1. Phoenix #2
That was the moment I realized it wasn’t just Con. It never had been .
I wanted Maverick, too. And Storm. And Atticus.
I wanted all of them.
Which meant I didn’t deserve any of them. Especially not Con.
That was the moment I realized that the notes I’d been finding in my locker, the anonymous text messages calling me a slut and a whore and telling me Con deserved better…they were all true. He did deserve better. He deserved a woman who would want him and him alone.
The next day, I told Con I couldn’t see him anymore. How could I, knowing how depraved I was? It wouldn’t be fair to him. I would end up hurting him, and probably destroying the relationship he had with his friends.
That wasn’t going to happen. So I broke his heart, and then I sat on the floor of the seventh-floor ladies’ room and bawled.
“You’re so big, baby,” the blonde croons, jerking my attention back to the present. My mouth waters at the sight of his cock, long and standing up straight and proud. He’s so thick I wonder if my fingers would even touch if I were to wrap them around? —
“What the fuck are you doing?” he sneers at the girl. “You think your dry hands are enough to make me fuck you? I told you to prove how much you want my cock.”
His hands go to her hair again, and this time he moves her closer, making her take all of him in her mouth. She chokes and struggles, but he doesn’t relent. He pushes her face harder into his groin, and tears stream down her face.
I should be repelled by his roughness and his lack of consideration for her. I should thank my stars, once again, that I ended things before we got to this point. I’m not disgusted, though, and I don’t feel lucky.
My core throbs, and my lips tingle as I wonder what his dick feels like sliding over her tongue and down her throat, and I’m oddly irritated by the girl.
If she’s struggling, she’s wasting the opportunity.
Even I know you don’t fight the type of control that Con demands…
you give into it. You give yourself to it, and you take the moment to experience everything he offers.
You don’t look any deeper, and you don’t search for love in the hands that grip you .
Men only ever use love to manipulate and control. This is straight up sex and lust, and that’s all I need or want from anyone.
Con is using this girl’s body, but as far as I can tell, he hasn’t made any empty promises to her.
He doesn’t lay out expectations for a relationship.
He has no intention of ever meeting her parents, or inviting her to meet his.
That waitress knew exactly what she was getting…
exactly what she was offering …when she came into this room. So why is she fighting it?
“Fuck,” he growls, the sound one of disappointment, not lust. “Your mouth isn’t showing me how much you want this. Try harder or get the fuck out.”
To the waitress’s credit, she widens her hips and balances herself by placing her hands on Con’s thighs, then pushes her mouth down further on his cock, taking more of it.
I shouldn’t be here in this room, a hidden voyeur to this girl’s efforts, but I can’t help but watch and wish I were her.
My body responds to his commands, even though they’re not meant for my ears. I can feel the dampness between my legs growing. My nerves awaken, hoping for his touch, begging for the pleasure I know he can give me and the pleasure I want to give him.
She’s not ready for him. But that doesn’t stop her from trying.
I hate her for it. And I hate myself even more—for wanting to take her place. For knowing I could do it better.
But Con doesn’t see me anymore. Maybe he never did.
If we’re both lucky, he’ll never see me again.
Con growls out something else under his breath as he pulls the waitress off of him and pushes her back on the bed.
“Strip. Maybe your pussy is better than your mouth.”
She says nothing, but immediately stands, wipes the tears from her eyes and the spit from her lips as she takes off her clothes. She tries to do it slowly, to give him a show, but he’s unappreciative.
“God damnit, take your fucking clothes off. ”
The rest of her clothing comes off much quicker.
He grips her by the back of the neck again as she tries to kiss him, instead turning her around and bending her over the mattress, her ass high in the air.
I watch his hand start on her lower back and move down her ass, caressing her delicate skin down to her mid-thigh and then back up to her pussy. I can almost feel his hands ghosting down my body in the same way.
Through the slats, I catch glimpses—her bare skin, the pierce of silver flashing between her thighs.
I wince. That had to hurt.
She’s spread wide for him, laid out like an offering.
I don’t mean to look, but I can’t look away.
He flicks the clit piercing, and she jumps. Then he slams his hand down hard on her ass, leaving a red handprint.
“That’s for not sucking my cock right. If you want to ever see the inside of this room again, you will learn to deep throat, and you will learn to love it. ”
His hand comes down on her again, and she cries out in a mix of pain and pleasure. With each slap, my body responds, wanting him. Wishing I was the woman on that bed.
He rips off his shirt, tossing it to the side as he lowers his pants a few inches, just below his perfectly shaped ass. Then he puts his hand between her legs, running his fingers up and down her slit.
“You said you’re desperate for my cock, but you clearly aren’t.”
With one hand on her body, Con pulls a metallic wrapper from next to them on the bed.
When did he get a condom? Did he plan on this before bringing her here?
“Maybe I don’t like it when men shove their dicks down my throat,” the girl talks back.
What the hell is she doing? I don’t understand how she’s lucky enough to be in this situation and stupid enough not to appreciate it.
These men might go through women like water, but only the best of the best get to see their rooms. Only the prettiest girls get to be used by these men, and I don’t understand why she is arguing with him.
He lets out a low, dark laugh, then slaps her ass again. The condom is rolled down his cock when he uses the sheathed head and smacks it against her skin.
“You’ll learn to love it,” he says before spitting on her slit and using his cock to rub his saliva around, making her wet.
It’s vulgar and crude. I should be disgusted, but again, I’m not.
She spreads her knees for him, arching her back harder and laying her head on the bed. I wince. Mistake. It’s an invitation, one that he deserves, but she’s not ready for. I saw how big he is, and men like Con don’t make love. They are not gentle, and they’re not slow.
Sure enough, he slams into her with no further preparation, and she lets out a choked-off scream.
I watch as he pumps into her, harder and harder with each thrust, her cries growing louder with each one .
Maybe I shouldn’t be jealous of her, of the sounds that she’s making. I can’t tell if she’s loving it or hating it. His thrusts are brutal, bordering on violent. I can’t stop staring, though, fascinated and so turned on that my body aches to know what that feels like.
I’m woman enough to admit that I’m also a little intimidated. Con went a little easier on me, probably because it was both our first times.
Without conscious direction, my hands move to my body, one hand under my shirt to cup my breast.The plastic of the dry cleaning bags murmurs softly as I run my thumb back and forth across my hardened nipple, but Con doesn’t falter.
My other hand goes to my inner thigh under my skirt, my thumb brushing at the seam of my soaking panties.
I should feel shame. I don’t. The only thing I feel is need, and want, and desperation. Con was mine once. This girl doesn’t deserve him.
“Please,” the girl cries, and I sink my teeth into my bottom lip.
“You said you wanted this,” he growled. “You told me you would do anything for my cock, so take it. ”
“I—” she says something, but her words are drowned out by the sounds of him fucking into her.
“If you want me to stop, just say the word, but the second I pull out of your cunt—you’re gone. I will toss your skinny, bony ass into the hallway without a second thought, and you will never get a chance with any of the other Titans.”
I bite my lip harder as the girl cries out again.
“No, I can take it. I can?—”
“Then shut the fuck up and take it.”
He thrusts harder, and I am mesmerized by the way the muscles in his back flex and the dimple that appears in his ass as he pushes forward.
My fingers slip beneath the hem of my panties, and the moment I brush my clit?—
God.
A breath escapes me, sharp and involuntary. I slap my hand over my mouth too late.
Con freezes. Not a twitch. Not a breath. Just stillness so complete it cuts through the air like a blade .
My pulse goes nuclear. I jerk my hand away from my body, willing myself to disappear, to become fabric or shadow.
But I know better.
I’ve watched Con long enough to know he doesn’t miss anything.
I have no idea how he heard my gasp over the sounds of her moans, but he freezes. I rip my hand away from my body like that will somehow save me, but it’s too late.
He pulls out of her and walks to the closet. His eyes are full of anger and his jaw is ticking.
I push myself deeper in the closet, even though I know he will find me, anyway. One look at my face, and he will know that I was in his room not to clean but to steal from him. I’ve always been a shit liar.
The second he sees me, my life is over.
He rips open the door and, like a snake striking, his hand darts in and grabs my arm, dragging me into the light. His eyes widen and then narrow again.
His mouth tilts up in a cruel, knowing smile .
I should’ve taken the watch and run when I had the chance.
Instead, I took a chance—and now it’s going to cost me everything.