Chapter Sixteen
SIMON
Funny how fast a guy can go from horny and breathless to pissed off.
“What in the ever-loving fuck are you talking about? I’m not your fucking prisoner.” I yank myself out of his grip, expecting resistance but not getting any. Which makes me fall backward, landing in the chair I’d just gotten out of.
It’s pitch dark. The swirling sky outside has no moonlight. Nothing to help light the room except an occasional flash of lightning.
Somehow, though, I can tell he’s smiling when he says, “No, but you’re stuck here. We both are. The building locks are electronic, and every place on the block is out of power. Until it comes back, we’re both, as you so eloquently like to put it, fucked.”
His lips brush my ear on that last word. I can’t suppress the shiver that goes through me. I clear my throat and pull on my best look of bravado. “Guess you do manage to toss out the f-word every once in a while.”
“Funny, I was beginning to think it was the only one you knew.”
Why is my heart beating erratically? If I weren’t stuck here I’d be tempted to get to a hospital and have myself checked out for A-fib. I’m lightheaded. My breathing is shallow. My hands are numb. Definitely something is wrong.
It’s the only explanation I’ve got for why I say, “I grew up getting whipped or having my mouth washed out with soap if I dared to use anything resembling obscenities. Once I got out of there I decided to be as obscene as fucking possible.”
I don’t realize Sebastian is touching me until I feel his hand tighten on my shoulder. “When I spanked you, was that—”
“Not the same.” I mean it to sound firm. Confident. It doesn’t.
In spite of my height, I rarely feel small. I’m strong now. I worked hard to bulk up and I know better how to defend myself.
With Sebastian standing over me, a solid six feet of sexual intensity and a piercing stare I don’t need to see to know is aimed at me, I do feel small.
Not that I’m afraid he’d use his size against me, but because I know from past experience that when he tells me he’s going to manhandle me, he actually can and will.
“Good. I don’t want to hurt you.” He laughs; a low sound that’s as dark as the room around us. “I’m lying. I want to hurt you a lot. But not if you don’t like it. Not if you’re unwilling.”
“I was willing.” Was. A necessary detail. My brain is screaming at me to make sure he knows that even though I wanted it then, I don’t now.
Even though it’s a dirty, dirty, filthy lie. God help me, I can’t possibly want him any more than I already do. I’ve seen what wanting gets me, though, and it’s nothing good. I’d almost rather get whipped nearly to death again than be the idiot who got in too deep with a married man.
Still, I can’t rein in my body’s reaction to him. The heat of his skin practically burns through my damp clothes. I know what he’s thinking, because I’m thinking the same thing. We’ve been here before. We both know how it ended. With me bruised and aching and wrung out and covered in his cum.
Fucking glorious.
That’s my last thought as he threads his fingers into my hair and tightens his fingers into a fist. The pull isn’t enough to truly hurt, but it’s enough to tip my head back so I’m staring up at the shadowy outline of him standing over me.
His face becomes clearer as my eyes adjust to the dark, and I swear I can see an evil glimmer in his eye that promises every wrong thing I never admitted out loud to wanting.
“It could be hours until the power is restored. What do you think we should do with all of our free time, Simon?”
The wind has picked up outside. The rain beating on the windows makes me feel like I’m inside of a rock tumbler.
It could be hours. It could even be days.
“You guys have free drinks here? Sometimes at work I like to make towers with all the soda cans in the break room. Really pisses off the administrators.”
He chuckles and then without warning sits down again, not gently, pinning me to the chair. Still holding my hair hostage, still looming over me.
“There’s that odd sense of humor of yours.”
“That’s probably the most harmless way I’ve even been called odd.”
I’d like to smack my hand over my mouth and take my words back. Still, I can hear my father in my head shouting about how the devil was in me, and I’d never be right until he beat it out. The flesh on my back burns at the memory.
Another chuckle. “I like you odd, Simon. I like you exactly the way you are.”
Sebastian tugs harder on my hair, tipping my head farther, and then his lips are on mine, hot and plump and a little bit salty.
His kiss is both innocent and anything but.
It escalates rapidly from something equal parts sensual and chaste, and then not chaste at all.
He sinks his teeth in hard enough to draw blood and then slides his tongue over the wound and into my mouth.
The tang of my own blood should be a massive warning bell. I’m breaking a thousand rules right now. There should never be fluid exchange with a client.
Except…I’ve already broken that rule. And Sebastian isn’t exactly a client. So then, what is he?
I bet he’d be a good boyfriend, my inner farm boy supplies. He’d treat us so much better than Elijah.
Shut the fuck up, farm boy, that’s a low fucking bar.
In the next second I’m saved from further thinking when my zipper gets pulled down and all my blood rushes south. Let’s be honest, most if it was already there.
Sebastian frees himself and slides the thick length against mine, making me gasp.
His free hand wraps around us both. I can’t stop myself from fucking into his hand, my dick sliding against his.
I’ve jerked off a million times, but his surprisingly rough hands and the smooth friction of his dick are some of the most delicious things I’ve ever experienced.
He stops too soon.
“What the fuck are you doing? I thought we were having a repeat of that hot as hell car sex.”
Sure, I talked a good game to myself about how we were going to hold strong and not fuck him again, but once my resolve crumbled? Damn right I was expecting this would end with orgasms.
Sebastian stands, leaving me with an ache in my scalp from where he was pulling my hair and a stronger ache in my cock from frustration and cool air. Asshole.
“I always thought office porn was the stupidest thing,” he growls. “Who the fuck wants to mess up their desk, their computer, and their paperwork with sweat and cum?”
Where the hell is this going? “I’m a big fan of gangbangs, myself. Oh, and those ones where it’s some sort of religious ritual that involves some muscular salt-and-pepper daddy fucking a barely legal twink who’s been naughty.”
No doubt a result of my weird-ass religious upbringing. I try not to think about it too hard.
With a laugh, Sebastian pulls on my arms. Before I can process what’s happening, I go from standing to chest down across his desk with my pants around my ankles. “Shit, you’re fast.”
One hand presses down on my back. The other takes its time, sliding under my scrub top, across my shoulders, and down my spine, over the left hip and then the right, before trailing far too gently into the cleft between my cheeks.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls. Then he sinks his teeth into that tender spot where my neck and shoulder meet. I nearly pass out on the spot.
“No.”
No, as in no I won’t tell him to stop. He pulls away, though. There’s a pause before he moves again.
The still air in the room seems saturated with tension as he takes his time, deliberately touching every inch of me. There’s a teasing fingertip at my hole, there and gone far too fast for me to push myself back against it the way I want.
“Dammit, don’t do this to me.” Which I realize, like my no before, could be taken either way. There’s a sizzle up my spine at the realization.
He’s stroking my inner thighs now, though, hitting a ticklish spot behind my knee that has me moaning like the whore I am, and also giggling like someone I’ve never been. I’m writhing. Moaning. Desperate for more.
God, I can feel my heart thumping and pounding against the desk.
Speaking of thumping and pounding. “Are you going to fuck me?”
His lips caress my ass before his teeth sink into my flesh. “Is that what you want?”
Just to be contrary, I throw him another “No.”
“No is not the magic word, Simon.”
Oh, God. I’m just… I’m a giant ball of need right now. Desperation. My ass is tingling with the memory of his hand coming down on me until my skin burned. Of his thick cock pounding me until I couldn’t feel anything else.
I want that again. I want the heat. The oblivion. I know I shouldn’t, but I fucking do.
The only answer I hear from Sebastian is a harsh exhale. Then the jingle of his belt, which he coils up and lays on the desk beside me.
“I want you to use that on me.” I swear to God I don’t even know what’s coming out of my mouth anymore. Somehow, my sense of self-preservation has left the damn building.
He reaches for the belt. “You want me to use this? On you?”
“Yes. Just…not on my back. Please.” I haven’t allowed anyone to whip me since the night my father caught me and Elijah in that old barn. Haven’t actually let anyone use anything to beat me until now.
“Please what?”
“Please, Sebastian.” Those two words make my skin tingle.
When the first bite of leather comes down on my ass, the breath whooshes from my body. I spend the next several minutes trying to get it back as he lays a series of stripes on one side and then the other. Then at the tops of my thighs. Heat and a pleasant buzzing race over my skin.
It’s like this every time with him. The world washes into a heady, floaty place as I sink into the sensation.
I’m not sure when he stops. I lose count of the strikes. Only the press of his lubed fingers into my ass, stretching me so roughly, reach my consciousness. Each time he brushes my prostate someone moans and whines. That someone might be me.
Maybe I really do have the devil in me, because the next thing that flies out of my mouth is “No. Don’t.”
The fingers withdraw. His hand palms the back of my neck. Breath fans my ear. “Do you want me to stop, Simon?”
“Don’t do this. I changed my mind.” I wiggle and squirm. My entire body pulses with the excitement and the so-wrong-it’s-rightness of this moment.
Please, please don’t stop.
“I think you’re being a tease. Is that what this is? You’re teasing me?”
“No, no. I don’t want to. Please don’t fuck me.” I’m so, so careful not to say stop.
We need a better safe word. Except no, we fucking don’t. That would imply we’re doing this again.
This is the last time.
I swear.
Finally, his fingers slide inside me again. My agonized groan is made louder by its accompanying sigh of relief.
“I’m going to fuck you, Simon. I’m going to pound you so hard you’ll be wearing marks from my desk phone for a week. Unless you tell me to stop, Simon.”
“No. Don’t. Don’t do it. Please.” When I feel his blunt head at my opening, I tack on an “Oh, God, no, I can’t take it” for good measure, when what I’m really thinking is I might die in the next second if he doesn’t get the hell inside me.
I feel every inch of him when he pushes inside. Every ridge, every vein and nerve ending lights me up as he pumps into me. He’s slow and steady at first, then insistent. Then punishing.
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispers into the darkness. “So fucking smooth, so hot, and so tight. I had no idea, Simon. No idea I could feel like this.”
Another moan escapes me as his dick glances over my prostate. I can hear what he’s saying but I can’t reply. Can’t even give him shit about how many f-bombs he’s dropping. Can’t do anything but feel him.
“You’re so fucking perfect. I swear it feels like you were made for me.”
I hate how much I love the thought of being made for him.
My eyes close against the words, but the emotion sinks in anyway. I focus on the rhythmic pounding against my ass. The punishing way his hands grip my hips. The hard edge of the desk, which will definitely leave a bruise later.
“I hooked up with guys,” he murmurs. “Plenty of guys, before I got married. It was fine. It was a needed release, but when my career picked up, it wasn’t a tragedy to beat the shit out of my punching bag instead.”
I’m not sure what he’s saying.
“Then I met you.”
Oh… Oh.
“You drive me so crazy, Simon. I can’t keep my hands off you.
I don’t want to. I want to mark every inch of your skin.
I want to taste you everywhere. I want to hurt you and please you over and over again until you can’t move.
Until you can’t remember anyone’s name but mine.
Until nobody else’s dick can satisfy you. ”
Holy shit.
One of his hands snakes in front of me, clasping around my throat. His grasp isn’t too tight. I can breathe. The sensation of him touching me in such a vulnerable place has me on the verge of losing control.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispers.
“No,” I say, like before.
“Tell me to stop.” Louder now. More of a command.
My second “No” is louder too. I press my hands into the desk like I’m trying to push myself up, but not hard enough to make it happen.
“No,” I repeat. “I said no, dammit. Where the hell do you get off, thinking you can touch me like this?”
His hand tightens. “I get off in your ass, Simon, because you love me touching you like this. You love me using you. Don’t you?”
“I have three or four guys a week touching me like this.”
Lies and more lies. Nobody touches me like this. I don’t know why I’m allowing it with him.
Yes, you do.
My denial is drowned out by the absolutely feral sound I make when my orgasm rips out of me, followed moments later by Sebastian’s guttural roar and the stuttering of his hips as he paints my insides.
He collapses on top of me, and for a moment there’s nothing but the two of us breathing in the eerie silence. I hate how satisfying his body feels draped over mine.
“Why can’t I get enough of you?” The words murmured against my ear hit me harder than his belt did.
“I guess…” I guess I just have that effect on people is what I start to say. But I’m sated and deliciously achy pinned under this beast of a man, and I can’t make the words form.
Because there’s no comparing this thing between us to anything else.
Right at this moment, there’s no escaping the tenderness in my chest. When he tugs me away from his desk to a nearby love seat, rubs some sort of lotion on my burning skin, and then pulls me against him to fall asleep, I’m too spent to be rocked by how right it all feels.
As the soft sound of his snores lulls me, I tell myself not to get used to this feeling. Not to like it too much.
Why am I letting him do this? I need to get the fuck out of here.
The deafening hush of the room fills my ears as I listen, straining, almost praying for the power to come back. So I can go.
I really need to go.
The truth is, it’s too late.