24. Paige #2
He’s deliberately adopted a steady rhythm meant to drive me wild.
Bastard.
I time my breath, forcing my lungs into some semblance of a pattern that matches his leisurely thrusts. In as he pulls back. Out as he pushes forward.
Squeeze.
Pop.
I hit the inner ring.
He hums, the vibration rattling against my back. “Good girl. Keep going.” He plunges even deeper, and my eyes flutter shut at how perfectly full I feel.
My next shot hits closer to the center.
He picks up the pace, still not enough, but faster than before. He matches the increased speed of my shallow breaths.
At the perfect friction, arousal trickles down my thighs.
I shoot again and get even closer this time.
“Almost there.” His hands slide up my sides, one cupping my breast, the other bracing my hip. “You’re going to hit it. I know you are. Then I’m going to hit so many things inside you.”
Tears of frustration stream down my face, burning my cheeks. Salt and gunpowder and sweat crawl up my nose. Aside from Vanya’s voice thrumming through my skull, my pulse is the only thing I can hear.
But I keep shooting. Keep walking my shots in, approaching that red center.
Vanya tracks every attempt. With each improved score, he thrusts harder. Deeper.
He’s going to kill me, but I’ll die one happy woman.
The world narrows to three things…the target, his dick inside me, and the desperate need clawing through my body.
Breathe. Aim. Fire.
Bull’s-eye.
The sound barely registers before I’m flying forward, the gun knocked from my hands and skittering across the table.
Vanya grabs my wrists and pins them to the plywood over my head. His body weight traps me in place.
For a second, fright spikes. Then Vanya’s hips rotate, dragging his cock in a slow circle inside me. I whimper, fear dissipating into warm embers in my stomach.
“I knew you’d do anything to get my cock inside that sweet pussy.” His filthy voice is right in my ear. “Even rewrite your entire world.”
He tugs my arms behind my back. After a zip and click, plastic bites into my wrists. Quick-cuffs. The kind cops use.
I test the restraints, but they hold. I’m completely at his mercy.
Panic flares, then melts into dark, hot, desperate flames.
I clench around him, and he groans.
“Fuck, you love this. You love being helpless.”
Yes. Helpless…with you.
Unable to think, to worry, to do anything but feel.
He withdraws almost completely, then slams back in. The table rattles on its wooden sawhorses. I cry out, my stomach and breasts rubbing against plywood that scrapes my skin.
He does it again. And again. Rough, brutal, holding nothing back. Each thrust drives me forward against the table, causing the edge to dig into my hips. His hand fists in my hair, yanking my head back and arching my spine.
“This is what you need, isn’t it?” He pants, struggling with control. “Not gentle. Not careful. You need to be fucked like the wild thing you are.”
“Yes.” My voice hitches on a sob. “Yes, please, I need—”
He spanks my ass with enough force to sting. “You need what?”
“You. I need you. Please don’t stop.”
The cold air nips my exposed skin everywhere he doesn’t touch. Wind rustles through the trees, rattling the leaves on the ground.
Anyone could walk up or drive by and see me like this. Naked, cuffed, and pinned to a table.
I shudder, need and desire and want swirling through me. My pussy pulses, my hips rocking back to meet Vanya’s.
“That’s it.” His hand comes down again in another stinging slap. “You’re so fucking perfect like this. Covered in scratches and tears, taking my cock like you were made for it.”
His other hand snakes around, finds my nipple, and twists. The pain lances through me, and I scream, the sensation too much and not enough all at once.
“Beg.” His grip on my hair tightens. “Beg me to come inside you.”
“Please.” I’m beyond shame, beyond anything but my insatiable ache for more. “Please, Vanya, I need you to come. I need to feel it. Please.”
When he twists my other nipple, sobs rack my shoulders. I jerk against the cuffs, my arms burning from the awkward angle.
“You like this, don’t you? Being punished. Having your beautiful breasts squeezed and tormented.”
I bite back another groan, my eyes on the cool gray sky.
He grips my left breast with more force.
“Yes!” Gasping, I push farther into his hand. “I love it. Please…please don’t stop.”
His rhythm breaks.
He buries himself deep, grinding against my ass, and I feel him pulse inside me through the condom. His release triggers my own orgasm, which crashes through me with such intensity, my vision whites out.
I scream. Weep. Strain against the cuffs until the plastic cuts into my wrists.
The binding, the pain in my shoulders, the rough wood under my body… Each sensation builds and builds into a pleasure so intense, I nearly black out as my legs quake against the table.
He collapses on top of me, his weight crushing and perfect.
For a long moment, we just breathe. Or rather, he breathes, while I try to remember how.
Then he pulls out, and I immediately miss his length inside me.
I shiver and suck in a deep lungful of air. My shoulders relax, and I rest my cheek on the table.
I’m exhausted.
Vanya grips my arms and helps me straighten. My legs wobble. Everything hurts in the best way. My wrists are raw from the cuffs, my shoulders burn, and my pussy’s pleasantly sore.
I wait for him to snip the bindings.
He turns me around instead.
Then his firm hand is on my shoulder, pushing down.
I sink to my knees, my eyes locked on warm honey.
Under my shins, the grass is cold and damp. My legs fall open automatically. I’m left kneeling on the ground and completely exposed, my hands still cuffed behind my back.
At the mercy of a man I watched kill at least four others.
To keep me safe.
His cock hangs from his open fly. Still slick with me, with us, flagging and gorgeous in the fading afternoon light.
“Go ahead and clean me up, Beautiful.” Wetting his lips, he rips off the condom and peers down at me with that dark smile. “Wouldn’t want to stain my clothes.”
He fists my hair, and I don’t resist as he guides his cock to my lips and pushes inside.
The taste of him lingers on my tongue, salty and sweet and more delicious than I thought possible. I hollow my cheeks and suck, keeping my eyes on his.
“That’s it. Show me how much you love this. How much you appreciate me training you.” The way he says “training” makes it sound so much dirtier than it should be.
He pushes deeper. I take him, relaxing my throat, inhaling through my nose. With every thrust, he’s getting stiffer, stuffing my mouth, gagging me.
Save for his cock, he’s fully dressed. When he hits the back of my throat, my eyes start watering. He holds me in place for a second, then pulls back and strokes my hair.
I suck in air, timing my breathing like he taught me.
He pushes in again, fucking my mouth and drawing muffled whimpers that would’ve humiliated me a week ago.
Today, I crave them.
My pussy throbs. I want to touch myself, but my hands are bound. I’m at his mercy, only able to take what he offers.
And I like what he’s offering.
He groans, his grip stinging my scalp. “You look so good like this. On your knees. Taking my cock like you were born for it.”
I moan my agreement.
This is who I am. Not the archivist with her rules and her fear. I’m this woman kneeling in the grass at a private outdoor gun range, naked and cuffed, sucking the cock of a criminal who’s shown me how to liberate myself.
As I peer up at him through my tear-beaded lashes, I know.
For this, for him, I would burn my world and its rules and regulations to the ground.
The revelation should terrify me. Should send me fleeing back to my safe life, my order, my carefully constructed cage.
But it does just the opposite.
He guides his dick back to my lips, and I accept him eagerly, worshipping him with my mouth.
Heroes sacrifice what they love for the world.
Villains sacrifice the world for what they love.
I’m a villain now.
And I’ve never felt more like myself.