Chapter 23
Tracy
He made me come. In three minutes.
Really, it was more like two, because I spent the first minute trying to waste time. Which didn’t even matter. Damn him.
I’ve never come so fast in my life. I wouldn’t have even thought it was possible if it hadn’t just happened. Does that make me easy? Or does that make him some kind of sex god?
I’m going with the former, because the man doesn’t need the ego boost. And besides, I guess there’s nothing wrong with coming quickly. More orgasms for me.
I lean my head back against the floor with a groan. God, he’s going to be insufferable now. “You’re going to abuse that third rule, aren’t you?”
Blake gets to his knees, straddling my waist as I lay here in my post-orgasm defeat. “Yes. Starting now,” he says, his voice thick with lust.
The reality of my situation sinks in. Blake thinks he can just take whatever he wants from me, and the thought has a knot forming in my stomach.
There’s no denying I’m attracted to him.
I can’t even deny that at one point I wanted him.
That there was a time when I would have gladly spread my legs for him.
But now? After all the hurtful things he’s said to me and the way he’s treated me, making this into some kind of game so he can take advantage of me, it causes a pang in my chest to think that me giving myself to him means nothing more than payment for a lost deal—a deal that’s going to destroy me.
I didn’t think he’d win. I didn’t think there was a chance in hell he was going to make me come that fast. This was my shot to put distance between us and to—ironically—get us back onto professional footing, and he bulldozed right through it.
I’m a fool, and nothing more than a prize in this fucked up tug-of-war game we’ve been playing.
And what’s even more messed up is that it hurts. Somewhere along the way, I let his opinion of me matter, and that’s not who I am. I don’t let anyone define who I am or what I do.
Especially not an arrogant bastard with a heart made of ice who thinks he can just have his way with me.
Digging deep and finding what little resolve I have left, I grab onto Blake’s thighs and try to push him off. “I’ve changed my mind. The deal’s off.”
“Ah ah,” he tsks. “I won fair and square. There’s no backing out of this.” He brings his hands to my breasts, palming them through my bra.
I wiggle beneath him, hating that his touch sends sparks through my skin and that it feels so damn good. Ignoring the feel of those calloused hands gently working my breasts, I tell him, “I’m not having sex with you. You’re my boss.”
He pulls on my nipples and a groan lodges in my throat. “Which means I make the rules, and right now, you’re going to be a good girl and let me—”
“I’m not fucking you!” I snap, cutting him off. Grabbing his wrists, I pry them from my chest. “If you think your dick is getting anywhere near my pussy, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire.
“While there’s no denying I want to sink into that sweet, tight cunt of yours, I don’t need it to get off today.
” His fingers come back to my chest, tugging down the lace and exposing my hardened nipples to him. “These perfect tits will do for now.”
Before I can even wrap my head around what he means, Blake pulls a knife from his back pocket, flicks open the blade, sticks it under the band of my bra, and yanks, cutting the material. My bra falls to my sides, my chest now fully exposed to him, and he lets out a sharp exhale.
Tossing the knife aside, he gets up on his knees and unbuttons his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down his thighs.
His cock springs free, immediately reminding me of the feel of him deep in my throat.
The memory pisses me off and simultaneously turns me on, because even though I’m upset he just left me there that night covered in duct tape and cum, I can’t help how much I enjoyed his hands running over my body, the feel of his fingers on my clit, and the way he took control and found pleasure in my body.
Which really just brings me back to being pissed off because he got himself off and not me.
It’s the Circle of Blake: piss me off, get me turned on, only to leave me pissed off again.
Blake shuffles up my body and I thrash beneath him, my hands coming back to his strong thighs in a useless attempt to push him off.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he settles over me again, straddling me right below my chest.
He palms my breasts, pushing them together. “Shhh.” He rubs his thumbs over my nipples, his fingertips kneading my flesh, and my hips involuntarily grind up into nothing, as though seeking him out. “I’m going to fuck these tits like I’ve been imagining since the moment I first saw you.”
A groan tries to make its way up my throat and I clamp my mouth shut, not wanting to allow him the satisfaction of knowing his words are doing things to me. Things that are making my clit throb and my stomach tighten.
I hate him. I hate this. I hate that he has this power over me and is abusing it.
And yet my heart races as I watch him grasp his cock, his hand stroking up and down the hard length.
A bead of pre-cum forms at his tip, and I swallow, hating myself because I want to lick it off. I want to taste him again.
This is wrong. This is unprofessional. This is all kinds of fucked up. But here I am, captivated by the sight of his hand so expertly working himself.
“Do you want a taste?” he asks, a sadistic smirk on his stupidly handsome face. “Do you need a reminder of what it’s like to have my dick in your throat?”
“No,” I breathe, then wet my lips, as though preparing to take him in my mouth.
His free hand moves to the back of my head and gently lifts, supporting the weight and awkward angle as he brings his dick to my lips.
“Lick it,” he says, his voice deep and sexy, and fuck, I am so screwed.
I clamp my mouth shut and squirm beneath him, my feet scrambling for purchase and the hard floor grinding into my spine as I try my hardest not to give in to him. But he just squeezes his knees into my sides, holding me in place.
“Lick it,” he commands again, his eyes darkening. “Uphold your end of this deal.”
I glare up at him. Of course, he’s going to hold this deal over my head. The heat that had been building in my core extinguishes.
“And if I don’t?” I challenge him.
“Then you can kiss any chance of a real estate career goodbye,” he says, his smooth and silky voice a sharp contrast to the threat he’s making. “One word from me, and no other brokerage in the state will take you.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss, bringing my hands to his stomach and digging my nails in through his shirt. But he doesn’t budge, instead setting my head down, gathering my wrists in his hand, and securing them above my head.
He holds my hands there, his other hand coming to my throat and pinning me in place beneath him.
His face is inches from mine, his body heavy on top of me, and his chest is pressed tight against my own.
His heat flows over my body in waves, his scent threatening to intoxicate me.
So, I do the only thing I can in this position.
I hack up a wad of saliva and I spit right in his stupid fucking face.
It’s a perfect shot, landing right on his cheek, and I can’t help the victorious sneer that finds my lips. Only it’s wiped away quickly when his hand leaves my throat and pinches my cheeks together, forcing my mouth open.
“You wanna fight, Trace?” he asks as he grinds into me, his erection hard against my bare flesh. “Then fine, we’ll fucking fight.”
I try to tell him to go fuck himself, but it comes out a garbled mess with the way he’s holding my mouth open. And when he brings his face closer to mine, I try desperately to shake his hand off, to no avail.
Blake holds my cheeks and leans in, spitting right into my open mouth. His saliva lands on my tongue, and to my own surprise, I swallow it down. Greedily. It’s disgusting and wrong and why, why, why is it so fucking hot?
I whimper beneath him, and he smirks. “Just as I thought.” His hand leaves my face, and he reaches down, running his fingers over my pussy. Bringing his hand back up to my face, the evidence of my arousal is all over his fingers. “Fucking soaked. Does someone have a degradation kink?”
Do I?
“Does being my dirty little secret excite you, sunshine? Does it make you wet thinking about me doing all kinds of fucked up things to this body like you’re my whore?”
Holy. Shit.
He brings his fingers to my lips and I part them without question. “That’s it,” he says, sticking his fingers into my mouth. The taste of myself floods my senses. “Be my good little whore and clean up your mess.”
I groan around his fingers, sucking them clean. I’m so mad at him, and it’s making me so turned on that I don’t even know what to think about this. Maybe he was right and fighting with him does turn me on.
God, that’s so messed up.
But I can psycho-analyze myself later, because if I’m being honest, all I care about right now is coming again.
I work my tongue over Blake’s fingers, licking and sucking them clean. When he pulls them from my mouth, a strand of saliva falls onto my chin, and he leans down, licking it off.
If I have a degradation kink, then Blake has a spit kink.
“Fuck,” he groans, his voice rough. Sitting back up, he releases my wrists and grabs my breasts again. “I’m going to fuck these tits now, and you’re going to lie here and let me.”
I don’t bother protesting. I don’t put up a fight. And he doesn’t make me wait.
Sliding forward even more, he positions his dick between my breasts, pushes them together so they’re holding his cock tight, and then he starts to move.
My body alights, that tension in my belly returning as I watch Blake fuck my tits. His hard length slides between them, the tip getting dangerously close to my face with every forward thrust. All I’d have to do is raise my head to taste him. To let my tongue meet him on every thrust.
His black hair is a mess, sticking every which way from when I was pulling on it earlier. His eyes are hooded, and when he throws back his head and lets out a deep groan, I can’t help as my own escapes my throat.
His rough hands pushing my breasts together, his strong thighs straddling me, and that stupidly gorgeous face, have me practically panting below him and almost begging him to actually fuck me.
My pussy clenches, feeling so empty and desperate to be filled, and I have a hard time remembering why I’m mad at him. Why I’m mad about this.
The power of him, moving over me like he owns me, like I’m his to do whatever he wants with, is so incredibly hot.
I don’t care if it’s degrading. I don’t care if he’s not even doing it for my pleasure.
All I care about is seeing him come. Seeing him fall apart.
And knowing I’m the reason for it makes me feel powerful.
“Fuck, these tits are perfect,” he grits out, his voice like gravel as he continues thrusting into the valley of my breasts. “Be my good little whore and open that mouth, sweetheart.” His thrusting becomes more frantic. “Lift your head. Open up for me.”
I do as he says, lifting my head and sticking my tongue out to run over his tip on the next thrust. And the next.
And the next. Until Blake is breathing heavily and moaning above me, his hands on my breasts pushing them together almost painfully to create more friction on his dick.
The sting sends a delicious thrill to my clit, my pussy absolutely aching for him.
“Fuck, hold your mouth open,” he commands, his voice tight, like it’s taking every single ounce of control he has to hold himself together long enough for me to open my mouth. “Don’t swallow.”
I hold my mouth open, and he lets go with a deep, throaty groan. His hips jerk, his cum landing in warm strings against my tongue and lips.
I savor it. I savor the bitter taste of him in my mouth. The shakiness of his breath as he comes undone. The tensing of his thighs as he spills his release. The bruising of his fingers against my overly sensitive flesh.
When he finally comes down, he runs his thumb over my lips, gathering the cum that landed there. “Let me see.”
I open my mouth for him, showing him his release. He leans over me, spitting into my mouth again, his saliva landing on my tongue and mixing with his cum.
He sticks his thumb in my mouth. “Swallow,” he commands, his voice rough and so sexy, I rub my thighs together in a sad attempt to get friction on my throbbing clit.
Blake watches me with dark eyes, his face hard, and I obey. Closing my lips around his cum covered thumb, I swallow his cum and spit and suck on him, running my tongue around his finger like I did to his dick.
“Fuck,” he whispers. His face softens for the briefest of moments, and then he pulls his thumb from my mouth and stands, tucking himself back into his jeans and walking back toward his desk. “You’re free to go,” he throws over his shoulder on the way.
Ex-fucking-scuse me?
I’m free to go? Is this asshole seriously dismissing me after he just fucked my tits and came in my mouth? Again?
Him leaving me in my bedroom that night after he broke in rushes to the forefront of my mind, and all the hatred I felt toward him comes rushing back tenfold.
He’s using me. His “deal” was nothing more than a means to an end for him—a way to get me to go along with his twisted desires.
And all those dirty things he said? In the moment it was such a turn on, but now it makes me feel cheap. Now it feels like an insult.
Now it hurts.
Getting up, I dress the best I can, opting to lose my ruined bra completely and tying my now buttonless blouse shut in a sad attempt to cover myself.
Moisture threatens to spring to my eyes, but I force it back, holding my head high as I grab my bag. Reaching for the door, I pause, turning back to see Blake behind his desk, looking at something on his laptop.
“You’ll regret it,” I tell him, forcing more strength into my voice than I feel. Inside, I’m shaking, my stomach in knots.
“Regret what?” he asks, barely even gracing me with a glance.
“The day you met me,” I tell him, then exit his office and slam the door shut behind me.