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David looks utterly unconcerned, and I feel a sudden flash of anger at him. I’m completely at his mercy, and he knows it.Heisn’t at risk of being stranded here without money or resources.Heisn’t at the whim of his family’s expectations, or the traditions of the mafia, or the relentless gender roles that have been enforced on me since I was a child.
Hecan do whatever the fuck he wants.
David lays back on the lounge, reaching for his drink. He’s still gorgeously naked, his abs tight and gleaming with suntan oil, the dark hair on his tattooed chest soft and inviting. I want to run my hands over every inch of him—and I want to slap the careless look off of his face, all at the same time.
His gaze drifts lazily over my naked body, and his cock twitches against his thigh, thickening instantly. “I want your mouth,” he says carelessly, picking up his phone. “Go on. I want my cock in between your lips before I’m fully hard, Amalie.”
The order is clear—and I think I know what he’s doing. This is payment for him getting me out of one more predicament, and my cheeks flush hot, a wave of embarrassment and anger flooding me.
You can grovel for him, or you can beg and grovel to your mother.It doesn’t take much to know which one I’d prefer. David might know how to humiliate me, but there’s pleasure in it, too. And after today, I’ll never see him again.
My mother will never let me live it down, if I have to beg her to help me get home.
I slide off of the lounge chair, moving in between his legs as I reach for his cock. I learned quickly that I like going down on him like this, when he’s still only partially erect, feeling him harden and grow in my mouth. I’ve woken him up more than once like this for that exact reason.
He ignores me entirely as I take him in my mouth, scrolling through his phone. There’s no hand in my hair or groans of pleasure; the only signs of his enjoyment is the way his cock stiffens and twitches against my tongue, leaking pre-cum onto it as I suck and lick my way up and down the shaft. I can feel the steadily growing tension in his thighs, see the way his abs flex when I manage to take him down my throat for a moment, but other than that, it’s almost as if I’m not even there—as if I’m just an inanimate source of his pleasure and nothing more.
It’s debasing, infuriating—and somehow makes me dripping wet, all at once. It makes me thoroughly ashamed of myself, both for letting him use me in this way and for enjoying it—and makes me ache with the need to come. I feel used and dirty and horribly aroused, and I moan around his cock when it twitches and jerks in my mouth, letting me know he’s close to the edge.
David taps something on his phone, typing something out as I slide my lips as far down as I can, struggling to take him into my throat again. His hips rise a little off of the lounge chair, his thighs flexing, and he taps one more thing before I feel his entire body shudder. His hand touches the back of my head, right as his cock throbs, and he suddenly floods my mouth with his cum.
I nearly choke as it shoots down my throat, still caught off guard, and I struggle to swallow it all the way I know he wants me to. A little slips out of my mouth and down my chin, and his fingers catch it, pushing it between my lips before he sits up slightly, reaching for me and pulling me upwards.
The chair reclines all the way back suddenly, and I gasp. David’s hands on my waist keep me from toppling, and he lifts me up above his shoulders, so that I’m straddling his face as he sets me down above his mouth.
“You’ve got a first-class ticket home,” he murmurs, his fingers slipping between my folds. “Purchased and confirmed. Your flight leaves at seven.”
His fingers slip into me, curling as he tugs me down onto his mouth, and I cry out. My head is spinning, still trying to reconcile that my means of getting home is fixed as his lips fasten around my clit.
“So fucking wet,” he groans, when he pulls away for a second to breathe, his fingers still working inside of me. “You liked me using you like that, didn’t you? Making you suck my cock for a plane ticket. You filthy little—”
He drags me down onto his lips again before he finishes the sentence, as if he’s starving for me. I dimly register the movement of his other hand below me, the quick motions that tell me he’s stroking himself with his left hand as he fingers me with the right, all the while eating me out in broad daylight on the rooftop of the hotel.
It’s enough to make me wish, as I grip the edge of the chair and come hard on his tongue, that I wasn’t going to leave him tonight.
—
I can feel that something’s changed when I pack to leave. From the moment we finished on the rooftop, I could feel him detaching, pulling away from me. Everything he says is clipped and cold, and he leaves while I gather my things, coming back just before it’s time for me to go and sending me my flight information and ticket.
“I’ll have the driver take you to the airport,” he says carelessly when I bring my suitcases out to the living room. “I’ve already called down for someone to come and take your things. You can meet the driver downstairs.”
He turns away from me, looking out of the huge window as he takes a sip of the drink in his hand, and a sudden lump rises in my throat. I don’t know what I expected when it came time for us to go our separate ways—not romantic gestures or declarations of love—but this feels wrong, too. I look at the huge pane of glass in front of him, a shudder running through me as I remember him fucking me up against it, and I wonder if that’s really the last thing he’s going to say to me.You can meet the driver downstairs.
“David—” I swallow hard as I say his name, unsure what else might come out of my mouth. I don’t even know what it is that I want him to do or say—I just wantsomething.The way he’s acting now, it’s like none of the last week and a half happened. It’sworsethan the night he took my virginity, because we’ve spent so many more days together. He knows me more intimately than anyone ever has. Even though nothing was ever going to come of it—even though I don’twantanything to come of it—I want to know it mattered to him at least a little.
I want to at least feel as if it’s not easy for him to let me leave, as irrational as I know that is. But he just turns and looks at me, his face utterly blank.
“You’re still here?”
The way he says it cuts me to my core. It’s a dismissal, pure and simple. It takes everything in me not to burst into tears as I spin on my heel, grabbing for my purse as I force myself to open the door slowly, walking out instead of running the way I want to. I nearly smack into the bellboy coming up for my suitcases, and I see him look curiously at my tear-filled eyes as I make a beeline for the elevator, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be out of here.
I press my hand against my chest, trying to quell the ache there.This was never supposed to mean anything,I remind myself. It’s not that I wanted him to fall in love with me—but I can’t help feeling that the cold way he behaved, the way he didn’t seem to care atall, means that all the passion of the last week was somehow a lie.
It doesn’t matter now,I tell myself as I settle into my first-class seat on the plane, trying not to let it make me think of David. The week is over, and now I have to go home. Back to my responsibilities, back to my life, back to my mother and her expectations of me. Back to theFamily’sexpectations for me, and the reality that my marriage to any mafia heir that will take me is the only thing that can salvage our family name.
The mansion is dark and silent when I get home. I found enough cash in my purse to call a cab from the airport, and as I step inside the cavernous foyer, I know my mother has probably long since gone to bed. I let out a sigh of relief as I slowly go upstairs, leaving my suitcases for the staff to bring up later. I feel utterly exhausted, emotionally and physically, and even though I’ve come home to a mansion, it feels horribly depressing compared to Ibiza and everything I just left.
I’m never going to have a vacation like that again.The thought weighs on me as I undress and slip into bed, casting a wayward glance at my laptop before deciding to deal with my missed schoolwork later. For now, all I want is to fall asleep and dream about salt and sunshine, in a place where, for just a little while, I could do anything I wanted.
