Leighton Mia - Hero

Her hips flinch when I add another finger. She gasps and moans from behind her gag, her face distorting. I continue pumping, feeling her from the inside as her soft warmth greedily sucks me deeper. I feel behind me for her ankle and remove one shoe, dropping it as she kicks the other to the floor. When I crouch between her legs, her feet go to my shoulders. I like that and tell her so with a groan into her pussy.

I slip the point of my tongue from the top of her asshole up. Her every muscle tenses when I graze her swollen clit. When I can’t wait another moment, I cock my head and begin to eat her out, grasping her outer thighs and pulling her hard into my mouth. My tongue reaches for her, lapping up every bit of her perfect, Cataline flavor, sucking and kissing whatever I can. When I thrust it inside her, her hands dive into my hair, yanking me closer, her groans vibrating all the way down her body and into my throat.

Her fingers pulling at my hair ignites a need so deep in my stomach, my dick strains against my pants. I want to be inside her again, using my own saliva to fuck harder, faster, deeper than I ever have anyone.

I detach my mouth and untangle her hands from my head. “Take it out,” I say, nodding between us.

She swallows as best she can with her mouth full of lace. Sitting up, she touches the waistband of my pants. Her fingers push the button through the hole slowly and slide my zipper down. My hands fist in my hair to keep from rushing her. She doesn’t remove my pants but just lowers the band of my briefs enough to pull me out. My cock is so much in her hand. She just watches as I move my hips, thrusting it through her fist.

“Put it in,” I say, hating the pleading in my voice. Her eyes scan until she moves the few inches to close any space between us. Her legs circle my lower back. I don’t move. We’re both looking down as she presses my crown against her softness and scoots even closer. The night before did nothing to loosen her up, and I make small thrusts to get her to open.

“Come on, Sparrow,” I say. “Let me in that tight pussy.” I push her back against the table with my hand and grab her hips. I hold her there, impatiently pushing my way inside until I can’t resist thrusting hard, bouncing her as I go deep.

I bend over her. My palm presses down on the crown of her head to hold her still as I pull out almost all the way and drive back into her. With each whimper from her, my thrusts come faster and more out of control. “Nobody can do this to you but me,” I say to her, the words rumbling from my mouth. “You belong to me. All of you.”

Her cheeks are burning red. She looks straight into me and shakes her head.

“No?” I ask. She continues shaking her head, and I bury myself in her as deeply as I can, rooting myself there until she writhes. “You’d let another man inside you like this?”

She nods barely, and my fingers curl into her hair.

“Then maybe I bring a friend next time, let him fuck you while I watch.”

It’s obvious by the way her nose scrunches and chin quivers that she doesn’t know I’d kill any man who ever tried. No hesitation. But she nods again, and now I know she’s purposely pushing me.

I reach over her shoulder for a stick of butter. My fingers gouge out a soft chunk, and I slide her bottom half off the edge of the table. Watching her face, I circle my arm around and touch between her ass cheeks. Her eyes widen and legs flex around me as she tries to look down.

I hush her while keeping her head on the table by her hair. My mouth lowers to the crook of her neck while I massage butter over her anus. She protests with a throaty noise, clenching and pushing against me. I continue my assault without penetrating, rubbing her as I slide leisurely in and out of her stretching pussy. I spread the butter everywhere, coating between her cheeks before I insert the tip of my finger in her asshole.

“Good girl,” I murmur as she unclenches. My thrusts are controlled so she’ll feel every ridge of my cock. My finger works itself deeper. “Such a good girl.”

I reach across the table again to pluck the nearest candle from its holder. Her eyes follow as I blow it out, and she instantly starts struggling, her head shaking from side to side as strangled noises escape through her gag.

“Shh, don’t—” I’m cut off by her attempt to scream. I pluck the thong from her mouth with my teeth, fling it aside, and lock my lips on hers. Her entire body tenses as our mouths press against each other. She puckers her lips into mine, and I respond by opening her up with my tongue and slipping it in. When I moan, her arms circle around my neck, asking for more. I tilt my head and take her mouth, devouring her with a fervor that surprises even me. Her mouth is as warm and soft as her pussy, and it tastes equally as good.

As I kiss her, I flip the candle around. It’s a nice size, smaller than my cock but big enough that she’ll feel it. I lower it between her legs, gliding it through the butter. It slides easily, but she whimpers so pathetically that I break the kiss to watch her face as I press the wide tip against her tight bud.

“You can’t,” she says. “You can’t do this.”

“Push out a little.”

“Please,” she begs.

Impossibly, I grow harder inside her. My dick wants to fuck, and it won’t wait much longer. “Now,” I instruct as I insert it.

Her face screws up as I slide it in, and she pleads with me with big eyes.

“You’ll thank me when you come,” I mutter, worrying the candle deeper. My body is on fire for release, and it’s taking all my restraint not to let go. Filling both her holes as she squirms is draining me of any self-control. I shove the candle deep and let go to fuck her with an intensity she’ll feel for days. I let myself get lost in her pussy, taking whatever I can from her. She’s so wet and slippery that the large room echoes with our slapping skin. I keep pounding, even as she shudders and shakes out her orgasm, clawing for me. She latches onto my straining forearms, her fingers digging into my skin as her body bucks off the table and her mouth screams my name senselessly.

The sight of her is too much, and I pull her into my final thrust, claiming her with an animal growl and what feels like every drop of cum in my body.

Her body is limp on the table, her eyes shut, and for a moment I’m terrified that I’ve hurt her. But she heaves an enormous sigh before looking at me. I release her hips, leaving ten red marks in her otherwise flawless skin. I ease the candle out of her, toss it, and fall forward to cover her body with mine. “Feels good with something in your ass, doesn’t it?” I ask against her cheek.

She only shivers and tries to form a barrier between us with her arms, but I won’t budge.

“If you don’t want to get fucked, don’t wear a dress like that to dinner.”

“I don’t understand,” she responds. “What’s it matter if you don’t find me attractive?”

I laugh in a short gust and lift my head to look at her. “Come on, Sparrow. Don’t play stupid.”

“You said you didn’t want me. In the basement.”

I stare back at her as dangerous thoughts hammer in my head. I’m tempted to tell her that I’ve never felt a woman like I have her these last twenty-four hours. I want to tell her that there was never a time, even as a young girl, that I didn’t want her for myself. I want to ask her how it’s possible anyone wouldn’t find her attractive. But I’ve already crossed too many lines. Instead of holding her closer and kissing her, I deny the urges and pull out to stand up.

“You can go. We’re finished here.”

“What about dinner?”

“I’m utterly sated, but I’ll have Norman bring you something.”

“You’re not going to eat with me?”

Considering I just shoved a candle up her ass, the surprise in her voice is oddly sweet. “I just did, Sparrow. And I have plans.”

She shifts into a sitting position, glancing around as her hands cover her breasts. “What plans?”

I arch an eyebrow at her as I tuck my wrinkled shirt back into my pants. “That’s a brave question.”

She cocks her head, watching me dress. “What plans, Cal?”

“Cal,” I say, shaking my head at her boldness. “Lyla-from-work plans.”

Her passive expression is not the reaction I expect. “Are you guys dating?”

“No.”

She exhales. “Oh.”

“Just fucking.”

When I look back at her, her jaw is working side to side alarmingly fast. “I knew that already, but I thought maybe now . . .”

“You knew? About Lyla?”

She nods. “She told everyone.”

My jaw sets. She looks uncomfortable, so I pull off the dress shirt I just straightened and hand it to her.

She tugs it over her head quickly. “What about me?” she asks as she maneuvers her arms through the sleeves.

“You?”

“You’re, you know, with both of us?”

I can’t suppress the bark of laughter from my mouth. “I’m not fucking you, Cataline. It shouldn’t have even happened once.”

“So you don’t find me attractive,” she says.

I purse my lips and free her mass of hair from the shirt’s collar, letting it fall on her back. “It’s not about that, Sparrow. I’m fucking more women than Lyla, and you should be thankful you’re not them. If you thought I was rough with you, that was child’s play.”

There’s a moment of crackling silence as she stares at me openmouthed. Suddenly she bursts into tears and jumps off the table, pushing me aside as she runs from the room.

I’m left looking after her for a few moments, and all I can think is,What the fuck?

* * *

Lyla looks dull. Blonde is the wrong color for her—it washes her out, giving her an ashen look of desperation. She’s always looked dull, but it’s particularly obvious tonight as she stares back at me from her pink comforter, spread eagle. I flip the light switch but remain where I am.

“Calvin?”

I turn the lights back on. “I’m not in the mood, Lyla.”

“You’re not?”

“I’ll call you another time.”

“But . . . I can invite Sabrina if you want? You liked that before.”

I snort. “Did I?”

“I can call her right now. Or if not her, I know another girl. Fifteen minutes max.” When I don’t respond, she asks, “Or would you rather just sleep?”

“When have we ever just slept?”

“Well, never—”

“And we never will. If we’re not fucking, we’re not anything.” I nod my chin at her. “Did you tell people at work about us?”

“No . . .”

“No?”

“Not really.”

She closes her knees and blinks. The bedroom looks like it belongs to a teenage girl. Even Cataline is too old for so much pink. I just shake my head and leave.

Cataline. It’s not the first time I’ve thought of her since the dining room earlier. Suddenly nobody sounds good but her. Lyla distracts me, but when she loses that ability, I have no use for her. And right now, it seems there’s no distracting me from my feisty captive. She’s stubborn and mouthy, and it pushes my last button. She writhes underneath me, trying to disguise her pleasure. I’m starting to believe I enjoy making her submit more than her submission itself. None of it makes sense.

Cataline brings out the darkest, sharpest angles of me. The only other people I let see that side of me are criminals. And whores, or girls like Lyla, who take it rough. Sometimes I go too far, but they never stop me. The thought of going too far with Cataline taps into an emotion I rarely, if ever, experience: fear. If I lose control with her, I could hurt her. And it would only take one time to break her.

Some nights when I’m restless, I sleep with my eyes open. I read. My books are dreams I never want to wake up from. I’m in the library, between the pages of Les Misérables, when there’s a noise in the house. I sit up in my oversized chair. Keys jingle, and my palms sweat.

After learning about Lyla two nights earlier, I ran straight to the shower to scrub any trace of Calvin from my body. I scowled into the steam as I rinsed his touch from my hair. He didn’t deserve what he took, but I was lost to him anyway. For him I came in a burst of wild energy, like a wave smashing fast and hard against rocks.

Everything is still a moment and then Calvin’s leaning in the library doorway. His hair is disheveled, and his normally flawless suit is rumpled. “Nobody should have to work this late on a weekend, not even me,” he says as he loosens his tie and unbuttons his collar. “What are you doing up?”