18. Mimosa
CHAPTER 18
Mimosa
I finish eating because the food is good and when else am I going to enjoy a meal on a yacht?
If I told Drake I like yacht trips, though, he’d probably take me all the time.
Either way, I don’t want to let the food go to waste. When I’m done, the server comes to take my plate.
“Do you think I was too mean?” I ask him.
The server startles, almost dropping the wine glass he picked up. “Um. I couldn’t say, Miss.”
“You could. I can’t fire you. Drake is the one who paid you.” I meet his gaze, and I wonder about how I appear to him. The spoiled girlfriend of the rich tycoon? A gold-digger, maybe?
He goes back to clearing the table. “Your relationship is your own business, Miss.”
I can think of any number of things my college classmates would have said. The women at Drake’s party would also have had choice words for me.
But I suppose I don’t blame the yacht crew for keeping their opinions to themselves, when their livelihood depends on customer service and not pissing off the elite who can afford their services.
“I’ll make sure Drake tips well,” I promise him before I get up and head toward the cabin.
I find Drake in the smaller of the two bedrooms, sipping from a bottle of vodka. I observe him from the doorway, although I make no effort to hide myself.
“Fuck off,” he says, not bothering to look at me as he takes another swig from the bottle. “And close the fucking door on your way out, bitch.”
“That’s a great way to win me over,” I say, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. “You’ve fully convinced me. Drake Brutal is the kind of man I can trust.”
“I’m not trying to win you over,” he says, lifting his gaze to mine. He looks like he’s already well on his way toward getting drunk, and I note that the bottle is already a third of the way empty. Even for a man of his size, it’s still a fair bit of liquor, especially considering what he’d already had at dinner. “Jesus, haven’t you already toyed with me enough for one night?”
I get closer, noting that he unbuttoned his shirt and took off his shoes. I lean over him, meeting his gaze. “I don’t know. Does this make up for the fact that you bought a woman, forced her to have sex against her will, tortured her, made her play your twisted games?” After a few seconds I add, “The woman is me, by the way. In case you’d forgotten.”
He glares at me, a look that probably should have me backing away, but I stand my ground. “I didn’t say it did. But I could always do even worse than all that.”
I’m not sure he can anymore.
“Apologize,” I say steadily. “To me. Tell me you’re sorry for everything you did, and that you regret it.”
“But I don’t regret it,” he says, sitting up straighter. “I don’t regret buying you or fucking you.”
I stand up straight and walk toward the door. “Enjoy your vodka alone, then. When we get back to shore, you can find one of the women who would be happy to date Drake Brutal.”
He gets up, a little slow from the booze, and comes after me, grabbing my wrist. “I don’t want them. I want you. ”
My heart races, and I’m all too aware of how easily he could overpower me.
I can’t give him an inch. I have to be strong.
“You technically already have me,” I say. “Go ahead. Enjoy my body. But, Drake, I’m never going to like the kind of person who thinks buying women is okay.”
“Do you want me to lie?” he demands, leaning in close enough for me to smell the vodka on his breath. “Do you want me to say I regret it when I think it was the best fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life?” He laughs. “Fuck. Fuck!”
The anger bubbles up inside me. “I want you, for once in your fucking life, to actually care about somebody else. Not superficially. Not because you think you own me. But because you feel bad about how much you fucking hurt me. If you don’t have that basic level of empathy inside you, if you can’t even regret making my life hell, then you can forget ever getting anything from me.”
His fingers flex around my wrist, painfully tight, as he stares at me.
“Go on,” I say calmly. “Take it out on me, then. Make me cry. Will that get you what you want?”
Letting out a frustrated sound, Drake releases my wrist. “No. I don’t…” He grits his teeth, then drinks again from the bottle. “Those gold digging bitches don’t want me. Not really. Not who I am. They think they know me, with the charming smiles and the parties. But you…” He stabs his finger in my direction. “You know me. You could care about me anyway.” He starts laughing. “But you won’t. Even if I was sorry about some of the shit I’ve done to you, even if I really meant it, you won’t.”
I slowly release a breath, rubbing my wrist. “You haven’t given me a reason to, Drake. We’ve done one nice date.”
“And it made me want to do more!” he bursts out. “It made me want to do better, to make you smile.” He clenches his teeth again, setting his jaw. “So yeah. I don’t know what you expect me to say. I’m too fucking selfish to regret what got you here with me. I wouldn’t have had a chance with you otherwise.”
“And of course, you ending up with me is more important than my personal happiness,” I say with bitterness. “It’s a good thing Giulio Pavone kidnapped me and forced me into sex work, because that means you got to meet me.”
“I’m not saying it was a good thing. Goddamn it! Stop twisting my words. I’m sorry, all right? I’m sorry I watched those men fuck you, I’m sorry I fucked you when you couldn’t say no, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry,” he repeats, looking as despondent as I’ve ever seen him.
It’s typical, isn’t it, for a privileged man to feel he’s wronged when simply being held accountable for his actions. I should leave him like this. I should let him suffer and reap the consequences.
I must be more twisted up than I thought, though, because I actually feel bad for him.
“Prove it,” I say with more dominance than I feel.
Drake glances up at me. “What? How?”
I look at the bed. “Let me tie you up. You can handle that much, right?”
He looks dumbfounded. “Why would you want to tie me up?”
“Why did you want to tie me up?” I counter.
“Because—” He flounders. “Because I like tying you up. I like seeing you help—” He cuts himself off.
“There you go.” I give him a slight smile. “It’s no big deal, right? You can do that, for me?”
He takes another sip from the bottle before he nods. “Yeah. I guess. Why not?”
I motion toward the bed. “Strip, then.” I glance around the room and spot a bathrobe hanging from a hook near the door. Perfect. I take the sash off the robe and turn to the bed again.
He sets the bottle down, shrugging his shirt off and tossing it onto the floor before shedding his pants. “Where do you want me?”
“On the bed, face up.” I test the rope. “I’m going to tie your wrists to the bed frame.”
I don’t know why the bed has a few decorative bars on the frame. Maybe it’s a very desirable feature among rich douchebags.
Drake stares at me like he expects me to tell him I’m just kidding, but I wait for him to realize I mean it.
He gets on the bed, flopping down onto his back with loose limbs.
Fuck, how drunk is he ?
“Arms up,” I order, and I get a small thrill when he actually obeys. I keep my face impassive, though, and get to work securing his wrists to the bars. I keep just enough slack so that his circulation isn’t cut off, but not enough for him to slip out.
“What’re you gonna do to me?” he asks, a note of interest in his voice that hints that he might not be too sloshed to get it up. “Tie me down, leave me here? Let the crew have their way with me ?” He laughs. “I’d let them, if that’s what would make you forgive me. Fuck. Goddamn it, what are you fucking doing to me, Mimosa?”
“I should,” I agree, pushing against his chest. “Maybe I’d enjoy seeing you get fucked by a big, burly guy. The captain has some heft on him.”
He swallows hard, his face paling. “You’re not serious, are you?” he asks warily, letting himself be pushed flat down on the bed. “I mean, I don’t?—”
“You just said you’d let them,” I point out.
Drake hisses out a breath, tugging lightly at the sash. “C’mon, Mimi…”
“It would only be fair, right?” I trail my fingers down to his stomach and tap around his belly button. “You did all those horrible things to me.”
He squirms. “Well, yeah, but I stopped those two men from fucking you. Doesn’t that count for something?” he pleads.
For all his protests, he’s not saying he changed his mind, that he wouldn’t do it, and I wonder if he really does have a secret submissive side since he’s clearly not doing this out of real penance.
“You only changed your mind because you decided I was yours ,” I point out. I move my fingers to his sides, and he inhales sharply, as if trying to escape my touch.
Experimentally, I drag my nails upward, towards his armpits, and he writhes away.
Drake Brutal is apparently very ticklish.
“Don’t—” He bursts out laughing, trying to squirm away from my touch, but I follow him mercilessly. Tickling is nowhere near any of the torture he’s put me through, but if it gives him a few moments of discomfort, I’ll take it .
Of course, the fact that he’s getting hard tells me that that plan might be backfiring a little.
When I finally relent, Drake is gasping for breath, curling onto his side. I flick the head of his half-hard cock. “Maybe I should keep going. Since you seem to like it.”
“I—” He nearly chokes on his moan. “I don’t like it,” he says, but he’s clearly lying because he’s getting off on this too.
I was right.
He’s fucking cute when he’s not acting like a privileged asshole.
I push his thighs flat on the bed again and wrap my hand around his cock, giving it long, slow strokes. “What should I do with this thing…” I muse out loud.
He lets out a low groan. “I have a few ideas,” he mumbles, “but you probably don’t want to hear them.”
“Do all of them involve me doing all the work to give you pleasure?” I ask teasingly. “Because in that case, you’re right.”
Nodding, he twists a little, tugging at the sash. It’s not enough to really pull free, but it’s enough to remind him that it’s there. “Well, yeah,” he says, like there aren’t any other options at all.
I almost suggest that we could cut it off, but in the end, I’m not cruel enough to joke about that.
“You can sit on my face if you want, first,” he offers.
I laugh out loud at that. “And that would be a terrible hardship for you?” I ask with amusement. “The worst possible torture?”
“Well, no? You might like it, though.”” He looks baffled, but I imagine this sort of exchange doesn’t happen often — or ever. I know he’s eaten women out before; he’s skilled enough at that. But I’m not sure he’d ever let someone go that far.
“You’d better do a really good job,” I say, releasing his cock. I take my shoes, leggings, and panties off but leave the dress on before moving to straddle his shoulders. “If I’m satisfied, I might ride you later.”
Drake shudders, looking up at me with a look I’ve never seen before. It’s lustful, sure, but there’s more to it.
I wonder if he’s ever submitted to anyone in his life before. I doubt it. Nobody else would have dared piss off Drake Brutal by even suggesting it, and he has far too much pride to ask .
“Yeah,” he agrees gruffly, tilting his head back.
I slide into place over his mouth, purposefully rubbing my cunt against his face. He lets out a small groan.
It might be easier if he was able to use his hands, but I’m discovering that I like him this way, tied up and at my mercy. I’ve never done this with anyone before, but it looks like I might’ve unlocked a new kink of my own.
“You know how to use your tongue, right?” I ask, then let out a soft laugh. “You can talk enough. Put it to better use.”
Another shiver runs through him, and I wonder just what he’s thinking about all of this. He’s not protesting, not fighting at all, and he angles his head so he can get to my cunt a little more easily. He’s licking blindly, and I help him by resituating myself with my clit right over his tongue.
I brace myself on the headboard and grind down while he laps at my clit. It feels surprisingly good—not the licking itself, but the fact that I’m the one in control. I haven’t been in charge of my sexual experiences at all since Giulio Pavone.
“More pressure,” I order, tugging at his hair. My face feels hot, and I don’t recognize my own voice.
He obeys, even leaning up to make sure he can give me what I’m requesting — no, demanding . His quick obedience sends a thrill through me. Big, strong, arrogant Drake Brutal has been silenced and brought to submission by me, for me. Maybe only as an apology, but… I glance down at his cock.
No, it isn’t just an apology. He’s into this, if his hard cock is anything to go by.
I moan softly when his tongue rubs just right. I could probably come from this. It would serve him right, for me to leave him aching. This shouldn’t be about his pleasure.
But maybe I do want something more substantial inside me.
I grip his hair and force his head back enough so I can look him in the eyes. “I’m going to ride you. Only until I come. If you don’t get off before that… Well, it’s not my problem. Got it?”
His eyes are glassy, dazed, and he nods. “Yeah,” he croaks out. His lips are glistening, and his entire face is red and a little blotchy, but he doesn’t seem to care. “Fuck, Mimi. Fuck .”
I shift onto the bed and pat his cheek. “Don’t think you can get away with just lying there. I want to feel your cock thrusting.” I struggle to keep a straight face as I line myself up over his cock.
Am I being cruel? Not really. This is nothing compared to what he and so many other men put me through. A little bit of sexual frustration and exertion won’t hurt him.
I sink down, groaning at the stretch.
“I don’t think I could just lie here if I tried,” he says hoarsely, his hips already starting to thrust. He’s like my very own fuckdoll, except I’m not having to do the work. His strong thighs help him fuck into me, and he groans. “How fast and hard do you want it?”
“Hard,” I respond, clenching hard around his cock. “Oh, if you do come early, I’m just going to keep going. And if your cock doesn’t get me off, I might have to punish it.”
He hisses in a breath, pupils blown as he stares at me.
Yeah, he’s definitely getting off on this. I might have to worry about him coming mid-fuck, before I’m ready, but the idea of punishing him for it would be — almost — worth it.
“Got it,” he says, and he starts to pick up the pace. He’s breathing hard, and sweat starts to form on his brow as he works to get leverage from his position. He fucks into me harder, just like I requested, and I tighten around him again.
It’s hard to maintain any semblance of rhythm. I focus on my pleasure, marveling at how fucking good all of this feels. No fear, no worry, just me getting off on Drake’s cock. I imagine caning him, the way he’d done to me—but I don’t have the stomach for that. Just knowing that he’s obeying me now and getting off on it is enough.
My orgasm slowly builds, a steady pressure that’s getting ready to burst. I only need a little more.
I reach down to lightly squeeze Drake’s nipples and give him a cruel smile. “Think you can handle it?”
His breath catches sharply as he jerks beneath me, momentarily thrown off his rhythm. “Handle what?” he asks.
I pinch his nipples and twist them.
He cries out, jerking beneath me. He curses, but I can feel the way it makes his cock throb within me despite the way he skips another thrust. “I don’t… Fuck, I don’t know.”
“It’s easier to dish out than to take,” I say, with more anger than I meant to show.
No, I’m not over anything yet. This isn’t actually a punishment, and it certainly doesn’t make up for any of the shit he put me through.
But I can’t change the past, so I may as well enjoy myself now.
“Y-yeah,” he stammers, looking chastised, a little muted. His thrusts slow again, and I twist his nipple. He takes the hint, picking up speed again, and I relax as my orgasm starts to build again.
I can come from this, but the question is, can I come before Drake does?
Because I really, really don’t want him to have the chance to get off.
I close my eyes and let the pleasure wash over me. He’s doing all this for me. Drake Brutal, one of the richest, most powerful men in the world, is inexplicably infatuated with me .
Drake Brutal, who has no idea what to do with emotions, but is offering them up to me on a platter without even realizing it.
It’s that thought that makes me groan, and an orgasm crashes into me.
As I tighten around him, he lets out a choked sound, thrusting harder into me, faster, as he chases his own climax.
“No,” I tell him, breathless and heavy-lidded as I look down at him. “You don’t get to come.”
He slows down, confusion flitting across his handsome features.
“I told you that you could come first or not at all,” I remind him, luxuriating both in my orgasm and in his obedience.
“Mimi…” he groans.
I don’t want to, but I slide off him to deny him my cunt. I flick my finger harshly against the head of his cock, which is dripping with my fluids.
“If you need help, I can pinch it,” I say.
He lets out a choked sound and shakes his head. “No,” he says. He closes his eyes, taking a moment to gather himself, then he collapses against the bed. His cock continues to twitch, but I have to give him credit: he doesn’t try to talk me into changing my mind. He’s quiet for several minutes, then he finally asks, “Do you want me to call you Amber?” His lips quirk into a faint smirk. “Or Mistress?”
“Not really,” I say quietly. I don’t even know who Amber is anymore. The woman who once thought she could fix… something. Not the world, but at least a small little corner of it.
Naive and optimistic and utterly stupid is what she’d been.
I even used to think I was cynical, which is hilarious when I think of how I am now.
I sit up so I can untie him. “Mimi is fine.”
He nods, sobering slightly. His cock is still hard, but he ignores it. He stretches after I untie him, rubbing his wrists thoughtfully. “Will you stay?” he asks uncertainly, holding out an arm to me.
I shouldn’t. I need to get out of here before I lose even more of myself, before Amber isn’t even a memory anymore.
I sigh and settle in against his side. “Where would I go? Over the yacht railing and into the ocean?”
“The other bedroom,” he says, tugging me close to him like he thinks I really will go into the other room. He’s not wrong to assume that I might do just that, but I stay anyway. “But I’m glad you’re staying.” He yawns. “Fuck, I’m tired. You tired?”
“I’m tired,” I agree, reaching for some tissues so I can wipe myself clean. He reluctantly lets go of me so he can do the same.
When he’s done—and I’ve removed my nice sundress—I lay down half on top of him and stare him in the eyes. “Drake… I don’t know what’s going to happen. I’m not making any promises. I can’t stop you from doing anything.” I stop, stumbling over the words in my mind. “But I was serious that if you want… if you want me, and not some nebulous idea of who you think I am, you have to listen to me. Respect me. Treat me like a real fucking person and not a toy.”
He looks at me, and I can see the conflict in his own expression. I’m not sure he even knows how to do what I’m asking, but he nods anyway. “I’ll do better,” he promises.
I think he means what he’s saying, but I’m not sure he can actually do it. All I can really do is wait and see.