Red Flags (Dirty Billionaires #3)

14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Annie

I lie in Carlton’s arms, running my fingers over the tattoos on his arm and listening to the ocean waves. I’m so happy I can’t even speak as I turn my eyes to the star-filled window. Without city lights, the sky is clear, breathtaking.

There’s only one thing that can distract me from the majestic beauty, and that is Carlton’s cock, hard for me again even though he just fucked my brains out half an hour ago. He’s insatiable.

“You know,” I say, trailing a line down his abs towards his erection, “I read somewhere that insatiable sexual desire is a sign of insufficient emotional nourishment. Am I not nourishing you enough, sir?” I lift my head off his pec, ignoring the pain in my neck from how hard his body is, and plant a soft kiss on his stubbly jaw .

I don’t know for how long we’ve been lying entangled among the sheets, but I could lie in his arms forever more.

“My need for you is an abyss with no bottom,” he replies in that voice that awakens all my chakras.

I prop myself up on my elbow to look at his face. His eyes are darker than usual, a kind of heaviness in them that no amount of love-making can seem to ease.

“Admit it,” I say. “It bothers you as much as it bothers me. The fact that we can never be together for real. Only here, in our escape world.” I intend to look away as I bring up the subject again in the hopes of getting a different answer, but they slide down his body toward his impressive, tattooed cock. “And I still really wish I could talk to my friends and Aunt Rita. Maybe we should, you know, try to find a way back. We’ve been missing for so long, maybe the Elders got the message and changed their mind. They need you. Maybe they’ll cancel your engagement to Rosalind and—”

“That won’t be possible,” he cuts me off. Then, gently pinching my chin. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to get your hopes high for nothing. The Heathen Kings are the hardest secret society in the world. They didn’t get so far by changing the rules often.”

“But at least let me—”

“No, Annie. The sooner you understand this is your life now, the better.”

I look away, fighting a wave of sadness, when my eyes inevitably land on his dick again. I still wonder how I managed to fit that humongous thing inside my mouth. It’s true that his brutally fucking it did most of the job. I could feel him at the back of my throat for days, my lips even bled, but damn if I ever get enough of the way he takes me. The way he uses me for his pleasure.

“What possessed you to get those?” I ask while tracing the tattooed thorns running up his impressive length.

“A bet.”

I raise my eyebrows at him. Relief spreads through my chest because I feared it might have been one of Marcus’ twisted requirements. I’m still stunned that his Heathen father wasn’t his biological one, and that he actually killed the man and kept it a secret from the organization for so long .

What’s it going to be to keep me a secret for a lifetime, too?

“A bet?” I repeat incredulously.

“Back in high school. With a King from a different circle. It was a bet about which one of us could endure more pain. I won.”

I’ve seen how resistant to pain he is, and it broke my heart every single time.

But then again, so many things about him do. His past hurts me as badly as his present does. The pain behind the aggression in his eyes, buried so deep that he’s no longer sure he’s even connected to it, the insecurity that drives his need to possess a woman because he can’t believe she’d stay with him of her own accord, sure as hell not after she saw the monster he believes he is.

Okay, he is a monster. One that has done unimaginable crimes, and some people would hold him guilty for them no matter the circumstances. No matter the bigger monster that manipulated him. Carlton sure never tried to justify what he’s done or to place the blame. Ever since he confessed his crimes to me he took full responsibility for them, and never once did he try to put anything on his adoptive father.

Do I think that Carlton Wilde should be brought to justice? Maybe. But even if I do, that’s never going to happen. Not in the world of mere mortals.

“You are the only prison that could ever hold me,” he said last night while he made love to me in this very bed. “I’ll stay here with you forever, and the world will be a safer place.”

But what scares me most is how much joy I experienced at those words. And how much I wanted him to melt into me, to become one with the sound of the waves crashing into the cliffs, with the touch of the silken sheets, the feel of his skin on my body. I dissolve into him every time he closes those powerful arms around me, kissing me with a passion that borders on insanity.

I give into his caresses, feeling decadently satisfied. Feeling more comfortable than I ever should in a killer’s arms. Unlike the other Kings, who swore to Justine and Eva that they’d only be killing bad guys, Carlton never did that, not even when I asked last night, during dinner .

“I don’t know who I killed at first,” he said. “I have no information about the men Marcus dragged to my cave. I can only tell you that, once I could pick and choose my victims, I only went for bastards my own size.”

He danced around my questions after that, and soon he started going away for the bigger chunk of the day.

As days pass, he’s gone longer and longer, leaving me to explore the dark hallways of this house like a ghost chained to it. The place is vast, and there’s always something new to discover, but I still wish he was around as much as he used to be in the beginning. Soon, I realize that I need him like air. That I’ve become a shell of myself, dependent on the drug that is Carlton Wilde. Wandering the hallways of the palatial building, as ominous as medieval passageways, with heavy doors that seem made of iron.

The particular one I’m standing in front of right now has some kind of family crest carved onto it. A skull with some sort of crown on it, but I can’t tell for sure. Squinting, I approach the door, reaching out to touch the carvings. They feel ancient under my fingers as I trace what I realize is a crown of thorns .

A low hum starts under my fingertips, making me think that maybe I activated the locks. But then the door pushes toward me, a masculine voice coming from behind it.

It’s him, talking to someone while opening the door.

I instinctively draw behind the big black door as it opens until I’m wedged between it and the wall. Nose-to-nose with the skull. I can barely control my breathing, my heart hammering like crazy against my ribcage. Has he been in here all day? He’s talking on the phone, which means he’s got coverage, while I thought we’d fallen off the face of the Earth.

“It doesn’t look like you have a choice, rabbit boy,” he says in a tone that could make a grown man piss himself. “Way I see it, you’ve got two options—you either do exactly what I tell you, or you lose one more finger.”

I stiffen against the wall.

He’s speaking to Rainer Kovac. Threatening him, and meaning every word he says.

“Yes, I’m fully aware that what I’m asking you to do is a mortal sin,” he continues. “I’ve committed many of them in my life. So has your brother. But consider the alternative—losing the rest of your fingers. Slowly, painfully, and never expecting the time or place. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll gut your fucker of a brother who, I assure you, deserves it.”

The door remains open while his voice fades as he walks further down the hallway.

My heart beats in my throat with the fear that he’ll discover me when he returns because I sure wasn’t supposed to hear what I just did. And the only place to run is back down this hallway, in his direction. I’ll run right into him. I could wait here but, if he returns just to shut the door, he’s going to discover me. Of course, he could go back inside and shut it after himself, but there’s no guarantee. Maybe there’s some place to go from inside that room, other doors, other hallways, hiding places.

All that calculation happens in my head in a split second.

I slip out from where I’m wedged between the door and the wall, grab the folds of my pastel blue dress, and scurry inside .

My head snaps in all directions, desperately searching for another way out or a place to hide. At first glance, the space resembles a communication station in a bunker. A medieval bunker built of stone, with no openings that I can see as I cast my eyes around, and massive-looking equipment. One thing is for sure, this isn’t state-of-the-art technology, but it is solid. It’s the kind of place that a government defense team could rely on in case of nuclear war.

Hitching my dress up, I retreat into a corner, my heart beating so hard I’m getting lightheaded. I have no idea what I’m going to say if he discovers me. I can only hope that my mouth remembers how to form words and that I find something good to say, otherwise I wouldn’t put it past him to decide that I was spying, maybe even for his enemies. He might be in love with me, but he’s still a King, and Kings are a suspicious bunch to say the least. And they sure as fuck don’t forgive traitors.

So I wait, listening for any sound because I can’t hear his voice in the distance anymore. He killed the call. But soon, his steps hover just outside the open door. I hold my breath, trying to prepare for discovery but failing with growing panic as a swooshing sound comes. Then, just as I think that everything is lost, the heavy metal door falls shut.

Relief floods my system, but only for a moment.

That’s all it takes for me to realize I’m trapped here.

Maybe I'd be able to think my way out if I wasn’t panicking, or at least if I wasn’t hyperventilating. I guess I could throw caution to the wind, scream and bang my fists against the door, but no. He said he’d never hurt me, but the way he spoke to Rainer raised goosebumps all over me. I wouldn’t put it past him to tie me to the bed to punish me for days on end, and not in a way that I’d like this time.

No, he can’t know that I discovered this room. God knows what secrets he’d believe exposed, and what that would mean for me. For us. I realize in dread that I don’t want to lose what Carlton and I have for anything in the world, no matter how toxic we are together.

Scurrying over to the long table, I start rummaging for anything that might help. I grab racks, radios, cables and gear before I desperately start pulling open the drawers and shove them back shut. All I find is more devices that look like they belong in an anti-nuke bunker, but just as I make to shove shut the last one, something slips from under a pile of neatly bound cables.

I pull it out carefully, staring incredulously at my own cell phone. Unless Carlton is collecting smartphones with glittery pink casings, this is mine. But the screen is black, and there’s very little chance that I’ll find my charger here.

I press the side button to fire it up, muttering a prayer under my breath. I don’t really expect it to come to life. After all, what are the odds? Unless Carlton turned it off soon after we boarded his jet. But just as I’m about to give up, the brand logo appears swirling on the screen.

I bite down a yelp.

Please God, let there be service.

I wait a second, two, three, until the apps appear one after the other on the screen.

But no bars of service.

And no windows that I can hold the damn thing up to in order to get at least one. So what I do is shove some of the stuff off the table, hoist myself up on it, and bring the device as close to the ceiling as I can.

“Come on, come on,” I urge under my breath. If Carlton walked out of here talking on anything resembling a phone, there’s got to be some sort of service. Unless he uses a special satellite to connect to the grid, but he’d need digital equipment to do that, and there’s none here.

A bar appears on the screen, but just before I can pump my first in the air in triumph, it disappears. The bar blinks in and out of existence a few times until it’s finally stable for a few seconds. I rein in my excitement as I slowly and carefully select Aunt Rita’s number.

I choose her not only because she must be worried sick, I know that the girls are too, but because she must have the fewest answers. While the Kings would have taken care of Eva and Justine and even reassured Mel, I doubt they allowed any secrets to seep down the line to Aunt Rita. Too much red tape around the Kings’ dealings, plus that she’s the one who has to deal with my folks.

She picks up after the first ring .

“Jesus Fuckduck Christ, Annie,” she screams into it.

“Auntie, I don’t have much time.” I cup the lower side of the cell and cover my mouth, my eyes darting to the door. The skull with the crown of thorns is engraved on this side of it, too. “I just want you to know that I’m fine. Tell Mom and Dad. No one else. Do you hear me? No one else. Nobody must know I contacted you.”

“What’s happening, Annie?” she pushes, anguish in her voice. “Did you elope with that boy, Carlton? Is that it?”

“Where did you get that idea?”

“Your friend Patrick told the entire campus after you disappeared that Carlton Wilde was stalking you.” I can hear the tears in her voice, thickening it. “Others confirmed when people came asking questions. Even his fiancée. People came forward and said his life was already arranged, his marriage with that girl set, but he decided to go against all of it. To break all the rules.”

She stops, a muffled voice saying something in the background. Then there’s a strange click. I don’t even want to entertain the idea, but I can’t pretend not to understand the risk .

“Aunt Rita? Are you alone?”

“I’m—” She mumbles something. I frown, straining to make sense of the background voices.

“Aunt Rita, who else heard you when you said my name?”

“Annie, please come back,” she pleads, but I can tell she’s distracted. “Come back before it’s too late.” That’s when all my doubts scatter. This is more than just a risk. It’s certainty. Someone is tracking the call.

I kill it, jump off the table and drop the phone like it’s hot.

I stare at the glittery pink device for a few seconds before I grab it again, turn it off, and smash it on the floor. Hitching my dress up with both hands, I ram my heel into it until the screen cracks. Breathing heavily, I pick it up, place it into the drawer it came from, and shove it back shut.

An old issue of the Daily Mail hits the floor as the thing bangs against the table. The paper is worn, but the title on the front page arrests my attention in a second.

Last McKenzie Laird Killed. Heir Missing .

It features an illustration of this mansion in what must have been its former glory, rising from the waves of the ocean.

In my head, I see trails of blood on a marble floor, and a toddler reaching for his mother’s hair caked with blood. Then I see his face over mine as a grown man, his arms tightening around me.

You’re mine, Annie Jones.

We’ll stay here forever, where no one will find us.

I’ve succumbed to the sweet disease that he’s become.

And yet there’s a part of me that just can’t look away from his crimes. Crimes he confessed to me, which makes me an accomplice. I was never a religious woman, and I rebelled against the values that Mom planted in my head, yet they define me. It’s why I’m spiraling now, contemplating hell.

My stomach sinks with a feeling of tragedy. The tragedy of loving a criminal, a doomed soul, one whose heart beats in tune with mine.

I’ll never stop loving Carlton Wilde, but can I live with his criminal nature ?

I pick up the newspaper, slapping off the dust. I squint when I notice the skull with the crown of thorns in the corner of the mansion illustration. Spreading the paper out on the table, I scan the article for information on the symbol, but there isn’t much.

The issue is twenty years old, but I can tell from the writing style that whoever wrote it knew more than they let on. As if the true meaning of that symbol were a deadly secret, and the editor feared they might lose their head for disclosing it, even after the entire family had been apparently wiped out.

“You’re looking at the McKenzie’s family crest.”

I swirl around, knocking into the table and grabbing its edges with both hands.

“Carlton,” I breathe, his presence punching me in the chest.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, reaching past me to swipe the paper off the table, folding it methodically. “Even if it’s not a typical crest. No swords or shields. No roses or daggers. No lions or flags. Just a dead head and the crown of a martyr.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “How fitting, isn’t it? The laird died like a martyr. Maybe it was his fate all along, and he dragged the woman he loved down the same path.”

“Carlton, it’s not what you think,” I say. “I wasn’t snooping.”

He keeps looking at the paper as if staring into the past. Into what his family could have been. Into a destiny that’s now coming after him.

“I’m sorry,” I plead, my chin trembling. I reach up to touch him, but end up not doing it, feeling the gravity of the situation in my bones. “I shouldn’t have called her, but I couldn’t just have that phone in my hand and leave her hanging either.” No doubt that’s how he realized I was in this room. He intercepted the call. No point even trying to hide what I did.

He says nothing, eyes still on the paper.

“Please, say something,” I beg. “I’ll make this right somehow. It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up.” I look around at the equipment before my eyes land on the open door. It shouldn’t surprise me that I didn’t hear him walk in. Carlton Wilde can be quiet as a shadow.

“I have a set of mean-ass skills in tech,” I offer. “I’ll find a way to throw them off our trail. ”

“It’s too late, Lolita,” he says, and my heart shatters in my chest at the tone of his voice. “They already know where we are.”

“We can run away,” I insist, grabbing his arms. Arms that feel like iron through his shirt. Arms I truly believe are capable of protecting me from anything.

“They’ve already gotten our exact location and aimed their surveillance satellites at it. They can’t see the mansion because of the shield I set up, but they’ve got their lenses set on the surroundings. As soon as we step out of here, they’ll know.”

Tears of despair swell in my eyes.

“The cave! We can go to the cave, they’ll never find us there!”

“They’ve got their sky eyes set on this place, Annie. We can’t get out. It’s over.”

I hate the acceptance in his voice.

“You can’t do this,” I beg, tears rolling uncontrollably down my cheeks.“I know it’s too late to be sorry, but for all it’s worth, I truly am. It’s just…when I had the phone in my hand, and I saw that it had service, I just had to call her. I had to let her know that I was fine, that I was alive. I know Aunt Rita, and the worry was killing her. Sade and Micah made sure that Justine and Eva knew enough to sleep at night, and through them Mel knew too, but no one took care of Auntie.”

I search for a spark of hope in his intense dark eyes.

“There’s got to be a way to make this right, Carlton. Please tell me there is one.”

He places his hands on my waist, pulling me closer.

“I started a war for you, Annie Jones. And I’m going to finish it.” He leans down, touching his forehead to mine. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“I love you.” The words slip out of my mouth, and my chest tightens.

I realize with a pang of shame that I’m waiting for him to say it back.

I want him to love me, too. If we have only hours left to live, it’s the last thing I want.

But, next thing I know, he throws me over his shoulder, my stomach crushed against his hard muscles.

“What are you doing?” I cry out as he exits the room with me, heading towards the main hall .

“My parents used to host balls so grand that two ballrooms weren’t enough to hold them,” he says, heading toward the grand stairs. “They spilled into the entrance hall. You know why that was, Lolita?”

I squirm on his shoulder, but he slaps my ass to make me still, taking me up the stairs.

“Tell me why you think that was, Lolita,” he demands as he reaches the first floor.

“Because everybody wanted to be at your parents’ events?”

“Smart girl.”

I grab the sides of his torso to keep balance as he walks further up the stairs. “Your family crest,” I whisper as it dawns on me. “If so many people came to the balls, then all those people knew what it was. Yet it never made it into the media.”

He throws my skirt up and gives my ass another slap, his palm connecting with my skin this time, and ripping a yelp from me. “I always wanted this ass, but I was always in love with that brilliant mind.”

The air leaves my lungs .

There they are, those words—in love. He just declared he’s always been in love with something of mine.

“All those people came to the balls not because they wanted to, but because they were terrified of angering the great Laird McKenzie. In the context of exclusive societies such as the Heathen Kings, the title of Laird means a hell of a lot more than it used to in past centuries, and it was pretty much a code for a destroyer of wealth and power. You could name any person in the world with global wealth and influence, and my father would bring them down. He wasn’t a Heathen King. He was more than that. He was what the Kings feared. The control system. Which is why they wanted him in their ranks. So when I was born and he refused to become one of them, they did the only thing they could to neutralize the danger—they put his name on an assassin’s list.”

“Marcus’ list,” I draw the conclusion as he walks down the hallway toward our bedroom.

“Marcus, because they knew it would take a sophisticated assassin to take down a world-class killer. He was ordered to wipe out the entire family because—”

“Leave one wolf alive, and the sheep are never safe.”

He stops at the door. “A classic?”

I smile. Of course he never watched Game of Thrones. A King doesn’t have time for such frivolities. The only frivolity he ever indulged in was me.

“Arya Stark.”

“Never heard of her.”

“Didn’t think so.”

He carries me into the room, and throws me down on the bed. I sink into the mattress, staring up at him. He stands in front of me like a fallen angel, doom in his dark eyes. Yet there’s a vulnerability to him that I swear I’d go to hell for.

“And now they’re coming after you,” I breathe. “Because you went rogue. Because you’re back walking in your father’s footsteps.”

“When I kidnapped you, I automatically broke my engagement to Rosalind,” he explains. “With that, I defied the Elders, and was automatically stripped of my King status. But also automatically regained the one of Laird.”

If I expected a grand gesture there it is—the moment when he kidnapped me, he signed his own death sentence.

The realization hits me like a sledgehammer.

“Why would you take such a risk?” I choke on my own tears.

He hunkers down, leveling his eyes with mine.

“Because I couldn’t live with you pulling away from me no matter how hard I tried.”

“It’s you who pushed me away in the first place,” I argue, a touch of desperation to my words. “You treated me as if I didn’t matter. You paraded Rosalind in front of me.”

“And I paid for it. Not to justify myself, but I did it for a reason. I was too damn close to falling in love with you, and I was perfectly aware that would have doomed us both. The truth is that the moment you stepped into that church it was already too late.”

He pushes a rogue strand of hair off my face, his eyes on mine like he’s searching for something too deep to grasp .

“I swear that I’ll protect you with my life, Annie. The time might have finally come for the Laird’s house to fall, but you will not be buried under its rubble. You will live, and you’ll be free.” He leans in and gently closes his lips on mine. I shut my eyes, tears sliding down and salting the taste of our kiss. When he peels his lips off mine, his eyelids are slow to lift from his eyes, as if he wants to save the moment.

It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“Of all my sins, kidnapping you was the only one I committed for myself. And it’s the only one I’d commit all over again.” He runs his large hands down my arms. “Aragon Kovac is coming after us, and he’ll bring an army of Heathens with him. I didn’t manage to neutralize him fast enough. But if I’m going to hell, I’m taking him down with me.”

“No,” I breathe, my chin trembling. “You can’t give up.”

“Give up? I’m not giving up. I’m finally taking down the entire nest of vipers—just like they feared I’d do from the very beginning, when they told Marcus to kill me. He chose to just mutilate my soul instead, use me as his own personal lethal weapon. Now the entire organization will pay for his mistake.”

“It’s why you made it look like Marcus is still alive, enjoying retirement in Asia,” I conclude. “If they knew you’d killed him, they would have taken you down.”

“I never intended to betray them when I killed Marcus,” he says, running his thumb over my chin. “That was something I did for myself. I needed revenge so badly, it was organic. But I was brought up in the stone-cold heart of the Heathen Kings, and it was all I knew. I never felt loved, but I was respected, so I returned that in kind. They gave me a structure and a home. As heir of the McKenzie house I was a lone wolf. Claiming my family legacy would have accomplished nothing.” Slowly, he pushes his thumb inside my mouth, and I let him. He watches how I take it in to the knuckle, his lips parting. “But it will accomplish something now. Giving you the freedom you’ve always dreamed of.”

I watch him stand up and walk to his side of the bed, opening a drawer. Seeing what he takes out of it, I frown .

“You can’t be serious,” I breathe. “We’ve got an army closing in on us, and this is what you want to do?”

“I promise that you’ll leave this island a free woman, Lolita,” he rumbles as he walks back to me, uncoiling some of the rope and expertly cutting it with the hunting knife. “I will not leave it at all. Consider this my last wish.”

“Carlton,” I begin, standing up to place a hand on his chest, but he grabs my wrist in the air and twists it, spinning me around in the process.

“What are you doing?” I squeak, but it’s pretty clear when he shoves me face-down on the bed and yanks both my wrists behind me. The rope chafes my skin as he tightens it around my wrists, then goes on to grab one of my ankles. I hear the knife tear into the rope before he yanks my ankle to the side, fastening my leg to the foot of the bed, then spreading me wide by doing the same to the other one.

“You have people coming to kill you and this is what you choose to do with your time?” I squeak.

“I can think of no better way to spend it.” With my ankles firmly secured to the bed feet and my hands tied behind my back, he leans over my back and growls in my ear, “I’m going to hammer this little pussy, and then I’ll take your ass. Make sure that you remember me for the rest of your life.”

He flips my dress over my lower back, exposing my spread legs and my blue lace panties. I can feel his intense gaze traveling down my legs, and I squirm under it, wishing that I could see him. But just as I open my mouth to tell him that, I feel the cold blade of his hunting knife trail over my ass and sliding under the scrap of fabric that covers the crack.

I inhale sharply as the blade cuts through it, and my panties fall off. My skin pebbles from the crisp breeze and the feeling of being completely exposed to him, but a twisted thrill runs through me, too.

“Look at this needy little pussy,” he says as he kneels behind me and runs a finger through the wetness. “So ready to be pleasured.” He sinks his finger in, and I let loose a small moan as my walls clench around him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you want this as badly as I do. ”

“I’ll never not want you, Carlton.” I was never shy about my feelings for him, and I sure as fuck wouldn’t start now.

“Good, because I’ll fuck you so hard that I’ll be branded in your memory forever.”

He goes on to finger me with two and then three fingers, going deeper, harder, his pace growing merciless, jamming my hips against the bed. Soon, it starts to knock against the wall from the force.

“I’m going to make it hurt,” Carlton growls behind me, the sound of his voice going to my head in that way only it can. “I’ll make it hurt so good, Lolita.”

He removes his fingers only to replace them with his mouth, licking my pussy then fucking it with his tonge as he teases my asshole with the fingers he used on me, wet from my arousal.

“Fuck, this feels so good,” I cry out, pushing back into the fullness he gives me.

“It’s going to be even better when I put my dick in your ass, and a toy in your pussy. I knew we’d end up doing this sooner or later. I planned it, but I needed you to be ready. ”

A moment later, something thick, hard and cold enters me. The toy he took out of the drawer along with the rope and the knife. I gasp at the sensation, but before any real discomfort can settle in he turns it on, and the device starts a low, humming vibration.

“I’m going to do you dirty with a stainless steel dick inside your cunt and my cock up your ass,” he promises, his voice taking on that gruff note that drives me over the edge when he uses it at just the right moment.

Fully aware of the power he has on me, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back, bringing his lips close to my ear while teasing my asshole with one finger.

“Do you know why I love having you all tied up?”

I lick my lips, waiting for it.

“It’s because I need you not to have a choice. To be completely at my mercy. I can’t give you a chance to choose, because if I do, there’s a chance you’ll leave me. You tried before.”

Which reactivated his abandonment issues.

He pushes his finger deeper up my ass, and my body accepts him much more easily than it did the first time. It’s not long until he adds another finger, and my thighs flex, pulling at the binds. I whimper at the sensation of fullness and the stimulation of the stainless steel vibrator inside my pussy.

“I had this custom-made after the size of my cock,” he says, his voice amping up the sensations in my body. “So that you feel me in all your holes at the same time.” He releases my hair but sticks two fingers into my mouth, sliding down so I gag on them.

He makes good on his promise and fills all my holes, his metal vibrator in my pussy, and his fingers up my ass and my throat, making me full of him. I love how he makes me choke on him. My knees buckle when the first orgasm tears through me. Whatever happens, I sure as hell will remember him for the rest of my life. Even if sleeping with another man ever came into question, there’s no way anyone would ever make me feel this way. This is a once in a lifetime kind of thing.

Noticing that I’m riding out the last of my climax, his fingers slide out of my mouth, grabbing my chin and turning my head so I can face him.

“Good girl,” he says, kissing me softly on the lips .

Waves of pleasure are still tearing through me as I fall limp on the bed and he removes his fingers from my ass, but the vibrator doesn’t stop humming, keeping the pleasure thrumming in my core.

But Carlton Wilde is far from done with me.

He grabs my asscheeks and spreads them open, spitting on my asshole.

“I’m going to use this little hole now for my pleasure,” he growls, and I whimper with need and a dash of fear. “I’m going to stuff it with my cock.”

He spits on it again and, judging by the slick sounds, I think he’s rubbing lube onto his cock at the same time. Next thing I know, his crest pushes in. My thighs flex against the bed, my arms straining behind my back as the rope bites into my skin.

“Relax and take it,” he rasps. “It’ll make things much easier.”

I try, but my body fights him as he pushes forward. He’s prepared me well, and he’s well lubed up, but his dick is humongous. He goes slow at first, but it still hurts. I scrunch my face, willing myself to relax and just let it happen .

Let him make me his whore, face-down on a bed with her legs spread, her skirt thrown up to let a man have her ass. My body starts to let up, enjoying the feeling of him filling me up, his cock working wonders with the vibrator in my pussy.

“Ah, you’re taking me so good,” he rasps, sliding deeper, thrusting faster.

He grips the bind on my wrists and soon his thighs are slapping against mine, the bed knocking against the wall from how he’s fucking my ass.

“Yes, use me like a whore!” I cry out, with no idea where it came from. I just know that I wanted this all along.

“ My whore,” he corrects me, bringing me close to coming all over the metal dick.

“Yes, yours,” I manage among his powerful thrusts. I can’t believe how good this feels, even though it’s taking a serious toll on my body.

“Say it. Say that you’re my whore.” His knife appears under my chin, poised to break skin. Part of me wishes he’d draw blood, forcing me.

“I’m your whore. ”

“Come for me, Lolita,” he commands. “You’re going to come for me while I fuck your ass.”

And I do, letting out a long cry, coating the vibrator so hard with my cum that I can feel it trickle down my inner thighs while his dick throbs inside my ass. He comes inside it, growling my name again and again while using me like a tied-up whore.

This time the orgasm is so powerful, his body slamming into mine, that it feels like I’m getting a fucking concussion. My brain swims, and my vision starts to cloud at the corners. It could be the exhaustion of his fuckery or the unbearable pleasure of having two dicks stuffed inside me, but I just surrender to his force, letting my body go limp and my head hang from his hold on my hair. I trust him completely, giving in to him just like he always wanted, my chin just above the knife. By the time consciousness leaves me, I do understand it was always the blunt side.