Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Oliver
The apartment is quiet and the emptiness can be felt like a living, breathing thing.
I’ve always liked that about this place—it’s small and it’s not perfect, by any means, but it’s quiet.
I never hear my neighbors banging at all hours of the day like Robbie’s neighbors who live next door, and aside from Mrs. Dubya, the seventy-year-old retired schoolteacher next door and Terry, the single dad who listens to his music too loud on the weekends, there isn’t much interaction happening.
Robbie’s been here a few times, but most of the time when we hang out or fuck, it’s at his place. It’s been that way since we started seeing each other. In the beginning, I was fine with that. And maybe I’m still fine with that, given that Sloane drove me home tonight.
I can only imagine what might’ve transpired if Robbie was here.
Sloane offered to walk me to the door, which I’d refused, but part of me wishes I would have let him.
I can’t remember the last time a man offered to do that sort of thing. Actually, I don’t think any of the men in my life ever walked me to the door, even after a first date.
And that thought alone is depressing. But I guess that’s the difference between average men and men like Sloane Pierce. Luxury breeds gentlemen and mediocrity breeds men.
It’s nearing eleven thirty when I hear a knock on my door.
I tense. I’m not expecting anyone, and it’s late. I get out of bed, walk over to the door and look through the tiny peephole and breathe a little easier when I see it’s Robbie.
But that also makes me a little on edge, too.
Not that I think Sloane would come back here, but there’s a strange sort of concern building within me.
I unlatch the chain and unlock the door and open it.
“Robbie, hey. It’s late… what are you—”
He pushes his way inside, not bothering with pleasantries.
I shut the door carefully, locking it and chaining it once more.
“How did it go?” he asks briskly, heading straight for my couch.
I sigh. “Fine.”
I take a seat next to him. And that’s when I smell it. The whiskey. Thick like a cloud.
“How did you get here?” I ask, worry lacing me. “You didn’t drive, did you?”
“Fuck no. You think I’m that stupid, Oliver?” he bites. “I took an Uber.”
He glares at me. “Since you weren’t picking up.”
“I couldn’t answer you. It was too risky. I was with… Sloane.”
“You were with him at eight o’clock?” he presses, leaning into my space. “Nine o’clock?” Ten o‘clock?”
“Robbie…” I breathe, backing up to get away from the overpowering scent and the sudden panic flooding me.
But Robbie doesn’t relent. He pushes me. Crowds me, until my back is slammed up against the arm of the sofa.
“It’s eleven thirty, baby. And you never fucking called me.”
“We a-agreed it was too risky,” I say, my throat tightening.
Robbie presses himself against me, his hand finding my throat.
“I called you from a burner,” he says bitterly.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know it was me.
” He hisses, his fingers tightening their grip.
He forces me to look at him. The solidness of his body mixed with the unmistakable twitch of his cock makes my blood rush and my heart race.
Panic, anxiety, and a strange bloom of desire build and I hate it.
I hate how he’s looking at me. I hate the smell of the whiskey on his breath, and I hate how my cock responds to this.
I should not like this. There has to be something wrong with me…
“I was working,” I say. “Working the job like you asked me to.” I tell him, my shaky hand settling against his chest.
“You don’t answer my call. Don’t show up on time…” he snickers.
“Don’t tell me he has you wrapped around his fat finger already, Oliver.”
“Of c-course not,” I say, Robbie’s vicious glare making my stomach flip and my cock ache.
“I know he’s pretty and that voice could melt the polar ice caps, but he’s not a good person. He’s a fucking asshole who takes things that don’t belong to him.”
Robbie’s free hand finds the waistband of my pants and my body tenses as I feel him pull them and my boxers down in one fell swoop. Instinctively, my body reacts to him—the way it always does. I lift my hips and let him pull them down to my ankles, his gaze holding me prisoner. I swallow hard.
“I know,” I breathe.
My cock throbs and Robbie lets out a dark chuckle.
“Is this why you didn’t call?” he bites out. “Too busy fantasizing about Sloane Pierce?”
“N-no,” I say. It’s not a lie. I wasn’t thinking about him like… that.
But Robbie’s insinuation spurs thoughts I shouldn’t think. I find myself wondering if Robbie was like this with him.
If he showed up to Sloane’s house and backed him against the couch. I have a hard time imagining anyone backing Sloane into anything, but I can’t envision anyone telling Robbie what to do, either.
Robbie lets out a heavy breath as my dick bounces free.
“Liar,” he says. My hands shake against his chest.
But I don’t push him away. I can’t. All I can do is remain still, waiting for him to make his point, even though I know what it is.
“Robbie…" I say as his hand slips between us. The echo of his unlatched belt sounds in the air between us and barely ten seconds later I feel his cock sliding against mine.
“Do you understand that you’re not his to command?” Robbie’s gaze fixes on me as one hand tightens around my throat. The other wraps itself around our dicks. He squeezes hard and I wince.
“I thought that was what you w-wanted,” I say. “We want him to want to command me, right?”
Robbie lets out a grunt.
“You do what I tell you to do,” he says. “If I call, you pick up the fucking phone, Oliver. If I say be at my place at five pm, you show up at five fucking pm.”
I’m caught between panic and lust. Between desire and shame. Tears pool in my eyes because I feel so overwhelmed with guilt. I’ve pissed him off.
Shit.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice shaking.
I’m powerless to move with his weight against me.
“Not sorry enough,” he says as I swallow hard.
“Do you understand me, Oliver?” he says.
I nod, unable to formulate words.
“Good. Now I’m going to remind you exactly who you listen to.”
He spits into his hand, my breath caught in my throat as he coats his dick with it.
“Turn over,” he orders, and I have half a mind to tell him no. To push him and run for my bedroom and lock the damn door.
He’s drunk, and he’s pissed, and he wants to punish me.
But the depraved part of me, the one only he knows, rises from its depths and meets his viciousness with a wickedness of its own.
I do as he asks wordlessly, bracing myself for what I know is coming.
The pain. The guilt, the shame, the ache.
I close my eyes as I feel his cock breach my seam. My jaw tenses and I suck in a breath as he pushes in. Hard. I grit my teeth as he slams into me, and I feel it in every bone in my body.
“This ass is mine,” he growls with a hard thrust. I can’t help but wince, a soft whimper escaping me.
The sensation is painful, but there’s also a sense of relief. Of strange contentment because of his words.
“I own you,” he says with another hard thrust. My cock throbs, aching for release. I dig my fingernails into the upholstery of my sofa, knowing better than to touch myself.
It’ll only piss him off, and he’s already seething.
“And I’m going to make sure you remember tomorrow, every time you look at him, who you’re doing this for.”
His thrusts come harder, faster, and my grip on the sofa tightens.
Robbie’s hands move to my hips and he forces me against the arm of the sofa, the motion pressing my dick into the cushions. It hurts, but it also feels good.
To be claimed like this. Owned like this…
I cry out as he growls his release, the familiar flood of warmth hitting me. And then comes the ache. The guilt.
The fucked up feelings. My cock throbs, needing to come, but I can’t.
This isn’t about me.
This is about him.
Robbie slips out of me with ease, and I feel everything all at once.
Tears stream down my face as it hits me hard.
“Good Boy,” he says, and I hear the familiar clink of his belt, the familiar zipping of his pants. I can’t move.
I stay perched in my position like a statue, the chill air kissing my skin as his cum drips down my seam, down my balls. I close my eyes as my shoulders tense.
Fucking hell.
I hear him moving, and then he tosses something at me. It hits me in the hip. I look down to see it’s my phone.
“Pick up when Missy is calling,” he says, and with that I hear the chain and the lock, followed a moment later by the slamming of the door.
I collapse on my couch and let the tears flow freely, knowing I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.
And there’s no way out.