His thick, long cock thrusts into me deeper and harder, almost violently. The chair rocks with each thrust, the metal legs sliding by increments across the floor, closer and closer to the mirror. I look at my face again and see the flush deepening on my face, the pout of my lower lip as my mouth hangs open. The pure ecstasy in my eyes.
My hips thrust back against him, seeking, wanting more. Armani must notice.
“You like being my little whore, don’t you?”
His voice is different. He doesn’t sound like himself. His face in the mirror looks devilish and dangerous. Murderous, even. He loves that he’s causing me pain. He wants me to feel it. But I can’t look away. I don’t recognize myself either, not in this moment.
Do I like being his little whore?
I do. Fuck yes, I do.
He slaps my ass again. “Answer me!”
“Yes,” I gasp. “I like being your little whore.”
He pulls my nipple roughly, his cock driving into me, forcing me into another ripping surprise of an orgasm. Flashes of white cross my vision as I go plummeting over the edge, so soon after my last climax that this one hits me even deeper, almost to the point of pain.
The pleasure peaks and peaks and peaks, consuming me, possessing me.
Keeping his eyes off of mine, as if he can’t even stand to look at my face, Armani digs his fingers into my hips, thrusting even more unmercifully. Pounding, pumping, punishing, until with one final, cruel slam, he spills his release inside me. As soon as he’s done he pulls out, leaving me slumped over the back of the chair, panting and spent. My body instantly grows cold as he steps away from me, like I was nothing more than a fuck hole to him.
I’m still breathing hard, but I don’t move.
What the hell just happened?
Without another word, he unlocks the handcuffs and walks away. Seconds later, I hear the shower turn on in the bedroom’s en suite.
Rubbing my wrist, I drop onto the sofa and stare at myself in the mirror.
What Armani just did to me was awful.
So why did I like it so much? And what kind of person does that make me? My body feels like it’s been through an accident, battered and bruised. But there’s no denying the sweetness lingering underneath the ache. The pure satisfaction.
I didn’t just like it. I loved it.
And that scares me worse than Armani’s threats.
25
CANDI
Armani left immediatelyafter his shower and hasn’t returned. It’s after ten in the morning now.
I know I should take a shower too, get dressed and order up something to eat. Try to find some semblance of normalcy in the day. But I can’t quite bring myself to do it. My reaction to what we just did still paralyzes me, the ache between my thighs a persistent reminder. I feel like Armani just unleashed a monster inside me.
After slipping into a T-shirt and clean underwear, I climb back into bed, still fighting the lingering effects of whatever I was knocked out with yesterday. I stare up at the ceiling, mind a whirl. Maybe I should run. Far, far away, before I become someone I no longer recognize.
Even though I talked myself out of this earlier, things have changed. Staying with Armani could destroy me. The person that I am, the person I’ve always wanted to be, will be irrevocably changed. He brings out a side of me that I don’t know if I can live with.
Every fiber of my being is screaming at me to go, to run. Or else.
I’m not sure exactly when I pass out, but my body feels boneless and weak when I wake up for the second time today and roll out of bed hours later. Silence fills the rooms, with no indication that Armani has been back yet. But I’m sure Clayton or someone else has been assigned to stand guard somewhere in the suite to prevent me from leaving.
My stomach growls, and I realize that I haven’t eaten properly since yesterday. Maybe Clayton or whoever will accompany me to one of the restaurants downstairs so I can pick up a to-go order. Searching the rooms, however, I find no one. There’s no way Armani left me here unsupervised.
I walk to the front door. Cracking it just enough that I can look both ways down the hall, I’m shocked to see that the hallway appears empty. Is Armani really that cocky? Is he so confident in his control over me that he just…walked out and left me without a babysitter or even basic security measures? A rush of adrenaline courses through me.
Maybe Icanget out of here.
