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Only then does he ask, “How many?”
I don’t know if he’s trying to trip me up or if he genuinely wants to know if I was able to count those blows. My memory had damn near shorted out when he’d switched to my cunt, but I remember the number. “Thirty,” I say with a sniffle. “Twenty-five on my ass, and five…”
He looks surprised, and he responds, “Good job.”
I wish those two little words didn’t affect me, but something in me relaxes. Finally. Finally, I did something he liked. All it took was a complete mental break-down.
He starts to guide me off his lap, but I whimper and cling to him. I hate him, but I’m not ready to let go, either.
“Shh. Don’t worry. I’ll fuck you now,” he says. “Get on the bed, on all fours.”
I’m physically and emotionally drained, just like the last time he’d worked me over sosimplybutcompletely. But I manage to flop over, gracelessly face-down on the bed before I work up to all fours. My breathing is so swift, and I’m aching—and it’s not an unpleasant ache, even where my ass still stings.
He unzips his slacks and pulls his erection out, giving it a few strokes, although from the looks of it he’s been completely hard this entire time.
See, I think,I do have something you want.
I widen my stance a bit for him, only he pushes my thighs back together.
“Keep them like this. Nice and tight.”
It’s still a bit hard to think straight, so I don’t understand until he slots up behind me and pushes his cock between my legs. It slides along my folds, past my hole. Dazedly, I look down, and I see the head of his cock between my thighs.
“I thought you were going to fuck me,” I mumble, pushing back up against him like that’ll drive him into me.
“Sex is more than just penis-in-vagina,” he says with more humor than I’ve ever heard from him. He pulls back and thrusts forward again, gripping my sore ass hard.
I don’t know what to say to that, but I squirm, trying to get more friction against the slickness between my legs. I want him to at least run his cock over my clit so I can feel the heat of it, so the rhythm of it can potentially send me over the edge.
But in what’s not a surprise at all, he’s more concerned with his own pleasure.
I’m almost ready to beg him to fuck me properly, but something stops me. The vestiges of my pride, maybe. Though I can’t keep myself from sobbing when he comes, hot liquid splashing my thighs.
His breath is loud, practically echoing in my ears. Then he collapses on to the bed beside me, and I take that as permission to stretch out as well. I can’t bear to look him in the face.
“Did you get what you want?” I ask, dully. I’m aching everywhere—my ass, my cunt, my clit—and all I want is to come at the same time I just want to stay collapsed on the bed.
Victor strokes my back gently. “Hmm. Not quite. But I think you’ll get there.”
17
Saint
No one really argues with me when I announce that Lucia’s going to stay in the suite upstairs. It hadn’t really looked like they were going to push for her to return to the basement room, but I’d intervened before someone brought her back there. After what happened with Angel, I think she deserves to have a little bit of luxury.
I know Victor was in here last, but he’d only given me a catlike smile when I’d asked what had happened between the two of them. I’m sure neither of them has bothered to do anything basic, likefeedher, so I bring up a tray. It’s not fancy, just a sandwich and a yogurt with a bottle of water, but it’s better than nothing at all.
I knock on the door before I open it, only to see her lying on her stomach with a light sheet covering her from her waist down to her feet.
“Lucia?”
She props herself up a little, turning to look at me—more specifically, at the tray in my hand.
“This is for you,” I say, feeling awkward, shy, like I’m a teenager all over again. I bring it over to her and set it down on the bed next to her.
She turns onto her side then winces as she sits up, and I feel a hot flash of anger run through me.
“What happened to you?”
