5. Savio
5
SAVIO
N othing about this has gone the way I planned or imagined. I knew Nicci would fight. I thought she might collapse when she found out the truth—that her father sold her to me without much effort on my part, just the offer of enough money to make him see only dollar signs—that she might become a puddle of tears and pleas, though I doubted it. I’ve seen enough of her fire so far to think that she won’t easily break.
No, I expected to have to break her. To force her into submission, to teach her exactly what it’s like when a man capable of mastering both himself and others demands obedience and pleasure. To extract answers from her when she couldn’t take any more.
I didn’t expect her to bargain with me.
Nor did I expect my little principessa to be so bloodthirsty.
Now, I’m curious. I want to know why it is she wants vengeance against my brother’s former crew so badly that she wants them dead, enough to bargain herself for it without fully understanding the terms. Her father, I can understand—it’s clear the man has treated her like chattel for some time, and he sold her to me. But her hatred for the Crows—and my late brother—is interesting.
Did they hurt her? Did they touch her? Possessive anger flows through me at the thought, hot and churning, and I force myself to tamp it down. It’s a natural reaction, I tell myself, to be angry over the thought of another man touching what now belongs to me. I ignore the fact that I’ve felt this way since the moment I saw her.
And I need to be careful, I remind myself. Nicci might need me for now, but there’s no guarantee that if I teach her to use weapons and defend herself so that she can get revenge on the men who have hurt her, that it won’t come back to haunt me. After all, I bought her. I’ve reminded her again and again that her will is no longer her own, that she belongs to me now. And knowing how bloodthirsty my principessa is, I know I’ll need to watch my own back.
It would be smarter to tell her no. To refuse her and stick with my old plan of breaking her until I get what I need…and what I want. But after years of discipline and careful planning, the novelty of her offer is hard to resist. Hard to say no to.
Still, I’m the one in control. If she’s offering her submission, she’ll have to prove it to me before I give her a firm yes .
I sweep my thumb over her lower lip, enjoying the feeling of the plush curve underneath my touch. My cock throbs and aches, wanting to feel those lips wrapped around it. I’ve been hard for what feels like hours, and I desperately need a release. It’s been weeks since I’ve been with a woman, too focused on Nicci, on wanting to claim her for my own. Now, it’s difficult to think about anything other than an orgasm that doesn’t come by my own hand.
“Show me how you’ll submit to me, principessa , and we have a deal.”
For a moment, I think she’s going to refuse. That we’ll end up locked in a standoff where she demands I agree before she gives me anything, and I refuse to say yes until she submits.
In which case, she’ll get nothing, and I’ll take her to the playroom and teach her what happens to a pet who speaks out of turn.
Her green eyes lock with mine, as if assessing how sincere I am, how likely she is to get her way. I can see the wheels turning in her head. And then, abruptly, she sinks to her knees in front of me, reaching up to tuck her long, thick blonde hair behind her ears.
“Fine, sir ,” she purrs. I hadn’t thought my cock could get any harder, but at the sound of her faintly French-accented voice turning sweet and calling me sir , I find out that I can. I’m rock-solid, a bar of iron threatening to tear through the front of my suit trousers, and I grit my teeth as Nicci raises her long-fingered, delicate hands to my belt. “I’ll do my best to please you.”
I can hear the hint of defiance under the words, the faint sarcasm, but I ignore it. I know she’s going to do her damndest to get me to agree, that this is going to be the best fucking blowjob she can manage, and I can’t fucking wait. I can feel anticipation shivering through my veins, and it’s an effort to hold onto my composure, to wait and watch what she does instead of what I want to do—which is yank my zipper down, grab the back of her head, and shove her mouth onto my aching cock.
But this is a test. She’s proving her ability to submit. So I stand there, utterly still and aloof, as Nicci unbuckles my belt.
She’s still in her ridiculous clothing from the club, and the short pleated skirt and fishnet top look completely out of place here in the sleek, elegant guest room of my penthouse. If things had played out the way I had expected, I would have ordered her to shower and then forced her to walk naked to the playroom, where I would have given her her first lesson in obedience.
So which is it? Am I in control, or is she running the show?
The thought sends a pulse of anger through me, but Nicci is already reaching for my zipper, her crimson nails bright against her pale skin as she drags it down. I’m in control, I repeat firmly in my head. I ordered her to prove to me that she’s capable of submission, and that’s exactly what she’s doing.
She looks up at me, blue eyes wide as she presses her palm over the thick ridge of my cock through my boxer briefs. Her tongue slides over her lower lip, still stained a deep berry with the remains of her lipstick, and her fingers slip into the opening, reaching to slide my length free.
I let out a hiss of pleasure when I feel her fingertips brush against the straining flesh. A jolt of sensation ripples down my spine, and I lean into it, groaning at the feeling of a hand other than mine touching my cock as she wraps her fingers around it, and slips me out.
Her eyes widen, ever so slightly, as she sees me fully exposed for the first time. I’m under no illusions that I’m anything other than large—thick and long—and the look on her face strokes my ego just as surely as she’s about to stroke my cock.
I suck in a breath as her hand slides upwards, her thumb brushing against the sensitive, swollen tip, stroking the soft flesh just beneath it. Her touch is light, teasing, and I’m tempted to tell her what I want, but I grit my teeth and wait. I want to see what she does, what skills she’s planning to showcase for me here.
Her thumb strokes upwards, swirling the thick bead of pre-cum that’s pearling at the tip around the sensitive flesh. My shaft is already damp with it—I’ve been dripping arousal for as long as we’ve been talking—but the feeling of her spreading it across my tip makes my spine stiffen and my knees feel weak. Her touch, gentle as it is, feels so fucking good.
She slides her hand up, over the tip and all the way back down the shaft, in one long, slow stroke that I suspect is drawing this out on purpose, giving her a moment to get used to my size before she tries to take me in her mouth. And then she leans forward, pressing those berry-stained lips against my cockhead, and slides her tongue underneath it as she starts to wrap them around me.
I groan, sliding my fingers into her hair to wrap my hand around a fistful of it as she slides further down, her tongue circling my tip as she takes me deeper. Her mouth is fucking perfection. It’s better than I could have imagined, hot and wet and the perfect tightness, the perfect suction. Her smeared eye makeup and faded lipstick only add to the deliciousness of the picture in front of me, and it only makes me want to wreck her further. To show her just how far I can push her when I’m fully in control.
To make her serve my every desire, at my whim.
“That’s right, pet.” I tighten my grip in her hair, lust jolting through me at the sight of her lips stretched wide and taut around my cock. “My pretty little principessa . How does it feel to suck a real cock? One big enough to make you have to work for my cum.”
Nicci’s eyes widen, and I catch a hint of defiance in her gaze, a flicker of hatred at the reminder of what she was doing at the Gilded Lily just last night and for many nights before that. She moans around my cock, a practiced sound, and I frown, pulling my cock free from her mouth with an audible pop .
She glares at me, leaning in to grab it again, but I wrap my free hand around my length, slapping the tip harshly against her cheek. I grip her hair tighter, holding her in place as I slap her again with my cock, on her face and then on her mouth, before shoving it roughly back between her lips.
“Don’t fake a moan for me, principessa ,” I warn her. “If I hear a sound of pleasure from you, I expect it to be real. Moan for me again, and I’ll slide my fingers in that pretty pussy of yours to find out just how wet you are. If you’re not, you won’t like the punishment that comes after.” I lock my gaze with hers. “Now try again.”
There’s resentment burning in Nicci’s eyes; I can see it clear as day. But she just nods, leaning in to wrap her lips around my cockhead again, blue eyes still meeting mine as she starts to suck again.
And god , it feels just as fucking good as before. Her tongue is a marvel, sliding over my tip, around it, and teasing the soft flesh just beneath, tracing the veins in my achingly stiff shaft as her lips slide further and further, taking me deeper into her mouth with each second that passes.
I groan, jaw tight as I fight off the urge to come too soon. My balls are tight and aching, and I could come right now just from how fucking good her mouth feels. But I want to know just how far she’ll go to get what she wants.
“If you can take me all the way down your throat, the answer is yes.” I twine my fingers through another section of her hair, tugging on it. “Show me how far you can take my cock, principessa .”
That resentment flickers into determination. She looks up at me, eyes watering, her lips red and swollen, and she keeps going until I feel my swollen tip pressing into the back of her throat. She coughs as she tries to take me deeper, gagging, and the feeling of her choking around my cock is fucking exquisite. Tears well along her lashes and drip down her cheeks as her throat spasms around me again and again, and as I struggle to keep from coming, I wonder if she’s going to give up. If she’s going to slide off of my cock and accept her fate—that she’s been bought and paid for, and her only use now is as my personal fuck toy, with nothing owed to her in return.
But instead, she keeps going. I can feel her struggling to take every inch, and arousal pounds through me, my body burning with the need to explode down her throat. It feels so fucking good, my cock clamped in the hot vise of her mouth, and her tongue is still lashing over me, teasing every sensitive vein as she finally, finally sinks all the way down, her lips pressing against the taut flesh of my abdomen as I’m buried fully into her throat.
I want to fuck her face. I want to fucking destroy her, to show her just how brutal I can be. A reminder to myself that I’m in charge here, and a reminder to her not to toy with me. That even if I say yes to her outlandish proposal, she’ll suffer if she turns on me.
But I can’t hold back any longer. There will be time for that, I think, just before she sucks hard at the base of my cock, and heat explodes up my spine.
My hand presses to the back of her head, and I hold her tightly against me, not letting her move an inch as I grind my hips against her mouth, my cock throbbing as my orgasm rushes through me. I feel her tongue lash against me as the first jet of my cum spurts down her throat, hot and thick. I feel her choke, hear her struggling for breath, but I don’t care. I’m locked tight in the grip of pleasure, the sensation spreading through me with a dizzying strength. I hold her until every spurt has flowed down her throat, until the last throbbing pulse has rippled through me and all I feel is relief, and then I let go of her head.
She jerks back, sucking in air as she coughs and sputters, toppling sideways onto the floor as she draws in ragged breaths. Her face is red, her eyes streaming tears, and I can see from the way she looks at me that all she feels for me in this moment is pure, unbridled hate. But she says nothing, and when I look at her swollen mouth, there’s not so much as a drop of cum leaking from it. She swallowed it all.
“Good girl,” I murmur, and the glare she shoots me could freeze lava.
“Did I pass?” she asks caustically, and I make her wait for a long moment, tucking my cock back into my suit trousers and zipping up.
“You’re a brat, principessa ,” I tell her coolly. “I can see it in your eyes right now, hear it in your voice. You’re pretending to submit to me?—”
“I did what you wanted!”
“Do not interrupt me!” I move towards her, grabbing her by one arm and hauling her up onto her knees. When she tries to get up further, I grab the back of her neck, holding her in place. “I am your owner, Nicci. I am your master. You will call me sir . You will obey me in all things. And when I tell you that you have misbehaved, you will meekly ask what your punishment is. Is that understood?”
I can see her fighting the urge to spit in my face, to claw at my hand, to attack. But instead, she sheathes her claws and nods.
“Yes, sir.”
“Much better. I want your true submission. You sucked my cock the way I wanted you to and made me come. That’s a start.” I release her, taking a step back. “Get up.”
I can still see the resentment shining in her eyes, but she stands up, slowly.
“Take off your clothes.”
There’s the smallest flicker of hesitation, but she banishes it before I can call it out. With jerky movements that approach defiance, she yanks the fishnet top over her head, dragging the zipper down on the skirt with her other hand so she can let it fall off and kick it away. With those same sharp movements, she unhooks the strap of her bra and slides her thong down her hips until she’s standing in front of me entirely nude.
She tips her chin up, as if she’s daring me to not like what I see. But I do . I find her strikingly beautiful, even with her smeared makeup. Her body entices me beyond just my lust to possess her as a part of my revenge. She’s slender, with sharp collar and hip bones. Her waist narrow. Her breasts small and tipped with pale pink nipples. I can picture the marks I could leave on her skin when she’s earned a punishment, the stripes of red across the slight curve of her ass, her breasts, even the delicate folds between her thighs. My cock twitches again at the thought, swelling, but I ignore it. I’ve indulged enough for one day.
I lean down to pick up the clothes, balling them in my fist. “These are the rules of your submission, Nicci. You will remain naked at all times unless I specifically permit you to wear clothing. You will make yourself available to me for pleasure, in whatever way I desire, at any time. You will stay in this room, except for specific times when I will allow you out.” I gesture at the space. “There is a bathroom through that door on the far wall. The door will be locked, so don’t bother trying to get out. In fact?—”
I pause, enjoying the tension on her face. “If you obey these rules, my answer is yes, Nicci, if only because I’m intrigued by your offer. But if you break any one of them, at any time, I will take it back. There will be no more hunting these men, no more taking them down together. You will be my pet, my toy, and nothing more. Do you understand?”
Her jaw stiffens, but she nods. “Yes, sir.”
Fuck. I’m half-hard again, just from that. Maintaining control with her will be more difficult than I expected, and I’m not entirely sure why. Is it the challenge that entices me? Is her defiance that arousing?
“Good. Take a shower. I expect you to be clean the next time I see you. No makeup. Shave everything. Am I understood?”
Nicci nods again, a quick, bobbing motion of her chin. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, then. You’ll need training if you’re going to be the vicious little assassin that you want to be.”
She nods again, still standing there naked with her hands at her sides, and I have the sudden, hungry urge to pick her up and throw her onto the bed, to spread her legs and eat her out until she begs me to come, to find out what every one of her holes feels like wrapped around my cock. But she’s still filthy from the club, and I have no intention of touching her until she’s scrubbed clean.
I could do it myself, and fuck her in the shower, but that’s far too intimate. She’s a plaything, a toy, a pet. My possession .
If I don’t keep that distance between us, I’ll be fucked.
The thought startles me as I step out into the hall, locking the door behind me. What is it about her that’s shaking my control like this? Every time I’m near her, it’s as if I have to fight back urges that I’ve long since quelled into submission. And with every interaction we have, I’m more and more fascinated by who this defiant, fierce woman is.
She’s not what I expected to find with the information I had. And she’s far too good for my brother. The thought of him having her, of her lips wrapped around him, of her in his bed, sends a surge of possessive anger through me that makes my hands curl into fists, my muscles tensing as I stop and take several deep, slow breaths.
She’s mine now. That was always my plan—to take her and make her my pet, this woman who once belonged to my brother. To take something he once had, just as he did to me, all those years ago.
Sophie. The memory of her, the woman he took from me, rushes through me like a cold wind, dousing my lust and freezing my rage into something cold and hard. The woman I thought I loved, who I believed also loved me.
She chose my brother over me. My father chose my brother over me. All my life, I came second to him, even when I knew my plans were better, my strategies wiser. Even when I gave the woman I loved everything I had, promised her everything I could, she chose him .
He might not be alive any longer, but I’ve still taken Nicci from him. Satisfaction surges through me at that thought—at the memory of her choking on my cock as I came down her throat, at the sight of her stripping naked for me, the sound of her calling me sir . That arousal returns, hot and sharp, and I rub my hand against my swelling length as a smile curves the corners of my lips.
She’s mine now. And I’ll take everything else, too. I’ll grind their memories into the dust and build a throne on top of them, with Barca’s discarded woman kneeling at my feet. And when I’m done with her?—
Then what ?
I stride down the stairs, heading to the kitchen. My control is fragile where Nicci is concerned, but so long as I keep control, it doesn’t really matter why. I’m still in control—I’ve just made a deal, one that will benefit both of us. She gets her revenge, I get information, and the continued satisfaction of using her as I see fit. It’s not the same as breaking her to my will, but the idea of her submitting to my taming is arousing in a different way. Breaking the spirit of something fierce by force is a victory, but the willing submission of a woman like her comes with an even greater satisfaction.
And if she wants blood as part of that deal, I have no issue with that. I’m happy to give it to her. I might even drag some additional information out of those Crows, before they die.
When I’m done with her, I decide, as I pull a bottle of green juice out of the fridge, I’ll find somewhere else for her. Somewhere that she’ll be useful—doing something better than what her father had her doing. A position in one of my clubs, maybe, as a stage dancer if she’s capable of it, or working as a sex worker in one of my black-card clubs.
Something in my gut tightens at the thought of her servicing any man but me; my hand clenching around the bottle I’m holding. It’s just because you’re not finished with her, I tell myself, getting a glass down from the cupboard. There’s nothing deeper here.
That has to be it. I don’t want anyone else touching her because I haven’t had my fill. But I’ll tire of her eventually, and then I won’t care.
Caring, after all of that, would mean that I’ve developed deeper feelings for her. Feelings that I refuse to even begin to name, even in my head.
I loved a woman once. I never will again.