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“Just tell me why. You owe me that much at least.”
He steps back, giving me space to breathe.
“I thought you should know the stock you come from. And just to clarify, I don’t owe you anything.”
I ignore that last part.
“Well, don’t you come from it too, considering you’re descended from Anabelle Scafoni’s son? Does that make us family? Cousins or something?” I don’t know why I say it, it’s so far in the past and so diluted, that it doesn’t matter.
He grins, touches his middle finger to my collarbone, traces it to the hollow at my throat, up over it to my lips, presses until I open. When I close my teeth around the digit, he uses his finger like a hook and drags my face to his so we’re nose to nose.
“You have got such a big mouth, you know that, Willow Girl?”
I reach into my pocket, feel the weight of the switchblade in it, pull it out.
He must hear it open. It’s the only way he can react so quickly. The only way he can catch my hand before I can sink the little dagger into his gut.
I pull back to look down. He does the same. We watch the little drop of red stain the white of his dress shirt. He doesn’t pull the blade back, though. He holds it there instead, even forces it a little, ripping his shirt, slicing his own flesh.
“Stop.” There’s a quiver in my voice. I try to pull my hand away, but he won’t let me.
“Is that my notch?” he asks when he looks back up at me, holding my gaze as he relieves me of my weapon. I hear the clank of it when it hits the far wall. Before I can step back, his hand closes around my throat and he leans me backward over his desk, the angle painful.
One of my hands wraps around his forearm while the other one grips the edge of the desk to keep him from breaking my back.
“Do you know what would happen to you if you’d succeeded just now? What did I explain earlier?”
I know what he’s talking about. That if he didn’t do this, didn’t take me, then his brother would or his brother after that.
“Let me go,” I say.
His eyes are dark, black in the light, and I watch as he touches his wound with his fingers before bringing them to my thigh and smearing blood upward, pushing my underwear aside to rub it on my pussy, rub it inside me.
“You’re always wet for me,” he says before switching his grip to the back of my neck and kissing me hard, as hard as he’s rubbing me. He breaks the kiss and watches me, and I hear him undo his jeans. He steps backward and pushed me to my knees.
I know what he wants.
He collects a fistful of my hair and grins. “Open up. I’m going to teach that big mouth a lesson.”
I look up at him, try to pull back, but I can’t.
He draws me up a little, painfully by my hair, and brings his face to mine. “If you bite, I’ll whip you until I open your back, understand?” He squeezes that fistful of hair when I don’t answer. “Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes!”
“That’s a good Willow Girl. Now keep your eyes on mine, and open wide.”
He doesn’t even give me a minute to do it but pinches my nose closed, forcing my mouth open.
His cock is thick, hard, and ready. Precum tastes salty on my tongue as he moves me the way he wants, shallow at first, taking his time, watching me take him.
“First time?”
I don’t say anything. I can’t speak.
“Suck,” he says as he pushes in deeper, and I do. I suck on his cock as he feeds it to me, deeper and deeper, tears forming at the corners of my eyes either from his hand fisting my hair too hard or from being choked on his cock. My voice, any words, are gargled as he hits the back of my throat and holds there for a moment, letting out a deep moan.
I push on his thighs and he pulls out a little, shallow again, pumping in and out slowly, going deeper; then, when I choke, shallow again.
“I like you like this, you know that? On your knees and quiet.” He almost smiles. “Ready?”
Ready? Ready for what?
He forces my head forward, thrusting in to my throat.
I dig my fingers into his thighs and cry out, but the sound is muffled as he fucks my face, watching me as he takes me harder and harder until, finally, he stills inside me.
I feel the first spurt of cum hit the back of my throat and feel it slide down as the next one comes. I watch his face, and I hate that I can’t look away, hate that he’s so beautiful, hate that I want him even when I should hate him.
