Page 2 of B.D.E: Falling Hard For A BBW

Chapter

One

GHOST

She was on all fours, just like I’d instructed her, knees wide, hands gripping the headboard.

I checked to make sure the blind fold was snug over her eyes so she couldn’t see me.

She wasn’t allowed to touch me. I didn’t even give her a name, just a room key, a time and one rule: keep your hands to yourself and your mouth open. She obeyed. They always did.

I stood behind her, stroking my dick slowly as I watched her body tremble in anticipation. She was already dripping on the sheets, desperate to be fucked and I hadn’t even touched her yet.

“You wet for a Ghost, baby?” I murmured, voice low and dark.

“You don’t even know what I look like, and your pussy already can’t sit still…

that muthafucka jumpin’ at me,” I smirked, eyeing her pussy from the back.

She whimpered, rolling her hips back toward me.

I gripped her ass and dragged her closer, spreading her wider with both hands.

“You came here to be used,” I growled against the shell of her ear.

“You know the rules. I don’t want your hands.

I don’t want your moans. I just want this—” I slid two fingers inside her.

Slow and deep, then pulled them out and slapped her pussy once.

It sounded off, wet and loud. “This filthy little hole you brought me.” She choked on a moan but didn’t move.

Good girl.

I lined up and pushed in, inch by inch, until I was buried so deep that her breath left her body. Her thighs shook. Refusing to give her time to adjust, I gripped her thighs and started stroking… slow at first, like I had all night.

“Yeah, you feel that?” I muttered, slamming my hips into her ass. “That’s what it feels like when a man with no conscience fucks you.” I dragged back, then slammed harder, making her cry out.

“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped. “You know the rules. No noise unless I pull it out you.” She bit down on the pillow and held on as I fucked her in silence, my hips snapping into her, her body jolting with every thrust. My abs clenched with the effort. I was ruthless and deliberate.

“This pussy ain’t yours no more,” I breathed against her neck. “Not tonight. It’s mine ‘til I say otherwise.” She nodded like her life depended on it. I reached up, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back just enough to hear her breath catch.

“If you touch me, it’s over. You cum only when I say.”

I let go and started fucking her harder with deep strokes that made the bed knock against the wall, her body slick and obedient under me.

“Now,” I demanded through gritted teeth.

She came on demand with a strangled sob.

Her whole body seized up, but I kept going, chasing my own nut.

Gritting my teeth, I came inside the condom with a low grunt, breathing heavy against her spine as my hips jerked.

When I pulled my dick out of her, she collapsed against the mattress, wrecking and panting.

I tossed a towel toward the bed and backed away, grabbing my clothes.

“Put your shit on. You know the way out.” She turned her face toward me, still blindfolded, lips parted.

“Can I?—”

“No,” I cut her off. “You got what you came for, now get the fuck out.” I disappeared into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and rinsed her scent off my skin like she’d never touched me—even though she never had.

I drove into the mountains with the window down in silence, mentally preparing myself for work.

Three hours north, tucked deep into the woods like a secret grave, sat the cottage.

No address, no cameras, no neighbors. No one knew about this spot, not even Gideon.

He was the closest thing I had to family.

The man who found me after my first kill and trained me like a weapon.

But even he didn’t know about this spot.

That’s how I wanted shit to be. This cottage was my reset spot.

My kill zone before the kill. Gideon had always told me that I needed a neutral spot off the grid to get my mind right before and after a job…

this was mine. Every job started here with me, a bag full of weapons and a silence that didn’t ask questions.

I kept it bare as fuck with one bed, one chair and a fireplace.

The walls housed hooks where my gear hung.

There was a punching bag in the corner, a cold shower out back, and a small table where I cleaned my weapons with surgical precision.

It smelled like pinewood and gun oil, which was peace for a nigga like me.

I didn’t need company, and I never wanted connections.

I wasn’t like the average person that craved shit like that.

I craved sex and learned at an early age how to please a woman without emotion.

That’s why I paid for what I wanted—sex.

Filthy, mind-blowing sex was all I had to give.

I liked the way a woman’s body sounded when I made her lose control.

I liked the way that they shook when I held their hips in place and made them cum until they were speaking in tongues and couldn’t remember their names.

But I didn’t want their eyes. I for damn sure didn’t want their hands.

There was only one woman that could say she touched me, well outside of my crackhead mother, and that was my braider, Stephanie.

I’d found her a couple of years ago after scoping out her salon and kidnapped her one night after closing.

I blind-folded her and took her to my hideaway spot that I’d purchased under a false name, which was far off in the woods, not too far from the cottage but far enough to be non-existent from the outside world.

Once I got her there, I gave her strict instructions on how shit was gone go and she obeyed, well for the most part.

That night, she finished my hair and then immediately dropped to her knees, pulled my dick out and sucked a nigga dry.

My first instinct was to choke her ass out for disobeying me, but her mouth was so top tier, I let her live and kept that in our arrangement.

I dropped her back off to her salon afterwards and shit had been the same since.

Every four weeks I’d pay her a visit. Hell, most of the time when I showed up after hours to snatch her up, she would be already blindfolded and waiting for me.

That didn’t make me feel no different about her though cause I wasn’t that nigga.

I just needed a hairdo and my dick drained before I sent her on her way.

I wouldn’t even engage in small talk while she braided me up and she learned fast not to even attempt to.

I didn’t want any affection whatsoever. Affection was a leash, and I’d spent too much of my life chained to shit I couldn’t escape.

Foster homes. Fists. Pain… and promises that didn’t mean shit.

So, I made rules. No touching…no kissing…

no face. They came for the dick, not for the man behind it.

Because the man behind it… He didn’t exist outside of blood and contracts.

After making it to the cottage and scoping out my surrounds, I sat at the small wooden table and waited.

PING!

Right on cue, my laptop pinged with an encrypted file.

One that I always received before the job.

So encrypted that no one could decipher what it meant besides Gideon and I.

He’d taught me years ago how to read his encrypted messages so, if for some reason shit hit the fan and the feds found it, it would look like a bunch of gibberish.

Literally just symbols and slashes to the naked eye but to me, it was a death sentence waiting to be carried out.

Target, location, time and exit route. I opened it and memorized every detail before closing the laptop.

I reached for my gear and strapped up piece by piece before grabbing my bag of weapons and heading out. Kill mode activated.