Chapter Eighteen
Indie
Mimic’s hands were braced on the door as he slid in and out of my mouth. His movements were jerky, as if he were unpracticed, but I’d seen the women downstairs. The ones who were here to satisfy the men. Tiffany and Jade had been all but naked in their tiny workout clothes.
They were beautiful, and he was gorgeous. There was no chance he hadn’t had sex with all of them at some point. It was what men did. Pussy was pussy. They didn’t care who it belonged to, as long as they had access to it.
I should’ve fought. I should have kneed him in the balls or scratched at his face, but the second he put his hand around my throat and growled those three words.
You. Are. Mine.
I was done. I almost came from his words alone.
When he lifted me over his shoulder and carried me off, my panties were soaked.
My whole life I had been used and abused by men.
I should be disgusted by the way he just took me.
Carried me like a caveman claiming his woman, whether I wanted to be claimed or not.
He didn’t ask; he didn’t even demand. He just took me. He made the decision for me, like every other man who’d had access to my body over the years.
But this felt different.
This felt pure somehow.
Now I knew for sure I was broken. Who in their right mind wanted to be forced? To have the choice taken away from them. Who would willingly allow their body to be used the way Mimic was using me?
Instead of pushing him away, I was pulling his jeans down under his ass so I could massage his balls. As soon as my finger brushed against his sac, he pushed forward down my throat, and I swallowed.
I knew what men wanted. I knew how to please them. How to make them come quickly and efficiently. But when my throat contracted around the head of Mimic’s dick and he came down my throat, I was filled with disappointment it was over so soon.
“Fuck!” he grunted as he pulsed against my tongue. I swallowed over and over, not letting a drop escape. Was Mimic the type of guy who would discipline me if I wasted his cum? Or was he the type that found it erotic watching it seep from the corners of my mouth?
He pulled away and looked down at me. I stared at him from my knees, waiting for what he would do next. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what I should do. I should scream; I should run. If there weren’t something broken in me, I wouldn’t sit here and hope for more.
We stared at each other. Neither of us moved. It was as if he didn’t know what to do next. There was confusion in his eyes. So I took the next step for him.
I removed my sports bra and tossed it on the floor. His eyes dropped to my breasts, and he groaned. Taking my hand, he helped me stand but kept me caged in against the door.
“Take it all off,” he demanded, his voice rough with emotion.
I slid my shorts down my legs and kicked them away.
His eyes roamed over my naked body, and a shiver tore through me.
His gaze was hungry, but more. My eyes roamed over him.
He still wore all his clothes, though his jeans were pushed down to his knees.
His once limp cock was thick and full again, reaching out to me, and I lifted my hand, wrapping it around the hard length and sliding my hand up and down.
His eyes closed, and his breathing quickened.
My other hand went to his face. I cradled his cheek and whispered, “Mimic.” He didn’t answer, but his hips began to move with my hand.
I stroked him, watching his reaction. His forehead leaned against mine as his hips sped up.
I knew he was close; he was about to come again when he opened his eyes and stared into mine.
I sped up my hand. Something stirred inside me. Something powerful. Something fierce. He was mine. I was in charge of his pleasure. I could stop right now, pull my hand away and leave him wanting. But the desire to watch him lose control, the way he did downstairs, was addicting.
Holding him in my hand, squeezing him. Hearing his grunts and groans of pleasure was a new experience for me. It was a first I would cherish. The first time I desired a man’s release. The first time I didn’t think about my own.
Most of the men and women at the Trick Pony didn’t care about our needs. They used our bodies for their own gratification in whatever way they chose. We never had a choice.
But some, some were gentle. They took their time to make sure we got as much out of it as they did. Our body’s reactions were physiological. Something else we couldn’t control. Something we weren’t given a choice in.
But this. This was new. This power I felt holding Mimic’s pleasure literally in my hand. I squeezed the base of his penis, causing him to grunt. I squeezed a little harder, seeking the painful grimace that covered his face, and I felt the rush of fluid between my legs.
“Indie,” he panted.
“What?”
Mimic groaned, and his eyes closed.
A smile lifted the corners of my mouth. “Tell me what you want, Mimic.”
“I want to come all over you. Mark you as mine. I want you to go downstairs with my cum on your skin so every fucker down there knows to stay the fuck away from you.”
I squeezed my legs, and my hand tightened around him. He pushed against my hand, wordlessly begging me to loosen my grip.
“Indie.”
“Beg me to let you come, Mimic.”
His eyes snapped open, and his hand clasped my wrist. He squeezed until I felt pain, my hand releasing him.
“I don’t fucking beg,” he snarled before wrapping his own hand around his hard length and pumping his dick until he exploded. Spurts of thick white cum splashed against my belly and legs as Mimic held my gaze.
When he was done, his finger ran along my skin, collecting his seed. He lifted his hand to my mouth and commanded, “Open.”
I did so without thought as he rammed his cum-soaked finger into my mouth.
“Suck.”
And I fucking did. My eyes rolled back at his harsh words. And heat pooled in my belly. I wanted this man so fucking bad. Wanted him inside me. Feel his weight on my body as he held me down against the mattress and fucked me.
When I released him from my mouth, he dipped his finger into his seed once more, bringing it back to my mouth. This time, he painted across my lips and then merged his lips with mine.
This kiss was soft, almost tender, but still hungry. He devoured me with his lips and tongue, tasting every inch as if he couldn’t get enough.
Finally, he stepped back. My body felt cold from the loss of his heat. He pulled up his jeans and said, “Go take a shower.”
“Are you coming with me?”
“No.”
I tried not to let the disappointment show. But I knew the moment he saw it on my face.
“I won’t be long.”
“You’re leaving?” My naked body forgotten, I glared at Mimic.
“I have to take care of something. When you’re done, if I’m not back, I want you in my bed waiting for me.”
He walked out without another word, leaving me standing in his room naked and unsatisfied.
What the absolute fuck?
He honestly expected me to stay here. Take a shower and be waiting for him to come back? Fuck that! And fuck him!
I pulled on my shorts and bra and went to my room, locking the door behind me.
I berated myself as I dug through my suitcase for clothes.
Taking them into the bathroom with me, I turned on the water and locked the door.
I knew Mimic could still get in, but I wasn’t making it easy for him.
He would be angry when he got back to his room and found me gone.
Served him right for getting off twice and doing nothing for me.
I washed off the sweat from my workout and the cum from my skin, all the while chastising myself for being disappointed that I no longer smelled like him.
When my shower was done, I looked at my clothes. Peering at the reflection in the mirror, I asked myself, ‘Why are you waiting for him? You’ve been getting yourself off for years now.’
I had been getting myself off. I enjoyed sex. Maybe I shouldn’t, because of the way I was introduced to it, but it had been years since I escaped the Trick Pony, and if the way my body responded to Mimic was any indication, I didn’t have any lasting effects from my childhood.
Except maybe I had more kinks than the average woman did. But kinks weren’t bad. Sex between two consenting adults wasn’t dirty or wrong, regardless of how they wanted to make it happen.
Okay, so maybe wanting to be taken without consent was a symptom of my fucked-up mind. Maybe getting aroused by Mimic’s aggression and lack of asking for consent was a lingering response to the way I was raised.
But if I was okay with not giving consent, wasn’t that consent in itself? From the moment he put his hand on my throat and pushed me against the wall, I knew what would happen. I wanted it to happen. I just didn’t say the words out loud.
I couldn’t.
Saying them out loud felt like I would be admitting that maybe I enjoyed what was done to me as a child. I bit my lip, and I thought about that. Maybe I should talk to Haizley. But if I talked to her, told her everything that had happened to me, would she tell the club?
I knew she was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, but did I trust her enough to risk it? I wasn’t sure I could.
My secrets were bad. They weren’t just the things nightmares were made of; they were literally nightmares I had lived through. Things that go bump in the night didn’t scare me. I had lived a lifetime with bumps.
It was the light that terrified me.
Darkness hid everything. The light exposed your secrets, your fears. It allowed people to see the real you, and I wasn’t sure the real me was worth sharing.
I much preferred the me people had come to love. The me I’d made. The one I created to live in the world outside of the Trick Pony, where life could be disguised as a fairy tale.
Where no one knew what was hiding in the darkness. Where no one heard the bumps in the night. No, the real me needed to stay hidden. Her job was to keep the secrets secure under lock and key.
I pulled on my clothes. Any desire that had still been running through my body was gone. Doused in the flames of reality.
A reality I didn’t understand. One I wanted to be a part of, even enjoyed. But was it real life? Was I equipped to live in this world? Until now, I thought that I was. I hadn’t met anyone who ignited the desire that Mimic did. But could I love someone who was so selfish?
Was he even offering love? Tiffany and Jade said he wanted to claim me. He told me I was his, the moment we entered his room. But what did being his mean? That he got to take what he wanted from me, giving me nothing in return?
I’d had enough of that shit my whole life. That wasn’t a world I wanted to live in.