in front of an all-brick, ranch style house that fits in perfectly with the rest of the ostentatious neighborhood. Her garage door is painted black, while the bricks are gray, giving the place an affluent, new age vibe. From the looks of it, Olivia has done very well for herself, even before she took over Obsidian.
When I reach the decorative glass door, Olivia opens it before I have the chance to knock. I see her dressed casually for the first time ever, and I'm amazed at how good she still looks when she's not even trying. She holds the door open wearing a simple dark green, spaghetti strap tank top with a lace neckline that decorates her cleavage, and low rise blue jeans that show the top of her dark green underwear that match her shirt. My eyes linger there for a second, but I manage to bring them up to meet her gaze.
“So, you just look this good all the time?” I ask before I can even say hello.
Olivia smiles, and I'm pretty sure I see her blush as she looks down at her clothes like she doesn't even know what she has on that warrants such a response.
“Umm, I guess,” she replies, strangely bashful. “You look good, too.”
I don't have to look down to know that my navy Polo and white pants don't hold a candle to how perfect she looks, but I take the compliment in stride with a gratuitous, “Thank you.”
“Come on in,” she says, stepping aside for me to enter but keeping her eyes fixated on mine, with a smirk that makes me want to forgo any plans for dinner and skip right to a dark dessert.
The inside of Olivia’s house is just as gorgeous as the outside. The entryway from the front door leads directly into a plush living room decorated in blue, gray, and white. A royal blue accent wall is the perfect backdrop for a dark gray couch set, with a gray coffee table atop a white and blue rug. Watercolor paintings of blue, white, and gray cover each wall, leading into a white and sterling silver kitchen with a giant gray island separating the two rooms. Add in silver lights that hang from the ceiling like stalactites, and you have a very impressive house that feels like a home.
“Your place is stunning,” I say, looking around and being awed by each new thing I see.
Olivia steps around me and starts leading me through the living room and into the kitchen. “Thank you. You came just in time because I just finished cooking dinner.”
“I was wondering what smelled so good,” I reply, following her and coming to a stop at the massive island.
“I made parmesan crusted chicken with broccoli rice. I hope that’s okay.”
“Are you kidding? That sounds incredible.”
Olivia smiles proudly. “Good. Then have a seat right there at that island, and we can dig in in just a second.”
I sit down atop a white, padded barstool on the living room side of the island, and Olivia brings two plates of food over, both of them covered with the same thing: a single chicken breast covered in crusted parmesan cheese, and a heaping scoop of seasoned broccoli rice. While I eye the meal and my stomach starts to growl, Olivia grabs two wine glasses and fills them with Chardonnay. She places one next to each plate along with a glass of ice water, then she finally sits down next to me.
“I hope you like it,” she says, before picking up her fork and getting to work.
I watch her with a raised brow as she scarfs down her food with no regard for trying to stay “pretty” for me. She's just eating the way a person should, without any regard to how she looks while doing it. I love that she's comfortable, and it makes me more comfortable as I pick up my fork and follow her lead.
The first bite of chicken makes me moan as my taste buds detonate inside my mouth. How is it possible that this tastes so fucking good? Better yet, how is this woman single? As far as I can tell, she is literally perfect from head to toe, office to home, dinner to dessert. The broccoli rice hits just as hard as the chicken, and I find myself enamored by the meal. I eat it like I'm in a trance, barely slowing down enough to sip my Chardonnay before diving in again. It seems like only a few quiet minutes go by before both of us are finished and scraping the last remnants off our plate, trying to savor it down to the final crumbs.
