Chapter 13
Chapter
Thirteen
RACHEL
We travel to Boston later in the day and check into a high security boutique hotel with very expensive modern art in the lobby.
Our suite’s walls are a silvery purple and the carpet is cool gray with flecks of earthy stone colors.
Trick has the room next door, but he doesn’t go into it.
Instead, he drops onto the couch in the suite’s living room and turns on CNBC.
I realize that this is how they live, like a small war party that rides together and lives in tents pitched side by side.
This is what Sasha meant about their being more like brothers than friends.
They occupy places the way a family does.
There aren’t calls to arrange visits. They all have keys and codes for the main house.
I know Trick has his own place in Coynston, but how often does he actually go there?
Not very if my experience of them is anything to go by.
In the late afternoon, a woman comes to take my measurements and to go over photographs to learn what sort of clothes I like. By morning, sample outfits arrive that fit my body and my taste.
I run my fingers over an indigo and black taffeta gown that would be good for things like the Oscars. “Where would I wear this?” I ask Sasha.
He shrugs.
“An opera. The symphony. A Goth wedding,” Trick says from his place on the couch.
I think he’s been to his own room because his suitcase and garment bag are gone.
I’m not sure when. While we slept, I guess.
I would’ve thought it would be unnerving to go to bed with him in my temporary living room, but it wasn’t.
He’s with us as added security for me, and that’s reassuring.
“The point isn’t where you’ll wear it,” he says.
I turn. “What is the point, Trick?” After so many hours, I’ve become completely comfortable with having him around.
“The point is that you don’t need Frank Palermo to buy your clothes.”
I look down at the dress. “Because I have C Crue? Is that a good message?”
“C Crue?” Trick says with a laugh. “If we all got a vote, you’d have three times as many outfits in three really divergent styles.” Trick gets off the couch. “‘Vil, I’m going to the gym and then out to have some fun. You need the car?”
“No.”
He leaves, and I hang the dress in the closet next to the other expensive moody clothes. I glance down at the plush white hotel robe I’m wearing, which swallows me up. I shrug it off and hang it on a hook. There’s one pair of black pants. I reach for them.
“Don’t bother,” Sasha says, hooking the hanger back on the closet rod. He closes the closet, then goes to the suite door and puts the ‘Do Not Disturb’ tab on the outside handle.
I watch him. He hasn’t touched me much since the night in the shower. It’s been very different than when he first took me and seemed to find every excuse to put his hands on me.
I was grateful that he could be careful with me after a trauma. But I also missed the way he was before it happened.
He grabs a pillow and sits on the couch. “Come here.”
I cross the room, stopping next to his knees. He reaches behind me and unclasps my bra. It springs open, and he slides the shoulder straps forward so it falls to the floor.
I take a slow breath in and exhale as he brushes a thumb over my nipple. It pebbles at his touch. His hands grip my waist, and he lifts me, bringing my breast to his mouth. His tongue licks me in slow strokes. I shiver.
He sets me back down and puts the pillow over his thighs. “Lie down,” he says.
“Why?” I ask. We haven’t had any fights.
He doesn’t answer.
“Have I done something?” I think back to the way I spoke to him in the auditorium before I left with Alberto. I’d thought at the time that if he ever got his hands on me again, he’d likely make me pay for that. But so much happened afterward, and he’s treated me since like I’m made of blown glass.
“Not discipline. Foreplay.”
“That’s not my kind of foreplay,” I say.
“How would you know?” he says, so cool and calm that it rattles my nerves.
“I think I would know.”
He flicks the pillow, effectively dismissing my protest.
I draw in a breath and stare into his eyes. “Will you stop if I ask you to?”
He nods.
I climb onto the couch and position myself. There’s something darkly erotic about lying over his lap with my ass pushed up.
He rubs my low back and then fondles my ass through the thin panties. It feels good, and I settle deeper onto the pillow, trying to relax. He strokes the back of my thighs, and the touch is tantalizing. This is already very different than the other spankings he’s given me.
He takes his time, caressing between my legs until I ease my knees apart and try to press against his fingers.
“Sasha,” I say in a plaintive whisper. “I’m ready.”
“Slide your panties down to your knees.”
I’m nervous, but I don’t hesitate. I rise up, lower them, and drop back down over the pillow.
He slaps my ass lightly. My toes curl, and I squirm in frustration.
“That’s nothing. You know I can take more than that,” I say impatiently. “Are you trying to tease me?”
He swats my ass, and I suck in a breath. I reach back to rub the spot that I’m sure must be red.
“Ow,” I say belatedly. “Maybe something in between?”
His left hand takes my wrist and moves my arm to lie across my low back.
“Not so casual,” he says.
I turn my head, studying his handsome face.
“When you talk to me during this, don’t speak so casually,” he adds.
I think I know what he wants, but I’m not sure whether I’ll be able to give him that.
“Eyes on the cushion, little bird.”
A flush heats my cheeks and a part of me wants to rebel, but I don’t.
I want to see where this leads, so I obey.
I close my eyes and rest my forehead on the cushion.
His palm comes down on my bare ass, one, two, a pause, then three, four, and five.
My hips twist. Warmth spreads through my body. Six, seven, eight, nine.
Ten through fifteen in a steady rhythm, getting more forceful.
“Good,” he whispers, his long fingers dipping into my liquid heat. He rubs my clit until I mewl like a kitten.
I’m almost unbearably aroused when he returns to spanking me. He’s rougher, but I almost need him to be. The impact sends shockwaves through me. I pant and raise my hips. I’m desperate for friction, for penetration, for his huge cock to stretch my pussy open.
I reach back to find his free hand.
He pauses. “You don’t reach back.”
“I need your free hand… Sir.”
As a reward for calling him Sir, he lets me guide his left hand under my body. I desperately want him to press against my pussy while he spanks my ass. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, trying to grind against his palm.
He cups my pussy and then brings his palm down again. I moan. Strong fingers curl inside me and then more stern blows cover my vulnerable ass. I pump my hips in small pulses until everything catches fire for me, and I ignite. I pant, my skin tingling. I can’t believe that made me come.
The aftershocks feel so good that I go on grinding. He pulls his arm free and carries me to the bed.
He lays me open and then he moves down between my legs.
His tongue slides into me, and I clutch the sheets, arching my back. The flat of his tongue scrapes over my clit, and I moan.
He licks and tugs with his teeth, driving me wild. Deep in my core, I ache for him.
ANVIL
She drips honey, sweet and smooth. I love fucking her with my tongue, especially when she’s whimpering my name and begging me not to stop. I work her clit for several minutes until she shudders under my mouth.
Her fingers catch my neck and tug. “I want you inside me. Please, Sir?”
My cock is hard enough to hammer nails into steel. I crawl up the bed, taking her breast in my mouth and teasing it with my teeth.
Her leg around my waist beckons me. Her arousal is a drug I can’t get enough of. I find her wet opening and guide my cock into her tight heat. She pulses around me. My thumb teases her clit as I thrust in and pull back, plunging deeper each time.
I grip her warm, spanked ass and hold her still so I bang against her cervix. She comes undone, spreading her legs, letting me do her hard and deep.
I watch her breasts bounce and grip her tighter, the sounds of sex pounding in my ears. She’s dripping wet, and my balls tighten with the primal urge to plant my baby inside her.
When the orgasm hits her, her pussy teases my cock with powerful contractions. My balls empty, my cock firing hard.
Afterward, I drop onto the bed, breathing fast. Next to me, she’s shaking. I pull her body against mine and rub her damp skin.
“That was amazing,” she whispers, and the satisfaction makes me want to roar in triumph.
The ever-present darkness recedes, replaced by the light of this passionate girl who’s been my obsession for years.
I kiss her, holding her tight. The way I want to hold onto her forever.