11
When I go to bed, my anxious, strange mood plays out in a nightmare. I dream I’m in Maksim’s office.
His presence chills my fucking bones as he sits there like the king of the Western World in his big office chair. His golden eyes observe me, expression dead of emotion. He lifts a hand, gesturing for me to come inside. I’m standing in the doorway, holding the frame, wrecked with nerves to see him after so long.
Reluctantly, I walk inside and lower onto the chair opposite the desk, touching my hair when he points out that it’s down. I forgot to tie it up because Charlie likes my hair down.
Maksim tells me to leave it down, too, saying it looks nice. I do as I’m told, sitting here trying to relax in his company, but it’s nearly impossible. He’s the muse of my fear. He works at one hundred miles per hour quizzing me over my time of living with Decena.
“How did he make you feel? Did he go down on you more than once? Masturbate you with his hands? Did he fuck your pussy with his tongue? Tell me everything, Blaire.” His cold, Russian voice is deep and unnerving, and I’m like a deer in headlights struggling to answer. He reiterates that he wants every last detail. He wants every fucking crumb. I don’t want to tell him, but I must. He is my master.
I’m just about to spill my guts as he grabs my hair and yanks me out of his office, dragging me up the staircase. When he kicks open his bedroom door, I know what’s coming. I know he’s going to fuck my ass so bad I bleed for a week, then he’ll whip me, and do it all over again until his appetite for my pain is satisfied.
But I don’t even realize how wrong I am.
My dream shifts, transforming into something else, a metaphor of my past reality. Maksim shoves me to my knees and tells me to open my mouth, eyes blazing with corrupt desire. Tipping my head, I look up at him and open my mouth as wide as I can. He’s going to make me suck him off. Big surprise. He grabs my bottom jaw, hooking his fingers in to clamp down on my tongue. Then his other fist draws back.
My heart drops like a boulder.
He clouts me in the face, and my nose bursts open. My head whips back on impact, but he wrenches me into position on my knees. He does it again, SMACK, and again, SMACK, and again, every strike demolishing my face. My bones crack. My eyes sting and swell to the point where I cannot see anything other than shapes and colors. I gargle for breath, drowning on the copper-flavored blood clotting in the back of my throat.
“You will not think about Charlie!” Maksim shouts over his grunting strikes, and I remember what’s happening, why he’s saying this. “You will not think about Charlie!”
No. No. No! I won’t let this happen again. I won’t let him keep me from Charlie. I won’t let anyone keep me from Charlie. I’m his now.
“Aargh!” I scream at the top of my lungs, voice ringing off into the distance.
The dream shatters, scattering down my vision in a million pieces until I appear in my bed at Charlie’s house.
It’s silent, bar my heart roaring in my ears. I panic to touch my jaw, nose, and my eyes, to be sure nothing is broken. I’m intact. There is no blood. There is no pain.
Blowing out a deep breath, I remind myself that this is just a nightmare. It isn’t real.
It isn’t real.
“Morning, baby,” Charlie’s voice penetrates the silence, and my head darts down in that direction, between my legs. I’m stunned to find he’s there, half naked, crouched between my thighs. He’s kissing his way down my body, over my night vest, my chest, around the curves of my ribs, and across my hips one by one. It tickles, and my stomach quivers like a rattlesnake when he licks my navel, leaving a tepid, damp spot. He pulls off my shorts and my underwear, tossing them on the floor, and spreads my legs wide by gripping my inner thighs. His warm, wet tongue touches my clit, and I melt under him in a state of sensations, moaning, letting him drive me nuts before I've even opened my eyes properly. My back arches, toes bunching in the sheets, and he’s groaning like he’s never tasted anything so good.
“Blaire,” he whispers in my ear, and my head whips around scanning the room, confused by his position.
His tongue teases my swollen bud in leisurely circles, and I lose myself once more on the verge of a climax. My hips rock to ride the waves of ecstasy, grinding on Charlie’s mouth. Pressure forms low in my belly, tingling. I shut my eyes, morphing into the moment, thrusting harder and harder on his tongue. I’m desperate to cum.
A gentle hand touches my face, confusing my senses. I shake it away. It touches me again.
“Baby,” Charlie whispers, and I think he’s chuckling. “You’re dreaming.”
Dreaming?
Snapping out of it, I open my eyes to a slit. I’m panting like a wild dog. Everything is still, calm like the night. A haunting, silver moon streams through the splits in the drawn curtains, across the matte gray walls. I’m in Charlie’s bedroom. Lamps burn on side tables, isolating the shadows. I turn up my head to squint at Charlie, trying to figure out why I feel...enraptured. Definitely enraptured. He gazes down on me, expression scorching in lust. He’s stretched out across the bed on his side with his head resting in his palm, naked from the waist up. He’s surveying me.
I croak his name, frowning.
He nods, smirking at me.
It takes a while to gather my bearings. I slowly recognize I’m lying on my back under the blankets, skin flushed with little orbs of sweat gathering in the dip of my throat. My heart is hammering so hard against my ribcage I’m sure Charlie can hear. And my hands are between my legs, soaking wet.
I’m pleasuring myself.
And he’s been watching me.
“Nice dream?” he says, flicking up his eyebrows.
———
I pant quietly through my nose, nodding to answer Charlie’s question.
From what I remember, it was a nice dream. I can still feel his lips tasting the flesh between my hungry legs.
“Who were you dreaming about, hmm?” He pinches the blanket and flings it back, causing coldness to cascade all over my skin. He stares right at me, the blackness of his unruly hair and the shade of his stubble making him look darker in this light. Darker and more dangerous.
“I was dreaming about you, Charlie,” I say in a dry, husky voice, shrinking into myself for warmth.
“That’s good,” he whispers, making my nipples peak under his warm breath. “You’re only allowed to have wet dreams about me, baby.” He trains his attention on my naked body: my heavy gasping chest, breasts, and stomach. Using a single finger, he strokes some of the goose pimples on my arm, just barely touching the fine hairs there. It tickles, and not only on my arm.
I sneakily peek at his masculine frame, at the thick hair on his chest and sculpted navel, at the way those joggers rest on his narrow hips. His hair is down, the silky, black strands framing the exquisite handsomeness of his face. He looks exactly as he did in my dream: a wicked, exotic, capable man. I want to put my hands all over him, feel the fine hardness of his muscles and taste his skin on my lips.
“How are you feeling, Blaire?” he asks, catching me ogling him.
Is that a trick question?
He seems to read my mind, questioning if I have a headache. I shake like an amateur to motion no. For the first time in a week, I feel great.
“Perfect timing,” he says, reaching between my legs. He gently pulls one of my hands off my sex. Arousal strings across the space between us; my desire personified. He puts my fingers in his luscious mouth, groaning low and deep from the depth of his chest.
I cannot believe how turned on he looks when I had the wet dream. I should have them more often.
He shuts his eyes, but I can’t look away. I watch, hypnotized as he sucks all my fingers at once before paying them individual attention, swirling his sopping tongue up the sides. My stomach reels with flutters, and I twitch convulsively, unable to stay still. He chuckles under his breath, eyes flittering up to mine, burning like blue flames. “Why don’t you tell me what happened in this dream, hmm?” He kisses my palm. “Did you enjoy it?”
“It-it was a nice dream.” That’s all I’m capable of saying right now. It was mind-blowing, I think. I’m so aroused it’s crazy, but I can’t verbally pull that sentence together, not while he’s making mouth-love to my hand.
“I’ll bet it was. Your beautiful little pussy is soaked.” He lets go of my hand to grip under my left knee, fingers brushing sensitive spots on my skin. He puts my foot flat on the bed and bends my other knee so my heels are touching. I try to close my legs, but he asks me to keep them open, so I do, resting my hands on my thighs. I’ll do anything he wants right now.
“Buena niña,” he whispers, good girl, in Spanish, the abyss of his eyes hooding. He strokes from my knee, down my inner thigh to my groin, making my insides tingle. “Can I touch you here?”
I nod, wishing I could tell him that he doesn’t need to ask for permission. I want to be his without permission. No rules.
His fingers snake around my sex, getting closer and closer, grazing the new pubic hair. The anticipation is electric. Pressure forms low in my belly while my mouth opens to account for viscous, wild breaths. He finally peels my lips apart, splaying them open like a butterfly, and glances up at my face to see my reaction. I can’t hide it. I’ve always fancied Charlie, and he’s always known. I look at him with fierce hankering, at the ocean blueness in his eyes, incapable of breaking our connection. It’s too intense.
“Are you cold?” he asks softly, reaching for the blanket to cover my feet.
“No, I-I’m fine. I promise!” I grab his hand and put it between my legs again, urging, “Touch me.” I don’t sound like myself, but I’m not myself. When he does things like this, I become another entity. Another Blaire.
“You sure you’re up for this?” he asks, eyes flittering through mine. “We can wait if you’re not ready, Blaire. There’s nothing to rush with us.”
I smirk and shake my head. “I want this. I want you, Charlie.”
The smile that spreads across his face...if there’s ever been a look of triumph, that’s it.
He returns to playing with me, rubbing my wet entrance with his fingers. It turns me on to such extremes I can barely hold back moaning and groaning. He removes his hand to massage the moisture on my nipple, leans down and leisurely licks it off, tonguing the peaked bud. “Hmmm, you taste so fucking good.”
“It feels so good.” I writhe about, feet arching with need.
“I’m sure it does, chica.” He catches my hazy stare, holding it as he gathers more juice from my sex and rubs it on my other nipple. His expression smolders with lust as he licks it off and tweaks my bud in his teeth. He cups under my breast and squeezes, pointing it out like a pyramid so it fits perfectly in his mouth.
I whine for more, all but begging him to make me cum. Just a little more, and I’ll tumble over the edge.
“Be patient, baby,” he whispers. His voice is rough and utterly seductive, driving my hormones crazy. He blows on my nipple, sending chills throughout every nerve ending in my body.
“Kiss me,” I say in bated breaths. Without delay, he bends to crush my mouth under his, forcing my lips apart. His sodden tongue explores my depths, massaging all over mine. His flavor is hedonistic, a blend of spicy brandy and my liquid muskiness.
High on desire, I arch into him. He cups my pussy and kneads me there, smearing in my arousal. My hips grind, turning up the heat. I reach up his muscled arms and around the backs of his solid shoulders to thrust my fingers in his thick, silky hair. I grip and pull, steering him to my satisfaction. My eyes roll when he focuses to rub my clit, long circled motions. He nuzzles across my face to my neck, near my ear. It’s a sensitive spot. I squirm about giggling because of how weird it makes me feel.
“That is the sweetest sound in the world,” he whispers, lifting his head. “Look at me, Blaire.”
I do as he asks, meeting him nose to nose, all starry-eyed. His cheeks are flushed, eyes blazing in a look of pure, inhumane want.
“You know,” he says, tipping his head, “you sound so young when you laugh. So sweet and innocent.”
I shrug, awkwardly smiling at him, stroking glossy strands of his hair out of his face. I don’t laugh much, but I also don’t pay attention to when I do.
“Smile again for me, baby,” he whispers, so I turn up my lips, forcing it. “So pretty.” He pecks my lips as if rewarding me for doing as he asked. Then his hot mouth journeys all over my body, brushing my skin with his stubble. He kisses and sucks my jawline first, then my throat, between my breasts, and down the center of my stomach to my hips, leaving tepid, wet trails. I hiss when he sucks too hard, sucking my flesh into his mouth, making areas throb. He pecks the spots after, soothing the pain, and whispers, “Perfection.”
I don’t know what he’s talking about at first. A large, rough hand sweeps up the heart of my figure, caressing his kiss trail. I gain height on my elbows to see what he sees, squeeze-blinking away the shiny spots in my vision. There’s a blotchy purple roadmap, from my neck to my pelvic line, thick bruises discoloring my pale skin.
“I’ve always wanted to bruise your skin,” he says, sounding adrift in his own mind. It gives me the chills. I try not to react, keeping my expression level. Why would he want to bruise me?
“Turn over.” He signals with a finger, but I hesitate, asking why. “Just turn over.” He chuckles, winking at me. “You’ll see why.”
I roll into him, mashed up in the pillows at the headboard. I get up on all fours, intertwined in my long red hair. My legs rub together, and I feel the excessive moisture there. I’m so wet it’s crazy.
“If you’re uncomfortable at all, tell me,” Charlie says before bending me up like a pretzel. He grabs my waist and tugs me up to elevate my hips, putting me on my elbows and knees, face buried in the pillows. “Arch your hips forward, so your sexy ass is poking right out at me.” I do, and he says, “Now, spread your knees as wide as you can.”
“Huh?” I turn my head to look back at him. “Why?”
“I’m gonna kiss your pussy,” he says, licking his lips, “and I want lots of room.”
My pulse skyrockets.
He doesn’t need to ask twice. I scramble to stretch out my knees, to the point where my thighs pinch. Like this, face down, ass up, chest and face suppressed in the bed, I’m completely on display for him.
“Que aturde,” he whispers, stunning. The bed dips when he crawls up behind, sprawling out on his front with his face direct at my decadence. Warm breaths puff on my asshole as he looks at me, taking in the view, and I’m so excited and nervous at once that I have to force myself to tense, to be still rather than wriggling involuntarily.
I flinch when he touches me, when he strokes up the backs of my thighs to massage each of my ass cheeks. It feels nice, and I notice my body relaxing. He must, too, because he strokes back down my thighs and across the backs of my knees, using the tips of his fingers. It tickles. I squeeze inside and out, desperate to hold back giggling and wiggling, but then a little finger dips in my wet opening and my control shatters. Charlie presses down on a spot inside that sends me spiraling in reaction. I squeal, feet bowing in a mixture of discomfort and rapture. A sharp nail drags down the sole of my left foot, and my toes curl to the point of cramping. I squeal again, not sure I can handle so many mysterious sensations at once.
Charlie eventually pulls out, and my arousal drips down my thighs. I hear him sucking, moaning as he does. “Your pussy is so fucking beautiful, and you taste, hmmm, so fucking delicious.” He licks up over my clit, across my asshole, and my entire body bows now, humming in the power of euphoria.
He plays with me there using his tongue, circling my ass ring. I feel it in the core of my belly, the itchy, tickly sensation. I feel how dirty an act it is, but I like it. I want more. And he gives me more. His sopping tongue slides back down, spreading my folds, nudging my opening.
I grab my head stuffed in the pillows, fighting to deal.
“Fuck, baby, I wish you could see how pretty you are down here,” he groans in a muffed voice, spearing me a few times more before licking his way to my clit, slavering over me. Gripping my ass in both hands, he spreads me open and works my clit with his tongue, teasing me, turning me into a skittish mess of sensations. The heaviness in my stomach builds, magnifying, and I whimper in the pillows desperate to cum. That’s when Charlie molds his mouth around my entire pussy and sucks on my clit, flicking it with his tongue.
My world erupts.
I explode supernova, vision flashing silver. My senses go black, and every muscle and limb in my body spasms. I don’t even feel the pressure of his finger slipping down my channel again, too lost in my orgasm. It’s fuzzy and decadent. My head is swimming in a sea of endorphins. And then Charlie sends me flying through another worldly portal by touching that button deep inside my body. I buck forward, scrambling because it’s so intense. I turn over on my side, screaming, everything in me curling: toes, knees, hands... My legs kick out, panicking. “Oh. My. God!”
Charlie steps off the bed to continue finger-fucking me, forcing me to ride the waves of elation so hard I’m sure I pee myself. It squirts out everywhere, all over the sheets.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” He bends over from standing at the edge of the bed and slams his lips on mine, consuming me in a wicked, filthy kiss. My legs wrap around him, forcing proximity. His fingers pull out of my orgasm-throbbing pussy, and I grind like a cat in heat. I kick his joggers down, toeing them at his knees to get them off. His cock juts free, landing on my sensitive clit. I moan and shudder under the soft impact, rubbing my soaking sex on him, on every bulging vein.
“You want this, don’t you, baby?” he says, grabbing my face in both hands to make me look at him. We steal this second, eye to eye, both panting like wild animals. Sweat beads above his eyebrows, and his temples are throbbing. He’s holding onto his self-control by a thread.
“I want you.” I tie my arms around his neck and pull him even closer, so he’s crushing me in the mattress with his chest hair chafing my nipples. I kiss his mouth so hard I draw blood, basking in the copper flavor.
“This will hurt,” he says softly, gasping between words, “but we’ll go slowly. I don’t want to hurt you more than necessary.”
I’ve heard him say that before.
A weird ringing sets off in my ears as I drift in my mind, hovering between memories. “Don't think too much. I'm not in a rush. We'll go slowly.” He said that when he took me from Maksim and fucked my ass. When he didn’t care about me. When he was using me.
“Blaire?” My name echoes somewhere from above as fingers caress my cheeks. “Blaire, baby, you with me?”
“Yes.” My voice comes out breathless and lost. I blink a few times to find myself. “I...I’m here.”
He lets go of my face to grip my calves and bends my legs so my knees are to my chest. He reaches between us to fist his vein swollen cock, positioning it at my entrance. I hold his formidable, blue gaze as he smears himself in my orgasm, creating a warm, connecting sensation only skin against skin can create.
Then, he pushes in.
And something in my brain flips.