Chapter 38
Phoenix
It’s a long drive home from work. It always is, one of the primary downsides to living so far from civilization. But it’s worth it if I can keep Roni away from the horrors she’s experienced.
“How has the Queen been today?” I ask.
Vic stands, formally welcoming me before answering. “Just the usual, Sir. Pretty much spent the day in her studio. Nobody came by and nothing unusual. Quiet as can be out here. Not sure other people know this place exists.”
I wish she’d find another outlet. The idea of her teasing men with what’s mine for hours gets under my skin more and more as the weeks pass.
We don’t need the money. Hell, I’m even happy to pay whatever to her charities if she’ll stop.
But I also don’t want to demand she give up something I know she feels is hers.
This can’t sullen my mood. Not before she goes to bed. She doesn’t need me being a storm cloud at the end of her day.
“I appreciate you staying a bit late. Sorry it took me so long. You’re good to go now, if you want. You can stay in the guest room, or, if you prefer, go home and see the family. I’m going to try not to be out of here so early in the morning. So, take your time coming back.”
“I appreciate that, Sir. You know how to reach me. There will definitely be someone here regardless.”
“Perfect.”
As Vic departs, I shed my coat and shoes, neatly placing them aside, and ascend the short flight of stairs leading to the bar.
The air feels cooler here, a welcome contrast to the day's warmth. I sigh, realizing I haven’t had enough water today.
A recurring flaw of mine. Dehydration often leaves me with throbbing headaches, a dull reminder of my negligence.
In truth, perhaps I’m just feeling a bit petulant, irked by how work keeps me from her for so long.
I unscrew the cap of a fresh bottle of spring water, taking a moment to savor its crispness as I chug a few sips.
I roll my stiff neck out of habit and catch sight of Roni at the end of the bar.
Draped in a lush silk robe, she moves with an effortless grace which, to my eyes, defies gravity.
Her presence is irresistible, and I can tell by her fluid movements she’s in a particular mood tonight.
“Good evening, Little Temptress. Have a good day?” I inquire rhetorically, my voice carrying a hint of admiration.
Roni remains silent, her eyes shimmering with unspoken thoughts as she glides toward me. Her fingers reach out to unfasten my belt, and I instinctively place the water bottle down on the polished surface of the bar, its significance forgotten.
I lean to kiss her. Drawn in by an invisible thread. But she gently raises a finger, pressing it lightly between our lips, maintaining her silence. Her eyes lock onto mine, and in her gaze, I feel the depth of our unspoken bond, an alluring pull enveloping us both.
I hear the clink of my buckle hitting the marble floor and feel my pants slide down my thighs.
A woman on a mission, her emerald eyes lock on mine with carnivorous focus.
Her manicured thumbs snag the elastic of my charcoal boxer briefs and deliberately tug them downward, until they pool around my ankles.
My cock, already thickening with each beat of my pulse, stands at attention between us, the head flushed and glistening as she captures it in her warm, soft hands.
She twists her wrist in a maddening corkscrew motion, stroking with a rhythm alternating between subtly teasing and firm, possessive pulls.
I'm completely defenseless against the fire I feel at her touch. The hypnotic power of her unwavering gaze. I can't tear my eyes away from the sight of my hard length disappearing and reappearing between her delicate fingers, the contrast of her polished nails against my skin.
“You got something on your mind, Little Temptress?” I manage to ask, my voice a tattered whisper escaping through heated breaths.
“Mm-hmm,” she confirms, the corner of her mouth curling upward as her eyes dance with mischief.
“Another man,” she says, her voice venom-laced nectar.
My mouth falls open, words forming and dying on my tongue. But the exquisite pressure of her thumb circling the sensitive ridge of my cockhead, the intentional way her fingers slide over the throbbing vein underneath, obliterates whatever protest I was about to voice.
“It really got me going,” she purrs, her breath warm against my neck. “I’ve been sittin’ here, thinkin’ dirty shit, replayin’ it on a loop in my head all damn day. Now—” she squeezes just hard enough to make me gasp, “—punish me, Daddy.”
Fuck.
That—name. Daddy. It’s what she likes to call me now, like a codeword, letting me know she’s willing to let me lead. But all I see when she says it is the look she’ll have on her face if she ever learns what I did to Mercy.
She bats her eyelashes and continues to stroke, pulling me out of my own head, knowing exactly what she’s doing.
“Tell me more, Little Temptress.” I lift her chin so she can look at me. “Tell me how bad you've been.”
She grins, her hand still wrapped around my cock. “I've exchanged steamy messages with several men today. I even got a new potential fan. He was really just getting to know me, but he offered me so much praise. And then he left, leaving me unsatisfied.”
“Uh huh. We can't have that now, can we?” I try to tease, feeling my legs shake as she strokes me, the sound of her movements slick and squishy with precum as she churns her wrist.
“I’m so. Fucking. Horny.” She coos, her free hand floating to the top of my shirt where she starts unbuttoning one button after another.
Slowly. Until she's able to pull it down over my arms. “I got back on a live chat with some more regulars. Some paid to see me clamp my nipples and my clit. And others paid me to touch myself. To edge myself.” She hums as her hand continues stroking.
“Fuck, Little Temptress, that's so hot,” I say, feeling my spine tensing. I stand completely naked with my shirt now going to the floor.
“And then a couple of them, those assholes, they paid even more money for come denial,” she says, her expression serious.
“That's terrible,” I joke with her. She claws at my chest and runs her nails down from my collarbone to my navel.
“I'm feral,” she growls. “Now fucking do something about it.”
A switch ignites in my mind. A primal signal it's time to act.
I slide an arm beneath her, feeling the smooth, marshmallowy curve of her ass, and lift her with ease onto the bar.
My other cradles the nape of her neck, fingers entwining in her hair, drawing her face to mine.
Our lips meet in a long, passionate, and sloppy kiss.
Our tongues dance and duel, the air between us filled with the wet, primitive sounds of desire.
The heat of her core radiates through her robe, confirming my suspicion.
She's bare underneath. Nothing to impede my touch.
As we kiss, I let a hand explore, dipping into her robe and finding her clit, already swollen and slick.
I pinch it gently, rolling it between my thumb and forefinger.
She shudders, a wave of goosebumps pouring down her thighs.
She's on fire, her body stiff and quivering. And it's fucking intoxicating.
I continue my assault on her senses, nipping and pulling her engorged clit.
I capture it between my index and middle finger, pushing and massaging in a steady rhythm, my thumb sliding back and forth between her drenched clit and her entrance.
She moans, the sound a symphony of bliss and surrender, her body writhing in unison with my touch.
Her cries bound through the air, a raw melody of ecstasy.
“Whose fucking cunt is this?” I whisper in her ear.
“It's fucking yours. All yours,” she affirms through gasps as I lower my head. And I eat her pussy until she drenches me in a sea of cum.
Her body still trembles against mine, aftershocks rippling through her thighs, when I reach behind her back, fingers splayed across her damp skin, and lift her off the bar with one quick motion.
She soars to me as her legs clamp around my hips.
Her thirsty cunt drips over my throbbing cock, its head still slathered in precum.
Her arms curl around my neck for support as I lower her slowly at first, watching her face contort with pleasure as I stretch her, then thrust into her with savage force, burying myself to the hilt.
The wet heat of her engulfs me completely.
After her teasing, I’m already at the edge.
My balls are tight and my body rigid. I pump into her with relentless precision, each thrust deeper than the last, her breasts bouncing with our rhythm.
She digs her nails between my shoulders, her head thrown back, throat exposed.
“Yes, fuck me, more. Give me what I want,” she moans, her voice raw and desperate, and already she’s coming again, all over my straining cock.
Her inner walls pulse and contract around me like a velvet hug, milking every drop from my body in hot, pulsing waves.
I hold her pinned against the polished wood of the bar, our sweat-slicked bodies fused together as we catch our breath, her heartbeat thundering against my chest.
When her ankles unclench, I set her on unsteady feet, my hands still gripping her waist. I lean in close enough to count each silver fleck in those emerald eyes and command, “Give it.” Confusion flickers across her flushed face, but she doesn't question me.
Instead, she shrugs the silk robe, wrinkled and damp, from her shoulders.
The fabric slides down her curves like water before joining my clothes at our feet.
Her submission is as intoxicating as her earlier defiance. “That's a good girl.”
I see the blacks of her eyes widen at my praise, and when she opens her mouth to speak, I cut her off.
“Go to the bedroom.” I grunt against her flushed ear. “I want to watch you walking away with my cum dripping from your swollen, pink cunt. Don't shower. Don't wipe it away. I want you to feel it cooling against your thighs while you wait for me to come to bed. I’ll clean you up when I get there.”
She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, the plump flesh turning white then blooming red when she releases it.
A familiar glint sparks in her eyes. Half-defiance.
Half-promise. The look saying she'll obey now but extract delicious revenge later.
She pivots on her heel, the movement deliberate and teasing, before marching toward the bedroom with exaggerated steps making her ass cheeks bounce and jiggle hypnotically.
I'm transfixed by the pearlescent trails shimmering down her inner thighs, catching the low light as they connect and branch like lightning when her legs brush together.
Heaven isn't good enough a word for my Little Temptress.