Chapter 3 Artemis
“Ow,” Donovan let out as I laid on his chest and bit the skin beneath his nipple.
Our bodies were intertwined on his bed, much more comfortable than the one I’d been given, under a white sheet that offered little warmth, but Donovan ran incredibly warm, and I’d missed the way his cuddles felt, even if my hatred of him had been reduced to a pissed off annoyance.
“I promised myself I’d make you pay,” I said, going in for another bite, sucking his skin into my mouth and praying the outcome with some nasty purple bruise of a hickey.
“I think what we just did made up for it,” he said. “Don’t you think?”
Another bite later.
“You’re still a little brat,” he said, yanking my head back with a hand through my hair. “I couldn’t take you with me where I was going.”
I grabbed his cock—chubbed with unwiped cum—or precum wetting his tip. “No calls, no texts, not a single message via pigeon, or smoke signal,” I said, with each one, my grip tightened.
“Baby,” he said. “If you’re trying to turn me on, keep doing it.”
“I’m not your baby,” I said.
“Then why are you trying so desperately to suck on my chest?”
“I told myself I would carve my name into your back.”
He thrust his cock in my hand. “You want me on top this time?” he asked. “My back is free real estate, go ahead, carve your name, but if you do, remember how you I liked to punish you.”
My legs twitched tight as my cock pulsed between my closed thighs.
“And what if I tell you that I acted up because I wanted those punishments,” I said.
“You can cage my cock as much as you want, you can plug my ass with your GPS monitor, you can even chip me like I’m your property, but I’m writing my name in your back. ”
“Guess we’re already shaking on it,” he said with my grip on his cock as the handshake. Donovan pinned me down at my chest, my legs resting over his shoulders, and with one of my hands on his cock, and the other pushed to his chest. “Maybe we can seal it with a kiss instead.”
“You stick of booze and desperation,” I said, there was a slight smell of it on his breath.
“You want me to swish some mouthwash?” he asked. “That’ll be extra.”
“What extra?”
“Charge,” he said. “I’m not charging you though, I’m charging Mercy.” He pulled away, letting up on me and my legs to flop down onto the bed as he stood, his cock in full rocket mode, no assembly required.
“Wait. What?”
“Mercy brought me in, she had you across from me,” he said, walking to his ensuite. His ass as hairy and bouncy as I remembered it. “She wanted you to work on your issues with me, so that’s what I’m doing, but I don’t work for free, Artemis. I thought you knew that”
I pulled the white sheet over me. “I’m not letting you fuck me for money,” I said.
“Already done,” he said.
My fault for through myself into his arms like old times, but my body had that effect around him, we were magnets, all it took was a single bounce right into his arms. He’d only been wearing a towel, and my sweatpants was a single article of clothes—no underwear, I know, classy.
“How much?” I asked.
“I don’t know, what’s the going rate for a hot stud like me?
” he asked before swinging at the bottle of mouthwash.
He spat and walked back, but my eyes were fixed on the constant motion of his cock, swinging like a pendulum.
“I’d say at least a couple thousand, I’m virile, and I even let you mark me. That’s gotta count for something.”
Gripping the white sheet around myself, I shook my head at him. “Why did you leave?”
“I told you, I had to,” he said. “Things happen in my life, you knew this, I told you there was a lot of stuff you weren’t prepared for, and what I had to do meant giving you up.”
I pressed my tongue against the back of my teeth.
The idea that I was so easy to give up brought something out in me, it was painful, and he knew that.
I’d already bled my soul out to him, and either he knew that and he was using it, or he as just some numbskull with a big dick and only enough blood at any one time to fill that or his brain. “You’re an asshole.”
“I’ve never pretended to be anything else, Art,” he said. “You knew this, I don’t know what you expected from me. We had fun, I helped you out, we made money, and then I left you. You had plenty of money, you could’ve gone anywhere.”
My jaw tightened—I’d spent a lot of it trying to find him, and I bet he knew that.
It was no secret I was obsessed with him, the way he had an effortless way to living, I loved it, and not being weighed down by people seeing him as gay first—but in that defense, people saw him as a killer first—and usually the last time they saw him, or anyone else, because they were dead.
“I—I wasted it all, obviously,” I confessed.
“And I’m sure you’re going to lecture me about that. Right?”
Instead, he laughed, sitting on the side of the bed. “Ok, how about I waive the fee for the sex,” he said. “You can’t leave me with blue balls, can you, baby?” He gestured to his bouncing cock as if it was a box of kittens he was hoping I’d find cute. “Come on, baby.”
My hand at his throat, I squeezed, but he remained unflinching to the action. “I’m not your baby, you can’t call me that anymore,” I said.
“Then what do I call you after you were bouncing on my dick like it was a pogo stick?”
I had to turn my head as I smiled. “You motherfucker,” I said. “You can’t just disarm me like that.”
“I can,” he said, pulling my hand from his throat with ease. “Now.” He began, as he laid me on the bed. “Can I come inside?”
“Are you’ asking that with the double meaning?”
Pushing his tongue out, he caressed his top lip. I tried pushing out to reach it, to kiss him—and he pulled away. “Well, you’ve already made me up on myself,” he said. “I wanna try it the old the way, see if I remember anything from before I left.”
“You don’t have to be all soppy about it,” I giggled. “I want you to fuck me.”
“Oh, you little brat.” He whipped the sheet back to see my hard cock up against my belly and my knees high, trying my best to reveal my ass to him. At my core, I was just a submissive boy, waiting for a much older man to over power me. And Donovan checked the box—so many times, he’d checked it.
He slipped into position, between my legs, his soft touch as if he hadn’t left me alone in that hotel room—waiting all day for him, thinking the note he left was a joke.
It was like all of it hadn’t happened. My hands hooked together around his back, pulling him down against my chest, his lips in distance, I took the chance and bit his bottom lip, pulling it down as my hands unlinked on his back, my fingernail, while mostly bitten down where were still able to scratch with the right amount of pressure.
“That it?” he asked as I had his bottom lip in my teeth.
I didn’t answer—I couldn’t. “Ok.” His cock pushed against my ass—with lotion still present, he practically slipped inside me, and I let go of his lip to moan, it was all I could do to process the intense sensation of him re-entering me, again and again, knowing his thick head was doing something to me.
“I can dig harder,” I said, drawing my fingernails against his back—no focus, just lines.
“Talking harder,” he said, slamming his hips until his cock was balls deep and I had to contain the moan which was impossible to do—he was practically pushing organs around.
“You still take it like you used to.” He leaned in real close and licked his tongue from my chin across my lips. “You been getting lots of practice in?”
Gripping my fingers in at his sides and failing to get a response from him, I hooked my hands around his upper arms at his shoulders, right where my knees were over.
“Make you jealous if I was getting fucked?” I asked.
“You want me to tell you about all the men who took turns on me like I was a fucking turnstile?”
“No they didn’t,” he said, slamming his hips into my ass, his cock like throbbed inside me. “I know they didn’t.”
“How?”
He was fucking me harder and harder now with a smirk on his face, keeping a secret seemed like something he did often, and this was coming from the same man who promised me once we’d never keep secrets, from a man who promised me we’d get a place together by the sea, like Lachlan and Conrad did, they got out of this life, and I thought that’s what he’d wanted too.
My nails as short as they were caught my eye on his shoulders, they were coated in his blood.
“Because if you’d been fucked even half-decently,” he whispered up close, his chin resting on my shoulder as he spoke.
“Then you wouldn’t be this needy. Remember, how you were always so needy for my cock?
” He kissed my neck and up to my ear. “You remember how you’d crawl across the bed with those big eyes, your lip out, and begging me, calling me Daddy, and telling me how much of a good boy you’d be if I’d fill you up—like a Twinkie. ”
Melting under him with the constant moans, there was no way out of the cage his body created over me, a cage of pleasure with the way his tongue flickered against my neck, and his cock was stretching out my ass.
He was right, I hadn’t been fucked since him—he was the only guys who’d been inside me—except for myself and a toy I’d bought—it wasn’t quite the replica cock he’d had made and was thrown to landfill—I was mad, and I learned to regret that decision.
I wasn’t about to let him fuck me into submission—as much as that was what I loved the most, I needed him to know how much those months he’d left with a single note had fucked me out of his submission.
I dragged fingers down his sides, and knowing exactly where his sweet spot was, the hips space above his cum gutters, I placed my thumbs into them and massaged up along the curve of his muscle and now he was moaning.
“Fucker,” he said.
He didn’t last long before filling me up with cum and prove that I was in actually not so submissive—but after cumming, he continued to fuck me, his cock not getting any softer, he was fucking me until I came, and I did, as he pressed our bodies together with vigorous motion between us, and his tongue inside my mouth, now kissing me, my sweetest spot—making out.
Filling the space between our naked bodies with cum, and his sweat.
Off me, he laid beside me and teased my skin with soft finger strokes across my hard nipples. I got time to see the blood on my fingertips.
“I hope you got something out of it,” he said.
“There’s a saying about a pound of flesh,” I mumbled as my body jerked with the tingle of his touch. It was my nervous system, not me wanting to be attracted to him—even if I was.
“I did just pound your flesh, baby,” he said.
“I’m not your baby,” I snapped. “You’re only good for one thing now, Donovan.
” I pushed myself off the bed and stood, squeezing real hard to keep his cum inside—I wasn’t letting this moment be betrayed by the muscles he’d been beating his cock against. “Sex. Because face it, I’m better than you, in every possible way. ”
He patted the bed. “Go drop my kids off and then come back to bed,” he said. “We have a lot to catch up on still.” He grabbed his cock, now soft and helicoptered it a little. “Maybe even a third ride, heh.”
“You could always try—um, I don’t know, fucking yourself,” I said. “I guess I’ll see you next time I get the urge to—leave my mark on you.” Blowing him a kiss, he caught it.
I grabbed my sweatpants from the ground—really testing my muscles now, but I made it out of his room and across the hallway.
I couldn’t believe I’d been put in a room opposite him.
I rested against my room door for a moment, looking acorss at my bed and the teddy on it—Mercy knew me well, she’d told me herself, she’d even got me a replica teddy of my childhood one.
There was nothing I need right now more than a shower and to process what just happened.
In the bathroom light, Donovan’s dried blood was under my fingernails and pooled in the palms of my hands.
I had to admit it brought me joy. He deserved more than that, maybe an actual bite, maybe my name really carved into his back, maybe—just maybe an actual letter telling me what the fuck happened all those months ago.
He’d left me.
He destroyed me.
I had Mercy to thank—well, River, he’d helped me out more than anyone else.
The voice in my ear, any intel I needed—any intel on anything to do with getting my revenge, and nothing on Donovan Kurt.
He was still going to pay for what he did, I thought we were end game, I thought he was going to propose—I was a fool, clearly.
He only cared about himself—and his dick.