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I instantly dropped to my knees in front of him. He moved behind me and uncuffed me, something that hadn’t happened in the three years that I’d been here. I didn’t come out of them until I got home. Here, men liked their women at their mercy.
His hand gripped my hair, and he pulled my head back to look up at him. Suddenly, he snapped his head towards the door, hearing or sensing something I didn’t. His hand never tightened its grip, his body steady, yet tightly coiled.
A loud thud sounded right outside of the door followed by a gunshot. I jumped, clamping my lips shut so I wouldn’t scream. The man in front of me looked down at me, his blue eyes darkened to a stormy blue color, his jaw clenched. He grabbed me beneath my arms, pulling me to my feet, his eyes steady on mine.
“Get behind the fucking couch and do not move,” he growled down at me. “I will come get you when I’ve got this shit taken care of. If someone comes in this room that is not me, there’s a panic button back there. Hit it. One of my men will come.”
With that, he began striding towards the door. I scrambled behind the couch as instructed, my heart pounding hard in my chest with fear. Soon, rapid-fire gunshots sounded out from the main room. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to keep myself steady and collected. Panicking right then wouldn’t do me any damn good. The only thing panicking would do was get me killed.
It felt like an eternity had passed before he was standing in front of me again, grabbing me under my arms and pulling me out from behind the couch. His clothes and hands were splattered with blood, but he appeared completely unharmed.
“Sorry, little one. But I fucking need this,” he growled.
That was the only warning I received.
He spun me around and bent me over the couch, and using his foot, he pushed my legs apart. He shoved my dress up to right under my breasts and ripped my panties off of me. I barely bit back a moan, but I managed to keep it inside of me. “I don’t know how the fuck shit works with other men here, but I like to hear my women,” he told me. “I want to hear every little sound as I take you.”
Then, he shoved inside of me. I was already wet – soaked for him. No foreplay had been needed. All I’d needed was his hands on my body, his aggressive touch, and those growled words, and I was ready for him.
His hand wrapped around my hair as he fucked me hard from behind, his fingers digging so hard into my hip that I knew I would have bruises.
Normally, I felt absolutely disgusting when I was used like this, but fuck, this man felt good, and he knew what he was doing. He was rough, and it hurt, but it didn’t feel like he was intentionally trying to harm me, not like it was with most of the other people here.
I cried out, my orgasm washing over me, unable to help myself. I panicked for a moment, thinking he was going to punish me, but he growled, his hot breath washing over my ear. I moaned, my hands clenching the cushion of the couch. “Again,” he rasped. “I want you to come so many fucking times that I have to carry you out of this building, little one.”
I moaned at his words and gave him what he wanted, for once actually letting myself go, not having to worry about holding in my orgasms and pleasing the man behind me because judging by the sounds coming from his chest and throat, he was enjoying this as much as I was.
Holding true to his word, by the time he finally allowed himself to come, I was completely collapsing onto the couch, almost unable to breathe, my eyes fluttering open and closed as I sucked in ragged breaths of air. He came on my back, his other hand gripping my ass cheek, squeezing hard as he finished himself off.
“Stay there,” he said softly as he got dressed again.
“Yes, sir,” I quietly answered, my voice heavy with sleep now that my breathing was beginning to regulate. I’d never been fucked so thoroughly before, and he’d wrung every orgasm out of me that he could.
A few moments later, I felt a warm cloth moving over my back. I jerked in surprise, snapping my eyes open to look at him. He was cleaning my back.
He was fucking cleaning my back.
Unexpectedly, my chest clenched. I’d never been taken care of afterward like this.
“It’s called after care,” he told me as he studied my surprised expression. He frowned. “No one takes care of you?” he asked me.
“Um, no, sir,” I told him, knowing what could happen if I lied. “But it’s okay,” I hurriedly added. “I’m used to having to do things like this myself.”
He clenched his jaw, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. I swallowed thickly. “You’re coming home with me,” he announced once I was completely cleaned up, even between my legs where he had very gently cleaned me, soothing me as I whimpered. I was so sore.
I slowly sat up once he made a motion for me to do so, and I stumbled. He quickly caught me in his arms and helped me adjust my dress to cover my bottom. “Sir, I have a question, if it’s okay to ask,” I timidly spoke, nervously looking up at him.
He inclined his head to me in a silent way of telling me to speak. “May I know your name, sir?”
“James,” he told me. “My name is James, and I’m the America Mafia Don,” he introduced.
I stammered, staring at him, suddenly realizing why he had come back in here covered in blood, which I knew was now on my dress. And though I was sure he had cleaned it off my skin, I knew it was also in my hair.
It was a rule here that you never spoke about the people that came here nor anything that transpired within the walls of this club.
Now, it made sense. Everything made sense.
