Chapter 2 #3
The knife vanishes. He shifts off the bed, and I hear him undoing his pants, slipping them off. Panic sings through me again when I hear the rattle of another buckle.
“Ready?”
There’s no backing out of it now. “I’m ready.”
And he does something I hadn’t even considered. Not even for a second. He threads a loop of leather over my head—his belt—and cinches it tight.
Oh, fuck. I’m in trouble now.
“Open your mouth.”
“I—”
“Do it.” The tone of his voice is firm yet gentle at the same time.
He brushes a hand down the side of my face.
It’s designed to be a reassuring gesture—this is scary right now.
Trust me. But trust him? I’d be fucking mad to trust him.
And yet I do what he tells me to. He pushes forward and guides his cock into my mouth.
I have no experience in this arena. God, this is my first time at the fucking circus.
What the hell am I supposed to do? He’s rock hard and tastes clean and slightly musky…
and he’s massive. He barely fits inside my mouth.
I suspect only half of his length slides past my lips before he hits the back of my throat.
“Shit!” He hisses as I suck, forming a vacuum around him.
I think I got that part right. His hips rock back, and he draws out of my mouth, causing a wet popping noise.
“Still think you want me inside you?” He knows just how big he is.
He’s fucking smug about it. This is going to hurt like nothing else, but I don’t want him to realize I’m a virgin.
Even Eli doesn’t know that part. I’m sure he would have charged this guy a whole lot more if he did, and that thought turns my stomach.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Yes, I want you.”
“Good. But you’re gonna have to exercise a little patience first. We aren’t done here.
” He fists a handful of my hair and lifts my head closer to him, and then he pushes back inside my mouth, thrusting in and out while applying a gentle pressure to the back of my head.
I writhe on the bed, surprised by how much this turns me on.
I’m floored when he tugs on the belt strap, though.
Floored.
Even in the dark, I see stars. I can’t breathe with my windpipe cut off and his cock pulsing in and out of my mouth. “Stay with me, okay?” he grunts.
Fear and excitement pool in my stomach. It’s the same kind of anticipation I experienced as a child, suspended over the drop of a roller coaster, only a thousand times worse.
And a whole lot scarier. Between my legs, my pussy tightens as he works his hips back and forth, keeping just enough tension on the belt strap so that I can drag the tiniest amount of oxygen into my lungs.
He shivers as his erection turns granite hard.
If he doesn’t stop now, I think I know what will happen.
But he does stop. Breathing heavily, he withdraws and crouches down beside the bed, easing his fingers beneath the belt and loosening it.
His face is so close to mine, I can feel the intensity of his gaze as he stares at me in the dark.
I still can’t see a thing, but then maybe he has better night vision than I do.
“Your mouth is perfect,” he whispers. And then he does two things that surprise me. First, reverently, he strokes my sweat-soaked skin, sweeping my hair out of my face. Second, he softly kisses my forehead.
“For being such a good girl, I’m going to make you come now,” he breathes. A tremor of anticipation shimmers across my skin, and he chuckles. “You are being a very good girl.”
He climbs up onto the bed and positions himself, hooking his arms underneath my hips, hoisting me up to meet him.
The position is awkward with my ankles still bound to the bed, but all thoughts of my discomfort are forgotten when he buries his face between my legs and starts sucking on my clit again.
“Ahh!”
It’s too much. I climb, ascending higher as an unfamiliar, unfathomable feeling builds between my legs. It unfurls in gentle pins and needles throughout my body, growing more and more intense. And then…
I’m screaming. A wordless release. I’d scream for God, but I doubt He would approve of this situation.
I have no idea who this guy is, so I can’t scream for him.
I scream for myself and for the fireworks going off inside my head, the inferno licking over my skin, burning me out, leaving me hollow and spent.
I fall slack, trembling as he continues to sweep his tongue over and over my clit.
“Stop! Oh my God, stop, please, that’s so—sensitive!”
“Mm, so selfish.” He hums into my pussy, making me clench. “Don’t forget. It’s my turn.” He fiddles around for a moment—condom? Fuck, I hope that’s a condom—and then he drops my hips and thrusts into me, hands tight on my pelvis, trapping me.
Oh…
My…
The pain is almost crippling. An uncomfortable feeling, a buildup of pressure and then a stinging release, lets me know that it’s done.
He stops.
“What…?” He inhales deep. Exhales. “You probably shouldn’t have kept that from me,” he says softly. He sighs, then, as though he’s disappointed in me, which is the most messed-up thing ever. “Are you ready?”
I whisper a faint response. “Yes.”
“Try to relax.” He fills me up, stretches me, makes me whole.
He starts off slow, gentler than I think he would have done if he hadn’t just deflowered me.
After a while, the pain subsides, gradually transforming until I no longer tense with every thrust but lean into it.
By the end, he’s fucking me like a freight train—unstoppable and raw with need. He comes so hard, he roars.
I don’t, of course. It’s my first time, and the pain outweighed the pleasure.
My mind is too fogged to understand what’s going on as he climbs off me and slides down my body.
His lips caress the inside of my thigh, and I shiver as his fingers carefully stroke over my core.
The touch isn’t designed to excite me—it’s more of an apology.
Moving around in the dark, he unshackles my wrists and my ankles.
“You enjoy that?” The bass of his voice makes my legs press together.
“Yeah, I—I did.” The most startling thing, the thing that makes me most sick, is that I’m telling the truth. What the hell is wrong with me?
He grunts, unthreading his belt from around my neck. The release of pressure makes me feel like I’m floating two feet off the bed.
I lie very still as he packs up his things. I sense him next to me pulling on his clothes. Then, when he’s dressed, he stands beside the bed. He brushes his fingertips against my cheek again, so soft it’s not a touch at all.
“Be seeing you.” He heads for the door, and the light from the hallway nearly splits my skull apart when he opens it.
And there my mystery man pauses, and I catch the one and only glimpse of him I ever get.
Wearing a worn leather jacket, his back to me, a black duffel bag in his right hand, he tips his head down to his shoulder.
He doesn’t look back at me. He hovers there long enough for me to make out the silhouette of his profile, his dark, mussed hair, the bruised pout to his full lips.
And then he goes.
I never find out his name.