Stormy Night Publications Publishers of BDSM and Kink Erotica
Could she be any more helpless than she felt at this moment? A yes swirled in her mind only to be lost when another blow landed. No matter how useless her efforts, she struggled to escape the relentless pummeling. She tried to twist and turn, struggled to get her feet under her. Sweat threatened to glue her to the cover.
With every strike her buttocks became more tender until she couldn’t help but tense in anticipation. So far she hadn’t begged him to stop, but she couldn’t hold back the damnable revealing tears.
“You don’t get it.” He landed a particularly hard blow. “You think the world revolves around you and your brother, but you’re wrong.” He reinforced his comment with another strike she felt throughout her. “This is bigger than the two of you. The stakes are big, huge.”
He stopped with his palm on her ass. “Ask what I’m talking about. I dare you to.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’d be tempted if I thought our fucking would accomplish anything. Of course that might be exactly what you want.”
She whipped her head around so she didn’t have to look at him. “You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“I don’t think so. As I recall, you got turned on the last time we did this.”
Much as she wanted to insist he was dead wrong, she didn’t because he’d throw her denial at her, challenge her to lie.
“What with the silence?” he calmly asked.
“Go to hell.”
“Shit. Still at it, are you?” He pressed her too-tender flesh. “Cursing when you know I don’t approve.”
She knew he was going to strike her again, should have done what she needed to so he’d stop. However, the depth of his voice distracted her, that and the sensation of heat against heat as a result of the masculine palm claiming her butt cheek.
This was no simple blow, no quick done and gone. He hit her hard, his barely controlled temper serving as a warning not to push him beyond what she already had.
As he went at her, she gave up trying to take her mind elsewhere. She was under this untamed man’s control. He could hurt her as much and for as long as he wanted. As long as he believed he needed to.
Pain engulfed her, strongest in her bottom but seeming to reside everywhere, taking chunks of her sanity wherever it landed. But that wasn’t all. There was something almost magical about the sensations. He’d brought her to a place she’d never been and her body was ready—so ready. Starving.
“Stop,” she hissed. “Oh, by—stop.”
“Why?”
“I get it. All right, I get it.”
He didn’t slow down. Instead he continued to challenge what was left of her mind and nerves. Blow after blow rocked her body. “What do you get?”
“Everything!”
Judging by the never-ending strikes, her sad attempt at an explanation hadn’t reached him. She kept trying to get away, the effort draining her. When her muscles failed, she sank into the mattress. She was in danger of sliding onto the floor but it wasn’t a bad thing. If nothing else, he’d have to stop punishing her long enough to haul her to where he wanted her.
He again stopped going after her. This time the change came slowly, a gradual letting up on intensity, fewer blows landing during a set period of time. She supposed she was grateful but she’d come to a decision back when thinking hadn’t been a herculean task. He’d introduced her to something both dreadful and wondrous.
Heat. Oh, yes.
“That’s enough,” he said.
What is, she would have asked if she still knew how to use her voice. She’d never felt less herself, not even when her father had been murdered.
He patted what he’d been punishing. She gasped at the contact. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked.
I don’t have a mind. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t give me that shit. You know what I’m talking about.” He touched her again, the contact light but lingering. She whimpered either in anticipation or fear of what he had in mind.
“Maybe,” he muttered. “Yeah, maybe. Better than nothing.”
She should look around, see if he was talking to someone, but her muscles showed no indication of wanting to wake up. It was her nerves’ fault, she concluded. Those overwhelmed and overly excited nerves. Too bad she couldn’t reach her cell phone. If she could she’d call someone, talk about ordinary things, say nothing of what she was experiencing.
Maybe she’d dial nine-one-one.
That’s what she should do, she concluded. A call to the authorities, even his co-workers, would get her out of this mess.
But if she asked for help, she’d never understand him—or herself.
Beyond caring about the consequences, she went into herself where she found the too-simple answer to why she’d reacted like she had. Somehow her body had turned punishment into pleasure, or rather anticipation of pleasure. Now that she wasn’t consumed with trying to get away, she realized her entire body wasn’t hurting after all. Oh, her poor tender ass was, no doubt about that. But there was more, so much more, like cuffed arms and tethered legs, naked belly, and hard nipples.
Hunger. An aching, lonely, and unfulfilled pussy.
“Do you hate me?” he asked.
“What?”
“You should. In fact I want you to.”
“Fine. Good. I will. I do.”
“Is that all? Nothing else?”
Still limp, she blinked back the tears she didn’t want him to see. He was sitting next to her with his commanding palm resting on her buttocks, studying her, learning too much.
The question of what he was discovering broke through her lethargy. She couldn’t cover her ass but she refused to let him know how deeply he’d reached her. Instead she’d rely on a lifetime of defenses; lock down inside so he couldn’t guess how close he’d come to tearing her apart.
“Are you finished?” she demanded.
“With this?” He slapped the back of her right thigh. A jolt of something without a name shook her to her core. She ached to climax. “Yeah, I think I am,” he said. “I’d better be.”
Fight your damn pussy. “Then let me up.”
“Not yet because I haven’t accomplished what I need to.” He took a deep breath. “A little longer and hopefully I will, but the timing isn’t right.”
“Timing?” It felt wrong to be carrying on a conversation with the enemy when she was like this. She understood nothing.
He was leading up to something, probably eager to see how she’d react, testing her vulnerability. She wouldn’t let him win this round—or any others. All she needed were a few minutes—or hours. Once she’d gotten past them she’d again be the hard, determined woman she believed she was. He couldn’t have pieces of her, couldn’t force her to turn on her brother.
There. That was the crux of it. Ricky came before anything else. His safety was worth sacrificing her body and soul for.
“Get your hands off me.” She jerked to the left.
“Not yet.” He pulled her back against him where his warmth waited to envelop her. It felt so damn good—so dangerous.
Eyes wide but fortunately where he couldn’t see, she remained tense. “Un-cuff me, you bastard. Let me up.”
He ran his hands as far as he could down her legs. “To repeat, not yet.”
Her flesh where he’d made contact tingled, pleasure warring with discomfort. Challenged her to ignore what she did and didn’t want.
Insanity.
“I don’t suppose there’ll ever be a full explanation,” he said, “but I really don’t give a damn. I had a pretty good idea our relationship would play out like this. Maybe I should have capitalized on it before, not let the other thing get in the way.”
What thing? “Let me go.”
“Are you going to pass on what you know?”
“I don’t—yes.” She barely got the last word out.
“I don’t believe you. Your loyalty to your brother has messed you up. I get it.” His hands started back up, male fingers easing into the space between her legs. “Damn it, I get it.”
Her mouth went dry then flooded. She arched, strained to put distance between them, then gave up.
“Fight or enjoy this,” he whispered. “It doesn’t matter which because both reactions will lead to the same end.”
“I hate you,” she said into the bedding. Her legs were on fire, the sensation allowing her to briefly dismiss what he’d done to her ass.
“I understand why you feel the way you do but I didn’t start this.”
Not only wasn’t she sure what he was talking about, she didn’t care. When she’d gotten up this morning she’d believed she understood how seeing him would play out. She couldn’t be more wrong. Feeling as if she was floating, she pondered what she should do to make sense of what he’d just said, but her pussy had taken control. Nothing else mattered, except maybe Caleb Roth.
“I don’t want to care about you,” he said. “I told myself I wouldn’t.”
Care? Fuck, no! “I hate you.”
“Acknowledged.” He grunted. “For the record and because you can’t see my handiwork, I’ll describe what I’ve created. Your ass is red. Inflamed.”
“I know. You’re responsible.”
He leaned so close she felt his warm moist breath at the top of her ass crack. Biting down on a groan, she twitched. “Because I don’t have a choice,” he said.
“The hell you—”
She should have finished. Would have if he hadn’t taken that moment to run his tongue and teeth down her spine. Squealing in shock and that other sensation she refused to give a name to, she again tried to twist away. Instead of granting her this small victory, he held her in place by grinding the side of a fist where his breath had made its impact. Shivering, she stopped trying to free her hands. Her legs refused to come together. Her jeans around her ankles prevented her from fully opening herself to him, but there was no denying the message behind her splayed thighs.
Officer Caleb Roth wasn’t just a cop. Yes, he was dedicated, determined, and hard when he needed to be, but he was also a man.
And she was a woman.
A helpless, hungry one.
“I’m taking unfair advantage of what the spanking has done to your system.” A finger slid over the scant space between her ass and pussy. It settled at the entrance to her sex, making her wonder if his intention was to leave his fingerprint on her. He was marking her for his use both now and in the future.
“I hate you.” She couldn’t move.
“And I want nothing to do with you. What the hell are you going to do about that?”
The question had to be rhetorical. Certainly he didn’t expect her to be able to answer.
Awash in something she’d never experienced, she presented herself with the massive task of trying to decide what, if anything, she should do. She might have been able to find an answer if he didn’t take that moment to stroke her soft, wet labia. Mind whirling and pussy silently begging for more, she dug her toes into the carpet.
“What’s this?” He kicked her foot. “Your idea of resistance?”
“Leave me the hell alone! Stop it!” She rolled her lower body away from him or rather she tried to.
“Yeah, well.”
He was planning something, taking advantage of her shattered nerves and useless muscles. She tried to picture what was happening only to shake off the image because it was too much.
“Stop.” She was close to begging.
“What happened to please? I’m thinking you need a lesson in manners.”
Hoping he wasn’t serious, she went in search of self-control, but it had lost the battle, leaving desperate need in its wake. Whatever he had in mind when it came to possessing her, she wanted it. She’d berate herself later, insist this would never happen again tomorrow.
“What did I do to deserve this?” she asked.
“The mafia.” He worked a forefinger into her.
As her sodden channel embraced him, she tried to determine how far inside her he’d gone, whether she could survive any more invasion. There was nothing except his power and her weakness. Her damnable need.
“What—do—you—mean?”
“You know them, who they are, how they work,” he snapped. “Fuck this. Fuck the whole damn thing.”
Believing there was vulnerability in his voice, she tightened her pussy around him. The action ignited yet another fire in her. Her juices coated his finger. Told him too much. Her intention, maybe, had been to prevent him from moving freely about in her private place, but she was doing herself in, bringing her into a dark and wonderful place.
“You need me,” he said.
She hated that he was right. “You’re the last thing I need,” she told him as her pussy muscles threatened to cramp. “This is insane. You can’t—”
His finger repeatedly penetrated her. With each thrust, she lost more of herself until she was on the brink of screaming. He was in charge in every way, a knowledgeable man taking advantage of a woman’s greatest weakness. She ordered herself not to respond, so why wasn’t she listening?
“If nothing else,” he said, “I want you to come away from this with one piece of information.” He pulled out of her, hoisted her higher on the bed, and yanked her jeans over her feet, freeing them. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him place her cell on a nearby nightstand out of reach. He opened the stand’s drawer and removed something.
“What’s that?” Her voice hitched.
“Maybe nothing. Maybe something I’ll wind up using.”
His big hand had dwarfed whatever it was. At least she was fairly sure it wasn’t a paddle or whip. “Spread your legs,” he ordered.
The hell she would, or rather she wouldn’t have if he hadn’t broken her down so thoroughly that she found herself hoping his weapon was a dildo. Only one thing mattered right now, riding the current he’d thrown her into. Even though she was more afraid of herself than she was of him, she nevertheless did as he’d commanded. She tried to convince herself he’d punish her if she didn’t comply. That way she wouldn’t have to take responsibility for anything.
“Decision time,” he announced. “Starting with…”
She didn’t know what to think when he unlocked the cuffs and rubbed her wrists. “How’s the circulation?”
“I don’t believe you care.”
“I don’t blame you for thinking like that. There’s nothing pleasurable about cuffs.”
Her wrists were sore all right. She’d probably find bruises and abused skin where metal had been. Although she wasn’t sure it was worth risking more discomfort, she repositioned her arms until her hands were on either side of her head. Her shoulders groaned in protest.
“You look amazing.” He stepped between her legs and ran his hands from her armpits to her knees. Her sanity went with the journey. “A woman waiting for her master to do what turns both of them on.”
“You’re wrong.” She didn’t try to lift her head.
“No, I’m not.” He drew her ass cheeks apart and settled a hand into the space he’d created. “Look, I’m not going to lie to myself. And I don’t want you to. We need to be honest.”
Whether need had anything to do with it didn’t matter. Her existence revolved around the masculine hand now pressing down on her pussy.
She shivered. “This shouldn’t be happening.”
“I agree.”
For the second time in a few moments, Caleb Roth breached her private place. When the invasion deepened, she rose onto her elbows and peered at him over her shoulder. She was his captive all right, a confused and exhausted prisoner.
Waiting for his next move.
“We won’t get where I’d hoped we would,” he went on. “I don’t know what to call this. Right now I don’t think I want to try.”
“Whatever.” She felt stupid.
He chuckled. “One thing I am sure of, you and I aren’t done. There’s too much at stake.”
Her neck protested, preventing her from getting a clear look at his expression, but there was no mistaking the deadly dark in his eyes. He was a man on the brink, close to losing control and hating himself for it. She could throw the word rape at him, but no matter what he was experiencing emotionally, she was certain he wouldn’t force himself on her. Holding back would take every bit of self-control he possessed.
She knew what he was going through and wanted what he did. Wasn’t any more civilized.
“Do it.” She lifted her ass in invitation. “Just do it.”
“You want to fuck?”
“Yes.”
Groaning, he worked two fingers into her, easily pushed past her body’s instinctive resistance. “No question?”
“I’m not going to fucking answer your stupid question.” As she lowered her heavy head, the feeling of fullness grew.
“Then I won’t ask again. This is your last chance.”
She’d moved beyond clear-minded decision making long before this moment. No matter how much he’d subjected her to, his fingers existed for one thing—her pleasure. There was something liberating about being in this quiet remote place with her cell out of reach. It was possible no one knew where they were. Intellect had nothing to do with what was taking place here. Neither did that weighty thing called adult behavior. They were animals, wild beasts ruled by instinct.
“Do it,” she got out.
“Are you sure?”
“What are you waiting for, an invitation?”
“I’m having a hard time believing you.”
That made sense. After all she’d been far from wanting sex when whatever this was had started. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”
“Maybe words aren’t what I’m after. In fact—yeah, maybe this.”
His fingers continued to breach her as he repeatedly collected juices and deposited what he’d collected over her private hole.
“How do you feel about what’s happening?” he asked.
“To my ass?”
“Hell, yes.”
Eyes squeezed shut, she concentrated on what he was doing. Playing with her ass was more intimate that anything else he’d done. Some would consider the act forbidden, but it thrilled her. Her breathing became ragged.
He spread proof of her arousal over the part of her body only a handful of men had touched. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked.
“N-o.”
“Why don’t you?”
She quivered. “It feels good.”
“Something you’ve experienced numerous times?”
“Hardly. It…”
“Finding it hard to come up with an explanation, are you?” He planted his finger at her rear entrance.
“You can’t be surprised but yes.”
“Answer this then. Do you want me all the way in?”
“I don’t know. It—the thought of anal sex overwhelms me.”
“Good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you overwhelmed.”
She hissed a protest when he removed his hand. Then something hard and warm settled against her tight, dark hole.
“Hold on,” he ordered.
A butt plug. That’s what he’d taken out of the drawer. As he worked the plug into her, she sent silent curses and thank yous to whoever was responsible for its construction but mostly she thought about what Caleb was doing and why she was letting him.
“Describe what you’re feeling.”
“You want—full. I feel full.”
“That’s all?”
There weren’t words for this sensation. She was sure of only one thing. Her captor was planting a foreign object inside her. He’d punish her if she tried to remove it, maybe rob her of the pleasure of normal sex. As long as she stayed quiet and unmoving, he’d convince himself she wanted what he was doing to her.
He might be right.
“No,” she whispered at length. “The plug’s part of a larger experience. It adds to what I’m feeling.”
“Does this scare you?” He tapped the deeply buried object. “Maybe you’re afraid I’ll do something that hurts you?”
“I’ve never…”
“This is your first time?” He tapped again, sending jolts of pleasure through her.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Be honest. That’s easier than lying. Besides, he’ll see through avoidance. “I’ve been curious of course. Even bought one online and tried to use it, but I chickened out.”
“Not worth the effort? You could have recruited someone to help.”
“I suppose I could have.”
“Now you have no choice because I’m in charge.”
Hoping he wouldn’t insist she agree, she repeatedly bent and straightened her fingers. She was afraid to do anything else because he might not approve. Besides, she wanted to bury herself in this strange sensation. In some respects wearing a butt plug wasn’t that different from being in cuffs. Her body was no longer her domain. She couldn’t control her reactions and responses, didn’t stand a chance of stopping him from doing what he wanted to her.
Another time and place she’d insist he not attempt anything she didn’t approve of. She’d insist he ask permission, but in the wake of what had already taken place between them, her wishes didn’t matter.
Or maybe they mattered more than she could handle.
“I’m running out of patience.” He turned the plug in a slow, deep circle. “Tired of catering to you.”
“Catering? Hardly. I’m the—”
“Be quiet.”
That she could do. In fact, she preferred silence.
Whether her eyes were closed or open made no difference. Either way she had no trouble determining what he was doing. He let go of the plug and turned his attention to her pussy—her dripping, hungry pussy. He studied her body’s reactions before slipping an already lubricated finger into her ready hole. His reaction shuttered, he challenged her self-control via numerous harsh thrusts. Her body felt full to overflowing, every part of her from waist to thighs reacting to the simulated sex act.
Not fair. Damnably not fair.
But incredible. Tearing into her sanity.
Making her cry out.
“What is this?” he challenged. “You aren’t as on top of things as you want me to believe you are?”
“Go to hell.”
“Only if I take you with me.”
When the finger thrusts slowed, she risked looking back at him. She recognized the barely contained animal trapped inside the civilized exterior. His expression did something to her, demanded total honesty. It took more strength than she believed she had, but she managed to hoist herself further onto the bed and widened her stance. He pulled free of her pussy and smacked her ass, hard.
“What’s that about?” she demanded. Whatever it took, she wouldn’t let the plug rule. “If you think—”
“That’s the problem. I’m not thinking.”
“And you think I am?” She pushed hair out of her eyes. “We’re going to regret this later.”
“I already do.”
Before she could ask him to clarify, which she wasn’t sure she would, she sensed a lessening of his presence. Then she heard the sound of a zipper. Trembling, she angled her head so she couldn’t see him. She needed him all right. There was no doubt of that. She just didn’t want any understanding of what he was going through.
There he was, his cock head against her pussy. Big and hard.
She took a ragged, too-loud breath. He did the same.
“It’s going to feel different,” he said unnecessarily. “With the plug in.”
“Now. Just—now.”
He dove into her, hours of anticipation breaking loose in her soul. She started to slide, but he grabbed her hips and hauled her back in place. Between his hold and her fingers biting into the cover, they managed to stay locked together. She preferred sex face to face, but today this was better. Less personal. They didn’t have to acknowledge each other’s presence. They were rutting creatures doing what came without thought.
Yes. There was no need to pretend she’d brought more than her body to this place. He might have started out determined to pull everything she knew about his enemy out of her, but that no longer mattered.
The need she’d been fighting died.
Feeling as if she’d been set free, she went into herself. He was fucking her, demanding, giving, taking. Both hungry and considerate.
Thinking, insanely, that she could love his complex emotions, she cried out. She might have said an actual word but wasn’t sure because it was there.
Her climax didn’t simply come. It exploded. Shattering in its intensity.
Her release was being played out in a million ways, all of them greater than her ability to comprehend what was happening. Always before she’d managed to hold back a little. She loved to come, but even at the apex of release, a part of her had stood at the side. Maybe, she’d observed in the wake of intercourse, she was afraid she’d lose something she’d never get back.
This was different. The ultimate in loss. Maximum fullness and pleasure, yes, but along with release came having to admit she didn’t know herself.
It didn’t matter.
Not now.
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