Chapter 64
Aida
“His red right hand.”
—Milton, Paradise Lost
He’s crowding me in the hallway of my home. The reporters outside are still chanting my name, but his presence drowns them out, somehow. It’s just me and his huge body, the gorgeous suit at odds with the mask.
Those words in my ear send a trail of instant goosebumps flitting over my body. I thought he was coming over to comfort me, but maybe discomfiting me is better. Maybe I need to surrender and let Cal do what he does best: wreak total annihilation on my body and soul.
I know he’ll never hurt me.
I trust him with my life.
But the words, and the tone, and the heat of his body against mine, and his scent, and the goddamn rope—they’re enough to flip an instant switch inside of me.
I turn my head so my cheek is brushing against his balaclava.
‘And what’s that, exactly?’ I drawl.
If his words flipped something in me, mine do the same for him. In an instant, he has my jaw in a grip so hard it aches and his mouth millimetres from mine.
‘Whatever the fuck I feel like,’ he snarls. ‘Got it?’
He’s as good as his word, swallowing my yes with his mouth, his lips hard on mine, tongue sweeping in effortlessly, invading, probing, as he takes exactly what he wants, his fingertips still digging into my jaw.
As he grinds his growing hardness against my stomach, I’m vaguely aware of trying to slide my feet apart, because I am clearly a total whore for this man and his filthy mouth and even filthier imagination.
And God knows, if the entirety of the UK wants to believe I’m a slut, I may as well have some fun proving them right.
* * *
My bedroom carpet usually feels soft underfoot, but its fibres are rough beneath my bare knees.
The rope digs into my wrists and chafes against my sitz bone.
Cal towers above me, as naked as I am but undeniably more powerful, feet planted wide and thighs straining and mask firmly on as I kneel before him.
I’m in a haze of desperate, roiling want as I look up at him. I hate nothing more than being without agency—this morning being a case in point. So why, when this man takes my agency from me, does it have rightness swirling through my veins as surely as if he’s injected me with it?
His hand tightens in my hair, tugging painfully at my roots. ‘Again.’
From beyond my bedroom windows the faint, relentless chants of reporters continue. But here, in this bright room, I am merely sunlight and sensation, chasing my next instruction.
My next taste.
My next hit.
I wonder if Cal gets off on this as much as I do. The very woman whose name they’re all calling is bound and on her knees for him, staring up at him as though being his captive is her only means of escape.
I obey, turning my head and pulling at my roots so I can catch the crown of his hard, weeping dick in my mouth once more. I lick it before it bobs and evades me, precum painting a stripe along my jaw. It’s like my childhood games of bobbing for apples, only better.
My next attempt is more successful. I get his whole crown in my mouth and swirl my tongue around it, flicking over that delicious, sensitive little notch of skin at its base before sliding it over the silky wetness of his slit.
His groan is low and raw and male and confirms that the power dynamics here are absolutely not how they seem.
It’s a hit to my bloodstream as I take him deeper in my mouth, shuffling my knees a little wider to feel the air on my aching pussy and flexing my hands uselessly in their bindings as he fists my hair more tightly and thrusts so I’m full of him.
My eyes fill with tears as I gag involuntarily, breathing in wildly through my nose and using every ounce of strength I have not to gag again. I can’t slap his thigh like this, but I could absolutely jerk my head away enough to spit out parliament if I wanted to.
I don’t.
I want this.
I want Cal gripping my head and fucking my mouth and making me wet as I contemplate just how sweet and rough my reward will be.
‘Fuck, yes,’ he hisses as he hits the back of my throat once again, sending my eyes rolling back in my head and tears cascading down my cheeks. I must look like a panda by now. My knees widen even further of their own accord, and he laughs harshly.
‘Getting wet from choking on my cock, are you? Husband not giving you what you need? I bet he’s some posh chinless wonder with a pencil dick he doesn’t know how to use.’ Thrust. ‘Not like this. Take your fucking fill while you can like the little whore you know you are.’
Another vicious thrust has me flailing, my fingers fluttering behind my back as I attempt to keep up, to take his ridiculous length and girth.
I’m drooling, the saliva making it easier to suck and harder to keep ahold of him.
But the relentlessness of his grip on the back of my head means I’m not going anywhere.
‘You’re lucky I came along,’ he says. His tone is a mix of conversational and menacing. ‘I’ll give his bored, hot little wife a good filling up while he’s off doing fuck knows what. Fuck, you know how to suck dick. Come here.’
Without warning, I’m pulled slickly off his cock and tugged up with one of his hands still in my hair and the other lodged under my arm. Blood rushes to my head as he gets me on my feet, and there’s a moment where our eyes connect.
His burn through the mask, eyes black, almost all pupil.
He takes me in, and in them I see pride and infinite, desperate hunger until he throws me on the bed.
I land facedown and am promptly dragged backwards by my ankles until I’m bent over the end of the bed, knees on the floor and my flushed cheek against my cool comforter.
‘Stay,’ he commands, like I’m his puppy, and then there’s the sound of him rifling through clothing and the rip of a condom wrapper.
He’s back behind me in seconds, sinking to his knees and kicking mine apart before his calloused fingers find my centre and begin to rub hard.
‘Jesus fuck,’ he says, bending over me so his breath is hot on my ear and his body a solid bulk behind me. ‘You are fucking soaking, you shameless little whore. You like me roughing you up?’
‘Yes,’ I moan, shame and self-consciousness warring with brazen need. I could die like this, with Cal’s hulking great body wrapped around mine like a shell as his fingers probe at the softest, neediest, most vulnerable part of me, like I’m his to do whatever the fuck he likes with.
‘Fuck, yes, you do,’ he rasps, jamming three fingers inside of me so suddenly that my entire body bucks against his. ‘Such a needy little slut. What do you need?’
‘Your—your cock,’ I gabble, stuttering over my words in my desperation to have even more of him inside me. He’s stretching me so well with his fingers, but it’s not enough. I need more, and he knows it.
‘Yes you do.’ His mouth against my ear makes me shiver.
‘You need my cock like you’ve never needed anything in your life.
You needed it in your mouth, you need it in your cunt, and at some point I’ll come back, when that useless husband of yours is away and you’re home all alone, and I’ll ram it up that tight little arsehole, too. Got it?’
I need him. I need him everywhere; I need the filth of his words in my ear and the heat of his body at my back and the entire length of him so deep inside of me I don’t know my own name.
‘Yes,’ I gasp. ‘Yes, please.’
‘I’m gonna fuck you now,’ he says, his voice low. His control is audibly hanging by a thread, and it makes me so hot. I’m a squirming, leaking mess, sandwiched between him and my bed like this. ‘It’s gonna be rough.’
‘Yes,’ is all I get a chance to say before he’s pulling his fingers out harshly and rearing up.
My back feels instantly cold, bereft, with his heat gone, but then he’s splaying a hand over my face to press me to the comforter as he slaps me hard on the ass.
I can’t help it. I let out a surprised yelp.
He pauses a second—probably to give me time to cry out my safe word—before he does it again.
And again. Same cheek, so hard it stings like a motherfucker.
Four. Five. And, just as suddenly, he stops and jams his dick inside of me suddenly, aggressively.
My body wants to react on instinct, closing up against this perceived invasion, but he’s having none of it.
Harder, his hand flattens me into the bed.
Harder, his dick drives its way in. My pussy is so primed, so swollen already that the pain from his intrusion and from his spanking gives instant way to a heated glow of pure pleasure as he moves.
He doesn’t hold back with a single fibre of his being.
Instead, he’s all hot desperation and unleashed animal behind me, around me, inside me.
His unfeasibly hard dick drags against every single nerve ending I possess as he slams into me over and over.
It’s like unleashing your fingernails on an itch you’ve been told not to scratch.
There’s zero finesse, just crazy, crazy friction, and the build is so fucking fast and hard it feels like I’m a rocket being launched into the stratosphere.
I scrabble at the comforter for purchase as Cal rams home, the heel of his hand bruising my jaw and his dick a blunt slam as he bottoms out. The heat blooms and blooms and floods me before catapulting me over the edge into a black-red galaxy.
I fall and fall and fall through time and space, past stars and moons, taking and taking as he stiffens and roars and jerks out his own spectacular space odyssey before collapsing, spent, on top of me, his hand releasing my face so he can kiss my jaw, my cheek, over and over and over.