Page 9

Chapter Eight

MAVERICK

S he is freaking the fuck out right now. One second I’m staring down at her glistening pussy and the next she’s absolutely terrified, hyperventilating, and trying to back away. I call out to her, but it doesn’t break through her panic, so of course I come up with something that will break her out of this. My hand reaches out and slaps her across the cheek as I lean close into her little bubble of hysteria. I really wasn’t sure if this would work or if it would make it worse, but the shock of the slap has her eyes widen and find my own.

“You’re okay, pet. Whatever bad shit is running through your head right now, I want you to forget it. Let me replace it with something good.” Her pretty eyes tear up as she listens to me talk. She stays silent as I wait for an answer, starting to squirm under my gaze. Tilting my head down to lean my forehead against hers, I whisper, “I’m not going to fuck you, Mallory. Well… not yet anyway. I plan to have my dick inside you very soon, but right now this isn’t about getting my cock wet. This is only about you and your pleasure, pretty girl. Let me give it all to you.”

I trail my lips down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. Her eyes travel with me as I lick and kiss down her body. Once I get down to her pelvis, she tenses up beneath me, but I run one hand up her thigh to calm her while the other holds her waist down. Gently, I part her legs, and I am greeted with the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen in my goddamn life. I’ve seen a lot of pussy in my life; it kind of comes with the territory when you are a hired hitman to dispose of used-up sex slaves. But Mallory’s? My fucking God, the sight of it makes me groan. She’s completely bare, her dusty pink lips glistening in the light. I run my finger across her seam softly, making her jump from my touch, spreading her wetness over her. Her whole body shivers at my touch, thighs tensing around me, and her breathing hitches. Leaning down, I lick up her essence, my taste buds firing with pleasure from the sweetness of it. I’ve never tasted a pussy sweeter than this.

A groan leaves me when I part her lips and inhale her musky scent. She wiggles her hips, trying to get away from me, and all it does for her is make me tighten my grip and glare up at her. A pitiful whimper swoops out of her, making my cock even harder than it already is. Finally, like a man starved, I lean down and start to devour her pussy. The sudden contact has her hips shooting off the bed and a squeak coming from her parted lips. Sucking her clit into my mouth, my finger prods at her entrance, her hands tugging at my hair. Slowly inserting one finger into her, trying not to hurt her while lapping up her juices to distract her, until I hit resistance and we both freeze. Her eyes are wide; she's leaned up on her elbows watching what move I’m going to take next, but the only thing that I want to do right now is take her innocence with my cock.

“Mallory…” I say with a questioning voice, hoping she won’t make me actually say it. I haven’t touched a virgin since high school. I should’ve pieced it together though with how she was acting earlier, and I mentally kick myself for that. Peering up at her, her eyes start to water, her body trembling with a new sensation, fear. Her emotions start to shut down right before me, muscles tensing under my touch, and eyes going blank. She’s trying to dissociate, and I’m not going to have that shit. I reach my hand up and bring it down hard against her pussy. The slick slap ringing through the room, a squeak escaping her puffy lips. “Stay with me, Pet.” I groan out, but her eyes are still vacant, still trying to pull back into herself. “You don’t get to fucking hide from me, Mallory. I want to see every broken and fucked up part of you.” I slowly start to rub circles into her clit with my other hand, trying to relax her as much as possible.

“Yes, sir…” The words stumble out of her lips. Part of me wants to back away and leave her in this bed to keep her pure, innocent, and sweet. But the other part? The part that wins is the one that wants to watch her break into pieces. To corrupt her, taint her innocence with my depravity. Removing my finger from her pussy I use it to rub circles around her clit, the other one reaching up to capture her nipple, twisting it between my fingers.

“What I would give to drive my cock into your tight pussy right now and claim what is mine .” I growl out, rubbing her clit faster, her breathing increasing as my fingers pluck at her nipple harder. “When I fuck you, you will beg on your knees for your Master to rip your innocence from you.” She moans at the mental image I plant in her head, and that’s all I need to continue. Pushing up onto my knees, I continue my assault on her pulsing clit while leaning down to take one of her nipples in my mouth, flicking my tongue against the taught peak. Her hips are moving against my hand on their own accord, her own hands reaching up to grip my biceps, nails digging into my skin. Her moans are getting more wild, hips stuttering in their tempo, and I know she’s about to explode. Bracing myself on my knees, I reach down and slap her breasts one after the other, the skin turning pink under my touch, and that’s exactly what she needed.

Her pretty cries of ecstasy nearly make me come in my pants like a hormonal teenager. Her eyes squeezed shut tight, while her back arches off the bed, thrusting her pussy further into my hand. I rub her clit through her orgasm, working her through it until she’s a limp noodle on the bed before me. Waiting until her eyes finally flutter back open, “Open your mouth for me, pet.”

Then bringing my fingers to my mouth, drenched in her juices to suck them off one by one before leaning back over her. Her mouth is wide open, waiting patiently for what I have to give her. I spit onto her tongue, and she holds it there, her pupils dilated, waiting for my next order. “Swallow it.” Her puffy lips from our earlier kisses close as she swallows it down, then she sticks out her tongue to show me it's gone. “Such a good girl for me.” I say as I run my thumb across her bottom lip before smashing my own to hers, taking her breath away.

She lets me kiss her until I’m satisfied, not once complaining. She’s just as enamored in me as I am in her. We finally pull away, and I scoop her up bridal style, then walk to the bathroom next door. The only thing in here is a vintage clawfoot tub, toilet, and sink. I place her gently in the tub before stripping myself of my clothes and climbing in behind her to turn the water on. It takes a bit before it warms up, and I’m almost worried there's no hot water at all. Once the warm water starts to spray from the faucet, a relieved breath leaves us both. Along the wall next to the tub are various soaps and other body products. I grab some lavender-smelling bubble bath and pour it under the running water, filling the tub until it's just about to spill over.

Mallory leans back against me, as comfortable as a cat laying in the sun, her legs stretched out before her, eyes closed, and head tilted back against my chest. The only thing missing is a purr emanating from deep in her chest. I let her relax against me in the warm water before I grab a washcloth from the stack of towels behind me, pour some more lavender-scented soap onto it, and rub it into her sore muscles. I start at her arms and work my way to her toes, being gentle but still making sure to get all the dirt and grime off of her. Finally, I wash her hair and then tend to myself before pulling the plug from the bathtub. I cringe at how dirty the water is as it drains from the tub, and I wish for a shower so bad, but we make do with what we have at this point. I wrap my pet up in a warm towel and carry her back to the bedroom, dressing her in new sweatpants, a T-shirt, and warm socks.

We walk back out to the living room, and I direct her to sit on the sofa while I explore more of the house, looking for food or anything else we can use. In one of the closets I manage to dig out a warm jacket and a pair of boots that I think may fit her, or at least get her by until we can find her something better. I also end up finding some cans of ravioli and manage to get the damn things open after chiseling away at them with a knife. Walking back over to the sofa, I set the jacket and boots on the floor next to me, handing her a can of cold ravioli with a spoon, and plop down on the other end, pulling her feet into my lap. She doesn’t even question or complain about the cold ravioli, just grateful that she’s getting some form of food in her stomach, and it amazes me. Any other woman I’ve known would have been quick to complain about eating cold ravioli out of a can. We eat in silence, watching the sun set behind the trees, until night officially falls, sweeping us into darkness.