Bought: Highest Bidder(34)

"Thank me for your punishment, treasure," I say with a calmness I don't feel.

"Thank you, sir," she whimpers, struggling to stay still as I rub her  swollen clit and pull on her nipple until it slips from my grip.

The need to punish her pussy and command her body is riding me hard, my  thick cock pushing against my zipper as I watch her glistening sex  clench around nothing.

I don't know what to do. We both want this, I know that much. But I don't know if it's detrimental to what we're working toward.

She can see my hesitation and her soft eyes flicker with self-doubt. I  hate it. I won't allow it. My shortcomings won't cause her pain.

"Is this what you want, treasure?" I ask her in a hard voice, shoving my  pants down and stroking my dick. I push her back down and she gasps.  Her breathing is coming in ragged pants as she hesitantly looks back at  me.

I line my dick up with her hot opening and slam into her. Her tight  walls force a rough grunt from my lips as I pound into her mercilessly  over and over again.

I push her face down into the cushions and fuck her at an angle that  goes deeper than I ever have before. The sofa muffles her screams as I  drill into her tight cunt, throwing my head back and groaning at how  fucking good she feels.

My toes curl into the carpet as I thrust my hips harder and harder. The  sofa shudders each time, and I have to lean forward to keep the heavy  furniture from moving too much. Her hips dig into the sofa and her toes  come off the floor as I lose control, slamming recklessly into her,  loving how her nails scratch against the leather sofa.         

     



 

Her body tenses and I know she's close, and that's when I lose focus.  Thinking about her. About her pleasure. About her pain. I try to shake  the thoughts away, rutting between her legs with a primal need, but I  can't shut them out.

Her pussy spasms on my dick and she feels so fucking good, but my mind  is racing with the knowledge of why she's just gotten off. Her past and  her struggles corrupt every bit of pleasure in my being as she screams  out my name.

I can't. I can't get off on this.

I pull away from her, still hard and slipping out, letting her fall limp  and sated on the couch, her orgasm still running through her body and  making her thighs tremble. She pulls her knees into her chest and tries  to calm her breathing as I walk away.

I breathe in deep, running my hand over my face and trying to think. My  head is fucked up, and I feel lost. I question taking her like that.

I pace the floor, not knowing how to handle what I've just done. I don't know what's best for her.

The moment she realizes I'm still hard and that I'm not able to cum this  way, not knowing why she needs this, her face crumples and she covers  her mouth as she's wracked with sobs.

"Treasure," I whisper her name, my heart sinking into my hollow chest. She shakes her head and tries to push me away.

"You don't want me," she says.

I grip her chin firmly and wait for her to look me in the eyes. "I want you. Don't you ever think or say anything differently."

She swallows the lump in her throat. "You couldn't cum," she says just above a murmur.

I don't know how to answer her. "You don't want me like that anymore."

"I fucking love you like that. I love fucking you raw and hard and  forcing your pleasure." Her bright eyes finally meet mine again. "Don't  think that I don't. I want you every way I can have you. I just …   couldn't, knowing."

Her eyes fall, and I hate that I did this to her. I wish I was a stronger man. I wish I had all the answers.

I hook her chin with my finger and bring her lips to mine for a sweet,  chaste kiss. But she doesn't return it. Her lips are hard, and her  heart's not in it.

"I want you, treasure. I still want you." She needs to believe me. I had  a single moment of weakness and doubt. I shouldn't have. But I did.

I brush her tears away with the rough pad of my thumb, hating that I  hurt her this way. I can see the regret in her eyes as she takes in a  staggering breath and pushes the hair away from her hot face. Her cheeks  are red and her eyes are glassed over, and she won't look at me.

I fucking hate it.

I grab her chin in my hand and I force her to kiss me. I crush my lips  to hers, my tongue diving into her mouth and massaging against hers. Her  small hands grab my shoulders and she kisses me back with just as much  force and just as much passion.

I lie on the sofa, pulling her on top of me and gently sliding inside of  her hot pussy, still slick with her arousal and cum. I grip her hips  tightly and thrust my hips to fuck her with a slow pace. Each thrust is  hard and deep, forcing small gasps from her. She places her hands on my  chest as I slowly lie flat and continue to fuck her, while she meets me  thrust for thrust.

Her tight walls stroke my dick causing a numbing pleasure to grow in the  tips of my fingers and toes. I hold my breath as I pick up my pace and  pull her down closer to me. Kissing her quickly with a bruising force as  I fuck her harder and faster. All the while holding her close to me,  where she belongs.

As I close my eyes, letting the pleasure wrack through me, I roughly rub  her clit over and over, trying to force her over the edge with me. Hot  thick streams of cum fill her and leak between us. Her body is tense and  on edge, but when I open my eyes, I can see why she hadn't cum.

She's crying. Her face is buried in the crook of my neck.

My heart shatters as I pull her away enough to see her face and kiss her sweetly.

"Treasure?" I can barely breathe, "Did I hurt you?" My heart thumps  slowly as I wait for her to answer. She shakes her head, but she won't  look at me. Her inhale is long and shaky.

"I couldn't. I started to think-" a sob is ripped from her throat and she falls into my chest. "I'm sorry, Lucian."

"Shh," I kiss her hair and hold her close.

"I don't want to have to think like that anymore." Her tears fall into my shoulder as I rub her back.

"It's alright, treasure. It's going to be alright."

I hold her as she calms herself, rocking her back and forth and kissing  her over and over. My heart clenches with each small sob, but I'm here  for her.         

     



 

I kiss her forehead, breathless and consumed with conflicting emotions.  The overriding thought being whether or not I deserve her, whether I'm  even worthy of being her Dom. But I want to be. I want to heal her. I  will heal her. I'll find a way. I lift her small body in my arms,  cradling her to my chest. She lays her cheek on my shoulder, neither of  us saying anything as I carry her to bed.





Chapter 24





Dahlia





Placing a hand over my eyes, I wince as I lower myself down on the pure  white sofa, a throbbing pain pulsing my ass. It hurts like hell. But I  still love it. It always reminds me of Lucian, of his dominance. It  gives me something to cling to, allows me to momentarily ignore my  confused emotions. Yet that lost feeling returns as I sink into the  couch.

Which is why I've come to see my therapist. Doctor Sandra Andrews.

She's seated cross-legged across from me, in an oversized tufted leather  chair, dressed in a white blouse and blue silk slacks, the outfit  complementing the room's pale blue carpet and cream-colored walls, a  notepad and pen in her hand. For a therapist, she seems young, but  that's one of the reasons I like her so much. She possesses a wisdom  that's beyond her years, and through the year she's given me sound  advice that I've found to always be on point.

Sandra's gazing at me with concern. Her gentle eyes regard me from  behind eyeglasses with thin metal frames. "It's been quite some time  since you've checked in, Dahlia," Sandra remarks softly, her smooth  voice soothing my ears and calming my anxiety.

"I know," I reply in a soft sigh, my voice sounding small. I clear my  throat, feeling slightly nervous, pulling my knees into my chest,  wincing slightly as pain pulses my ass. My bare feet sit on the sofa,  brushing against the chenille fabric. No shoes is a rule Dr. Andrews  has. I guess it keeps the area cleaner, but even more than that, it's  supposed to make you more relaxed. I pick at the bit of nail polish on  my toenails as a sigh leaves me.

"Are you alright?" she asks, seeing my distress.

I huff a small laugh, resting my chin on my knees and looking up at her.  "My Dom punished me with a belt last night." I'm shocked at how easy  the words come out. As if it's normal. As if I'm normal.

Shifting in her seat, Sandra takes off her glasses. Her brows are  pinched as she taps them against her lip. "And how did that make you  feel?"

I almost chuckle at how much like a stereotypical therapist she sounds.  But I don't have any humor in me. I push my hair out of my face and  consider her question. It made me feel alive. And wanted. But that ended  far too quickly. Too good to last.

It takes Sandra a moment to realize what caused my reaction, the faint  huff of a laugh at her question, and when she does, she sets her glasses  down on the end table and shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Dahlia, you've  simply caught me a little off guard. Would you mind expanding for me  please? I'm not sure what you mean by ‘your Dom.'"