Chapter Fifteen

FIAMETTA

E very time I think we’re making some sort of headway that isn’t purely sexual, or about him trying to kill me, Crue manages to subvert my expectations. I shouldn’t be this surprised. He made his intentions clear from the start, and I’m the one who’s too blind to accept them as reality.

Now, I fear I’ve put myself in a position I’m not going to get out of as easily as I did last night or in my fitting room. I should be counting my lucky stars that he’s telling me to get on my knees, instead of bending over the bar’s countertop. Considering all the options of what could’ve happened, letting him use my mouth is one of the better ones.

But why did he have to start with a finger inside me? It drives me wild, makes me desperate for more, and serves as a depressing reminder of what could have been instead. Under normal circumstances, I’d consider this behavior selfish. Wanting a partner to touch or slip his tongue inside of me, and get nothing in return.

But these aren’t normal circumstances. Crue has literally expressed his intentions to kill me. So, can it be selfish that I want no part of this? Pleasing him in my imagination is one thing. Touching myself while I pictured him tearing off his pants and freeing his enormous penis in the shadows of my darkened bedroom. Seeing the outline as it springs to life, and nervously reaching out to feel its rock-hard throbbing. I imagined how he would slap my hand away, grab my legs by the ankles and tear them apart before falling between them, until finally, his girthy tip penetrates my aching hole.

Even now, the images flashing across my mind are enough to give me the sinking feeling of lusty want. But that’s all it is. A fantasy that should never come true. And I fear it’s too late to escape my fate.

I can’t even call for help in Father’s home. Crue would kill me before anyone had the chance of getting here.

“Why do you look so frightened, Little Flame?” Crue asks, sliding his finger out of me. The motion leaves a sudden hollowness inside me, which stretches further than just my core.

His soaked finger makes its way up to my face, where he slips it into my mouth. Once again, I can’t control myself as he does. There’s something so hot about it, that I lick myself off his digit without a second thought.

Maybe it’s tactical this time. If I give in to some of his more twisted depravities, he might not push any further.

“It’s just a blowjob,” Crue adds, twisting his finger inside my mouth, and making sure I suck it clean. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” I admit, and for the first time since he mentioned it, I don’t feel a cold chill running down my spine. Instead, it’s replaced by a nervous warmth in my belly. Almost eager. Almost excited.

You can’t be serious.

There’s no way you want this.

I stiffen in place and shut my eyes, breathing somewhat sporadically. He removes his finger from my mouth, and it immediately finds its way to my neck. His hand grazes the skin as it crosses down my chest, finally resting against my breast.

A wickedly satisfied grin stretches over his lips as my nipple pokes through the material against his palm.

“Then indulge your twisted fantasies. I’ve done it every time I’ve seen you, and now it’s your turn.” Crue tilts his head to the side, and his green eyes beam straight into my soul.

Looking into his eyes, I realize that there is no tactic behind my decision to suck his finger clean. It isn’t some ploy to stop him. I did it because I wanted to. Because he told me to. It may have been an unspoken demand, yet I gave in without as much as a shake of my head.

The same way I’m doing now. Slowly sinking to the floor, while Crue’s hand follows on my breast.

“Good girl,” Crue says, and it lights a spark in my belly that has no reason to be there.

Feeling praised for obeying my stalker’s demands is lunacy. And yet, the spark turns into a raging inferno inside me when he lifts his hand off my breast and his thumb presses into my lower lip. With a forceful push, he parts my lips and stares into the opening with a dangerous twinkle in his eye.

“Stick your tongue out,” Crue says, sliding his hand back.

Heat swirls to my cheeks with his instruction and I avert my gaze before I can follow it. But as it drops, I get an up-close and personal look at the hardness straining against his trousers. The sight makes my mouth part further instinctively, totally in awe. It isn’t hard to stick my tongue out with it this wide, and Crue growls in satisfaction as I do.

“Stunning,” Crue grumbles, more to himself than me it seems.

He reaches for his belt and works the buckle loose with both hands, accompanied by wild noises that emerge from deep inside his barrel chest. I keep my attention focused on the monster bouncing in his pants with every action he takes to get it free.

My heartbeat quickens as he completes his first task. It gets louder in my ears when he undoes the button and slowly lowers his zip. There’s no turning back now. Any chance I had to run is gone, but the closer he comes to freeing himself, the less I feel the want to.

Until it actually happens, with Crue hooking his thumbs into his trousers and underwear and dropping all of it to the floor at once. His cock springs to life in front of my face, swaying wildly as it tries to settle from its sudden freedom. Trying to lock my gaze on any one part of it feels impossible with it moving so sporadically. But mostly, it’s because it just seems to never end.

Even as he grabs it by the base with his gigantic hand, he barely passes a third of the length. It’s thicker than I pictured while it was pressed against me through his jeans, as well. But it’s the pulsating veins that draw my attention the most. There’s something incredibly alluring about him having so much blood pumping through his erection, and that it’s swelling this intensely.

“Like what you see?” Crue smirks, and only then do I realize my mouth is still wide open.

Only this time it isn’t because he told me to do it. I’m in shock at the size of the thing he’s going to try and push into my mouth. He strokes the length of his cock a few times, and with it a warm pulse emits from my core and trickles through every nerve in my body. He takes two steps closer to me while he satisfies himself with his hand, and when he’s in position, it returns to a firm grip on the base.

Scared as I may have been when all of this started, my fear has been replaced by a twisted desire. A desperate yearning to touch him. To run a fingertip against his veins and see what it will do.

I try to push the feeling to the back of my mind, remembering that this is more a nightmare than a pleasant experience. We’re not lovers having some naughty fun where we could be caught, he’s my stalker and a killer. Disgust is all I should feel, but as a bullet of precum leaks from his tip, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to be repulsed.

I’m still a woman.

I have my own needs.

And as much as I don’t want to admit it, Crue has managed to fulfill them several times already.

“That’s right. Keep that tongue out for me,” Crue involuntarily winces as he brings the head of his dick right up to my lips. He pauses there, giving himself another long, slow stroke, while my eyes cross as I watch him work the thick spectacle in front of me.

Then, as his hand hits his pelvis again, he inches his hips forward and lets the thick head of his cock slip between my lips. With it, I’m greeted by the first taste of his precum. As expected, the first flavor that hits my tongue is salty, but the longer I taste him, the sweeter it seems to get. Maybe it’s blending in with his woody cologne, which is tickling my nose with his standing this close.

My tongue starts moving along his swollen head, searching near the hole for more. One taste wasn’t enough to fully understand the complexities of his flavor. Crue cranes his neck to look at me. His eyes burn with hungry intensity and dark curiosity. I bet mine are showing something similar. Giving in to his wicked whims, without needing his to command me.

Since I don’t have any choice in the matter, I might as well have my own fun. I might as well find the twisted enjoyment my mind has conjured since we met. Crying and screaming isn’t going to stop this from happening, and if I’m going to regret it anyway, it should be on my terms.

“That’s it, Little Flame.” Crue drives a hand toward my head, and his fingers intertwine with my hair. He takes a firm grip on me, and starts pulling me toward him, inching his length deeper into my mouth.

He doesn’t get very far before the tip reaches too far in and triggers my gag reflex. Crue draws himself back, giving me a moment to breathe, but he never removes himself fully. Short breathes barely manage to get air into my lungs with his girth still crowding my mouth.

Before I have a chance to fully catch myself, he tugs on my hair again. This time, he manages to slide into the same position without my choking on his cock. I’ve got no idea how, but I’m sure it’s my body’s fight response. Disappointing the monster, who has taken control of me, won’t do any good. Since I can’t run, I have to adapt to what he’s doing.

Right now, it’s testing the limits of my throat to see when I’ll collapse. I guess it also helps that gagging flooded my mouth with saliva, making it easier for him to slip around inside.

“Shut your mouth around it and suck,” he barks his order, tightening his grip in my hair.

I look up at Crue with eyes that are tear-filled from the initial choking. Until now, I hadn’t realized that my mouth was still as wide as I could keep it. Even then, my teeth still grazed his shaft as it passed by them.

I curl my lips down as instructed, trying to strike a balance between covering my teeth while still being able to accept his girth. The latter, I’m quickly realizing, is nearly impossible, without spreading my mouth wide. I suck back the pocket of air in my cheeks, until they tighten around him.

A devilish growl escapes Crue’s mouth, and he starts moving his hips back and forth. He pulls his cock back far enough that only the tip remains in my mouth, before slotting it all the way in until he’s tickling my throat. He uses his grip in my hair to pull me along with the motion, slow at first, but each thrust brings increased speed with it.

Some haphazard thrusts press his head into my cheek, extending the flesh into an enormous ball. Others, as he starts to lose control of his actions and to sink further into my throat, bring new waves of spluttering from me. But no matter how hard I gag, or how little oxygen I get, Crue doesn’t stop like he did the first time.

Each unwanted response makes his grin grow wider. It’s as if the torturous side of this is the most enjoyable part to him. And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t doing something similar to me.

I have no control. I feel powerless in a place where I should be safe. Mostly, just having a man like Crue do whatever he wants without a thing I can do to stop him, turns my knees to jelly and opens the flood gates between my legs.

Desire claws at my belly from this irresistible, taboo encounter. Tears pour from my eyes, not out of fear, but at the vicious slamming he drives deeper into me. Spit dribbles down my chin. And the noises I splutter around his cock are more in line with moaning than feeling afraid.

My heart skips more than a few beats as I look at Crue’s face once more and see it twist in forbidden enjoyment. He slides his free hand under my chin, using it to lift my head in line with his pelvis, somehow never missing a beat with his thrusts.

“You like that, my Little Flame?” He asks in a raw, vicious snarl.

All I can focus on is his “ my Little Flame” . Crue has said the name before, but he never said my . Maybe I’m reading into it too deeply, especially with him smashing into my throat, but hearing it isn’t helping my own desires.

I’m a mess. Screwed up beyond repair and it’s all his fault.

I can’t answer, even if I wanted to. In my new position, Crue manages to find a better rhythm with his thrusts. And with a hand both in my hair and around my throat, he starts bucking his hips savagely, fucking my mouth without concern for the state it’s going to leave me in.

Noises I never thought I’d hear from the giant towering over me start spilling from his mouth. Loud groans, as if he doesn’t give a damn who hears him, mixed with quieter, more primal grunts. Each thrust brings another wild eruption out of him, until his body is moving at ridiculous speeds. His grip tightens around my jaw, and with it his head snaps to the ceiling.

“I’m gonna cum in your pretty little mouth.” Crue snarls as his legs begin to shake. “Break you in.” His thrusting starts slowing. Instead of quick bursts, he’s sliding the full length out of my mouth, before driving it as far back into my throat as he can get it. And with it, I find my own forbidden pleasure. I’ve never reached climax without being touched before, but something tells me if I ever do, it’ll be because of Crue. “I’m going to make. You. Mine.”

He pulls back as a stifled roar catches in the back of his throat. But this time, as his cock’s head slides out of my mouth, hot ropes of his seed splash over my tongue. His body tenses and relaxes, and each action floods my mouth further, until all that’s left is the taste of his salty, sweetness.

I wanted another taste, and I got it in spades.

And then, as if nothing has happened, Crue slips his cock out of my mouth and pulls up his trousers. He doesn’t say a word, just stares down at me as he tucks in his shirt and fastens his belt. Only when he’s presentable again, or as close to how he looked before, does he speak.

“Don’t worry, Little Flame. I haven’t forgotten about you.” In a move that leaves me panting harder than Crue’s face-fucking, he extends a hand down to me and helps me up from the floor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I gulp down hard, savoring his taste that’s still lingering in my mouth.

“I brought you a present,” Crue says, and slips a hand into his pocket, while the other returns to a similar grip on the front of my dress as earlier.

“A present?”

He doesn’t answer, just draws a mystery item from his pocket and sliding it against my bare lower half.

It’s cold, metallic and surprisingly large. “I’m going to put this inside you, Fiametta, and you’re going to leave it in until this meeting is over. Do you understand?”

“What?”

Instead of answering me, he does as he said he would. I’m soaking wet from our encounter, so the metal sphere slips inside me without issue. My body shudders at the foreign object’s penetration, but my gut tells me that it isn’t dangerous. At least not in the traditional sense.

“I want you to remember this, Fiametta,” Crue releases me and finds his cellphone in his pocket. “I said you’re mine, and I meant it. I’m going to do whatever I want with you, and you’re going to obey me.”

Claimed by my stalking assassin, who has set his heart on playing games with me… I must have lost my mind. This has to be a daydream from a padded cell. It can’t be real life.

Crue taps his cellphone and whatever he slid inside me starts to vibrate. My eyes instantly shoot to the back of my skull as it tickles the places I wish his finger had moments ago.

“You can’t be serious.” My breathing quickens and my eyes widen. “You can’t do this when I’m sitting next to my father.”

Another tap stops the vibrations.

“But I’m going to. Oh, and while you’re at the bar, I’ll have a gin and tonic on ice. Better have crushed mint and lemon…” He pauses. I can’t tell if it’s for dramatic effect or if he’s trying to make a joke that can’t penetrate the cum drunk fog in my mind. Maybe what he’s about to say next is the most important thing I’ll ever hear. “Or else.”

Or else.

That’s all you’ve got for me after what you just did?

Crue waves his cellphone in the air to further his threat. And with it, I realize, this meeting is about to get much harder to endure than I would ever have imagined.

Should I be worried about how excited that thought makes me?