Crissyluvsu

Disgusting.

Ransom is as revolted by the stack of dishes set in front of him as he is by the myriad of unwashed around him. Volunteers are peppered into all the stations, and it is outrageously busy. He got to see you for less than two minutes before service got started, pleased as punch by your double-take upon noticing him—Ransom fucking Drysdale—at an actual, god’s honest, charity thing.

Then he was assigned the dish tank, and he kept his shit together, barely.

Then Ran started thinking about the last time he washed someone else’s dishes, and he imagines you on your knees for him again. He’s being so good. He hasn’t told one of the people bussing plates to him to fuck off. He hasn’t asked how much longer this damn thing goes on. He has not mentioned that he’ll now need to replace about $700 worth of clothing, despite wearing the stained apron and gloves given to him. He doesn’t consider the shoes a loss because they are three months old and about to be replaced.

A short man who also clearly has no clue what he’s doing dumps dishes into the huge sink beside him, sloshing water onto Ran’s feet.

Now his socks are wet.

Fuck everything.

He’s put in enough time. He’s done.

He weaves up toward the cafeteria-style line to find you.

Your smile is fake—he can tell now—and you’re bent to listen to the person talking your ear off to the right. You nod hurriedly only to be elbowed by the person on your left. You try engaging, making eye contact with that volunteer, and one of the patrons yells out that he’d like some of what you’re meant to be doling out. Instead of correcting that rude behavior, both righty and lefty start talking to you again at that same time.

Ransom fumes. It’s disrespectful. You’re trying to focus, and these assholes won’t take a hint. It’s like last week all over again.

He marches up behind you and says choice words to the two CEOs flanking you, and you…aren’t happy.

“Ransom,” you say in a low tone with a minuscule, strained smile, “may I speak to you in the hall?”

He’s shocked you aren’t pleased. This has become his service to you. He keeps creeps and boring folks from wasting your time. Why aren’t you happy?

“The hell is wrong with you,” you hiss once out of earshot with a closing door creaking shut.

“They were all over you,” Ran gripes back with a dismissive hand. It’s so obvious that he’s nearly bored, or he would be bored if he weren’t so confused. “What’s the problem? You shouldn’t be yelled at.”

“Ransom. This is my event. Most of these people are here to talk to me, and it’s just window dressing that they actually do something good.”

Why are you calling him Ransom? Why the hell did he come here? “That’s dumb,” he says instead.

“I agree but maybe you can tell me you had a different motive.”

Ran pushes a hand to his chest, grimacing at touching the soggy, lined fabric of his apron. “Me? I’m—I’m here to ladle some goddamn food onto a plate.”

“Out of the goodness of your own heart?” Your arms cross over your chest, unbothered by your own soiled clothing and cover.

“Well, it’s sure as shit not for you.”

That earns him a sharp laugh—a fake laugh. “But I still can’t offer my attention to anyone else, is that it? Get over yourself. Literally, the hundreds of other people in that room are more important than you.” You’ve never been this angry around Ransom, and he feels his whole body heat up in embarrassment.

No one embarrasses Ransom Drysdale.

You aren’t done. With a cold glare, you twist the knife.

“Go shop or something. I have work to do.”

His body and face are on fire, bile boiling over in his gut. “At least I enjoy myself,” he bites.

“No,” you shove an accusatory finger at his chest, “you gloat and pity others. That’s all you do, and I do not have time for it.”

“Fuck you. I don’t have to be here.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. A sarcastic air wafts over your comical expression. “Congratulations, Ran. I’m so proud you know the definition of volunteering. Now grow up or get out.”

He’s already decided to leave, tossing the dingy apron at your feet, but he can’t go without one more seething, “fucking bitch.”

He is not prepared for the immediate retort.

“Pussy,” you shriek back at him.

Ran is outright dumbfounded, turning on his heel mid-stomp to the exit.

He’s hit people for less, and if he were standing closer to you, he might have tried, but no one so good has ever been so mean to him. He can’t fight back, and he is ultra pissed that you know he can’t fight back.

His brow tightens, creasing and threatening to freeze that way, while his face probably goes a light shade of purple. He holds his tongue, but he has no clue why. 

He’s so stunned that you make it all the way back inside before he snaps out of it. His blood boils. It’s physically painful to keep quiet while Ransom fumes all the way to his car.

He slams the door so hard that he may need to take it to the shop. Obscenities are screamed for two solid minutes. One hundred and twenty seconds of the vilest things he can think of and his gut sours and rolls once he realizes he means none of it but can’t stop.

Since he didn’t do anything wrong, Ran wants an apology. Call. Text. Face-to-face. A fuck. It doesn’t matter; he just deserves an apology. He expects it.

When he doesn’t get one by the end of the day, long after the event has concluded (and he’s watched the social media to know), he goes on a spree through his contact list.

At least two ask curiously if he’s ‘with’ you based on photo ops from fundraisers and instead of replying, he just erases that cunt’s name from his phone. Fuck them. Unfortunately, when he finally gets someone to his home, she too fucking asks what you are like in person and if you’re hiring because she has the perfect idea for your—nope, fuck everyone.

He cannot throw that bitch out fast enough, leaving him afraid for the next one to show up. He can’t stop imagining hate fucking you though, and it’s hot to the point he’s going on round two from memory and anger alone. Those vulgar things he yelled in the car fall from his lips as whispers. Only as he watches his cum slide down the shower drain does he allow the rage to drain out of him, too, exhausted in an empty house.

He’s judicious now and properly screens the women he texts because he needs someone willing to do nothing he’s done with you before. He’s so strung out he skips brunch with his mother because his most willing contestant can only get to his house during that time. He’s impatient while prepping her ass to take him, and thank god, that skank thinks it’s a fun game to put on a show without noticing Ran doesn’t care and is nearly bored enough to just leave the room until she’s ready. 

When the doorbell rings, it’s the perfect excuse, he’s in his boxers, barely chubbed at the sight, so who fucking cares—

“I baked,” you say with a covered plate in hand and a small smile, “and your mother decided to call me to check up on you.”

“Daddy” comes the whiny cry from his bedroom. “I’m gaping for you. Get in here with your huge cock and fuck my ass.”

He’s not sure what he hoped but it wasn’t for you to quirk your eyebrow and smile wider. What is that supposed to mean?

“I’ll tell Linda you’re doing just fine,” you say, stifling a laugh and gently pressing the plate into his bare chest until he takes hold of it. “Be sure to hydrate…daddy.”

He should be ashamed, truly, but he’s at half-mast from the word alone, pushed nearly to full by the sway of your hips as you walk back to the car. Dubois shuts the door behind you and blankly nods at mostly-naked, erect Ransom before driving off.

“Daddy,” the nasally voice calls again.

Fuck, he’ll have to shut his eyes and ears for this one.

He still fucks that girl’s ass, of course, but instead of feeling relief after coming, his foot bounces like crazy. He can’t figure out why you haven’t sent him a nasty response or told him to go to hell or something. Anal is worse than a pissing match in front of a bunch of fucking homeless assholes, right?

What doesn’t occur to Ran is to send some sort of apology to you. No. He thinks you’re even. He didn’t do anything wrong; he just has bad timing and should have gagged the skank.

Ransom’s birthday. A horribly useless ritual where his fucking family gathers to act like they give a shit. Ransom is plain mad.

Far worse than some bimbo throwing a resume at him, half of his relatives immediately ask about you and if you’re coming for dinner tonight.

No. Fuck no.

You weren’t dating. He’s said it a hundred fucking times by now. Genuinely fuck off about it.

Ran sees his grandfather grinning over his hi ball glass.

“What are you happy about, old man?” The venom is sharp in his tone, but Harlan simply stares out the bay windows as his smile softens.

Ransom looks up, too, following Harlan’s gaze and—mother fucker.

He slams his glass down on the table beside the arm chair and barrels outside watching you traipse across the lawn in casual wear meant for people who earn 1% of what you do.

“What the fuck!”

You startle. You hadn’t seen him. You were watching your feet and from the sudden move of your hand to your ear, he realizes you are on a call via your Bluetooth again.

He almost—almost—apologizes but waits instead, unsure what to do with his hands. Those get buried in his pockets.

“I’m gonna have to call you back, Deacon. Thank you… No, an email will be fine for those. Alright… Yes, bye.” Your whole demeanor changes once business is done. Your stance goes defensive, bordering on awkward. “Ransom, hi—“

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Why the fuck do you call him ‘Ransom’ now?

Your eyes go wide, not understanding. “Harlan asked to talk. He invited me over.”

“He invited you to my fucking birthday. I don’t want you here.”

“Okay,” you mumble with an sorry shake of your head. “Of course. I didn’t realize.”

Why aren’t you fighting back? His jaw clenches as his nostrils flair.

You take a tentative step back, eyes darting to the house when you turn. Just as you start walking away, you flash your hand up, waving at…

Ran turns to see his entire family watching through the huge windows. Fuck.

By the time he looks back, you’re at the back fence. This is by far the worst fucking one of these birthday charades.

They give him some shit, and he’s not surprised by most of it. They are all awful fucking people, and Ran has known that his whole life. This yearly bullshit proves it. 

“Don’t want your girlfriend here on your birthday?”

“No, Walt.”

“Shame she walked all the way here.”

“She’ll survive.”

Ransom isn’t expecting Harlan’s two cents though.

“Your dear late grandmother was just as tenacious.” He taps his nose knowingly. “Made it impossible to live without her. Always reminders of her everywhere.”

Ran snaps.

That’s what it is. That’s what keeps bothering him every single fucking time he sees it: the god damn Birkin.

“Good point, old man,” he flares darkly, stepping directly toward his mother. “You know what I want? I want you to be honest for one fucking second and quit acting like you earned this.”

Linda clutches the handles where it sits in front of her on the table, but she can’t stop him violently ripping the leather away. Without hesitation, Ran dumps the contents onto the table right in front of everyone. “Reminds me you’re both fucking idiots.”

For a split-second, he contemplates setting the bag on fire and returning its charred remains to you or Linda or both, but instead, he stares at the beautiful thing with narrowed eyes again. He’s such a whore for nice things; he can’t damage it.

In his mind, Ransom thinks about how he’ll eventually get bored with it. The bag won’t always look shiny and new. It won’t always be top quality when newer versions come out. He’ll throw it away like all the other stuff. It’s replaceable. It’s not special. It could be one of a kind, and he should not care because it’s just a bag. He doesn’t give a shit about it. He doesn’t give a shit about anything.

Then he thinks about his car. It is not new. He is not bored. He sees all the new models and fucking hates them. None are his. It’s special to him, and he knows it’s just a car. His car has never made him look bad. His car has never made him feel exposed. No one has ever looked at his car and thought “what’s a car like you doing with a guy like him” or some stupid shit because it’s just a fucking car.

He heads to the back door, shouting “and you people don’t deserve shit” over his shoulder as if he has any room to talk.

But he’s not. He’s not talking; he’s rushing. He hustles in a brisk walk until he’s shrouded by the tree line and then he’s running until he sees you not quite at your property yet.

“You forgot something,” he barks, irate and deep with fury.

Damnit. His boiling blood is starting to pain and tire him. He’s getting bored with himself, and there’s no lower place for Ransom to go. He’s being dramatic and childish. He can’t fucking stand that. You make him like this, so fuck you.

He needs that drink he never picked up again.

“Just take the fucking bag,” he shrieks, shoving it into your chest with enough force to knock you back.

“What?” It’s soft, confused. “Why…what…”

Your hands are all over the leather just like that first moment. You love it still, even after it was guilted away from you, even after it was used, even when you gave up claim to it.

His family does that. They claim everything and earn nothing, but you—you earned this.

“Did you really think I was just gonna let her keep it?”

“It’s been months so…yeah, that was my impression.” The sarcasm drips from the words but not your tone. The disbelief is morphing into—what is that—gratitude? Oh christ, no.

“Don’t do that. Don’t—“ Ran crowds forward, edging you into the nearest significant tree trunk. “Don’t act like this is nice.”

Your face is blank, your lips parted slightly.

“It’s your bag. You own that. You should learn to keep your shit—“ he presses the Birkin closer to you, and you hug it to your chest “—because if it’s yours, it’s yours, and—“ He loses track of what he’s saying. What was his point? Why is he so pissed?

“You stake your claim, and…like protect it or…aren’t you proud of this thing at all?”

“Of the bag?”

“Yes, of the bag!” he screams.

You bite your lip, hesitating. “It’s a bag, Ransom.”

GOD DAMN IT. “Why are you calling me that?”

“You told me to call you that.”

“And you’re listening now?”

You only answer with wide eyes.

“Seriously, why won’t you just—“ but Ran has no fucking clue what he wants to say at that point. He’s too chicken shit to admit that he wants something from you, something he can’t just have or just take or just buy. You are so, so close to him though, and your lips are still parted and your eyes still looking at him for an answer.

In fact, your eyes look directly at his mouth, fully entranced when he so much as purses them before breathing.

“Ran, I never expected…” Your voice tapers off, distracted.

“Fuck it,” he thinks so loudly it comes out as a whisper.

He wraps himself around you and the tree like the car wreck of a man he is, forcing you to open wide and let him explore. Jesus, he has never, ever enjoyed kissing this much, not even as a teen ready to nut in his shorts at the slightest touch.

Ransom doesn’t fucking care that his groping knocks the Birkin down to the dirt. He doesn’t fucking care that it’s broad daylight and your ‘roommates’ in the house could see. He doesn’t fucking care if his whole family bumbles down the path right this second. He just wants you.

From the way your hands fly to his pants button, you want him, too, but when his fingers tug over the band of your leggings, he’s swatted away.

“I know where your dick’s been,” you grunt directly into his mouth, and it should not at all be such a turn-on to Ransom.

“Still—“ you tilt your head back and out of his reach, waiting until you’ve pulled him entirely out of his boxers and lift the hand to your mouth. Ran watches you wet your palm with drool and then push it under his chin, tilting your eyes down to encourage him. His spit mingles with yours.

Once more, you empty your pooling saliva and order him, “again.”

Your hand is so fucking slick over his tender skin, he lurches forward, pinning you to the tree. He rasps out a shaky ’shit’ and shuts his eyes. You start out firm and aggressive like you know his anger makes him so ready to fuck you it hurts. His wild imagery of the past weeks replays behind his eyelids, presented in surround sound as you gasp beside his ear.

“Ah, fuck,” he moans, focusing just long enough to clasp his hands around your face and in your hair.

“That’s it,” you pant praise against his lips, “good boy.”

He’s plain humping your fist by this time, soaring toward climax at one-hundred miles an hour, ready and willing to crash.

“Come for momma.”

Oh, what the fuck?

It’s too late.

Ransom feels the heft of his balls tightening up, and then he’s coming so hard beside your hip that he nearly loses balance and teeters to the ground. His knees feel like jelly. He’s faint and swimming in thick air, releasing his grip on your hair to prop his weight against the tree.

Nuzzling your nose in the crook of his neck, right along the collar of his shirt, you softly say, “happy birthday, Hugh.”

One more rush of tension to his cock has Ran teetering again, ready to laugh at how ridiculous and mildly embarrassing this is. For once though, he doesn’t care. Your teasing isn’t embarrassing anymore; it’s just playful.

Ransom likes playing with you.

His breathing slows while he keeps one hand splayed between your jaw and throat, thumb dragging over your lips, still shamelessly staring at them while his periphery shows you closing your eyes.

“I never expected this,” you finally finish your thought quietly.

He’s too blissed out to clarify. All his brain processes is that you two can’t do much more standing in the fucking woods.

“How about I stop by later for dessert?” he asks.

You huff a faint giggle, a thing he’s starting to relish. “I repeat. Your dick has been in someone else’s ass.“

“Not my dick, sweethea—”

You shift out from under him, quickly wiping your cum-glazed hand on his cream-colored sweater, and wave. “Meg! How are you?” 

“Fine, thanks,” his cousin mumbles from the slight hilltop a ways behind him.

At the sound of crunching leaves, Ran tucks himself back into his jeans and coughs while the zipper rolls up. Jesus, he hates his family. They ruin fucking everything.

“Just making sure douche-nozzle over there wasn’t disposing of your body or something.” 

When he spins around, your Birkin back in his hands, you’ve met Meg halfway, and she’s asking you something about Beijing he doesn’t quite catch.

“Yeah, it’ll be a couple months. The project is really behind, and I want to oversee it properly. It’s easier to know when someone’s gonna fuck you in the ass if you’re in the room, ya know?”

Meg laughs while Ran blanches. He deserved that. Probably.

“Anyway, I have a couple calls to make,” you rush out, not meeting his eyes. “Tell Harlan I’ll answer all his questions by phone tomorrow. I’ll have some time between flights.”

Wait. Flights? Tomorrow? Beijing? Months?

The hell are you playing at?!

Before he can ask any questions though, you pluck the bag from his hands (with your unsullied palm, thank god) and say goodnight.

Meg makes several stupid jabs at his expense on the way back to Thrombey Manor, but Ran couldn’t care less. Boring. Better things to think about like that buzzing, sensitive feeling of his dick as he walks.

That and what the fuck.

So when he gets back inside and sits down to a boring meal with insanely stupid people—all of whom behave like nothing’s happened except pouting Linda—he texts you words he has never typed in his life.

:We need to talk.

By some horrible joke of the universe, Ransom Drysdale actually means he wants to talk.

:On a call

You respond when he throws the beamer into park in your driveway. The next text has the door code, and Ran knows it’s easy to change but feels like he’s been given the keys to the castle in front of him.

“‘Sup, man,” Terrell mutters to Ransom as your friend wanders across the foyer with a bowl of cereal to the opposite end of the mansion.

Ran just flashes a fake grin and heads upstairs.

Your bedroom door is wide open, but the office is closed. He walks quietly over to find it isn’t shut all the way. He can peek his head in, watching you nod and smile toward your laptop, at your desk in a professional white blouse.

Ran thinks back to the first night he was here. Are you even wearing pants?

He sneaks in, ignoring your warning finger in the air to give you a second, and crawls under the open side of your desk to look. Ran hasn’t done this since he was a child playing around in Harlan’s study. He’s obviously much bigger and can barely fit beneath the thick wood table top.

He’s greeted by your bare legs.

He touches your ankle, skimming your naked shin, and you kick him gently away.

Ran doesn’t care.

He pushes at your knee. He taps it again when you ignore him and with an annoyed huff from above you shift to open your legs.

Only panties. Damn it. Ransom is having a hard time finding reasons to stay away from you.

He isn’t listening to your conversation. He doesn’t care if you’re pulling off covering for his actions. He simply wedges his shoulders between your knees and grips your calves to pull you to the edge of your chair.

You cough to hide glancing down, only to see Ran staring up at you through his lashes while his finger pulls aside the thin fabric of your underwear. After one soft, open-mouthed kiss to your mound, you exhale shakily and snap back to the monitor.

“Gentlemen, it’s getting quite late here. I suggest we pick this up when I’m with you in person tomorrow.”

If Ran’s not mistaken, there are approximately eight separate voices that agree and bid you farewell and safe travels. He’s delighted they take so long to get it all out. He has time to run his tongue flat against the seam of you before you even shut the laptop.

“Hugh,” you groan, lacing your fingers in his hair, “what are you doing?”

He keeps his lips on your thigh to speak. “Eating dessert. What does it look like?”

“It looks like…” your voice goes breathy when he points his tongue to trace your folds “…never mind.”

Ran wraps one arm around your thigh. “No. I said we need to talk. What were you going to say?”

“Hugh,” you try whining again.

“It’s my birthday, sweetheart. Don’t you want to make me happy?”

Before you can answer, he scoots you even farther to the edge of your seat, running a fingertip along your entrance to spread your slick—because you are slick—and he thinks maybe you had to touch yourself after you left the woods. He loves that idea.

“Tell me what you meant earlier. What did you not expect?” He keeps his touch too gentle, anticipating when your hips move to add pressure. “Ah-ah, the more you talk, the more I taste,” he adds with a nudge of his nose to your clit.

Your whole body tenses, but when you don’t start speaking, Ran blows cool air over your heated skin. He holds you so your shiver doesn’t move you away.

“I thought you’d be a good—a good fuuuck,” you rush as he rewards you with a soft circle of his tongue. You forget to continue until he hums in encouragement. “And I didn’t expect—I didn’t expect—I didn’t…expect—“

Ran stops his sloppy kiss of your folds to growl, “spit it out, sweetheart.”

“—TO LIKE IT,” you scream before wrangling your voice, “uhh, to—to like you.”

Ok, he may have been a bit aggressive to suck that admission out of you, but, hey, all in good fun. He’s really embracing the play with you. Ran likes that you like him. It makes him feel justified and powerful. You liking him means he isn’t alone in his frustration and confusion over all this.

But you’re not done. Neither is he.

“I don’t expect anything from you, Hugh, I swear. It’s not—shit, right there—I swear you do not have—“ there’s a broken noise that escapes you when he slips a finger in you “—mother fucker, I hate you. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t plan to, enjoying the gentle pulsing grip of your fingers in his hair.

For another minute, you’re shallowly gasping.

“And,” Ran rumbles while he curls his finger, coaxing you.

“You,” you breathe, “you’re a piece of shit. Why are you so good at that?”

With another curse on your lips, he smiles.

“I buy and I use things—“ Ran chuckles, tightening his hold and shoving his finger deeper. “—and gloat and pity apparently.”

“I’m sorry,” you heave, “I didn’t mean it.”

He nips at the bend of your hip. “Yes, you did.”

You nod, a huge, comical gesture that uses up all energy you have left to keep your head up. It falls to the back of the chair, and Ransom feels your weight sag into his arms. You’re close, and he’s fucking hungry.

He wanted an apology. He got one. He doesn’t even care if you meant it. He cares that you couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. He wanted control. He has it. You gave him this chance, but he also just took it because he wants you now. This is officially the most mutual thing Ran has been involved in…his entire adult life…and maybe since birth.

If he weren’t so into making you fucking come, he’d be terrified. Instead, he ignores his slightly aching knees and goes to town until your pussy french kisses him back.

You slap both hands against your mouth to muffle the sound. Your legs trap him in place, one shaking like a fucking dog as he keeps attacking one particular spot on your clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you cry, weak and breathless by the time you recover the strength to push him away.

Ran slips back onto his heels with a cocky grin, wiping his knit sleeve across his shiny face. Why not? Might as well have both of your fluids all over him. Worst case, it’s one less sweater out of dozens.

After watching you struggle to stay upright on the chair, aftershock after aftershock racing through your body, he realizes he’s rock-hard in his jeans. That’s odd for Ransom not to notice; he’s always the first priority during sex. Anyone else’s pleasure is only important for what he gets out of it.

It’s a difficult habit to break, and subconsciously, he rubs himself through the fabric, eyes still on you, inventorying every twitch and sharp moan.

He did that.

Ransom Drysdale is a proud man, and he is very, very proud to have fucked you into this state.

He rises for no other reason than his jeans fucking pinch against his cock at that angle. You think he’s trying to walk away and reach out, lightly grabbing his wrist.

“Come here.”

He thinks you want him to kiss you, which for once Ran is not mad about, but back to his pants your hands go.

“Are you close, baby? Come here,” you repeat, unbuttoning the top of your blouse to expose your chest and this—shit—very flimsy and likely expensive lacy, baby blue bra.

Alright. Ransom really, really fucking likes that you like him, and he is really, really close to shortening that sentence.

He swallows thickly and preens, unzipping his fly and taking himself in hand, fingers still damp with you. His other hand tweaks your nipple through the dainty, useless garment. It’s so thin he can feel the pebbling of your skin right through the 'cover.'

His own grip is harsh and fast.

“When were you gonna tell me?” He rasps, voice low with arousal. “You’re leaving.”

There’s a flicker of concern in your expression. You shake your head gently though, assuring him, “it’s fine. You don’t owe me anything.”

His groping hand moves to your jaw. “And if I wanted to know?” His thumb pets across your bitten-raw bottom lip. “If I wanted to owe you…if I wanted you to owe me?”

He pulls softly at your lip while jerking mercilessly at his cock. He’s right there on the edge.

Eyes locked to his, both your mouths open and panting in the rush of sexual heat hotboxing the room like an airtight prison, you give him one promise.

“Anything.”

Uh, fuck. Ransom shoves his thumb in to press against your tongue, feeling the vibration of your moan all through his arm. The noise he starts to make when his climax hits him dies at the back of his throat, suffocated like the base of his dick as he paints your breasts with his seed. You’re rolling his balls in your hand, tugging, sucking and humming around his digit deep in your mouth.

It feels endless and instantaneous.

His head throbs from lack of oxygen, but he can’t tell if he held his breath or if you just stole all of it from him.

How long after his last drop Ran regains autonomy, he has no idea, but he stops pushing a significant weight upon your tongue and steps back. At least he won’t land ass-first in the grass should his legs give way now.

He funnels air to his lungs with a huge inhale, chest heaving and swollen with even more pride at the sight of you.

“Let’s—“ he gasps again “—let’s get you cleaned up.”

What blooms over your face is absolutely not a fake smile. He knows. He’s seen you happy.

While warming a washcloth under the tap, Ran’s body jolts whenever he so much as skirts the memory of minutes ago. He can’t think of it. He can’t think of anything else. Anything.

Though he tries to keep his mind blank, ritualistically readying himself to sleep in your bed once again, he still has thoughts in the dark and quiet that follows.

He’s never stayed like this, on purpose, never cradled someone against him, never tucked his arm around them tighter and tighter as if they’ll fall out, fall out of the bed, fall out of his life. He holds on while desperately trying not to think of why.

It’s a long time before he forms words.

“Don’t go,” Ran whispers into your hair, half-hoping you’re too asleep to hear.

“I have to,” you mumble, and his stomach tightens until you continue. “I don’t have to go alone.”

While Ransom’s mind turns over and over, your breathing shallows.

He doesn’t need to answer, not right away at least, which is good because he’s processing tonight, today, last week, the last month, and the last half year slowly. The warmth of your body, the comfort of your presence, it all soothes him, and he falls fast asleep, too, before making any decision.

a/n: Well, fuck me, man. Four parts. This damn "one-shot" is edging toward 20k, and I wholeheartedly blame Ransom. He needs all this damn time to figure himself out. You know I can't rush that, right? Ugh, tho, get your shit together, Ran...

[Last Part and if it's not, you can actually ask for a refund, promise]

{Dearest Ro, kindly stop telling people how many parts/chapters you think something is going to be, for you are most surely wrong. Love, your bitchy brain. P.S. Have another idea for the road, you hag.}

[Part Four]

“What the fuck?” Ransom grumbled as he came stumbling out of the bedroom in just his boxer briefs. “Why is there noise?”

“Coffee,” you said, handing him the mug you’d filled. “I didn’t know how you take it.”

He took a sip and just grunted at you and then turned around and went back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

You busied yourself by getting your own coffee and munching on some toast. You still had no appetite but figured you should probably eat something. 

A few minutes later, he came back out with a now empty mug. He stopped and stared at you. “Am I still drunk or are you still wearing your wedding dress?”

You tried not to let your embarrassment show. “I couldn’t get it off by myself, so…” you trailed off and shrugged. 

He looked at you for another moment then nodded once. “Give me a minute,” he said, as he poured himself another cup. He drank it quickly, then briefly held his head in his hands. When he looked back up, he took a deep breath, then mumbled “OK.” He came up behind you and lightly touched your dress. “Is there a trick to it?” he asked as he ran a finger down the seam. 

“It’s a long line of hook-and-eyes, you know?”

He hummed and then started at the top. As he worked, he grumbled to himself, which made you feel a little better about not being able to get it off. You’d never stop being surprised by how gentle his hands were. It seemed to be in complete opposition to every other part of him. When he was about halfway down, his knuckles lightly grazed the bare skin of your back and a shudder ran through your whole body. “Sorry,” he said, softly. You just shook your head and didn’t say anything.

When he was done, he quickly took a step back. You held your dress to you, trying to preserve your modesty, even though you knew how silly that was. You just weren’t ready for him to see you, although you doubted that that mattered. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He nodded again, then “You mind if I take the first shower?”

You shook your head and he disappeared into the ensuite. 

About an hour and a half later, you sat with him in the back of a town car, on your way to the private airfield where one of his family’s planes awaited you. Neither of you said anything. Ransom was staring at something on his phone, while you put all your energy into trying not to have a panic attack. You had no idea what was waiting for you in Boston. You weren’t ready for this. You couldn’t do it.

As the car pulled up to the hangar, you were beyond relieved to see Steve already waiting there, Lola’s travel crate at his feet. The moment the car was parked and turned off, you lept out, not waiting for anyone to open the door for you. You bent down in front of Lola’s crate first and carefully stuck your fingers through the door. “Hi, baby, I missed you.” She kissed your fingers and then whined to be let out. “Not yet, honey,” you said softly. “You have to wait til we’re on the plane.”

You stood up and faced Steve, who was looking you over carefully. “How are you doing?” he asked seriously.

You shrugged and sighed. “Freaking out a little, I guess, but it’ll be fine.”

“And if it isn’t, you’ll call me,” he said, voice firm. “I don’t care where you are or what time it is, you call me. Ok?” You nodded. He opened his mouth to say more, but then the call of your name came from over your shoulder.

You turned to see Ransom standing between you and the jet. Your heart dropped. No, not yet. You needed more time. You needed to be able to actually say goodbye. You couldn’t– “I’ll be on the plane,” he said, voice still scratchy and tired, sunglasses firmly on, despite the overcast day. “Take your time.” He turned around and began walking up the stairs. 

You just stared after him for a moment, surprised. When you turned back to Steve, his lips were curled in disgust. But then the expression quickly changed to something much sadder. “I should have done more,” he said, “gotten you out of here, sent you away or something. I can’t–”

“Steve.” you interrupted. “Please stop. It’s no use now.” You couldn’t listen to any more of this. It had always been inevitable; it’d always been what you were for. Imagining anything else was useless. 

Neither of you said anything for a moment, then he looked around and asked, “Are Dad and Lydia on their way?” 

You tried to keep any hurt out of your expression when you said, “No, something important came up for Joseph and you know Mom has a hard time going anywhere by herself.” You ignored the cracks you heard in your own voice.

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion and upset. “I would have picked her up,” he said. “Hell, I’ll go get her right now.” 

“I know,” you said sadly. “I told her that, but you know how she is.” You dropped your eyes, not able to look at the anger you knew you’d see on Steve’s face. You were angry too, you were, but mostly now you were just sad. And after thinking about it all night, you honestly weren’t sure how much anger she deserved. She’d been broken for a long time. It’d happened before you’d even known her, probably. It’d been unfair, maybe, to expect her to be strong for you now when she’d never been able to be that before.

Steve said your name and you looked up at him. “You don’t deserve this,” he said firmly. “I know I’ve said it before, but I really need you to understand it. None of this is what you deserve.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just nodded and muttered, “OK.” 

He sighed and shook his head, then pulled you into his arms. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much,” he said into your hair. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without having you just a few minutes away to annoy whenever I want.”

You huffed a laugh into his shoulder. “I’m going to miss you too,” you said. “So much. Even when you’re being so annoying.” The tears were starting now, you weren’t able to hold them back. You pulled back and briefly got a good enough look at Steve’s face to see that his eyes were wet, too, before he knelt in front of Lola’s crate.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m going to miss you too. You take good care of your mom for me.” 

You couldn’t help the little sob that came out of you at that. Fuck. Steve had been stuck to your side since you were six years old. Through absolutely everything. He’d been the one person you could count on for as long as you could remember. And now you were being dragged away from him. 

He stood up and pulled you into another hug. “You’re so strong,” he whispered right in your ear. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

When he pulled back, you knew it was time to go, but you didn’t know how to pull yourself away. This all felt so final.

“Let me know when you land,” he said. “And when you get to the house. And just–” he sighed. “Everything. I want to know everything, ok?”

You nodded and tried to brush the tears from your eyes. “Yeah, ok,” you said, knowing you’d send him the exact amount of information that would keep him from worrying too much. You picked up the dog crate. You locked eyes with him one last time. “I love you.”

His voice was thick when he responded, “I love you too. I’m going to sit right here until you’ve taken off, ok? I’ll be right here.”

“You’re a good brother,” you said, as you slowly took your first step backward, toward the jet. 

“Yes. I am,” he said with a smile that was half cocky and half absolutely heartbreaking. 

With one last deep breath and an “OK,” that was mostly to yourself, you forced yourself to turn around and make your way to the stairs up to the jet. Once you were halfway up, you looked over your shoulder. Steve was leaning against his car. He gave you an encouraging smile and a small wave. You nodded and took the last few steps to board the plane.

A flight attendant was standing right there to greet you. “Welcome aboard, Mrs. Drysdale,” she said and you couldn’t help the way your mouth dropped open in shock. Mrs. Drysdale. That’s who you were now. You tried to pull yourself together and let her show you into the main cabin. It was mostly open, with a few plush seats and tables scattered around. Ransom was already in one, fully reclined with a sleep mask pulled over his eyes. He made no indication that he was awake, so you asked the attendant for a mask for yourself and a glass of water. As she went to fulfill your request, you opened Lola’s little cage and picked her up when she came out. She was nervous, shaking with her little tail tucked between her legs. “It’ll be ok,” you said softly, the tears threatening to stream down again. You took a deep breath and settled the both of you into a seat as far from Ransom as you could get in the small private jet. You gave Lola gentle pets until she sat down on your lap. “We’ll just take a nap,” you said, “and it’ll be over before we know it.”

“What the fuck is that?”

You woke with a start and pulled off your sleep mask. “Huh?” You sat up to see Ransom and Lola locked in a staredown. 

“What is that?”

“I told you that I had a dog,” you said, confused. 

“That!” Ransom yelled, pointing at Lola, “is not a dog. That’s a long-haired rat!”

“Hey!” you yelled back, just as Lola started retching. “Oh, baby, no!” You knelt down next to her just as she puked right at Ransom’s feet.

“What the shit?!” he cried out, jumping back. 

“She’s stressed, ok? It’s not like I can explain to her what a plane is or where we’re going!” You grabbed what was left of your water and the napkin the flight attendant had brought with the glass and tried to clean it up. “Shit,” you mumbled to yourself.

“What are you doing?” He stood over you with his hands on his hips.

“I’m cleaning it up so you don’t freak out, ok? It’ll be fine, just give me a minute.”

“Get up.”

“What?”

“You don’t need to do that. The crew probably has a steam cleaner or something. My dad uses this plane. I’m sure they’ve seen worse.” He walked to the front of the cabin and knocked on the divider. When the attendant came, Ransom quietly told her, “The dog got sick. I assume you have something to clean it up.” 

She nodded and quickly came out with a portable steam cleaner and made quick work of Lola’s mess. 

“Thank you,” you told her.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Drysdale,” she smiled and went back to the galley.

“Well, that’s a real mindfuck,” Ransom said as he flopped back into his seat. He glared down at Lola, “She gonna do that again?”

“I don’t know,” you said, gently picking her up and holding her close to try to comfort her.

He pulled his sleep mask down over his eyes. “Great, love being a rat-dog owner.”

“She isn’t your dog,” you said curtly. 

“Whatever. This hangover is still pounding against my skull. Wake me when we land.” 

When you landed in Boston, Ransom led you to where his vintage beamer was parked and you both squeezed into it. The slightly hysterical thought struck you that it wouldn’t be suitable at all once there was a baby to cart around. You pushed that thought away. No use getting ahead of yourself.

Ransom’s house was on the edge of the city, surrounded by more trees than you expected. From the outside, it was mostly glass. Very modern. It felt cold.

He parked the car and grabbed the few bags you both had with you. The rest of your things would be delivered the next day. He showed you inside without much pomp or circumstance, just walked in ahead of you, and left the door open.

The majority of the first floor seemed to be one large, open-plan room. It was sparsely decorated and the pieces that were there seemed to be lifted wholesale from the pages of an upscale furniture catalog. There was nothing of Ransom in this house. Not that you really knew him well enough to say, but you didn’t think there was any information to be gleaned from his living space either. It all felt very empty. It was not what you had expected.

You set Lola down on the hardwood floor and she immediately ran off to explore. You crossed your fingers that she wouldn’t get into anything, not able to forget Ransom’s threat that he’d make you get rid of her if she messed anything up. You glanced over at Ransom to gauge if he was upset that you’d let her roam on her own, but he wasn’t paying any attention, leafing through a pile of mail left on the kitchen island. 

He must have felt you watching him, because without looking up he said, “Bedroom’s upstairs. I’ll bring our things up later.”

You nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. You grabbed your bag, not wanting to wait for him, and made your way up the staircase in the middle of the living room. Judging by how he’d treated you so far, you figured he planned to tuck you away in some guest room, out of his way except for when he needed you. It wasn’t unheard of in marriages like this, and you would honestly be grateful to have your own space. But as you looked through the rooms upstairs, you found a home gym, a study, and 2 storage rooms. There’d also been a bathroom and a few closets. The only room left had to be his, but you couldn’t imagine he’d want to share that with you. You very gingerly walked in and set your bag at the foot of the bed. You didn’t spend any more time there, afraid that you might be wrong.

When you went back downstairs, he was now rummaging through his fridge. “I put my bag in the bedroom upstairs,” you said to his back. 

He just grunted his assent, then came out with two glass containers in his hands. He plated them both and put one in the microwave. “I have a housekeeper that comes three times a week and usually prepares meals for the whole week. You can give her any food preferences you have.”

You nodded. “I enjoy cooking,” you said, your mother's advice to ‘keep him happy’ floating in your mind. “I can make dinner too, sometimes.”

He nodded and shrugged as he took the plate out of the microwave and placed it in front of you on the island. You took a seat on one of the stools. “If you want,” he said, “but I don’t expect it.” He put his own plate in the microwave.

“Do you have any other staff?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Not for the house, not right now.”

You understood the implication that the staff would grow as your family did. A nanny, a driver, a gardener maybe, if you moved to a house that required one.

It was the lack of a driver that made you nervous. You’d never gone without one at home. You also hadn’t seen a large garage on the property, so you guessed there weren’t any extra cars around. You felt stuck in this house already, shut in like he didn’t want you to leave.

When his food was heated, he sat beside you and you ate together in silence. The food was fine, you were sure, but you couldn’t taste it. Your mind was ahead of you, wondering what the rest of the night held. 

When you were done, Ransom loaded your dishes into the dishwasher and then said, “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat, so I’m just going straight to bed. Feel free to stay up if you want. I’m a heavy sleeper so you won’t wake me when you come in.”

“Oh,” you said, trying to hide your surprise. So he did intend for you to share his room. But apparently, just for sleeping. You were relieved. You were. The little voice in your head that wouldn’t stop whispering that he didn’t want you didn’t count. “I’m still three hours behind, so I might stay up a little longer.” Doing what, you had no idea. You didn’t have any of your things and you weren’t sure what was off-limits here yet. And you were exhausted, still hadn’t recovered from not sleeping the night before. But you just couldn’t deal with the awkwardness of going to bed at the same time as him.

“OK,” he said and then just stood there, looking surprisingly lost. After a couple of endless minutes, he just said, “Goodnight,” and finally went upstairs.

You grabbed your phone out of your handbag, unsurprised to see multiple messages from Steve, checking in on you. You sent him one back, assuring him that the flight had been fine, the drive to the house was fine, you were fine. You collected Lola from where she was curled up on a rug, quickly fed her and let her out, and then brought her and her crate upstairs. After a few minutes of internal debate, you decided to set her up in the gym, fairly certain that even in her crate, Ransom wouldn’t want her in his bedroom. It took a lot of coaxing to get her in. She was so used to sharing your bed. She whined when you closed the little grate and your heart broke. “I’m so sorry,” you whispered. “You’ll get used to it. It’ll be ok.”

You quietly went into the bedroom and Ransom was, indeed, already asleep, spread out on his stomach again, but luckily this time only taking up one side of the bed. He’d left the lamp on the opposite side on for you. You took your sleep clothes out of your bag and brought your toiletries into the ensuite, unpacking only what you’d need for the night. His things were all piled around one of the side-by-side sinks, but the other was clear for you. You went through your nightly routine quickly and then went back into the bedroom and very carefully climbed into bed. He didn’t stir. You turned off the lamp and settled at the edge of the bed. Your exhaustion took you quickly.

When you woke in the morning, Ransom was gone.

Your things were delivered a few hours after you woke. You started by trying to organize the boxes into the least obtrusive pile possible. You hoped that if they were tucked into a corner, he wouldn’t be too annoyed while you took your time going through them. You started with a few of the smaller boxes, unpacking the items into places you hoped they could go.

You took Lola for a walk around the neighborhood. It was sparsely populated, the houses spaced far apart. You didn’t run into any neighbors.

One of the walk-in closets in the bedroom had been cleared out for you, so you spent the afternoon unpacking all your clothes. By the time you were done, it was time for dinner. There was still no sign of Ransom.

You fed Lola and helped yourself to one of the meals in the fridge. You ate alone and after you cleaned up, you dug a book out of one of your boxes and settled on one of the not-very-comfortable couches with Lola to read. You didn’t know if she was allowed on the furniture – you were sure she wasn’t, actually – but Ransom wasn’t here to see it, so you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. 

As you were finishing the second chapter in your book, he walked through the front door. With how the house was set up, he had a clear view of you and Lola from the door. “Hi,” was all he said.

“Hi,” was all you could say back.

He just stood there for a moment and then took off his coat and shoes. “How was your day?” he asked, stiffly, as he came into the living room. 

“Fine,” you said. Then you realized he was actually attempting conversation and added, “My things came, so I got started unpacking.”

He nodded, “That’s good. Did you eat?”

“I did,” you said, hoping that was the right answer. “Can I get you some food?”

“No, I’m fine. I ate at the office.” Well, that answered where he’d been all day – his family’s publishing house.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to go upstairs to unwind. Will you be heading up soon?” 

Oh. Right. It’d finally come. “Yeah,” you said, your mouth suddenly dry. “I’ll just get Lola settled and then join you.”

He looked down at your dog in your lap like he was noticing her for the first time. But he didn’t say anything, just nodded and walked upstairs.

You let Lola out the back door for just a couple minutes, then took her upstairs. It was even harder to get her into her crate this time, even after you buried treats in her blankets. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you cooed, once you finally had her locked in. “I promise it won’t always be this hard and scary. It’ll be ok.”

Ransom was waiting for you in his room, sitting in an armchair by the window. “We should talk,” he said quietly.

“Ok.” You perched on the edge of the bed and did your best to look him in the eye, even as your heart was racing. 

He took a deep breath and leaned forward. “We don’t–” he started, then another breath. “There’s nothing that we have to do tonight. I mean, we can certainly get the first time out of the way, if that’s what you want to do. But it doesn’t have to be now. We have time.”

You wanted to be relieved, but it just felt like delaying the inevitable. “We don’t, actually,” you said shaking your head. “We don’t have that much time. Especially if it takes a while. If there’s going to be an issue getting pregnant, on either side, I think the sooner we know the better. I don’t want to be blindsided by it when we only have a month left.”

“Ok,” he nodded. “That makes sense. Yeah, we can get it over with.”

You were proud of yourself for the way you didn’t wince at his phrasing, but it was a near thing. But was it really fair to be upset or hurt by that when it was how you were feeling too? You wanted to stop delaying it. You were ready to just know how it was going to be, what he would want. So yeah, maybe ‘get it over with’ wasn’t such a bad way to put it. 

He stood up and sighed, looking like he was bracing himself. “I do need to know, have you done this before?”

You swallowed. The question wasn’t unexpected but you weren’t sure how to answer it and didn’t know which answer he was looking for. You decided to be honest and hoped it would be ok. “Yes, I’ve had sex,” you said, quietly.

He let out a long exhale in relief. “Ok,” he said, “ok, that’s good.” 

You stood up, unsure of what to do. You just wanted to be on the other side of it. You suddenly thought of what you’d just told Lola. It wouldn’t always be this hard and scary. You would get used to it. You just had to get through this first time. And then you’d know how he was. Resolved now, you started taking off your shirt.

“Wait,” he said, breathed really. “Just wait.”

Your shirt was already halfway off, stuck on your arms above your head, so you shucked it the rest of the way and threw it on the floor, but didn’t do anything else.

He came over and stood so he was in your space. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb on your cheekbone. And very slowly, he ducked his head to bring his lips to yours. There was something about it. The intimacy. Even with what you knew you were about to do with him. You just– A kiss was too much. You turned away. You couldn’t do it.

Instead, your hands went to unbutton your pants. You undid it slowly then bent over with your back to him to push them down your legs, sticking your ass out as much as you could. That was better than a kiss, right? You could make him want you.

You kicked your pants off and stood back up, looking over your shoulder to see him watching you. But his face was unreadable. You weren’t ready for him to touch you, so you said, “I can get myself ready for you,” hoping it came off coy, but you were afraid he’d be able to hear how your voice shook. For the briefest moment, you almost thought you saw something travel across his face. Disappointment, maybe. But it was gone too fast for you to be able to tell, and you were trying so hard to look away, anyway.

You got on the bed, lying on your back, sliding your panties off as seductively as you could. You closed your eyes tight and slowly moved one hand down your abdomen while the other started to play with your breast, cupping it, tweaking your nipple. As your other hand slipped between your thighs, you brought up your go-to fantasy. Nothing fancy or outlandish. Just a man standing over you, touching you, telling you how much he loved you, how much he loved your body. How he was going to ruin you, completely take you apart. You tried to focus on that as your fingers slowly made their way between your folds, as they made their way to your clit. But this room kept pulling you back to reality. You could hear Ransom taking his clothes off. You tried to ignore it. You were starting to get wet, slowly but surely, so you carefully pushed one finger inside yourself, trying so hard to focus on the man, his voice. You heard a bottle of lube flick open. No, no, you weren’t here, as you added another finger. You could hear Ransom’s hand on his cock now as your thumb continued to rub your clit. You opened your eyes despite yourself. Ransom was kneeling on the edge of the bed, stroking himself to hardness. It was the first time you’d seen him fully naked. He really was so beautiful. You sort of hated him for it. 

You closed your eyes again. You could do this. You scissored your fingers slowly, opening yourself up, a little whine escaping your lips, when suddenly, you felt a hand wrap around your ankle. You wanted to scream in frustration. It was no use. Your hands dropped down to your sides. You were ready enough. It wouldn’t hurt, it was fine. You blinked your eyes open again to find Ransom staring at your face, searching for something. You couldn’t begin to guess what. “I’m ready,” you said. 

“Are you sure?” he asked, voice soft, but gritty.

“Yeah, I’m good. How do you want me?”

He seemed almost startled by your question. “Uh, however you’re most comfortable.”

You nodded and flipped over onto your stomach, pulling your knees up toward your elbows and putting your ass in the air. This would be easiest if you didn’t have to look at him. If you could imagine someone else. Someone who loved you. Someone who wanted to be here. 

You heard the bottle of lube again and then felt him settle between your legs. One hand was on your ass and you presumed he was using the other to line himself up. You pushed your face into the pillow underneath you. You tried to bring the fantasy back as he slowly eased inside of you. He was big, but not so big it hurt. You breathed through it as he worked his way in with short, slow thrusts. He was being so gentle with you. You weren’t sure if you liked it. The hand on your ass moved to your hip, while the other snaked around to your stomach, softly stroking you there, then moved down over your pelvis, and then finally between your thighs to search for your clit. He found it quickly. But no matter how hard you closed your eyes, his fingers made it impossible for you to pretend that it was anyone else with you, anyone else touching you. Without thinking, you pushed his hand away and replaced it with your own. 

He was making little grunts and gasps behind you that you tried to ignore. You rubbed furious circles over your clit and tried to focus only on the fullness you felt. But then, that fullness started to lessen. The grunts behind you turned into a “Shit.” and then a “Fuck!” and suddenly, that fullness completely disappeared. You let out a little cry as he quickly pulled out of you. You turned around to catch a glimpse of his softening cock before he disappeared into the bathroom, the door slamming behind him. 

You lay on your back for just a moment, your mind trying to catch up, figure out what on earth had just happened. That voice that had been there this whole time, since that first meeting a month ago, came back with smug satisfaction. He doesn’t want you, it said, over and over. Your thighs were sticky, probably mostly from the lube. You didn’t think your wetness or his precome had been enough to make a mess out of you. You got up, desperate to not be naked anymore.  You grabbed a sleep shirt out of the closet you were using and slipped it on. You hugged yourself, standing in the middle of the room with no idea what to do. 

In the silence, with nothing else to focus on, you were suddenly aware of Lola crying across the hall. Fuck. Everything just kept getting worse.

Ransom came out of the bathroom and went straight to the bed. He stopped at the foot, seemingly surprised that you weren’t still in it. He looked up and found you on the other side of the room. 

“Is everything ok?” you asked quietly.

“It’s fine,” he said, voice sharp. You flinched and he sighed, then visibly tried to calm himself down. “It’s fine,” he said again, much softer this time. He held out a washcloth to you. “In case you need to clean yourself up.”

You took a few steps toward him so that you could grab it. “Thank you,” you said, as you quickly wiped between your legs, then went to finish cleaning up in the bathroom. 

When you came back out, he was back in bed, on his back, just staring at the ceiling. “What’s that noise?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s fine,” you hurried to answer. “It’s Lola, but she’s ok. She just isn’t used to sleeping alone. She’ll get used to it, eventually.” Your heart broke as you spoke, but you knew it couldn’t be avoided. 

“Where does she usually sleep?” he asked.

It took you a minute to answer, you were so surprised by the question. “Uh, with me,” you said.

“Then go get her,” he said, without looking at you. He hadn’t looked at you since you’d come out of the bathroom.

“Really?” you whispered.

“Yeah, if it stops her crying.”

You didn’t wait to be told again. You hurried across the hall and opened her crate, scooping her up into your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you cooed. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s going to be ok now.”

When you got back to the room, Ransom had turned off his light and turned over onto his side, facing the wall. You placed Lola on the bed and crawled in after her. As you turned off your own lamp, you whispered, “Thank you,” not sure if he was awake to hear it.

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A quick glance around the room was all you needed to confirm it was just as bad as you thought. You lay on your side just inside a large circle painted on the roughhewn stone floor of a windowless basement room in what looked like red paint—though you suspected it was something worse. There were symbols and candles decorating the outside of the circle and beyond them stood five figures, their faces shrouded by the hooded cloaks they wore. Together, they chanted in a language you’d never heard before, but the sound of it leaving their tongues inspired a primal kind of fear that made you want to run.

As the chanting grew louder and faster, you realized the group was getting to the end of whatever ritual they were performing. Not wanting to stick around to see what that meant, you scrambled up onto your knees and tried to shuffle backwards—you figured if you at least got outside the circle, you might be safe.

Cold hands gripped your bare shoulders, making you suddenly aware that you were clad in nothing more than a sheer white dress that clung indecently to all of your curves. You’d never seen it before, it wasn’t yours. Before you were able to fully process the extra horror that added to your situation, the hands pushed you forward, sending you sprawling back into the circle of bloody symbols.

Crying out, you caught yourself with your bound hands, the rough stone scraping your skin and making you hiss in pain. Around you, the chanting figures worked themselves up into a frenzy. If you concentrated, you could pick out the voice of the person that had pushed you forward, recognizing him as the man—James something—you’d gone on a date with. The last thing you could remember was dodging his attempt to kiss you, giving him your cheek and awkwardly saying goodnight as you turned to unlock your door. A sweet-smelling cloth had covered your face and everything had gone black.

After you quickly pieced together what must’ve happened, you turned sharply, giving the figure the most brutal glare in your arsenal. You were rewarded when he faltered slightly in his chanting, but it only lasted a moment before he rejoined the group. The voices speaking the demonic language rose in volume and vehemence, reaching a crescendo.

A rumbling began beneath the floor, reverberating through your body, making your bones rattle. You looked around, panic sending sharp spikes of adrenaline through your blood, as the candles began to flicker with the force of an unnatural wind. All of a sudden, the voices cut off, their chanting ended. With a sharp gust of wind, every candle in the basement room guttered out. A scream lodged itself in your throat as the room was plunged into darkness.

The longest moment of your life passed as you waited for your death in the pitch black. Then the candles flickered back to life, flames popping up one by one around the room until it was lit again with their orange glow. When the fear finally cleared enough for you to take stock of your surroundings again, you realized another had joined you in the circle.

From your position on the floor, you had to crane your neck to look up at the new figure. He stood facing you, his body relaxed and stance casual, hands buried in the pockets of black slacks that hugged his long legs and strong thighs. He wore a black sweater that fit snugly over his broad shoulders and chest, the fabric straining just a little on his bulging biceps. From the tips of his expensive-looking black shoes to his sharp outfit, you were surprised to find he wasn’t anything like the monster you expected.

Your shock only grew when your gaze finally made it to his face—and found him staring at you. The man was handsome in a way that could be described as angelic. He was blond and blue-eyed, looking for all the world like the sweet and charming boy-next-door type, but that impression changed the longer you looked at him. His full lips were curved slightly in an amused smirk, and as he looked at you from under thick eyelashes, you glimpsed something dark glittering dangerously in the depths of his ocean eyes. His penetrating stare made you shiver, which had his mouth curving just a tiny bit more, so little you barely noticed the change.

The man looked away, freeing you from the power of his eyes, his expression morphing into a scowl as he looked around the room. When no one spoke, he let out an annoyed sigh, pulling one hand from his pocket and running long fingers through his blond hair, pushing it back from his face. “Get on with it, mortals,” he bit out, clenching his jaw against the anger simmering in his tone. “I can’t do this all day.”

“We beseech you, Steven Grant Rogers, all-powerful demon of the realm below,” the figure to your left intoned in a deep voice you didn’t recognize. The man’s head was bent low, his hands held up in supplication.

A shiver of fear raced down your spine at the name, something about it feeling wrong in your ears. The minute shake of your shoulders caught the attention of the man—the demon—in the circle with you. He tilted his head to the side as his fiery blue eyes raked over your body with such interest, you could’ve sworn you felt it like a physical thing. His gaze trailed down to your pebbled nipples, pronounced through the flimsy dress, and over your hips to your legs. Your skin heated under his scrutiny, a warm ache settling between your thighs and making you squirm slightly in your kneeling position on the floor. In that moment, you didn’t know what you wanted more—him to look away or for him to devour you whole.

Before you could decide, the demon’s attention was diverted by the speaking figure. “We’ve provided you a sacrifice—an innocent—in exchange for our requests,” the man concluded, sweeping his hand in your general direction in a way that was so dismissive you knew you were nothing more than a means to an end for these men.

Your spine stiffened as you bristled at the indignity of your situation and you shot another glare over your shoulder at the man who’d taken you on a date and kidnapped you. “I didn’t kiss you so you make me a sacrifice to a demon!?” you hissed, practically spitting with anger. Rage swirled in your chest and vibrated through your limbs until you were shaking with it.

“Shut the fuck up, whore,” James seethed, his hood falling back enough for you to see his face and confirm it was him. But then he was raising his boot and before you could shield yourself, he kicked you in the back, right between your shoulder blades, sending you sprawling at the demon’s feet.

A cry fell from your lips as your hands and cheek scraped across the roughhewn floor, tearing your skin, stinging pain shooting to your brain. You lay there for a moment, thoughts consumed with what you wished you could do to James—starting with cutting his balls off with a butter knife. You were startled from your violent thoughts by a gentle, but firm touch.

“Let’s get a better look at this pretty little innocent,” the demon said in a deep voice that resonated through your body and shot straight to your core. The way he said the last word, a little bit mocking, made you think he somehow knew everything there was to know about you—he knew about your violent thoughts and your deviant desires. The thought of being known down to your soul was too appealing to resist and you softened in his touch.

The demon—Steve—helped you sit up and guided you back up onto your knees. He manhandled your body into position at his feet, with your knees spread wide as you sat back on your heels, your dress falling between your thighs to hide your most intimate place from the men around the room. Steve pushed your shoulders back so you sat up straight and finally, with an almost tender grip on your chin, tilted your face up to look at him.

You were struck again by his handsomeness, your lips falling open with a little gasp. There was something different about him that you noticed up close. He looked so human it would be easy to mistake him for any other man, but he radiated an otherworldly power that was more obvious the harder you looked. When you paid close attention, you saw the unnatural black edges of Steve’s blue eyes, and the inhuman sharpness of his canine teeth when he smiled. They were so at odds with his almost angelic features, it was like Steve’s handsome face was a mask he wore over the feral demon hiding beneath.

But no matter how long you looked up at the blue-eyed, angelic-looking demon, the fear you knew you should’ve felt failed to materialize. Instead, you wanted to press closer to him, you wanted to succumb to the dominance and power he radiated. Besides, he’d already been much kinder to you than James or any of the other men in the room sacrificing you to a demon for their own gain. As you melted further into Steve’s touch, going pliant in his strong fingers, you couldn’t find it in your heart or mind to fault yourself. You were normally a strong and independent woman, but what a willing sacrifice you were turning out to be.

All the while, Steve tilted your head one way, then the other, inspecting your face and body with blue eyes alight with interest. You weren’t sure what he saw in you, but he grinned. The expression spread across his face slowly, making him drop just a little bit of the calm mask and leaving more of the demon behind. Your core throbbed at the depraved grin on his face, making your eyes widen in surprise at your reaction. Steve’s gaze dropped and that was when you noticed the way your hips were wriggling, seeking something you instinctually knew only he could provide.

“Soon, sweetheart,” Steve promised in a low voice meant just for you, desire flaming hot in his blue eyes as he trailed his thumb over your lower lip. You shivered in his hold as the slit between your legs began to dampen with your own arousal. “Soon.”

With that last word, a murmured promise, Steve straightened and stepped closer to you. His foot edged between your spread knees, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body through the flimsy dress you wore and your body swayed into him, leaning into his heat. Steve’s hand slid to the back of your head and he drew you closer until your unblemished cheek was pressed to his muscled thigh. His smell invaded your nose, his scent earthy and intoxicatingly smoky. If not for your bound hands, your arms would’ve circled his leg so you could cling to him. Instead, you pressed your bound hands to his lower thigh while you let yourself sink into the comfort of his dominance as he addressed the room.

“I accept your offering,” Steve said in a louder voice infused with authority as he stared down each of the hooded men in turn. A ripple of excitement went around the room, the greed of those gathered outside the circle a nearly palpable thing. Steve smiled at their reaction, but there was a glint in his eye that no one seemed to notice, like he was savoring their excitement. Beneath your cheek and hands, Steve’s thigh tensed—it was more warning than any of the men got. “But you were sloppy with your summoning circle, so…” Steve trailed off, his voice going from authoritative to casual drawl as he shrugged. The room was deadly quiet as the men processed his words, alarm rising as the hooded men looked around at the circle for their mistake. “Better luck next time.”

With a snap of his fingers, each of the five men surrounding the circle were thrown back by some unnatural force, their bodies hitting the rough stone walls with a sickening cacophony of breaking bones and rending skin. There was silence for a stunned moment before pained groans rose from some of the bodies. You didn’t want to think about what it meant that some of the figures no longer moved.

Looking up at Steve, you caught his satisfied smile before he dropped his gaze to your face. He caressed your injured cheek with the same hand with which he’d snapped his fingers and though you flinched at the slight sting of his calloused fingers on your torn skin, you leaned into the warmth of his touch. Your skin prickled beneath his contact and it took you a moment to realize it wasn’t a natural response to the demon touching you. As he trailed his fingers over your scraped face and hands, you felt your skin knit back together and heal, the pain dissolving along with the tingling feeling. Your mouth fell open as you gazed up at Steve in awe. He smirked at your reaction.

“Would you like to take your revenge, sweetheart?” Steve asked. It took him flicking his gaze behind you, to where you presumed James lay, to understand his question. He may not have read your thoughts of violent revenge, but he’d heard the rage in your voice when you confronted your date with his crime.

Glancing over your shoulder, your gaze immediately found James, laying broken on the ground behind you. His right leg and arm were bent at abnormal angles and his head was bleeding, dripping down the side of his face. Despite James’ injuries, his eyes were bright with anger as he glared daggers at you and the demon.

You wanted to punch your ex-date’s stupid face in, but irrational fear surged inside you when you remembered what had happened the last time you’d gotten close to him. So you fixed your face into a glare of your own, even as you let yourself press closer to Steve, not wanting to leave the protection of his presence. When your fingers dug into Steve’s muscled thigh, clinging to him, the demon chuckled above you. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I can take your revenge for you,” Steve assured you, his voice a mixture of cheer and menace. With another snap of his fingers and a gut-wrenching cracking sound, something happened to James. The man grabbed for his crotch, a high-pitched scream leaving his lips. Steve bent slightly so you could hear him over James’ screams of pain. “He’s never pleased a woman in his life and now he’ll never be able to take pleasure from a woman ever again.”

You let out a sharp intake of breath, staring as your date-turned-kidnapper writhed in pain on the floor of the dingy basement where he’d offered you up as a sacrifice to a demon. Your heart held no sympathy for the man. Instead, brutal glee took flight in your chest, your heart rate kicking up in excitement as you grinned wickedly, relishing the pain James seemed to be suffering.

A chuckle sounded from above you and Steve’s warm palm sliding against your cheek had you wrenching your gaze away from James and turning to look up at the demon. “I like you,” he murmured, almost as if to himself, his blue eyes watching as his thumb traced the curve of your smile. Then his eyes snapped to yours, an unnatural ring of black darkening the edges and making his gaze more intense. “Whaddya say, sweetheart, you wanna be a good girl for daddy?”

In your heart, you knew the question wasn’t as simple as Steve made it seem. A deal with the devil comes with wicked strings, right? You’d be naive to think agreeing wouldn’t lead you down a road straight to hell, but the words ‘good girl’ from the lips of the angelic-looking demon inspired a primal kind of need in your soul—one you didn’t fully understand. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than everything he offered and to give him everything he asked of you. Without bothering to think it through, relying on whatever instincts were driving you, you nodded. “Yes, daddy,” you answered in your sweetest voice, eyes fixed on Steve’s.

In response to your assent, Steve’s eyes darkened, blackness creeping in from the edges, as a devilish grin spread slowly across his face. With his hand not cupping your cheek, Steve snapped his fingers and fixed a glare behind you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw a cloth gag had appeared in James’ mouth as tears streamed down the man’s face. His arms were newly bound together with shackles affixed to the stone wall above his head. “Can’t have you passing out on me, Jamie,” Steve mocked, snapping his fingers again.

James’ body went rigid, the tears drying from his eyes and going unnaturally still as he was forced by some supernatural power to keep his stare focused on you and the demon. You didn’t mean to, but you met James’ gaze and when you saw the way fury raged with something like jealousy in his eyes, you pressed closer to Steve. Your cheek rested against his thigh, letting the warmth of him through his soft slacks comfort you.

Steve grinned in sadistic satisfaction, his tone conversational when he spoke. “You offered me an innocent as a sacrifice, Jamie,” Steve said, stroking his hand over your head, smoothing his fingers down your face in a possessive gesture. “Let’s see how filthy this pretty little innocent truly is, huh?”

At that, James tried to struggle, muffled curses silenced by the gag as his throat worked to protest whatever Steve had in mind for you. But the demon paid him no mind, instead using his grip on your head to shift you on your knees, turning your body and his so James had a better view of what was about to happen. Anticipation curled through you, making your thighs and core clench with excitement.

Cupping your face in his hands, Steve guided you to look at him. His gaze was even darker as he stared down at you, the blackness eclipsing the whites of his eyes, leaving a ring of blue shining through. Even with his unnatural eyes, the beauty of Steve’s face was a sight to behold, making you draw in a sharp breath as wetness gathered on your lower lips.

“Take my cock out, sweetheart,” Steve ordered. The thread of steely command in his voice spurred something in your core that had you squirming a little on your knees as you eagerly did as he said.

With your hands still bound in front of you by rough rope, you reached for the front of Steve’s slacks, fingers fumbling in your impatience. Finally, you managed to get them open and pulled down the zipper, finding him bare beneath. You reached into his pants and pulled out Steve’s cock reverently. A small gasp fell from your lips at the sheer size of him.

Despite James claiming you to be an innocent, you’d been with men before—but Steve was the biggest by far. His cock was longer and thicker than any you’d seen in person, a wide shaft lined with thick veins led up to a broad mushroom tip, precum already leaking from the slit on top. For the first time, a trickle of fear wormed its way into your stomach at the idea of taking him in any of your holes, but you pushed it aside, remembering your promise to be Steve’s good girl. At the very least, you’d try your best.

Your hands circled around Steve’s girth, taking his hard cock in your soft palms and stroking him. His dick twitched and throbbed under your touch, the length so close to your face you could smell him—like smoke and musk. Without you noticing, your lips fell open, saliva pooling in your mouth as you were struck by the thought of how good it’d feel to wrap your lips around him and how good he’d taste on your tongue.

“Looks like you found me a hungry little cockslut, Jamie,” Steve said, a dark kind of approval in his voice as his eyes stayed fixed on your face, watching every needy expression flicker across your features. “Did you know she was so hungry for cock she’d start drooling?” he asked in an almost conversational tone, though there was an edge of need in it. Without waiting for an answer, Steve went on, answering for the man. “No, of course you didn’t.”

The way Steve spoke about you had wetness soaking your slit, making you suddenly aware of the fact that James and his fellow demon-worshipping zelots hadn’t thought to include—or had purposefully omitted—panties in your sacrificial outfit. Ignoring the horror of what that meant, you focused on discreetly trying to bring your knees together so you could press your thighs closed against the ache in your core. But Steve’s foot stopped you, the toe of his shoe tapping against your knees to keep them spread. A whine tumbled out of you before you could stop it.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Steve said in a sweetly mocking tone, thumb caressing your cheek as he looked at you with fake pity on his face. “Need daddy’s cock?”

It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was what you needed, so you nodded eagerly. You tried to dip your head forward to lick the head of his dick, but Steve grabbed the back of your neck and yanked you back none-too-gently. His roughness shot straight to your clit, making your pussy throb.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted reproachfully, tilting your head all the way back so you had to look up at him. “You can do better than that—beg daddy like a good little cockslut—loud enough for Jamie to hear.”

Running your tongue over your lips to wet them, you tried to gather your thoughts enough to speak. When Steve gave your neck a sharp squeeze, the spark of pain going directly to your pussy and making you spasm in need, it was enough to loosen your tongue. “Please, daddy,” you gasped out, voice ragged with need. “Please let me suck your cock—please, please, please fuck my face until I’m gagging on your dick, use my mouth as your own personal fuckhole,” you begged shamelessly, words dirtier than you’d ever spoken in your life tumbling past your eager lips. Your eyes were wide and pleading as you stared up into the demon’s angelic face.

Steve let out a harsh exhale and cursed under his breath, “Fuck.” His other hand joined the first on the back of your head and he used his grip to guide your lips to his cock. “That’s my good fucking girl,” he praised, the words inspiring pride to bloom in your chest. “Open wide,” he ordered and when you did, he pushed the tip of his cock into your mouth.

You swirled your tongue around the head of his dick, licking his precum from the tip and moaning at the taste of him—exactly as smoky and musky as he’d smelled. The vibrations from your mouth and the way your tongue worked against the slit in his cockhead dragged a tortured groan from the demon.

“Her mouth feels so fucking good, Jamie,” Steve rasped from above you. “So warm and wet for me—it’s almost a shame you’ll never feel anything this good,” he said cruelly. When you glanced up from under your lashes, you caught the vicious grin Steve shot toward the shackled man.

The way Steve taunted James while the demon’s cock rested heavy and hot on your tongue made you squirm, the dampness at the juncture of your thighs growing. Between Steve’s cock, the degrading things he said about you in a sweet tone, and his determination to torture James, you were in danger of dripping onto the cold stone floor. Your inner walls clenched at the filthy thought but Steve distracted you.

“Ready, sweetheart?” Steve asked in a gentler tone than the one he used to speak to James. Your gaze flicked back up to his and you nodded as well as you could. He smiled affectionately down at you. In a lower voice, meant for only you to hear, he instructed, “If you need me to stop, just pinch my thigh, understand?”

You nodded again, squeezing his thigh in your hands to show you understood, then licking his cockhead for good measure as you smiled up at the demon around his dick. All you felt was eagerness to take more of him, to feel Steve use your mouth for his pleasure.

The demon groaned, low and loud, the sound ricocheting off the stone walls. “Shit, I’m gonna ruin you so fucking good, sweetheart,” Steve promised clenching his jaw in restraint. In the next moment, Steve thrust inside your mouth, his thick cock stretching your lips to their limit as you felt him slide along your tongue. The tip of his dick bumped against the back of your throat, but the demon didn’t stop, pressing deeper and making you gag.

“That’s it,” Steve grunted. “Swallow daddy’s cock like a good little slut,” he urged as he shoved himself even deeper into your throat until your nose was pressed up against his pubic bone.

You tried to relax your throat and get used to his thickness stretching you out. Tears streamed down your face as you struggled, saliva leaking out of your lips and down your chin. Through bleary eyes, you saw Steve staring down at you.

“Fuck, you look so pretty choking on my dick,” he said, then turned to look at James. “Doesn’t she look so pretty, Jamie?” he asked in that cruel tone of his, remorse nowhere to be found in the demon’s sadistic grin. Steve shifted more to the side so James could see your nose pressed into the demon’s skin, proof you’d taken his entire length. “Can you see my cock bulging through her throat?”

You swallowed reflexively, the muscles of your throat squeezing Steve’s cock and making him groan loudly. The sounds of the demon’s pleasure had something primal and feral rising up in you. He sounded like a man possessed—and you realized if that were true, you were the one possessing him. You held his cock in your mouth and his pleasure in your hands, and it occurred to you that maybe the deal with the devil had come with strings for both of you. You’d given yourself to Steve, but maybe he’d given a part of himself to you, too.

The realization renewed your sense of purpose to be a good girl for Steve, and you used your wild need to own him as much as he owned you to put even more effort into pleasuring the demon. Your tongue slid along his length in your mouth, your lips tightening around the base of his cock and sucking hard, as if trying to suck his soul—or whatever demons possessed—out of him through his dick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Steve cursed, pulling his cock from your lips with a loud pop. His dick was soaking wet with your saliva as he gripped the base and rubbed his hardness all over your mouth and cheeks. “Greedy little cockslut,” he gritted out, his precum mixed with your drool and tears, making a mess of your face. Using his grip on his cock, he smacked you against the cheek with his heavy length.

Every soft hit of Steve’s cock made a lewd smacking sound thanks to the wetness covering him and your cheeks. Your lips curled up into a smile at the way the demon degraded you, your brain fuzzy with need and unable to think about anything except how much of a depraved little slut you were. You knew you made a wicked sight, kneeling at a demon’s feet and letting him ruin you, and you accepted it with a smile.

“Good girl,” Steve praised as you sat perfectly still for him while he covered your face in a mixture of your own spit and tears and his precum. He gripped your face in one strong hand, fingers digging into both cheeks and making your eyes pop open—you hadn’t realized you’d closed them. He pulled his cock away and bent over your kneeling body. “Open,” he ordered, his face hovering over yours.

You were unsure of what he was going to do, but opened your mouth obediently anyway. As soon as you did, Steve pursed his lips and spit in your mouth harshly. You flinched a little, but then warmth settled through you as his spit slid down your throat, the sensation making you feel dirtier and more depraved, causing wetness to drip from your soaking little slit. “Thank you, daddy,” you murmured, opening your mouth wider in a silent plea for more.

Steve’s eyes widened just a little and, before your hooded eyes, his blue irises were swallowed by darkness. His gaze darkened to two black pools of sin and, if you weren’t mistaken, there was possessiveness swirling in their depths. “Daddy’s gonna ruin you, sweetheart,” Steve promised in a darkly commanding voice before straightening and sliding a possessive hand to the back of your head. “Daddy’s gonna own you.”

Trying not to pout at being denied Steve spitting in your mouth a second time, you nodded as much as you could in his grasp. “Please!” The one word was all you could manage to gasp out before he was gripping your jaw and forcing your lips open again.

That devilish grin spread across Steve’s face as he gripped his cock and smacked it on your tongue then rubbed the tip around your lips, making you messier. His gaze was transfixed on the sight of his cock teasing your mouth, but a strangled shout from the back of the room pulled his attention away. Steve glanced at James, who was still watching the show, jealousy and fury in his eyes.

Steve laughed loudly at the man, knowing James had wanted you for himself and was now being forced to watch you take a demon’s cock—without any of the benefits of giving you up as a sacrifice. “She’s a lot less innocent than your buddy let on, isn’t she, Jamie?” Steve asked in a conversational tone, like he was asking about the weather, but his voice was hoarser than it had been.

Pride curled around your heart at the knowledge that you’d made him sound like that. The demon may have been using your body for his own pleasure, but you’d given it to him willingly—you were a willing sacrifice. And he was affected by you enough for it to leak into his voice. The corners of your mouth curled up in a proud smile.

“Don’t worry,” Steve shot a mocking wink at the shackled man. “I like ‘em less than innocent.” Steve turned back to you and shoved his cock in your mouth, making you gag and choke on the unexpected intrusion, but his rough treatment only served to make you wetter. “I like ‘em desperate and cock hungry and so fucking willing they’ll do anything for some demon dick.” When he winked at you, it was more playful, the grin on his lips more fond than cruel.

The way Steve used you and degraded you, but still made you feel cherished had you succumbing more easily to the onslaught of his cock. You were already determined to be a good girl for him and the way he treated you made it so much easier. You relaxed for him, your throat unclenching and letting him slide deeper.

Steve felt you submit to him and began fucking your face in earnest, pulling out until just the tip was inside your lips, then shoving deep into your throat. Your eyes watered as you still gagged on him, tears spilling over and mixing with the spit and precum on your cheeks. Adding to the mess, drool overflowed your lips and dripped down your chin to your chest, sliding between your tits.

Unbeknownst to the two men because it was hidden beneath your dess, your pussy leaked and dripped onto the floor, your wetness pooling obscenely between your spread thighs. You reveled in Steve using your mouth for his pleasure, fucking you brutally without care. You never even dreamed of using the safe sign he’d given you—you were enjoying yourself too much.

“Good girl,” Steve grunted above you, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. “Taking my cock so well, such a perfect little cockslut for daddy.”

The praise made you moan, sending vibrations through Steve’s cock and wrenching a loud groan from him. You licked and sucked on his cock as best you could while he fucked your mouth, trying as hard as you could to worship the demon with your lips and tongue. His black gaze blazed as he stared down at you, his breath sawing in and out of his chest.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, fuck,” he cursed, pushing your head down on his cock and making you choke around his girth, your nose pressed so tightly against his skin you could barely breathe. “You’re gonna make me come, you little slut,” he hissed, sounding angry at the possibility.

Your chest heaved as you tried to breathe through your nose even as it was pressed into Steve’s warm skin, his musky smoky scent consuming your senses. Fuzziness invaded your brain, whether from the way he overpowered and consumed you or from a lack of oxygen, you couldn’t be sure. In your throat, you felt Steve’s cock twitch and you moaned mindlessly.

The feel of you moaning on his cock must’ve been the tipping point for Steve because, with a sharp curse—“FUCK!”—his cock throbbed hard and you felt him spilling himself down your throat. He groaned loudly as spurt after spurt shot from his cock and coated your insides. You swallowed it all down, the tightening of your throat milking his come from his cock.

Steve breathed heavily for a few moments, his cock softening just a little in your mouth. The girth and length of him still filled you full, but didn’t stretch you to the brink of discomfort. Finally, he pulled you off his cock and hauled you to your feet.

Before you could get your bearings, your head dizzy by suddenly standing up after being on your knees for so long, Steve’s lips descended on yours in a bruising, possessive kiss. His tongue licked into your mouth, tasting his own release and groaning into you. Your body came alive at the sound, alight with the feel of his mouth on you, his tongue tangling with yours. With your bound hands, you gripped his soft sweater desperately, holding him as close as you could with your arms trapped between your bodies.

When you felt like you might faint from a lack of oxygen, Steve pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours and breathing harshly against your lips. His all-black eyes flickered open and took in your face. You weren’t sure what he saw, but you had a feeling your expression reflected the swirl of awe and satisfaction and need that was churning in your body.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m not anywhere near done with you,” he said, a promise in his tone. He eased you back enough to take your bound wrists in one of his hands, but something caught his attention. Steve edged you to the side and bent down, looking at something on the floor.

You were still so delirious from getting face-fucked by a demon and then being kissed senseless that it took you a moment to figure out what he was looking at. Shifting on your feet, heat rushed to your face. You’d had the demon’s cock all the way down your throat, but you were suddenly shy about the small spot of slick you’d left behind.

“Did you…” Steve trailed off as he looked back at you. The guilt on your face was a dead giveaway and his eyes widened slightly before his expression morphed into one of pure glee. “You got so wet from sucking my cock, you and your needy pussy made a mess all over the floor, didn’t you?” he asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Unable to meet his eyes, you nodded while staring at his chin. But Steve wouldn’t let you get away with that. He gripped your chin firmly and tilted your face up.

“And here I thought you were some kind of innocent,” he said mockingly, making you squirm in his grip, but you knew better than to protest when he was right. “You’re a shameless, wicked, depraved little slut, aren’t you sweetheart?” he asked, his words more command than question.

“Yes, daddy,” you whispered, feeling your face heat even further. But even the little bit of shame you felt had warmth curling through your body and settling heavily in your core as more arousal leaked from your slit.

“Good thing I came along then, huh?” he asked, one side of his mouth tilting up into a lopsided grin. “You’re such a filthy girl, only a demon could fuck you properly, isn’t that right?” His black eyes were heated with something heady like desire, but more all-consuming—and you wanted to be consumed by him.

His words made your pussy throb, and you pressed your legs together to try to relieve some of the ache, but you only succeeded in making a mess of your upper thighs. Thankfully, they were hidden beneath your dress. “Yes, daddy,” you answered again, your voice breathless with need.

A pained groan sounded from the back of the room and Steve’s face darkened into a glower at being reminded of your ex-date’s presence. The demon spun your bodies until you both stood facing James’ broken and battered body, your back to Steve’s chest. He wrapped one arm possessively around your waist, the other hand circling your throat, holding you steady with his strong grip.

“Go on and tell Jamie what you are, sweetheart,” Steve urged and you could hear the cruel smile in his voice. His broad chest felt solid at your back and it gave you the confidence to do as he said.

“I’m a filthy little slut who needs a demon to satisfy me,” you said, your voice ringing loud and clear in the small basement room. You stood tall and held James’ gaze with your own, knowing he had no more power over you.

Steve pressed a kiss to your temple and your eyes fluttered closed at the sweet gesture. “Good girl,” he murmured in your ear before returning his attention to James. “You don’t get to watch this next part, Jamie,” Steve said in a conversational tone. “But rest assured I’ll satisfy her much better than you ever could have—even before your little…mishap.” He took his hand off your throat for a moment to gesture indifferently at the general area of James’ groin, the move so disrespectful it made you snicker.

James yelled through the gag, clearly trying to force words past it, but Steve ignored him. The tightening of his arm around your waist was your only warning before, with a snap of his fingers, Steve whisked you away from the cold, dank room of the ritual. Wind rushed through your ears and your stomach bottomed out, but the sensations only lasted a fleeting moment before your feet returned to solid ground.

Opening your eyes, you barely had time to take in your surroundings—a rustic, masculine bedroom decorated in browns and grays—before you were tossed onto a big, soft bed. In your shock, as your brain tried to comprehend you’d been teleported by a demon, you barely noticed what Steve was doing with your body.

He manhandled you into the spot on the bed where he wanted you and used his abilities to remove the coarse rope James and his friends had bound your wrists with. It was replaced by softer, smoother rope that didn’t irritate your skin.

That was the first thing you registered when Steve finally finished what he’d been doing in the flurry of movement and snapping fingers you hadn’t paid close attention to. The second was the position he’d put you in. Your wrists were bound together and anchored above your head, while your ankles were tied to either side of the headboard. The end result was your body was folded in half, your thighs open and pussy on display.

It was only then that you noticed your dress was gone, every inch of you exposed to the depthless black eyes of the demon sitting on his haunches at the foot of the bed. His gaze raked over your body, indulging in his first chance to look his fill of your soft skin and smooth curves. The look in his black eyes was hungry and possessive and your core clenched in response.

“Are the ropes too tight?” he asked, his full lips quirked up in a smirk as he prowled closer on the bed.

For a moment you could only wonder how you’d ever thought this demon’s face had looked angelic when his black eyes and arrogant smirk promised nothing but depravity and sin. Even so, the fear you’d been expecting since Steve had first been summoned still eluded you. In fact, your pussy dripped even more for the hellish creature staring at you like he wanted to devour you whole. 

His gaze was so intense, it took you a moment to remember he’d asked you a question. You took stock of your wrists and ankles, but they’d been tied expertly—not too tight or too loose. You even pulled on them to see how much give you had, and it wasn’t much but that was good. “No, daddy,” you answered. “They feel OK.”

“Good girl,” Steve praised, gifting you a satisfied smile that made your heart squeeze, but you were distracted from the feeling by him shifting up onto his knees. The demon pulled his sweater over his head and threw it to the side as he moved up the bed toward your body.

Your eyes trailed greedily down his chest, taking in all the smooth golden skin covering his tight muscles. Your fingers clenched into fists to stave off the need to touch him. You wanted to know if he felt as good as he looked. If you looked any longer, you were worried your tongue would loll out of your mouth and you’d start panting over the demon—though you couldn’t fault yourself, he looked perfect.

Steve settled close to you, with his thighs cradling your ass. His cock was still free from his slacks and, as you watched, he shoved his pants halfway down his legs, giving you your first glimpse of his muscled thighs. Every bit of the demon made your mouth water with the urge to kiss and lick him—you desperately craved to know if every inch of his skin tasted just as smoky and musky as his cock.

“Your safe word is absolution,” Steve said, his voice serious and finally your gaze returned to his face. His black eyes and sharp teeth were a contrast to his handsome, angelic features, making him look otherworldly beautiful. You were so caught up in staring at him you almost didn’t catch what he said. “Use it if you want me to stop at any point, understand?”

You nodded. “Yes, I understand,” you said, trying to match the seriousness of his tone but there was an underlying current of desperation in your voice. Just laying there, tied up and spread open for him, was enough to keep your arousal stoked at a permanent, simmering heat.

“Repeat it to me.” His order was gruff as his hands made contact with the sensitive skin of your thighs, nearly drawing a breathy moan from your mouth, but you bit hard into your lower lip in a meager attempt to hide your need. When his palms groped your tits, fingers digging harshly into your skin, though, you tossed your head back into the pillows, eyes rolling back at the sharp need his touch sent rocketing through your body.

Already, your breath was coming faster, just at the roughness of his hands as they gripped your tits and kneaded your soft flesh. “Absolution,” you said obediently on a gasp.

“Good girl,” Steve rasped, his voice strained with need. His fingers plucked at your nipples, teasing them into straining points before he bent over and sucked one into his mouth. He bit the tip, wrenching a strangled cry from your lips, before moving to the other and giving it the same treatment. When you bucked your hips up to grind your core against his abs, he chuckled against your skin and sat up. His hands trailed down to your center, gripping your thighs and spreading you open for him. “Now let’s see how wet this slutty little pussy got while sucking daddy’s cock,” he murmured.

The flat of Steve’s fingers slid across your drenched folds, making both of you groan loudly. For a moment, it drowned out the wet sounds Steve’s fingers made as he rubbed your juices around your pussy lips, spreading your arousal all over your swollen slit. His fingers grazed your clit, and the burst of pleasure made you cry out, your hips bucking as you sought more of that contact.

“So wet, sweetheart,” Steve praised on a harsh exhale. “S’like you were made for me—made to take my cock in your perfect little cunt.” His gaze was focused between your thighs and his voice sounded distracted, like he was mesmerized by your pussy. You suspected the way he looked in that moment, a mixture of awe and greed in his black eyes, was similar to how you’d looked at him when he’d taken his sweater off.

But his touches weren’t enough for you as he purposefully avoided your clit and remained intent on spreading your wetness all over you folds. Your hips writhing since they were the only part of your body you could move in your binds, and you whined, begging wordlessly for more. As he rubbed, your inner walls clenched pitifully around nothing, making you whine louder. With how mindless you were with need, you didn’t notice what Steve was doing when he pulled his hand away, but in the next moment, you learned.

Steve’s palm came down swiftly and delivered a sharp slap to your pussy. Your eyes widened as your body clenched tight and your cunt spasmed hard in response to the electric shot of pain that surged through your body, devolving into molten pleasure. You moaned loudly as your body relaxed, making the demon chuckle.

“Does my dirty little innocent like getting her pussy slapped?” he asked in a mockingly sweet tone. Still reeling from the pleasure-pain sparking through your body, your mouth tried and failed to form words so you settled on catching Steve’s eye and nodding, your hips bucking up for more. But his face was contorted in an expression of fake pity. “Use your words sweetheart,” he ordered.

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted in the same rhythm as your hips bucked against his thighs. Your eyes were wide and pleading, begging him for more.

A devious grin spread across Steve’s face. “Good girl,” he purred, right before he brought his hand down on your pussy in another smack. But he didn’t stop there, delivering slap after slap to your needy pussy, the wet sounds of his palm smacking your dripping folds loud and lewd.

Thrashing your head side to side, you were overwhelmed with the feelings surging through your body. Impossibly, your pussy got wetter from Steve’s rough treatment, the sounds of him smacking your swollen lower lips only getting louder and more obscene. On one particular strike, Steve’s fingers slapped your clit, making you cry out and pull against the rope restraints as your inner walls clenched hard.

“Did ya like that?” Steve asked in a gruff voice, his fingers rubbing your pussy and soothing the sting just a little.

Your whole pussy throbbed and you realized you were careening toward the edge of your release. “Again!” you cried out and Steve was all too happy to give you what you wanted, slapping your clit over and over again until you could feel your heartbeat in the sensitive little bundle of nerves. The rough treatment, the mixture of pleasure and pain, was so much and so good, your mouth open in an endless, soundless moan.

Steve watched your face, greedily drinking in your reactions while his other hand lazily pumped his cock. “You’re a filthy little slut, aren’t you?” he asked, awe coloring his gruff tone. Before you could answer, he continued. “You love it when daddy slaps your pussy and your clit, don’t you?”

“Yes, daddy!” you cried out, unable to lie to him with how on edge you were. But a deeper part of your brain realized you were unwilling to lie to Steve—you wanted him to know the truth about just how filthy you could be for him. You wanted him to know so he could use it against you in the way he talked to you, his degrading words driving your pleasure higher.

Tilting his head to the side, an evil smirk curled the demon’s lips. “D’you wanna see if you can come from just me slapping your clit, sweetheart?” he asked, the sweetness of his tone belying his dirty, depraved words.

“Oh god—” you tried to say on a moan, but Steve shoved two fingers in your mouth before you could finish saying the word. Your tongue licked at them, tasting yourself while you stared up into Steve’s face. His blond brows were pulled down in something like anger as his black eyes swirled with seriousness.

“You don’t say his name when you’re with me, do you understand?” Steve asked through a clenched jaw, which ticked in annoyance as you watched. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth so you could answer.

“Yes,” you answered in a soft whisper. “I’m sorry.” Your apology tumbled past your lips before you could examine why exactly you didn’t want the demon to be angry or annoyed with you.

All anger and irritation drained from Steve’s face as he caressed your cheek. “It’s OK, sweetheart, I wanna hear all your pretty little sounds of pleasure—just not that name,” he explained in a gentler tone, affection in his gaze.

“OK daddy,” you said, turning your head so you could press a kiss to Steve’s palm.

Steve took a deep breath, centering himself. “Remind me of your safe word,” he ordered in a calm voice.

“Absolution,” you recited, unable to stop yourself from smiling up at him.

“That’s my girl,” Steve murmured, bending down and kissing you sweetly. When he pulled away, you whined softly, wanting to keep him close, but his hand was back on your pussy, rubbing you slowly, and it distracted you. Steve’s fingers dipped between your sopping wet folds to tease your empty hole. In no time at all, he worked you back up into a panting mess, your mouth open on a silent moan as your hips writhed under his touch.

“Whaddya say, sweetheart,” Steve started, a charmingly evil grin on his lips as he spread your wetness all over your pussy, his fingers making slick sounds against your swollen flesh. “Still wanna see if I can make you come just from slapping your clit?”

“Oh daddy, yes!” you cried out, mindlessly bucking your hips as you threw your head back into the pillows.

“That’s my good little slut,” Steve praised in a growly voice just before his hand smacked your pussy, his fingers coming down sharply on your clit.

The sting radiated through your body, your arms and legs jerking against your restraints. The mix of pleasure and pain was overwhelming, taking your breath away so that all you could manage were choked gasps and broken moans. Steve alternated between slapping your pussy then your clit, no rhythm or pattern that you could discern. But as your pussy lips grew more sensitive from his rough treatment, you felt each slap more and more brutally, the pleasure and pain tangling up inside your body to the point that you couldn’t tell the difference between them.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy,” you begged mindlessly, not even sure what you were pleading for, just knowing Steve was the only one who could give it to you. His chuckle was a rumble in his chest somewhere above you. You were too far gone—too close to the edge of your release—to know whether you were flying or falling.

“So braindead from daddy slapping your pretty little cunt, huh sweetheart? I haven’t even put my cock in you yet,” he said in a chastising tone, though there was no real heat to it. He delivered a particularly sharp smack to your clit and you cried out. Your pussy clenched hard in a sign that you were about to come. Steve read your body easily, rubbing your clit ruthlessly before slapping the over-sensitized nub again.

The shock of pain-pleasure sent you careening over the edge and you screamed as you came apart just from his rough treatment. Your body writhed hard, fighting against the ropes holding you tied down, as your orgasm swept over you like a wave, your pussy clamping down pathetically around nothing. But the pleasure quickly ebbed, your sounds fading to desperate whimpers as you realized he’d only taken the edge off your desire, but left you needing more—you needed Steve’s cock.

The demon grinned devilishly down at you as you whined for him, his black eyes amused. “I made you come, what more do you want?” he asked in fake offense. When you let out an indignant little whine, a distant part of your brain reminding you he promised to satisfy you, he just shook his head and tutted at you. “If you want my cock, you’re going to have to beg me like the filthy little slut I know you are.”

“Please, daddy,” you begged as you panted beneath him, the pleading words tumbling out of your mouth as if they were desperate to escape. “Please fuck me with your big demon dick, fuck me so hard it hurts.” You sucked in a breath at the way Steve’s eyes glittered as he watched you beg for him. “Please, please, please daddy, I need your cock so bad,” you begged shamelessly.

“Good girl,” Steve growled, sitting up on his knees and sliding his cock between your pussy lips, teasing your hole and your sensitive clit. “You beg so sweetly, cockslut, I don’t know what I like more—when you whine for me or when you beg for me.”

Steve’s cock was hot and hard against your swollen, aching pussy, the slide of him so much a tease that you squirmed and whimpered with desperation. You needed his cock so badly you thought you might die if he didn’t give it to you. “Please, daddy,” you sobbed, so frustrated and needy that tears leaked from your eyes.

“Fuck,” the demon cursed harshly, holding himself still for a moment as he stared down at your face. Then he bent forward and kissed the corner of each of your eyes, licking up your tears in the process. “You’re crying for my cock, sweetheart? You need it that badly?” he asked, something like shock in his tone, but you were too far gone to identify it.

“Yes,” you sobbed as more tears fell from your eyes. In the distant recesses of your lust-soaked mind, you recognized you’d never acted like such a wanton slut in your life—no human man had ever been able to drive you to the point of crying for their cock. And that same part of your mind realized this demon had awakened something you, a feral kind of desire that seemed to match his own. You liked it. You wanted to be a wanton slut for Steve, you wanted to be his good girl, you wanted to be his everything. Because, you realized, he had quickly become your everything.

Your voice was ragged and breathless as you begged for him, “Need you, daddy, need you—need your cock, need you to fuck me, please!”

Steve hovered above you, his black eyes like a turbulent midnight storm as emotions swirled while he stared into your eyes as if he could read each and every one of your thoughts. He licked up your tears, his face taut with barely leashed restraint. As you watched, he seemed to come to a decision of his own.

“You messed up, sweetheart,” Steve said in a strained voice and the warning made your heart beat faster for a moment, unsure what he meant. “I was going to let you go when I was done with you, but now?” He looked down at where his thick cock was teasing your entrance, using his thumb to press the tip of his dick into your little hole. The demon groaned as your tight heat enveloped him and he pushed deeper, stretching you open with his cock, unable to stop himself to give you time to adjust. “Fuck. Now I’m never letting you go—you’re gonna be my good girl for-fucking-ever,” he bit out with a vicious snarl as he buried himself to the hilt.

“Daddy!” you cried out. Even with how wet you were, your pussy was forced to stretch around his thick length, the burning pain mixing with the pleasure of his cock rubbing against your inner walls and making you lightheaded. Moans tumbled from your lips unbidden.

“That’s it, sweetheart, take daddy’s unholy cock,” Steve growled, his voice low and dark as he bent over you. He captured your lips in a fierce kiss, possessing your mouth as easily as he did the rest of your body. You panted against his lips, straining against your bonds, wishing you could touch him. Instead, you nipped at his lips, kissing him just as fiercely as he kissed you. “Let me ruin you, let me own you,” he hissed, his hips snapping against yours with brutal thrusts as he fucked you hard, making it hurt like you’d asked him to.

“Yes, daddy, yes, yes yes,” you chanted mindlessly, your pussy and heart throbbing at his words. There was no filter left between your brain and your mouth and everything you’d thought tumbled out. “Want to be yours, all yours, forever, daddy, make me yours!”

Steve bit out a curse, “Fuck,” before ducking down to kiss and lick your nipples. You cried out when he bit and sucked one nipple into his mouth, the sound fading into a moan when he did the same to the other. Steve let your tit fall from his mouth with a soft pop, moving so his face hovered over yours.

Your eyes were slits as you stared up at him, barely able to keep them open with how good he fucked you. But the way he stared into your eyes like he was transfixed made you unable to look away. His black eyes were mesmerizing and you felt yourself sinking into him, submitting to him more than you had all night. Something pure and certain swelled within you as Steve held you captive with his gaze while his cock plunged into your tight pussy over and over and over again. Based on the way he smiled, baring his sharp teeth, you were sure he felt it too.

“Say you’re mine,” Steve commanded, his voice as rough as the stone of the basement room where he’d been summoned. “Say my full name, say your soul belongs to me,” he urged, his black eyes churning with emotion.

His command was a siren’s call and somewhere deep in your brain you knew whatever this was, it wasn’t something you could use a safe word to get out of later. This was a real deal with the devil, but something told you the wicked strings would be worth it. When Steve thrust deep, his cock battering against a spot deep inside that made you let out a strangled scream and see stars, it only further convinced you.

“I’m yours, Steven Grant Rogers,” you said with conviction, the words feeling right as they formed on your lips. “You own me—my soul belongs to you.”

As soon as you’d said the words, you felt an unnatural warmth unfurl slowly around your heart, warming your chest and making you gasp. It didn’t feel like you were giving up a part of yourself, but like you were gaining something, a part of Steve that surrounded your heart like a blanket of protection. The warmth spread all throughout your body, an awareness of sorts, and you moaned at the pleasurable feeling.

“Fuck, yes,” Steve ground out, fucking you harder—harder than a human ever possibly could—your pleasure reflected in the black pools of his eyes. “Can you feel it sweetheart? Can you feel what it’s like to be mine?”

“Feels so good,” you whimpered, tears streaking down your face at the near-overwhelming sensation of feeling Steve possess you inside and out. “Daddy, daddy, need you,” you mumbled, hands and ankles pushing against your restraints as you felt a soul-deep need to be closer to Steve.

“I know exactly what you need, sweetheart, don’t worry,” Steve murmured, kissing your cheek as he snapped his fingers. The ropes disappeared from your wrists and ankles and you wasted no time, wrapping your arms around Steve’s neck and your legs around his waist. You clutched him close in the cradle of your body, crying a little more at the pain of your limbs being able to finally move.

Steve soothed his hands over your shoulders and hips, lessening the pain. Then he wrapped his arms around your back, digging into the bed to hold you close. Your bodies writhed together, the heat of him in your soul as much of a pleasure as his cock pounding into your cunt. He fucked you hard, his hips shoving his cock so deep he made every thrust hurt just a little bit, exactly like you’d begged. It was too good, you felt your orgasm building and building out of control.

“Fuck, sweetheart, your pussy feels too good,” Steve growled, his face pressed against your neck. "I’m gonna come,” he warned as he rutted into you harder, his cock throbbing in your pussy. You moaned and writhed against him, knees climbing his sides so he could fuck you deep. Steve leaned up and stared down at you, his gaze caressing your sweaty face affectionately. “Want me to fill you up? Want me to come deep inside this pretty little cunt?” he asked, a grin quirking the edges of his mouth.

Breathing harshly, you nodded, chanting, “Yes, yes, yes,” even though you were almost too mindless to answer with words.

Steve chuckled lowly, the sound a little strained. “So fucking perfect, sweetheart,” he murmured, capturing your lips in another kiss before speaking against your mouth. “Gonna keep you tied up in my bed so I can fuck you full of come anytime I want—does my filthy cockslut like that idea?”

“Yes, daddy,” you cried out, arching your back and whimpering at the feel of his cock swelling as he pumped deep into your pussy, stretching you until you thought he was going to split you in half. “Wanna be filled with your cock and come always—forever!”

“That’s right, that’s my good girl,” Steve praised, his hips working in an unnatural rhythm as he pounded you harder and faster. “Come on my cock, sweetheart, come all over daddy’s cock like a good little cockslut,” he urged in his deep rumbly voice, his huffing breaths warm against your skin.

When Steve shoved his cock deep in your pussy, his hips grinding into you so your clit rubbed against him, the wave of your release surged up and suddenly crashed over you. You came with a scream. Your whole body clenched tight, your arms and legs locking around the demon’s body as your pussy clamped down on Steve’s thick cock, your hips bucking wildly as you rode out your release. As your scream died out, it was replaced by the demon’s roar.

Your clutching pussy was too much for Steve, who thrust messily into your cunt a few more times before he pressed as deep as he could go and spilled himself in your pussy. He groaned loudly next to your ear as his cock twitched and you felt his seed spurt inside you, coating your insides. The sound and feel of him was so primal it sent another spasm of pleasure through your core, making you moan softly as your both floated in the wake of your releases.

For a moment, Steve let his weight settle over you. It was a delicious feeling, having the demon’s heavy bulk crushing you into the bed and you held on tight with your arms and legs to stop him from moving away too soon. Only when he felt you struggling to pull in a full breath did he roll over, taking you with him, his cock still buried in your thoroughly used pussy.

Your face settled into the crook of his neck and he smoothed his rough palms over your back as you both caught your breath, your heart rate returning to something like normal. After a few minutes, you realized the new, unnatural warmth in your chest was still there, still wrapped around your heart.

“I can feel you,” you murmured, one of your hands pressing to your chest where you could feel your heart beat, the warmth you knew to be Steve pulsing right along with it. A soft smile settled on your lips.

Steve gripped your wrist and turned your hand until it lay over his own heart, pressing your palm flat to the center of his pecs so you could feel it beating. “I can feel you, too,” he said, and you could hear the smile in his voice. Leaving your hand on his chest, he tilted your face up to his and you got a glimpse of that sweet smile on the demon’s angelic-looking features before he pressed a kiss to your lips. It was a slow, soft kiss, one that felt like the promise of all the years spread out before you both, years you’d spend together.

When you pulled away, you looked up into your demon’s eyes. They were a calm ocean at midnight, with the moon glinting off the crests of the waves, glittering a bright, beautiful blue on the surface of their dark depths. And they were filled, practically overflowing with love and affection. It solidified your certainty that you’d made the right choice. But you did have one question.

“Does that mean you’re mine, too?” you asked, the curiosity plain in your voice as a smile tugged on the edges of your mouth.

“You own me just as surely as I own you, sweetheart,” Steve promised, ducking down and kissing either side of your mouth before slanting his lips to yours for a proper kiss.

Ransom slams the door as he exits his car, his face set in a permanent scowl, “Fucking family.” He huffs, wondering when they will finally get hit by some sort of disaster, wiping them off the face of the planet. Ransom stuffs his hands into the pockets of his expensive coat, walking toward the brightly lit building. Ransom was known to be adventurous, especially when it came to sex, he had done nearly everything, so to learn he’s never tried a gloryhole before was absurd, and he couldn’t have anyone finding out about it. 

He grunts as he opens the door, quickly pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe whatever germs that could’ve been on that handle. Ransom walks over to the counter, leaning against it and giving the woman behind it a smirk. “Hello, sweets. I want your best girl.” He pulls a wad of cash from his wallet and slams it down, winking as she points him to the room. Ransom saunters down the hall and enters the room. 

He looked around, being assured that these were the best in the business. Ransom walked around the room, checking out each woman, shaking his head when he didn’t see one he liked. He didn’t want his first experience to be horrible. He wanted the best. He paid for the best, so he should receive it. When his eyes landed on you, he knew you were perfect by how his cock twitched, swelling rapidly beneath his pants. 

Ransom walks closer to your hole, grunting at the sight of your glistening cunt, enjoying how you are already lying on your back, his favourite position. He loves to watch the bulge appear in women’s tummies as he fucks into them. His thick member splitting and stretching them open, and he groans as he imagines what you would look like. “You’re a pretty sight, sweetheart. Are you ready to be split open by Daddy? You’ll definitely be begging for more, cockdrunk, from being fucked by me.” 

You shake your head, smiling slightly at his words. You’ve dealt with many men, ranging from soft to sweet to cocky to downright rude. He was definitely in the cocky department, but you decided to give him a chance. You weren’t going to lie. His words made you drip. “Show me what you got, Sugar. I don’t think I quite believe you… I’ve had a lot of men promise me a good time.” You smirk, wanting to mess with him a bit to see if he’ll either get angry and storm off or follow through with his promise. 

“Oh, sweetheart… You should know that you don’t mess with Daddy, or he won’t let you cum.” Ransom growls, pressing his clothed bulge against your dripping cunt, not caring in the slightest if your juices stain his expensive slacks. His finger traces up your leg, tapping against your thigh. “You want to cum, don’t you?” You throb, face heating up as he speaks. His hand slaps your sopping cunt, causing you to squeak. “Speak slut.” 

“Yes, yes! I want to cum, please!” You couldn’t believe you were already begging, and he hadn’t even touched you yet. Ransom smirked, moving his hands to the front of his pants, unzipping them and pulling out his thick, throbbing member. He strokes it, twisting his wrist and swiping his thumb across his leaking tip. Ransom eyes your cunt, watching it slicken even more as you listen to him touch himself. 

He rubs his mushroom tip through your folds, collecting your arousal before pushing in. Ransom groans, wondering how the fuck you could be so tight when you work at a place like this. He grips your hips, bottoming out inside you. “Jesus, sweetheart.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits your cervix, stretching you wider than anyone else before. “After I’m done with you, you won’t want anyone else.” Ransom pulls you closer, setting a pace, thrusting hard and fast. He grunts when he sees the bulge forming, his thick tip pounding into you, hitting spots that have never been hit before. 

“I’m yours! I’m yours! Oh, god!” Your head flies back, arms flying upwards and clutching the pillow underneath you. Your body moves up and down the bed, legs falling open for the man to continue to use you. You felt so close already, the band inside of you begging to snap. Your legs wrap around him, bringing him closer, needing to feel every part of him. “Please let me cum!” 

Ransom moans, eyes slipping closed as his head tilts back, feeling your walls throb and pulsate around him. “Fuck, sweetheart. Are you sure you’ve been good enough?” He squeezes your hips, pounding harder into you, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. His hand moves between you, locating your puffy clit, rubbing and pinching it. 

“Yes! I’ve been so good, please!” Your screams bounce off the walls, feeling yourself throb like crazy. Your cunt swallowing his cock deeper, back arching. “Please!”

“Cum, slut.” Ransom growls, thrusting faster, rubbing your clit. “Cum for Daddy.” 

“Daddy!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your vision becomes white as the most intense orgasm washes over you, your juices squirting out and covering the mystery man’s expensive clothes. Once your orgasm has passed, you sag into the bed, letting out soft moans as he continues to destroy you.

“Fuck, you dirty slut! You’ve ruined my clothes.” Ransom growls, fucking into you roughly, feeling his balls tighten and his tip swell as his cock throbs. “I’m gonna paint your pretty walls with my cum.” You moan as thick spurts of cum shoot out of him, coating your walls and filling you to the brim. Ransom doesn’t dare rest his head on the wall before him, not wanting to catch a disease. He pulls his softened cock from your used hole, tucking it back into his slacks. “Your pretty little pussy looks so good stuffed with my cum.” 

Those are the last words you hear out of the stranger’s mouth as he turns and leaves. Ransom places his sunnies over his eyes, ignoring the woman ogling him at the counter and heading back outside to where his car is parked. He knows he’ll be back. You were worth his money, and maybe one day he will get you out of The Strawberry Shack and take you home, making you his own personal slut. 

thank you for reading!

Once outside, the cool breeze dries your tears, your cell phone vibrating in your pocket. The minute you find out it’s Andy, you can’t answer fast enough, nearly fumbling with your phone before holding it up to your ear.

“Andy?”

“Got his bail set. He’ll be home within a few hours,” Andy informs you quietly.

Covering your mouth, you nod, silence hanging in the air.

“It’s okay,” he continues. “Just breathe, alright? Need you both to lay low for a little. I’ll drop him off at Harlan’s once the paperwork is done.”

“Okay.”

“Hey. We’re going to win this case, okay? I promise you that. See you a little later.”

Wiping your eyes, you wait for a moment, exhaling a breath before going inside to tell Harlan the news.

-

“We’ll go out the back,” Andy informs Ransom, Ransom staring at the paperwork in Andy’s hand. “There’s media out front. Better not let them see you. They’ll see enough of you when the trial starts.”

There isn’t much to say. Not with the amount of interrogation from the Beta officers, posturing in their own failed way to get a confession out of him that never materialized. He has to hand it to Andy. He came in without a single worry, smooth talking the officers and chatting them up like they were old friends. Ransom knows this is Andy’s way – cunning and charming, two steps ahead and ready to light anyone up who disagrees with him.

It's why he’s free – for the moment – following Andy down the hallway while his thoughts go to you. 

You and the baby.

He hasn’t told Andy that yet. For the moment, he likes that he is aware of the secret. Your missed calls and texts pile up in droves when he finally turns on his phone. Home should be where you both laid your head the night prior, not making a detour. Still, home is wherever you are and he says nothing when he opens the door to the passenger side, picking up a book that was on the seat before he sits.

“Good book,” Andy muses, plucking it from his hand. “She’s one of my favorite authors. Her imagery and storytelling is top notch. That’s her new book, by the way.”

Ransom looks inside, a pretty picture greeting him on the back jacket. He spies the biography, raising an eyebrow at the designation.

“Omega huh?”

“Yeah,” Andy answers. “Laurie isn’t a fan so I find myself reading them whenever I have some down time.”

“Feels like I’ve heard of her before,” Ransom responds, thinking of a book that is currently sitting on your nightstand. “Thriller type, right?”

“That’s the one. She’s doing a book signing soon.”

“You thinking about going? Didn’t take you as an avid reader.”

“You’d be surprised,” Andy murmurs, placing the book in the backseat before the car starts. “Her creativity… fantastic.”

Ransom settles his head back onto the headrest, a comfortable quiet settling between them.

“I feel like this should be an open and shut case, if I’m going with my gut,” Andy continues after a long pause. “You were protecting your mate. I did some digging into Stryker and if the Omegas he was seeing feel compelled to come forward, I think it can only help your case.”

“His lawyer is an asshole,” Ransom points out.

“Well. So am I.”

Ransom allows a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I didn’t think I’d kill him until I realized I did it. I couldn’t stop. The minute I saw him near her, touching her and I saw red. I didn’t even hear a thing until I heard her telling me to stop and -”

“By then it was too late,” Andy finishes for him. “Alpha Defense Clause.”

“I want to believe in that,” Ransom answers him. “I do, Andy, I swear. But this is different. Money has a way of warping things. This can be dragged out for months. Maybe years. I can’t do that to her.”

“I know things are different.”

“Then you know it isn’t cut and dried like you’re hoping it will be. His father is a ruthless son of a bitch. He’ll tell the court everything. About me, about her… how we met.”

Ransom’s tongue rolls in his mouth at the thought.

“You’re mated,” Andy says quietly. “No one is going to argue the fact that you aren’t bonded.”

Ransom runs a hand down his face, sighing in irritation.

“They’ll ask how,” he responds.

Andy doesn’t look at him, changing lanes smoothly while Ransom shakes his head.

“It wasn’t exactly consensual,” Ransom mutters. “They’ll dig through everything we’ve gone through. I can’t have her go through that, Andy. I don’t want her to relive that. I don’t want the public to know what I used to be.”

“You’ve atoned for it, Ransom, it’s water under the bridge.”

“Not to me.”

“We can discuss it with the judge later. For now, be with her and let her know you’re home. Let me do the rest, got it?”

-

Spying the headlights down the darkened driveway, Harlan watches you bound from the couch and toward the door, flinging it open and heading down the steps. It doesn’t feel real, none of it does. From the way you ignore the cold air to the slowing of Andy’s car that seems to go in slow motion, everything stops and ends with seeing Ransom’s face, immediately welling up at the sight of him when he emerges from the car.

He says your name fiercely, his arms around you before you can even answer, holding him tight as you feel him shudder. His scent spikes, your fingers pulling on his sweater to keep him close.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to say with a shaky breath. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“It isn’t your fault,” you remind him, pulling away to study his face. “I was so worried and then the officer said you’d be gone for the weekend and I -”

He nuzzles your nose with his, his scent calming you immediately.

“I know,” he whispers quietly, looking toward Andy. “Lucky for me, I know a guy.”

Andy gives you a smile, Ransom’s hand still linked with yours while you turn to face him.

“I don’t know what we’d do without you,” you greet him, tears springing up again at the thought of what looms ahead. “I can’t thank you enough.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Andy warns your gently. “Still have a trial to go and I’m positive this case is going to easy. But you need to lay low, okay? Both of you. No outings, no talking to the press and I don’t care if the Omega Daily comes knocking on your door. They are going to paint Ransom has a savage Alpha. They’ll bring up how you both got together.”

Your grip tightens around Ransom’s hand.

“He changed.”

“They won’t see it that way. Non-consensual mating, even if it was in the throes of heat, is still not consensual,” Andy says with a shake of his head. “You may have forgiven him but the court will find him no worse than they would find Austin guilty of his own crimes.”

“That’s not fair,” you point out, Ransom pulling you closer to him.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ransom reminds you. “We know the truth.”

“So that’s why you lay low. I mean it,” Andy urges. “Stay here if you can but I get that you may want to go back home. Do it at night, not in the morning. Keep a low profile, have delivery but have them drop it off in the back. Austin’s family is going to attack you, Ransom and they have the means to do it. Harlan will try to defend you, I know that much. But you don’t want this drawn out any further than it needs to be.”

“Understood,” Ransom tells him, lifting up your chin. “I’m good wherever she is.”

-

“I’ve known the Stryker family for decades. They’ll all animals,” Harlan grouses from his chair. “We’ll fight this tooth and nail.”

“As much as I appreciate an elderly Alpha running to my defense, my lawyer told me to lay low,” Ransom reminds him, his gaze going back to the roaring fire in the fireplace.

“He has no idea what it means to fall in love with Omega. He’s married to a Beta, for Christ’s sake! I see what you have, Ransom. I loved your grandmother just as fiercely. I would have given my life for her.”

“That afternoon…” Ransom trails off. “I don’t know what came over me. I wanted him dead. I didn’t care about anything else. I just… needed him away from her.”

“Instinct. You wanted to protect your family.”

“It was more than that.” Ransom feels himself getting uncomfortable, knowing what he is about to say will make him feel more guilty. “Austin had a den of Omegas. Mated them, kept them on these drugs that kept them in heat for no other reason than he could. One of her friends was… and she asked for help and I did it. No questions asked. I paid for the removal and when I got home, she told me she wanted it done too.”

Harlan is silent, nodding for Ransom to go on as he lifts himself up from his chair.

“That’s when I realized I was no better than him. Kept her hostage to me because I wanted… I wanted her. From the start and I told myself that I wasn’t going to get attached. That I’d pull whatever he did and I’d let her loose. She left me, Harlan.”

“I know she did,” Harlan muses. “She’s strong.”

“Our beginning is going to be ripped apart and studied. Knowing his father, I’ll get a jury full of Betas, just waiting to tear me apart. I can handle that. What I can’t handle is putting through this.”

“You mean both of them.”

Ransom gives a short nod.

“The crazy part is that in a few months, I’ll be a father. Shit,” Ransom mutters. “I’ll be someone’s father. Will I even see my kid in person? Or will it be through plexiglass?”

“I have faith in that attorney of yours. It’s time you have faith in yourself.”

“I never have,” Ransom quips.

“No, that’s true.” Harlan stands, leaning on his cane for a moment. “But she has faith in you. That’s all that matters.”

-

The slight dip in the bed makes your eyes flutter open, Ransom running a hand down your back to soothe you.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Ransom murmurs, kissing the top of your shoulder. “Needed to talk to Harlan.”

“Did it help?”

There’s a lingering silence before Ransom exhales.

“Yeah.”

“Are you scared?” you ask him gently.

“I was.”

“What changed?”

His hand slips down to your belly, your heart fluttering at the sensation.

“I’m here” Polly appears from the adjacent room, a lot of papers in her hand and her phone between her ear and her shoulder. “Gotta go, call you later”

I take a couple of seconds to look at Chris, his black suit and black shirt hugging his entire frame. I turn my eyes to Polly before Chris can look back. “What’s going on?”

“What the fuck is going on with you two?” Polly asks as she places her phone down over the coffee table. “And why is this the fifth call I receive today about you two?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about” I pout, reaching for a chocolate truffle but setting it down after thinking of the mess I might make of my dress.

“Well, enews is asking if you guys are getting a divorce, people magazine is asking me who cheated” Claire snarks back at me.

“Well, we know the answer to that one” I smile sarcastically.

“Seriously, Y/N? You’re still on that shit?” Chris rolls his eyes, running his hand through his hair.

“What? She asked and it’s not like I actually care” I tell him before turning back to Claire and Polly. “But for real, what’s up with the questions? We haven’t done anything”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, you two don’t look at each other or even talk to each other during events and people are starting to notice it” Polly says as she takes a seat across from me. “Guys, we know this wasn’t a love match but for fuck’s sake, you guys are actors, try to pretend at least”

Chris and I got married about 4 months ago after a lot of campaigning on Polly and Claire’s part. Every since Chris and I did a movie together two years ago, our fame skyrocketed and our teams thought that it would be a great idea if we dated. Or at least we pretended to. But in reality, we hated each other but apparently that’s what our movie needed since it was an enemys to lovers story. Fans went batshit crazy after a picture of Chris leaving my apartment at 3 am went viral. Truth was, he was there to apologize after a massive fallout we had during shooting. So we pretended to date and our relationship became like crack for the fans. It only took a couple of months before they were selling us the idea of marriage and only an idiot would deny the good press that our relationship brought to our careers, so we agreed.

“She basically chops my hand off as soon as I even try to step close to her” Chris waves his hand at me. “Take it up with her”

“Nice, put the blame on me” I chuckle. “Fucking prick”

“See, this has to stop if you guys don’t want to end up doing lifetime movies for the rest of your lives” Claire glares at us accusingly.

“If I’ll put me out of this misery” I exhale loudly but soon stop when Claire gives me a stern look. “Kidding”

“Guys, please” Polly sighs. “We know this situation is not ideal but I need you guys to cooperate”

“Fine” I shrug. “We’ll be more lovey doveys with each other”

“Chris?” Polly looks up at him with pleading eyes.

“It’s not like I have a choice” Chris turns to me. “No offense”

“I’d have to care in order for it to offend me” I snark back before turning to Claire. “Sorry, from now on I’ll be a good wifey”

“God help us all” Polly looks up at the ceiling as if God can give her any guidance.

***

The limo pulls up right at the edge of the red carpet, flashes and shouts already making me feel anxious. Chris opens up the door from his side and steps out, waving immediately at the people who have turned their attention to our car. He turns to give me a hand, his free hand reaching for the train of my dress.

“Thank you” I whisper as he bends down to spread the train nicely so it can be appreciated in its full glory.

“That’s what lovey dovey husbands do” Chris grins as he places a hand just above my butt cheek. “Try not to chop off my hand”

“Try not to tempt me” I say with a tight smile in my lips.

Chris guides me towards the red carpet, our names being shouted from every angle. With his left hand still on my back, he pulls to his side to pose for some pictures. He then turns to me, leaning in to whisper something in my ear. “Pretend I just said something funny”

“That’s hard since I don’t have a point of reference” I pretend to giggle as Chris hand pinches my skin. “Jerk”

“See, that’s why we make a lovely couple” He grins down at me, his lips pressed against my temple. “We are both assholes”

“Chris, Y/N” A pap calls our attention “look over here”

We keep posing for a couple of minutes, every once in a while looking at each other and giving a fake smile. After a while, Polly and Claire guide us to the inside of the theater where Chris’ movie is premiering. It’s about a war veteran who comes after being presumed dead. It was a heavy movie and it took a big toll on Chris but it all payed off because people where even mentioning his name along the word “oscar”.

Half way through the movie, after crying a bit over a really hard scene, an almost naked Chris came on the screen, and there was a bunch of gasps heard around the room. Chris looks good, no one could deny it, but this scene in particular really made it difficult for me to not gape at him. It was really intimate and sexy, and it focused on him going down on his estranged wife.

My hands went to the armrests, gripping a bit as Chris’ mouth hid between his costars legs. Every since we started the agreement, there was no one else. At least on my part. Mostly to avoid gossip. That meant that my sex life was basically non existent, unless anyone counted the vibrator in my bedside table.

A couple of eyes turned to my direction, hoping to see a reaction from me as I watch my husband be so intimate with another woman. I fidget a little in my seat, a warm feeling setting over my abdomen as I listen to Chris’ moans over the speakers. I need sex. Not with Chris, obviously. Just sex.

“Stop moving” Chris grunts, placing a hand over my shaking thigh. His palm is hot against my skin, making me gulp.

“Get your hand off me” I grit my teeth, trying hard not to push his hand away.

“You are moving like a worm and it’s distracting me” Chris looks down at me before taking his hand away.

“Sorry, the dress is too tight” I lie. I don’t want him to think that this is about him.

“Whatever, just stop squirming” He almost grins when I send him a death glare. “Childish”

“Idiot” I call him through my teeth.

“Both of you shut up before someone else listens” Polly pokes her head from Chris’ side, giving both of us a pointed look.

I huff before settling my back against my chair. Thankfully, the scene is over and my skin has stopped tingling. I manage to put my attention back into the movie, tears forming every once in a while. Soon after, the credits are rolling and everyone is on their feet, clapping at the whole crew.

I stand up and clap along before Claire softly pushes me to Chris’ side. Biting the inside of my lip, I wrap my arm around his waistline and look up, faking a smile. “Pretend that I just said something sweet” I whisper only form him to hear.

“That’s hard since I don’t have a point of reference” Chris grins, throwing my words back at me. “But I’ll try”

***

“God she is so pretty” I cry as I stare up at Taylor Swift as she walks around the room. Every since it was announce that she was going to be in the movie soundtrack, I nearly fainted.

“Stop being a creep” Chris gives me a weird look before going back to his whiskey.

After the movie was over, we traveled to the after party to loosen up a bit more and enjoy the cool LA night. I switched my dress before arriving, opting for a short black dress.

“Can you leave me alone? Please?” I try to not to make a face in case anyone is watching.

“Trust me, there’s nothing that I want more than to be away from you” Chris says, still holding his glass to his lips.

“You’d rather be with her?” I ask, reaching for my vodka soda.

“Seriously? Are we going there?” I can see the anger in his hands as it grips the glass. “Nothing happened”

About a month after the wedding, I started receiving texts and screenshots from one of Chris’ costars on a film. They were from a conversation between her and Chris and about how they couldn’t wait to be alone and fuck each other’s brains off. I obviously never cared about it out of jealousy but out of anger because he was making me look like an idiot. Claire and Polly had to intervene, so, after she got a deal on a movie thanks to them, the messages stopped coming.

“Whatever” I roll my eyes before going back to looking around the room. “At least she was pretty, I would actually murder you if you cheated on me with an ugly person”

“I didn’t cheat” He exhales harshly, really annoyed with me.

“Glad to see you are not biting each other’s heads off” Claire joins us at the VIP table, a glass of white wine in her hand.

“Come back in 5 minutes and we’ll see” I give her a sarcastic smile. “It’s really tempting”

“Maybe you should fuck the anger away” Polly smirks as she sits next to Claire.

I immediately tense up, remembering that scene from the movie. “I’d rather shave my entire hair and eat it before doing that”

Chris laughs, clearly amused by my comment. “And they say romance is dead”

“When it comes to this relationship, they are right” I flop back down on the couch. “Anyways, enough about our wonderful marriage. I want to dance or do something fun for once”

“Let’s go” Chris stands up, stretching his hand to me. I stare at his hand for a couple of seconds. “Before I change my mind”

“You want to dance with me?” I blink up at him.

“That’s what couples do, Y/N” Chris rolls his eyes before reaching for my hand and forcing my to stand up.

“So romantic” Polly teases, earning a giggle from Claire.

“Oh shut up” I glare at them before following Chris to where there are some people dancing.

Taylor has been singing for a while now, the tunes of Dress starting to slither through the speakers. Chris pulls me against his chest, his hand landing on the curve between my ass and my back. People start to turn their attention to us.

“People are staring” I whisper against his jacket.

“Ignore them” Chris whispers against my ears. “Just remember you have to look like a madly in love wife”

“Yeah, because that’s easy” I chuckle. “I’ve never been married before and I’ve never been madly in love either”

“Never?” He asks me, his breath fanning my skin as we sway with the music. “A high school boyfriend?”

“I mean I’ve had boyfriends” I explain. “Just never that serious. You?”

“Not really, I mean, I enjoyed my past relationships but never enough to wish to marry them” Chris spins me around just as Taylor starts singing the chorus.

“And yet you married someone you actually hate” I laugh, seeing the irony.

“Yeah, well, at least you are hot” He pinches my back softly.

“Christopher Robert Evans, is that a compliment?” I fake gasp. He has called me this before. And so have I. Just because we are not particularly fond of each other doesn’t mean we are blind.

“Don’t let it get to your head” Chris rolls his eyes. “I’m trying to get along here”

“I mean we are making progress” I look around the room, scanning the crowd. “This is the longest we have gone without giving each other an insult”

“Don’t tempt me” He chuckles. “No but I’m serious… We should try to at least get along”

“Yeah, I guess” I bit the inside of my cheeks. We stay pressed against each other, surrounded just by Taylor’s sweet voice and some chatter.

“I never cheated” Chris breaks our silence, his muscle tensing under my hands. “I know that I don’t owe you an explanation and I know you probably are not going to believe me. But I didn’t. I promised to respect you, and I plan on sticking to that promise, fake husband or not”

I fix my eyes on the button of his shirt, not daring to look him at his eyes. “I know… I guess I just chose to believe it to have a reason to hate you. I’m sorry”

“Okay, let’s just put that behind us” Chris relaxes, his back slouching a bit. “We can be friends, Y/N. God knows how long we are going to need to keep this going, might as well get along”

“Pains me to say this, but you are right” I finally look up at him, his blue orbs staring down at me. “Hi, I’m Y/N. And you are?”

Chris throws his head back, laughing. “You have my last name, Y/N. We can start over without weird introductions”

“Indulge me, Evans” I poke his chest. “I don’t know that much about you”

“What do you want to know?” He raises his eyebrow. “Ask away”

“What’s your favorite color?” I blush, realizing how stupid my question is. “Sorry, I’ll try again”

“Green” He ignores my second statement. “Yours?”

“Blue, but like light blue, kinda like your e-“ I cut myself, my cheeks flaring.

“Here I was asking to be friends and you are just laying it out on me” Chris grins hard. “You waste no time, Ms. Evans”

“Idiot” I slap his arm playfully. “I meant I like the shade, that’s all”

“Sure sure” He nods, a smug look on his face. “My turn… Favorite animal?”

“Mmm tough one… I really like raccoons and-“ I stop myself when Chris’ laugh erupts from his chest. “What?”

“Who the fuck likes Raccoons?” His eyes are still tingling with amusement.

“They are cute and funny” I defend myself. “They are like just so hilarious”

“Fuck that’s good” He shakes his head. “You are weird”

“Many people like raccoons” I fight him. “You need to learn to appreciate their beauty”

“Yeah, no thanks” Chris stops moving and grabs my hand. “Why don’t we go back to the table? Seems stupid to try to have a conversation while dancing”

“Okie dokie” I follow his lead back to our VIP table.

Polly and Claire are deep into a conversation, probably some gossip or something like that. PR people always know everything about everyone. We sit down across from there, getting back their attention.

“Oh look, you guys made it without a scratch” Polly nods proudly. “Who would’ve thought?”

I roll my eyes before turning my eyes back to Chris, falling back into our conversation.

***

“Hi, bub” I lean down, my heels in on hand and the other one petting Dodger behind his ears. “Where you a good boy to uncle Scott?”

Scott was our designated dog-sitter most of the nights. Neither of them minded, Dodger loved him so much, he actually listened to him.

“He’s always a good boy” Chris bents down to plant a kiss over the dog’s head before walking away from the entry way.

I make my way to my room, Dodger following right behind me. I hear Chris yell “traitor” before I disappear into my closet.

A couple of minutes later, I’m tucked in my bed, Dodger at the edge, his head over my feet. Chris’ footsteps catch hims attention, his head snapping up. “You traitor”

“Let him be” I pull the dog closer to me. “He always sleeps with you”

Chris and I have separate rooms and I only sleep on the masters bedroom whenever we have other people around. People that don’t know about the whole fake marriage thing. Mostly the maid and the cook and both of our families. Even Scott believed we were happily married.

“Yeah, cuz he is mine” Chris sasses. “C’mon boy”

But Dodger stays put. “Just give up already”

“Fine, just this once” Chris drops the subject before snapping his head up. “Uh, I forgot. Do you have any spare razor? I forgot to ask Mayra to restock my shelf”

“Yeah sure” I move slowly so that dodger won’t sprint out of my bed. I push the covers away and step out of the bed.

Quickly, I reach the bathroom and pull a pink razor from the cabinet under my sink. “You’ll have to settle for this pink one” I stretch my hand before looking up, Chris’ eyes not exactly meeting mine.

Fuck. I forgot that I chose the pink nightgown. The one the gave me too much cleavage and barely reached under my butt cheeks. Nervously, I reach for my rob that’s draping over my night stand, snapping Chris’ attention away from my bare legs.

“Uh, yeah no, thanks” Chris mutters, snatching the razor from my hand and walking away from my room a bit to fast.

I shake my head a bit before moving back to my bed, Dodger still sprawled on the edge of the bed. “Let’s sleep this off, buddy”

About 10 minutes have passed since I turned off the lamp over my nightstand, when a weird sound startles me awake. I squint my eyes, as if that’s going to help me decipher the source of the noise. A couple of seconds later, right when I’m about to drop it, I hear it again. A moan. A moan from Chris. His bathroom shares a wall with my room, sounds slipping into my area really easy. I can hear his muffled moans a bit clearer, connecting my ear to the wall.

“This fucker” I feel anger bubbling inside of me. He brought someone home. After saying he wouldn’t cheat on my. Well not technically on me, on the promise of respecting me.

I push away the covers from my frame, earning a glare from Dodger before he moves to settle over the free side of the bed.

I walk fast towards his room, ready to rip him a new one. I push pass his door and head straight to the bathroom. I keep waiting for a pair of heels or some panties dropped somewhere on his room but my eyes remain cleaned from that sight. I’m about to burst into the bathroom when the imagine forming on front of me stops me cold on my feet.

Chris’ has his back against the wall, the shower head splashing his face, water dripping down his torso. His hand is pumping his swollen dick, curses coming out of his mouth along with the movement.

It’s like I am being hypnotized. I want to move my eyes away, but the scene in front of me so fiery, my eyes remain glued to his member. I feel a warm spreading in between my legs as Chris pumps harder. He lets out a hard loud moan as white loads burst from the tip of his dick. He huffs, rolling his head back, letting the water wash away all the produce of his effort.

I snap out of it, walking backwards fast before sprinting back to my room. I close my door slowly, making sure not to make a sound before hiding under my bed spread. I close my eyes hard trying to remove the picture from my head but the heat in between my legs not allowing me to.

I give up after 5 minutes, poking my hand out from under the bed covers. Without even looking, I dig my hand into my nightstand, searching for my pink vibrator. This will have to do for the night.

I have a plan for tomorrow.

***

“Let me get it off, bub” I bent down to release Dodger from his leash, the pup ready to sprint to the backyard.

Dodger and I love to go on hikes together, just the two of us and the sun rising over the horizon.

I hear from clattering from the kitchen so I step into the area, spotting Chris over the stools that surround the kitchen island. “Hey there”

“Morning” Chris looks up at me, as he sets his coffee down. “How was the hike?”

“Pretty good” I reach for the top cabinet, looking for a glass. Chris probably put the dishes away because the glasses are to far back, forcing me on my tip toes.

I can feel Chris’ eyes burning a hole over my ass as the my tennis skirt rises enough to expose the underside of my cheeks. I turn around and Chris snaps his gaze back to his omelet, his cheeks turning red.

I fill my glass with water and gulp it down, not taking my eyes from him. I settle the glass down before moving to stand in front of him, the kitchen island separating us.

“Let’s have sex” I say hard, so hard that Chris starts coughing as a piece of egg gets caught up in his throat.

“I’m sorry, what?” He looks up at me, his breath a bit hard from the chocking and maybe from my statement.

“Let’s have sex” I repeat myself. “You said you were not going to cheat and neither will I. But we both have needs and I think it’s a good idea”

“What are you even-?” Chris starts but I roll my eyes.

“I heard you last night” I confess. His face turns a deep shade of red, the vein on the side of his neck pulsing. “Look, I won’t judge you, I did it, too.

“You- what?” Chris’ breath hitches, his knuckles turning white as he closes his hands.

“C’mon we are not five” I step around the kitchen island, closer to him but still leaving some space between us. “We can get each other off, and we are married so it’s not like we are doing harm to anyone

“I don’t- I’m” Chris stammers a bit. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea”

I stare at him for a couple of seconds before finally speaking up again. “Fine, I’m not going to beg. I still have my vibrator. It’ll probably do a better job, anyways”

I turn around to leave but Chris’ hand flys up to my neck, gripping the back to turn me back around.

“What did you just said?” He brings his face close to mine. His grip tightening a bit. “Repite it”

“I can do a better job with my vibrator than you” I breath out, focusing my eyes on him.

Chris grunts before crashing his lips down to mine angrily. A moan scapes my mouth as he bits into my lower lip, making way for his tongue to punish me. His free hand travels down to my leg, pulling me up to place me on the kitchen counter.

I push my hands into his hair as his tongue swipes my bottom lip clean before moving down to my jaw and the to my neck before settling on the spot right under my earlobe. He sucks hard as his hands start pulling at my sports bra. My sweaty chest makes it a bit hard so I pull away to help him. As soon as the textile is not longer covering my boobs, Chris dives right in for one of my nipples, forcing me to arch my back. While his tongue polishes my hard nipple, his right hand moves to the other unattended bud of flesh. First his palm rolls against the harden button, his calloused skin sending tingles straight to my core.

“Fuck” I moan as I his salive drips down a long my nipple. I can’t keep my eyes away from the scene, my burning gaze forcing Chris to look up at me as he pulls my nipple with his teeth. “Oh god”

“Lay down” Chris pushes me down with his hand until my back connects with the cold granite of the counter.

I bring my hands to his shoulders, tugging at the fabric of his shirts, signaling him to take it off. “Get rid of this, Christopher”

“On it” He groans against my skin, stepping away just enough to pull the shirt over his head. His hard pecks and abdomen glistening in front of me, the pants forcing his muscles to look more prominent. “Satisfied?”

“No” I pull him down against my lips, my tongue making a mess of his bottom lip. “Take me like a man, Evans” I mutter against his lips.

“As you wish” Chris groans before moving his mouth down along my skin until it reaches the edge of my skirt. I wait for him to take it off but instead he just pushes it up and tucks down my underwear along with my leggings. He steps back a bit to pull his pants down, his boxers following the same fate.

“You know how many times my eyes were glued to your ass as you skipped around with this fucking skirt?” Chris growls as his spreads my thighs as my pussy radiates heat right in front of him. “How many times I picture your ass red after a good slapping, only this thine material covering the swell of your ass?”

I moan loudly as his hands grab my thighs, my ass hanging slightly over the edge of the counter. “I want you to be loud, Y/N” Chris pinches my butt cheek before lining himself up to me. “Moan my name”

“Yes, Chris” I throw my head back as he rubs my entrance with his tip “Rip me open”

Chris pushes just enough for his head to enter my pussy, my folds hiding his pink tip. “Yeah stretch me open” I throw my head back as he sways back and forth, entering me slowly.

“I can’t hold it anymore” Chris grips my thighs. “Brace yourself”

I grab the edge of the kitchen counter, my knuckles turning white as he pushes hard into me. There’s a sting that makes tears form on my eyes. I’ve never had someone this big inside of me, my pussy throbbing at the new feeling.

“Look at you” Chris presses his thumb against my clit. “Taking me so good” He throws his head back as his entire cock disappears into me. His thrusts are hard and slow, building up the tension in my lower belly.

“C’mere” Chris stops, pulling out so I cry at the loss of him. “Let me turn you around”

Chris puts me on my feet before turning me around so my ass is pressed against his hard cock. “Bend over, Y/N”

I do as I’m told, pressing my chest against the cold tiles. Chris grabs both of my hands and holds them behind my back, using the as support to hold himself as he re enters me. “That’s right. So tight”

I’m lost in my own moans when I feel Chris spit on his hand, before pressing his thumb against my asshole. “Chris” I tense up immediately.

“I’m not going to fuck you there, Y/N” He massages around my hole. “I just like to see the way you clench up” he caresses my butt cheek, trying to get me to loosen up again. “Do you want me to stop?”

He waits for my answer as I take in the sensation, his thumb placing a soft pressure over my hole. It’s not bad. “No, it’s okay”

“Good” Chris grunts as he picks up his pace, plunging hard against me. This new position really allows him to go in deep, reaching a new part of me that has me whimpering.

“Chris” I whine when he angles himself so that I can feel him fill me up to the point where me knees are shaking under me. “I won’t last”

“Yes, cum around my cock” He reaches down to grab my pony tail in a fist, making me arch my back. His movements become erratic as he speeds up, encouraging the orgasm out of me.

“Yes yes yes” I cry as I feel the tightness around my pussy before the release finally arrives. The cries that come out of ny mouth are filthy, so filthy that Chris drops down and plugs in his thumb into my mouth. I bit at his skin, the waves of pleasure still rocking my core.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” Chris groans as he pulls out, his entire load landing on my back. “Fuck yes”

I’m still shaking, waiting for him to catch his breath so that he can help me stand up. “Chris, fuck that was…”

I’m so out of breath I don’t even finish my sentence, Chris doing it for me. “So hot”

I feel him pull away from me, a cool breeze replacing the warmth of his body. “Don’t move” I hear him move around the kitchen, looking for a clean towel before running it down the the warm water that pours out of the faucet.

Chris walks back to me, cleaning his entire release from my back. “I think you need to wash your hair” I can hear the grin on his smug face.

“Seriously?” I groan, standing up. “Aim better next time, Evans”

“You want a next time?” He throws the dirty towel at the floor where my sweaty clothes are.

“I’m game if you are” I shrug, tugging the elastic out of my hair.

“Then let’s play, Y/N” Chris grins hard as his dick starts twitching.

****************************************************

.

"God! I am coming!" Y/n yelled at the door in annoyance as she trudged her tired feet to it. "Hold your horses!" She had had a long day so she couldn't be bothered with the peep hole, clicking the locks open as she prepared herself for the crazy lady that lived across the hall since no one else could rival how she could bang doors. It didn't help that she seemed to have a personal vendetta against the young female. "Wha-" her words locked up in her throat at the sight that awaited her behind the door. 

"Hey, baby sunshine" the near slur in his words caused her eyes to roll. 

Come on. 

Not this again. 

Could this day end already?

"What do you want, Lloyd?" Raising an eyebrow at her ex to express her annoyance with the unexpected visit, the female crossed her arms over her chest as she awaited a response. 

"Can I come in?" 

"Can you?" The sadist pulled the saddest eyes he could and coupled it with a kicked puppy expression. Though the girl knew he was anything but. 

"Come on, bunny. We had a life" Lloyd tried his best persuasive tone that did not do anything for him since the only way he knew to talk was his commanding and authoritative usual. 

Always expecting obedience. 

"Correct, Lloyd. We had a life" she stepped back and wrapped her arms along the edge of the door. "And it's over" his foot stuck between it and the frame to restrict it from closing. The female sighed as she looked up at him with tired and pleading eyes. "Leave." 

"Five minutes?" If it weren't Y/n giving him the attitude -that he frankly could not fathom why she was-, he was sure he had already pushed them to their knees, broken them into submission and probably put them out of their misery. 

He could never lay an ill spirited finger on her. 

Not his little sunshine, no. 

Everything Lloyd did ever since meeting her was for them.

For her good.

Whether she liked it or not. 

"Lloyd." Her tone was clipped. 

"I am not leaving here until you do" the determination in his voice was clear. 

In the year she had dated him, Y/n knew he could be awfully stubborn if he really put his foot down. 

"Five minutes." She couldn't help but sigh after the warning before leaving the door for him to enter and walking to the living room to plop on one of the couches. 

Lloyd snorted as he took a seat besides her, causing the female to uncomfortably scoot over. 

"So, what? Now your husband is so bad that you won't even offer him a glass of water when he comes home?" I fucking knew it. The moment he wormed his way into her walls and got what he wanted, he was back to that taunting and cocky default tone of his. 

"What the hell are you on about, now?" Y/n turned to look at him, confused. "What is this new–"

"This," she nearly jumped when he reached for her hand and pulled it out of its lock over her chest, propping one digit under her ring finger to make it stand out amongst the others even more. "Remember this?" His insignia ring twinkled under the lights. 

Fuck. 

Wearing it had become such a habit that she hadn't even noticed it in the past week that had followed the break up after the girl had accidentally watched a footage of him torturing– no, tormenting a suspect when looking for something on the computer in his study. Though Y/n used the unit often, it was an established rule to not access his work files and folders but this one had been on the desktop. The date showed that it was recent. 

Betrayal had filled her veins as she had watched it with wide eyes in horror. Lloyd had told her that he was a businessman that funded government operations hence the mysterious agents that visited him in his study every once in a while. But this, it changed everything. 

Not only was he a liar, but the video showed how sadistic and brutal he was. Y/n could almost not recognize the man enjoying the pain he was inflicting on the bound man begging for mercy. 

She could not live with a man like that. 

It was horrifying to think that she had been doing so for over a year at that point. 

Memories flooded her brain as she looked up in his deep blue eyes, fear filling her senses the more his grip on her hand tightened.

Placing the massive bowl of nachos away that Y/n had failed to finish besides them, she wiped her fingers on one of the napkins on the table in front of her and Lloyd in the fancy entertainment room that he had in his mansion. She shook her head at the bowl as she leaned back against his chest and let him wrap his built arms around her form, perching his chin on the top of her head as he watched the movie that was playing on the huge screen in front of them. 

She had told him that she liked to eat nachos while watching movies. So he had the house help prepare an entire pots' worth for her. And now at least half remained. The girl sighed and finally looked away from the delicious bowl and onto the screen. But it was some old movie that Lloyd swore was a masterpiece but she couldn't really understand the hype. 

Her eyes travelled down to his thick arms now, fingers tracing the bulging veins. The action caused the male to press a kiss to her head which resulted in a surge of hundreds of butterflies in her stomach. 

Y/n's lips quirked up as she felt the ring he wore on his pinky finger now, toying with it for a bit before she pulled it off his finger and put it on hers with a mischievous smile. 

"What?" Her lips pouted as she furrowed her eyebrows. It didn't fit her smallest finger like his. She jabbed it back and forth to try and make it fit somehow but the ring hung loosely near her knuckle. "Ugh!"

"Your finger is smaller than Daddy's, baby" Lloyd's mustache tickled the shell of her ear as he took her hands in his and pulled the ring off. "Must be because you're such a tiny little bunny compared to him" she blushed and bit her lip. 

He loved to make her feel the smallest he could. 

"There we go, all fit and pretty" he pressed a kiss to her temple after sliding it on her ring finger where the ring locked comfortably against her skin almost as though they were meant for each other. 

"Oopsie!" Y/n giggled as she tilted her head back to look at him. "We are married now!" 

Lloyd had an amused smile on his face. "Nothing oopsie about that, little bunny" and he sealed it with a kiss. 

"Agreed." The younger blushed harder as she giggled again due to how his mustache tickled her upper lip. 

"That was then." Y/n replied back coldly as she pulled her hands from his. "Now is now. And it's different." Trying her best to suppress the shudder threatening to break its way into her voice, she went to pull the ring off. "You-"

"Don't." His darkening eyes locked on her fingers and tone became one of warning. "Y/n Y/L/N, do not." 

Who did he think he was? Her lips turned into a firm line as she ripped the ring off her finger angrily. 

"You lied to me- LLOYD!" Before the jewellery could completely come off her finger, the man had pounced onto her. "STOP! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE NOW!" Terror filled her body as she realized that her strength was no match to his. 

Lloyd calmly pushed the ring back down on her finger. "Would you calm the fuck down already?" His tone was one that he had never used with her before. Cold droplets of sweat trickled down her back.

It was similar to the one he had been using in the video. 

"P- Please." 

"You didn't even give me a chance, sunshine. Good wives don't do that" his eyes were crazed as he caressed her fingers with no regard to her visibly upset state. "You just up and left with a silly little note while I was on the other side of the world working so hard for us and our future family like a loving husband." He sounded cross but still kissed the ring. 

"You lied to me" Y/n could only whisper back, the only man she could see in front of her the one from the video. 

"For us." His eyes finally flickered up to meet hers. "It was for your own good, bunny." When she tried to struggle, his jaw clenched and he pulled her into him before grabbing her by the jaw. His patience was wearing thin. How dare she? "And I would really appreciate it if you quit acting like I am some amateur criminal. I work for the government and I am an agent." Inching her face closer to his, he brushed their noses together before pecking her lips. "And a damn good one at that."

"No." He chuckled.

"No?" Lloyd went to pull something out of his back pocket. "You see, bunny. Dumb little wives such as you are too small to know anything wise to make decisions for themselves." Her body stilled when a bloody pistol came into her view. His other hand still held her by the jaw. "They need their husbands to show them the way. Regulate them with rules. Protect them under their wings." A strangled cry escaped the girl when he thought the barrel to her lips. 

"Good little wives don't worry about anything other than keeping the house warm and clean for their man while he takes care of the rest. They are supportive and obedient." Her teeth started to chatter when he caressed her cheek with the weapon. "I thought you were a good wife too. But the little antic you pulled last week proved that there is much training ahead of you." Y/n could not recognize the man in front of her. 

He was the polar opposite of the one she had lived with and loved for a whole year. 

"L- Lloyd…"

"Yes, sunshine?" The male looked perfectly comfortable. 

"Y- You're scaring me" hot tears spilled from her eyes. 

"It is for your own good, little bunny." The tip of the gun traced the shape of her lips now. "You need to learn your place here. You want the truth, right? I will not only tell you but I'll show you it." A whimper escaped her as she silently cried in disbelief. Her tears did not seem to move him in the slightest. 

"Kiss it" Lloyd's demand caused her heart rate to thunder faster. The barrel pressed against her lips. "Show me that you are a trusting and obedient wife who trusts her husband with her safety and wellbeing." The female's body jumped when he thrusted the cold metal against her sealed mouth. "Do it."

Y/n trembled as her hands hung uselessly at her sides. The girl didn't know much about weapons but she knew nothing was faster than a bullet. Although it was something about his mannerisms that indicated that he wouldn't actually pull it. The happy memories of their past resurfaced. He had never hurt her after all.

"Come on" he tried to pry open her mouth with the tip. "Don't make this any worse for yourself than you already have, sunshine." The darkness in his warning had her open her mouth and finally conform to his wishes by pressing a shaky kiss to the weapon.

Lloyd smiled as his dark blue eyes flickered to her luscious lips and then to her teary eyes. "Ah," her eyes widened when he took her slightly parted lips as an invitation to push the barrel of the gun inside her mouth. Y/n tried to back away, the man restricted her from doing so by grabbing her by the throat with his other hand. "You always did look the prettiest when you were crying for me" now his eyes sickeningly travelled down her neck and over the valley of her boobs that was visible from the loose t-shirt that she was wearing, then they went down her stomach and onto the shorts that were increasingly becoming damp from the middle, a hot liquid oozing past the fabric. 

The male threw his head back and laughed out loud. "Oh, bunny. Look at you pissing yourself like a scared little mutt!" Her already red and distressed face now burnt even hotter as the stretch that the gun was causing produced a pang of pain in her jaw. "See? This is why you need your husband to protect you. Because you are so small and helpless on your own… right?" His fingers tightened around her throat as he slowly rocked the barrel in and out of her mouth. "Hm?" The girl slowly nodded in response as she realized there was no way out of this. 

Lloyd sighed as he released her air duct but kept his fingers around her throat still, scanning her face and her body. "This is how long it would have taken us to sort it out, bunny. But you had to go ahead and make it hard for the both of us." Taking the weapon out of her mouth, he caressed one of her cheeks with the barrel. "You know I never did like punishing you" but the man in the video definitely would. 

"P- Please… Please…" Y/n whispered pleadingly. "Please…" 

"You ready to be a good girl for me again?" It was the love in his tone and sheer disregard for her horror stricken state that proved that this man, indeed, was the one from the video. 

She had no choice but to nod. "Y- Yes…" Just don't hurt me. 

"Yes, what?" 

"Yes… Daddy" he snorted and shook his head before nodding towards the ring glinting in her finger. 

"What's that make me?" She whimpered as a hiccup trembled its way out of her. 

"... H- Husband…" 

"Good girl…" Pulling her closer, he pressed his lips to hers in a rewarding manner -ever the narcissist- before continuing. "You are to call me that or hubby from now on, okay? The only exception will be Daddy. No using my name. Good little wives show respect." He dangled her body left and right by the throat. "Is that understood? Or does your tiny wife brain need me to explain it some more?" 

"I- I understand" she clenched her jaw when he raised an eyebrow at her. "... H- Hubby…" 

"Hmmm" Lloyd lazily eye fucked her again, unbothered by the fact that she had pissed herself a few minutes prior. He was used to much worse. "Now show me what's mine. Tsk, these clothes do nothing for you, bunny. Besides, you know you're only allowed to wear my shirts for pjs, what is this?" Moving her in front of him on the floor, he leaned back. "Tsk, tsk, bunny. I didn't think it was necessary since you used to behave so well but now I am positive that you need proper training." The man shook his head because even he knew that training with him was no easy thing. He had broken many little girls and boys while doing so. 

Though none had kept him drawn for this long. 

They eventually bored him out. 

Lloyd had never wanted to put any of them in a pretty dress and fill their tummies with his babies to have them waddle around his kitchen.

Y/n was different. 

"I don't have all day for this, sunshine." The girl hung her head low as she trembled under his piercing gaze, fingers grabbing the gem of the oversized shirt before she pulled it off. "Hmmm… my favorite fuck handles" the sight caused the male's cock to harden as he reached for her breasts and felt them both in turns, squeezing and spanking them before teasing her erecting nipples. "Fuck, sunshine. I missed you so much." Y/n blinked through her tears as she slid her wet shorts off her legs next, the reminder of the cause of the dampness making her face burn in embarrassment. 

"Hmmm. Look at how pretty you look, baby. All submissive and mum for me." Pulling her closer by a pinch on one of her nipples, he started to stroke her cheek with the gun again. The terror in her eyes whenever he did so thrilled him. "This is your true place. Good and pretty for me on your knees. Your only purpose is to keep me happy and my balls empty." The degrading words burnt her face. A chill ran down her back upon realization. The filthy and humiliating words he used to utter during their passionate episodes weren't just nothings. He actually meant every one of them. 

This was proof. 

"You do that, you'll be the happiest and most protected little wife in the whole world." Lloyd pushed the barrel back in her mouth and one of his boot clad feet between her lungs. Y/n whimpered in response. 

"Remember how much you used to love to suck my cock? Sometimes that was all you wanted to do for hours at a time" his foot teased her damp folds. "You remember, don't you?" The ruthless twist of a nipple had her nodding as her back arched in pain. "It's a pity that you can't have it anymore since you've become such a misbehaving little girl just because work took a bit longer than expected" in his world, whatever he said was the truth. "But since I am such a caring husband and I know how much you love sucking cock…" Her stomach twisted from how he was rubbing the top of his foot against her pussy as he thrusted the barrel in and out of her mouth. 

She tried to mumble his name through the mouthful to plead but the man refused to acknowledge any of it. 

"I have always loved you just the way you are but I really think you should learn to be more grateful, you know? Because look at me…" When Lloyd kept on the pretense that he couldn't hear her pleas and instead reached the back of her throat with the gun, Y/n hurriedly started to bob her up back and forth. "You betrayed me, you left me without giving me a chance to explain myself and then refused to let me in like you are big enough to make any decisions, yet I am treating you so well. Doesn't this call for appreciation and respect for your husband?" The female whimpered against the weapon, feeling heat form between her hips as they started to sway along his foot. 

"God, Y/n," he chuckled deeply, pearly white teeth coming out on full display. "You're such a pathetic cockwhore. Sucking a gun that can go off any second while fucking yourself on my shoe like a horn bunny." The man reached for her hair now, fingers snaking through a handful of the pieces on the top of her head before he gave a humiliating jerk to it, eliciting a gasp out of the female who was confused, scared, shivering and aroused all at the same time. "This is where you belong, sunshine; at my mercy between my legs. Your only job is to worship me because your little brain is too small to do anything else… right?" Lloyd forced her to nod her head by the hold he had on her hair. "Right?" He drew his words out tauntingly before nodding himself. "Atta girl." 

Sense was starting to desert a moaning and sobbing Y/n as she struggled to decide whether this was scaring her or exciting her. As the knots in her stomach tightened, her insides churned but pussy clenched at the thought that maybe it was both. The danger, the fear, the loss of power coupled with the stretch in her mouth and stimulation against her folds was clouding up her head. 

It was Lloyd after all.

He wouldn't actually hurt her. 

… Right? 

Her conscience trembled its way out and away from her along with the moans she was letting out, the burn of the leather of his shoe against the skin of her pussy lips adding to the pleasure as she stared at him with teary eyes, hands now holding onto his legs for support as she felt a spinning building up behind her eyes. 

It has been so long. 

God. He smells like himself. 

… So good.

When her eyebrows scrunched up and lips pouted in a similar way, a very turned on Lloyd opened his mouth to speak. "You wanna cum for your hubby like a good little cock whore wife, bunny?" Fuck. She looked so fragile and… scared. The tears just added to the appeal. "So needy, aren't you? Crying these pretty tears for him?" Y/n nodded before she could dwell over the rights and wrongs. "Do you deserve it?" He tugged her head back by the hair he still had a firm hold on. Her fingers tightened around his legs and nails dug into his pants as whined pleadingly, rocking herself against him faster and faster. 

"You do?" Lloyd strictly questioned in disbelief when she dared to nod although he knew it was out of desperation. No worries. A good old fashioned wife spanking would fix it. "Cum, then" he could torment her about it later, right now he needed her as vulnerable as he possibly could. It was the perfect state to brand something into someone; the process of building them back up with modifications of his liking after breaking them down completely. 

Y/n closed her mouth around the gun and sucked at it as she moaned loudly while her eyes fluttered close, cheeks hollowing to endure the intensity of the orgasm as her bodily needs had not been taken care of in a while. The girl's back arched as her thighs that he loved to bite and suck at shook from the violent surge of pleasure bolting through her whole body.

"Someone's forgotten all their manners, hm?" Y/n panted and shuddered as she looked at him through her lust drunken eyes, brain scattered. 

"T- Thank you… h- hubby" it was only when Lloyd raised a warning eyebrow did she muster up the response he had taught her a while back. Her hips moved slower now. 

"Good bunny." Finally unplugging her mouth and setting the weapon aside, the man cupped both sides of her very hot and red tear stained face as he pulled her closer and off his foot now. A snort escaped him when Y/n whined under her breath from the loss of the warmth between her legs.

"Now, you saw that video and thought that I just go around doing that to people?" He actually did go around doing just that. "And that I'd do it to you? My lovely little sunshine?" The younger whimpered as she softly pouted, feeling small and dumb. "Why? Have I ever hurt you? Did this very loaded gun go off throughout the whole episode even though it very easily could have?" His words sounded just and right. "If I wanted to, I could have very easily messed you up at any given time, bunny." Even his condescending tone didn't bother her fucked out and fear numbed mind that could only think about how nice he smelt. "But why would I? You're just my harmless little dumb cock warming bunny wife, aren't you?"

"I… I am sorry, h- hubby…" I should have given him a chance to explain. He has never hurt me. Hubby always says that whatever he does, he does it for us. 

Lloyd sighed, an expression of benevolence on his handsome face as his thumbs caressed her cheeks. "It's alright, bunny. I should have known better. Silly little pea brain wives can't be left unattended for too long. They need constant monitoring and guidance, right?" The degrading words were spoken so lovingly that the girl given her state could not even be blamed. Small silver patches and strands in his mustache and hair that were otherwise barely noticeable glinted in the lights at this proximity. 

"... Y- Yes, hubby…" Y/n's mind was blank as she leaned into his chest and closed her eyes, finally breathing in a huge whiff of his scent. 

She felt shuffling around her but she didn't bother to open her eyes. Her body was taken care of and warm tucked into his; protected. How foolish she had been! Lloyd would never hurt her! He was her hubby! 

Whether this resolution would remain branded in her mind or give way to better sense the next morning was a mystery for now. 

The man took his jacket off and wrapped her nude form in it before one of his strong arms hooked under her ass and he swung her body over his shoulder, standing up. 

"Huh?" Lloyd tucked the gun behind him in its holster. "W- What?" 

"We are going home, baby" a harsh smack on Y/n's ass accompanied his words before he headed for the door. "Tsk, silly little bunny wife. Needs husband to teach her everything."