AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I crawl over him, my bent legs settling on either side of his thighs. Living in the moment, the here and now has quickly become second nature with Max. He makes me feel unburdened and carefree, his proprietary touch welcome. And I’m so ready, the anticipation of tonight slicking my thighs as his fingers slide through my drenched sex.
“God damn.”
“Sorry.”
Amusement lights his eyes, his lips meeting mine as he tells me, “Never apologise for wanting me as much as I want you.”
Our mouths give and take, pulling apart only to meet again from a different angle. He tastes of champagne, his usual heady scent tinged with something crisper.
Diamonds, I realise. He’s flawless and perfect and temptingly beautiful. I lick into his mouth, our tongues tangling. His hand grips the back of my neck as his mouth feasts on mine, any semblance that being on top gives me control gone.
Under my bare sex his erection is prominent. I rub against the thick bulge, nerve endings zipping with an electric charge. Max urges me onto my knees, immediately gripping his cock and guiding himself in. I swallow every steely inch, easing down, down, down until I can’t take any more.
He feels heavenly.
The glittering necklace around my throat is reflected in his eyes. My ring glisters like golden ice as I cup his jaw, leaving hot, breathy kisses as I wriggle, getting comfortable. His hands are a vice at my hips, his eyes fixated on where we join. He thrusts upwards once, twice, the slick sounds of my receptive body making me blush. Slowly, his amber-flecked eyes drag over my stomach, up and up towards my breasts that sway as I undulate my pelvis.
He groans, long and slow. It’s followed by a deep inhale that has his chest expanding. “So fucking sexy,” he husks, his hands pushing and pulling me faster, harder.
Our mouths fuse as we fuck, the dangly earrings whipping at my jaw and cheek. Max chases down an orgasm so fierce it has me ripping my mouth away to breathe. My back bows, my head falling back as he watches me writhe on his dick.
“Max,” I whisper, clinging to his shoulders.
But then I feel his palm rest against my breastbone, pushing. An arm comes up to support me at my back, so I follow his lead and recline. Feeling exposed and bared, I release his shoulders and put my hands flat to the mattress behind me, my quads stretching. Now that I’m supporting my weight, he takes hold of my pelvis in both hands and slides me up and down his length.
His focus moves from our groins to my peaked breasts every time our bodies slam together. He hits the magic place along my inner walls, every feeling tightening until I’m seconds away from the pressure point.
“Such a good girl,” he growls, swirling his thumb over my clit. “You look so good, baby. Keep your pretty eyes on me when you come.”
Time loses all meaning. I give myself over to him entirely as he rhythmically drags me over his cock, as I meet him stroke for stroke. I squeeze my inner muscles around him, his answering grunt registering through the haze. His pace turns erratic as he plunges inside me, his breathing shallow and ragged. Every good feeling condenses, shrinking into a drop of pleasure that lands like a bomb when our combined release hits.
“Max—Max—Maximilian,” I mumble,straining against a surging, sparkling heat. It’s hard to determine where I begin and Max ends; I just know that his orgasm is sharp and unrelenting, a pulsating pressure that radiates from deep within to every corner of me. And his eyes turned a burnished gold at the sound of his name, his seed spilling inside me, my name whispered into my fevered skin.
During the night,I’m vaguely aware of Max getting up and talking softly into his phone. I catch the odd word in English, but then it becomes incomprehensible: Dutch. Too tired to worry about it, I close my eyes and think about the auction, and the rising prices for each item sold. And the dress I didn’t wear, the one that gave me the creeps features as I slip away into a dark abyss.
I don’t know where I am.
I don’t know the date or day of the week.
The skylight is dark again, moonlight filtering through a break in the cloud.
A man enters. He’s overweight, with a fat, balding head. There’s a mole in the middle of his cheek. He ushers me to the shower where I’m assisted by a woman in her thirties or forties. I know that she never speaks and never hurts.
Feeling disgustingly compliant, like I have no voice or control of my own mind, I take off the long, navy dress. No labels can be found on the seams—I know that because I’ve looked before. I shower as two men watch with guns at their waist belts. I can’t recall their faces. But they don’t hit—they just sneer.
I am devoid of all body hair, smooth as silk.
Afterwards, the woman dries my hair and styles it. I’m given a white-silver cocktail dress to wear.
I’m escorted by the gunmen into a room where there’s a view of water—probably a river by its narrow shape.
The room is simple. Bare.
I’m petrified. My body shakes uncontrollably.
From an adjoining room, my owner enters. He told me his name last night as he used me, hurt me, wanting me to call it out as if this was a consensual act between lovers where pleasure could be felt or given.
My body floods with dread.
