Chapter 17 #2
"Because... because Jameson thought you had betrayed us," I confessed, the truth leaking out of me. "I was sent to verify. To see if you any one of you were behind all this. I wanted to prove you weren't. I wanted to keep you safe from the his suspicion."
She nicked the muscle in my thigh with the blade, a slow, dragging cut that let blood seep out and run down my leg. I groaned, my head falling back against the chair.
"And why me? Out of everyone in this city, why did you choose to get close to me?"
"Because you…you fit the description of the killer," I whispered.
“When did you find out I wasn’t?”
I looked up at her then, her eyes still hard. "Right away. I saw you. Really saw you. I couldn't... I couldn't stay away."
Lantana paused, her hand resting on my thigh, her fingers brushing the blood. For a second, I thought I saw a flicker of the old Lantana, a shadow of the woman who had wanted me. Then the mask slammed back down.
"Tell me about the assassin. The one the Scorpions hired."
"It's a woman," I said, the serum forcing the detail out. "They've sent a woman to kill the agent. A professional. She said no at first. She doesn't like feds. But they offered her triple. Triple the usual rate."
"Who is she?"
"I don't know her name. But the plan... the plan is to frame the Harlots. They want to make it look like the club did the hit. They want the feds to swarm the city. They want NYC to hunt you all down."
Lantana stood still, processing the information. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. She looked at me, her eyes searching my face, looking for the lie that the serum wouldn't let me tell.
"You played the part of the lover while you were reporting back."
"I stopped reporting," I said. "I stopped the moment I realized I couldn't lose you."
"What about what you felt for me? Was faking that a part of the job too?"
The drug was still humming in my blood as I responded.
"You were hot," I admitted, the raw honesty of the serum stripping away the romance. "I couldn't help but want you. The way you move, the way you smell... I wanted you from the second I saw you."
Her expression shifted. The anger didn't vanish, but it morphed into something darker.
"So that's it? You just wanted to have sex with me? I was just a hole for you to fill while you played spy?”
“No,” I tried to shake my head but barely moved.
“I didn't matter to you?"
"You mattered," I stated, my voice cracking. I managed to hold my tongue after that, fighting the surge of the drug. “I wanted to keep you safe.”
“While fucking me?”
Lantana didn't say another word, she just stood up from the chair and came to stand in front of me. She reached down, her hand wrapping around my cock. “With this?”
She didn't stroke it with affection; she gripped it with a bruising pressure, sliding her hand over the head, demeaning the erection she had caused. She squeezed tight, cutting off the blood flow for a second before releasing it in a sudden, pulsing rush.
"You want me, Ben?" she whispered, her voice a low growl. "You want to feel me?"
“God, yes,” I admitted willfully.
Slowly, she undid the zipper of her pants, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. Her pussy was a dark, wet slit, glistening in the dim light. She climbed onto my lap, her knees digging into the metal of the chair, her thighs framing my hips.
She slid her pussy over my hardened length and I swallowed. “What are you doing?”
“Giving you what you want,” she murmured, as she gripped my cock, positioning herself before slamming down on it.
I let out a choked scream, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. She was tight, unbearably tight, and soaking wet. The sensation was overwhelming, a violent collision of pleasure and pain. I was trapped, my arms bound, my body paralyzed, unable to move a muscle to meet her. I could only take it.
She began to move on me and I could only watch her.
It was’t lovemaking, she was teaching me a lesson I’d never forget.
She was using me like she thought I’d used her that night.
She rode me with a rhythmic violence, her wide hips slamming against mine with a wet, slapping sound that filled the room.
"Does this feel like a job, Ben?" she hissed in my ear.
“It feels so much fucking better.”
“Fuck you,” she cried out, her head thrown back, looking as beautiful as ever as she fucked herself on me.
“You’re beautiful,” I grunted as she tortured my cock.
She leaned forward, her breasts brushing against my chest, her nipples hard and scraping against my skin. She grabbed my chin again, forcing me to look at her as she ground her clit against the base of my cock.
"Tell me how much you want me," she commanded, her voice trembling with rage.
"I... I want you," I groaned, my head lolling.
She picked up the pace, her movements becoming frantic.
She was using me, taking advantage of my helplessness to vent every ounce of her betrayal.
She rode me hard, her pussy gripping me like a vice, sucking the air out of my lungs.
I could feel my balls slapping against her ass, a rhythmic thud that echoed around us.
“Fuck, Lantana. Fuck me,” spat out angrily.
I hated it. I loved it. I enjoyed the abuse, the way she claimed me, the way she turned my own desire into a weapon against me. I wanted her to break me. I wanted her to erase everything but the feeling of her inside me.
"You're nothing," she whispered, her voice breaking. "You're just a piece of meat in a chair."
“I’ll be anything you want me to be,” I hissed again as she rode me.
“Shut up,” a tear ran down her face. “Shut the fuck up.”
She leaned down and kissed me, but there was no sweetness in it. Shoving her tongue into my mouth, she sucked on it with a desperate, starving intensity. Saliva exchanged between us, a messy, wet blur of heat. I tried to kiss her back, my tongue tangling with hers, but she pulled away with a sneer.
She began to bounce, her movements becoming shorter, faster. I could feel her pussy muscles pulsing, clamping down on me in rhythmic waves. The friction was intense, the heat building until it felt like we were both on fire.
"Look at me," she gasped.
I looked. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide, her lips swollen. She was close. I could feel the tension in her thighs, the way her grip on my shoulders tightened until her nails drew blood.
I looked down between us, watching the length of my cock being swallowed by her sweet pussy. The act was both wrong and perfectly right.
She let out a sharp, guttural cry, her body stiffening. I felt her orgasm rip through her, her pussy contracting around my cock in a series of violent, crushing spasms. She shuddered, her forehead resting against mine, her breath coming in ragged, sobbing gasps.
She stayed there for a moment, her heart hammering against my chest, the silence of the room returning, broken only by our labored breathing. Then, as quickly as the passion had come, it vanished.
She slid off me with a wet, sucking sound and she didn't look back as she reached for her clothes. She dressed in silence, the coldness returning to her movements.
I lay there, naked and trembling, my cock still twitching from the intensity of the encounter. The paralysis was starting to fade, a slow tingle returning to my fingertips, but I didn't move. I couldn't.
Lantana stopped at the door. She didn't turn around to look at me though.
"The information is enough for now," she said, her voice flat and dead. "Don't think this changes anything, Ben. You're still a traitor. And I still want to rip your throat out."
“Lantana,” her hand paused at the door handle. “I would have given you anything you asked for without you having to go through all this.”
The door clicked shut behind her as I sat in the silence of the lab, the smell of sex and chemicals lingering in the air. I looked down at my bound wrists, at the blood drying on my thighs while my still hard cock continued to spurt out pre-cum.
"Fuck," I cursed under my breath, the word a ragged whisper.
There was no way out of this one. I had seen the look in her eyes. She was never going to forgive me.