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“Good. So am I. Brace yourself,” he said, bringing his hands down to grab my ass. His fingers were digging into my skin, but his cock was working magic so I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around his neck tighter as he thrust into me harder and faster. I’ve never had sex without a condom and this skin on skin contact was maddening.
“Fuck! You feel good.” His groan mixed with my moans as his abs rubbed on my clit.
“Look at me. Show me that angelic face when I fuck you like a little slut,” he said and bit my neck before leaning back a little to let me do as he said.
“Good girl. My good little whore,” he said as he kept up with his punishing rhythm.
I’d never been called names before and I had never thought I would find it arousing but here I was…turned on by being called a slut, just like yesterday.
“Mike… please.”
“Down,” he said, unwrapping my legs from his waist. I felt the loss when his cock left me. “In front of the mirror. Put your hands on the vanity,” he ordered. His eyes roamed around my body hungrily as he stroked his cock with his hard grip.
I did as he instructed. I was so desperate for release. Looking at him through the mirror as he came back with his leather belt wrapped around his hand, panic rose inside me when he wrapped the belt around my neck, securing it tightly. My fingers grazed my neck as I tried to loosen the belt, but he yanked it back.
“Stop fighting. Spread your legs,” he said and bit my shoulder lightly.
I tried to calm myself and noticed the belt didn’t obstruct my air. Sighing in relief, I spread my legs and felt his cock at my entrance.
“Look at me,” he groaned, pushing himself into me.
Our eyes locked in the mirror and I gasped with the change in him. His jaw was tense with the pleasure but his eyes were the devil’s eye. He was dangerous. That moment I felt it in my bones, I was scared… scared of him but mostly scared of myself. Because no matter how mad he looked, my body was betraying me. The pleasure pulsed through me.
“Come on my cock.”
“No,” I said through my gritted teeth. I couldn’t let him give me pleasure, couldn’t let him take my pleasure. He yanked back the belt again. My back arched till my head rested on his shoulder.
“Come now, slut.”
He sucked, licked, bit my neck while rocking into me. His other hand snaked to my clit, circling his fingers on my nerve bundle and pinched it. He forced the pleasure on me, took it even though I didn’t want to give it and I came with a scream. It was so intense, I could hardly hear Mike’s animalistic groan when he came.
“My angel. My good, little slut. Welcome to my li
fe,” I heard Mike coo. But my mind was trying to fight with the fear, regret and unfortunately the exciting thrill of danger.
What have I done?
January 2, 2014
I rested my head on my palm on the bar counter and waited for the throbbing on my temples stop. The sex was great, my body was still humming with the afterglow of it. But my mind was a mess as I tried to figure out Mike. After we had sex, he just left the room without a second glance and I could see how stupid I was for thinking he might open up to me. Why would he do that to someone he fucked? But I wanted to know his story. No, I needed to know.
“You deserve better,” I heard Pax say as he placed a shot in front of me.
“What?” I asked him, looking into his piercing blue eyes. The concern was clear on his face.
“Mike… he is bad news, Angel, not the kind of guy you should be with. You deserve better than him.”
I downed the shot and lift my challenging gaze at him, “Like you?”
I knew he was attracted to me. It wasn’t like he tried to hide it.
Channing Paxton was hot with his full sleeve tattoos, dark brown hair and muscled, tanned body. Beyond that, he was also a good guy with his natural flirtatious way and easy to talk to personality, yet I chose Mike… the biggest mystery.
Pax looked into my eyes, without saying anything, and then, looked down with a sad smile on his face… like he accepted defeat.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here,” he said, taking a shot for himself while putting one more in front of me. I downed it, jumped from the barstool and with one last look at him, I walked toward the terrace. The cold air hit me on the face as soon as I stepped out to the terrace. Fortunately, it was empty and I could be on my own to think.
Since the first day I started to work at the club, there had been an attraction between Mike and I. I was drawn to his mysterious, bad-boy persona. He was cold, almost a jerk to others in the club, but to me, he was different; still the cold, distant and cocky asshole, but I also saw his magnetic, brooding bad-boy charm. I liked the way he checked me out or talked to me with that Southern accent, how he called me “cupcake” with that gleam in his eyes.
