Heavy Love(49)

Victor's hand begins to creep back under the table, but I tug onto it so  he can't get between my thighs. This half-ass scuffling has a few  patrons' eyes on us for a second at the booth cater-corner from us. But I  don't care how embarrassing this is. Something tells me that Victor is  so much stronger than my ability to keep him at bay. Something tells me  that this asshole actually enjoys my struggling.

"Don't resist." His eyes twinkle, even though he doesn't laugh at me as usual.

"You're crazy." I close my legs tightly. My thighs are pretty strong.  Zumba and kick boxing classes have given me shapely, toned legs. Squats  and a few Brazilian butt videos have my tiny form in tippy top shape.  But instead of prying them open, Victor rubs my thigh ever so softly.  It's a phenomenon when my legs part ways for him. He begins to fuck me  once more with his fingers.

His lips graze my cheek with a kiss. He whispers, "Now, are you listening, Little One?"

"Yeah," I sigh, biting my bottom lip. There are people all around us,  but it's dark enough that shame has left the building. My head tilts  back, eyes shade.

Tremors travel down my spine as he kisses on my neck, and keeps taking  me to my brink with his fingers and all I can do is be quiet. He knows I  want the dick.

"Yes, Victor, I'm listening," I say again for reassurance. Hell yeah,  I'm taking in every sense at the moment. My mouth waters just as much as  my pussy. I feel so good.

"You belong to me, Lux." The fact is hard against my ear.

"No I don't, Victor," I say with an odd sense of confidence, licking my  lips as heat rises in my body. My hips arch toward Victor's large  fingers wanting even more.

He stops. I'm tempted to say just kidding, yes I belong to you, but  Victor stands up. He readjusts the large lump in his pants. He grabs my  hand and pulls me up quickly. Victor's eyes are a stormy blue as he damn  near pulls me out of the restaurant.



While sitting in the middle of the penthouse suite again, I regret  telling Victor ‘no.' He hasn't spoken to me since the taxi dropped us  off and the elevator got us all the way up here. He quietly contemplates  for almost sixty minutes.

I twiddle my fingers and look up at him. The pressure has me feeling  like a lost child. Victor stalks back and forth, saying my body was made  for him.

Am I in the company of a madman?

"Little one," he comes to me, and looks down. Then his hand goes to my  chin, tipping it up, making my eyes meet his. "Why do you defy me?"

My eyes grow wide. I shrug, watching him feel some type of way. My heart  is pounding. That familiar emotion, one that only can be comparable to  fear, comes back. Going against Victor's wishes unnerves me to the point  of being so very afraid.

"You belong to me," he commands.

"Victor," I take a deep breath, though Victor hasn't seemed to  comprehend before. Trying to sound clear, loud and clear though I feel  as meek as a mouse, I tell him again, "I'm not an object to own. I'm a  human."

"I make you happy." Again, it's not a question, but a belief. Never mind, he's still not listening to what I said.

"Not all the time," I pout. My body begs to differ, but the other day he  hurt me more than Arnold ever could. That's the scary part. Even though  I tried to rationalize that what me and Victor has is …  not even sure  what we have, but I shouldn't have felt such intense anger and jealousy  as this egotistical man enjoyed himself at the club. We don't even have  history for Christ Sake! How could his flirting with Suyoung and other  women – technically their flirting with him – be comparable to Arnold's  years of betrayal?         

     



 

"You hurt Graham's feeling," I begin nonchalantly, pushing away that  intense envy. Yet, it rises back up from the pit of my belly, and erupts  in a whine, "You were flirting with every lady at that club but me!"

"That's beside the point, Luxury." Victor gets on his knees before me.  His hands disappear beneath my dress and my pussy is already raining at  his intense touch.

"Lux, I own you." There's an uncertainty, vulnerability in his voice  that tells me this selfish man really wants me to be his. If only I  would just listen …

Nope. There's silence on my part.

I can hardly speak as he holds my mouth; the fragrance of my kitty is on  Victor's lips as he kisses me harshly. Before I can respond, he's back  down below. He rushes. Victor quickly lifts me and pushes my dress up.  His heavy hands grab onto my thong. He tears them off. My honey box  pulsates with desire.

This vigorous movement of his only takes a nano second. Finally, Victor  takes on a slower pace. His lips kiss my clit as if that is his sole  focus. My body speaks a language that only Victor can decipher. His  tongue dips out and twirls around the soft, tiny bulb. Victor makes this  noise that makes me think that my love box tastes like southern  upside-down cake.

Victor comes up. His lips and chin are creamy with my goodies. He  reaches for my cheeks. I taste my own sweet honey. His tongue twirls  around mine. The taste, the intoxication of it all makes me delirious.  The pain on my cheeks no longer hurt. Victor glares into my eyes he  asks, "Lux, who do you belong to?"

Before I am able to respond, Victor has pushed me back up on the chair  and is lifting my legs over his shoulders. As he chows down on my pussy,  I damn near fall off the chair. My fingers go into his thick jet-black  hair. "Victor, wait … " I begin trying to catch my breath.

God. This man has taken me to the edge of madness, and tossed me over. "Vic …  you own me."

At that, he sucks, licks and bites even harder making my body spasm. His  teeth graze my inner thigh, and then he gets back to slurping and  kissing my other two lips.

"I'm yours," I tell him.

Damn, damn!

I gauge my breathing as he fucks me with his mouth. With my body  slipping, Victor's hands command my tiny waist; he picks me up over his  shoulders. Each time I claim to be Victor's object, his tender kisses  down low become even more of a frenzy. The intensity of it rises like a  volcano and that fear that etched its way into the pit of my stomach  starts to vanish. His magical tongue eagerly slurps up the sweet nectar  from my thighs. Forever and for always – or whenever Victor wants – he owns  me.





Victor

At 12, I met Madeline. The bruises had come less and less, when Graham  turned one year old. If Father hadn't been MIA before, with the birth of  his second child, he became next to non-existent. He only came around  when absolutely required, such as being forced by The Queen or if all of  the countryside got to chatter about the wayward Duke.

Madeline had mouse brown hair, brown eyes, and porcelain skin and a  royal air about her that my mother had always wanted in a daughter.  Madeline was the daughter she didn't get the chance to have. I avoided  the awkward looking girl every chance I got. Then one day, father got  his hands on me for something Graham did. Maybe my little brother threw  Father's large block cell phone in the toilet, maybe even our coat of  arms. But it was either the toddler or me …

Mother preferred when I didn't make a scene around our home after such  episodes, meaning she rather I make myself scarce when having a bloody  nose, or busted lip. A royal with bruises, how could it be?

So as my face throbbed, I started through the lush green field land that surrounded our palace.

"Well, it's not going to clean itself," said Madeline. I knew the voice  because she was one of the smartest in our class, besides myself of  course. I turned to see her leaning against a land that has been the  subject of argument, since her family bought the palace a few acres from  ours, and this land has already been a gray area.

"What?"

"Your hand, why don't you come over and I can have my nanny bandage that  right up." She grimaced at the bruises on my face, even though I can no  longer feel them. It was clear when I turned around; she hadn't even  expected to see my entire face to be all black and blue. So she didn't  mention it. "The help have to rest sometimes, so come with me."

I shrugged. It was Burt's day off.

I've always been either busy with my studies, or engaged in the  popularity of having girls at the academy fall over me. But with  Madeline being so shy, I never noticed her. For the first time, I looked  into her kind eyes, wondering why she wanted to help …          

     



 



Lux has that same sparkle in her eyes when we're together. As Luxury  sleeps so tiny in my arms, I continue to see a mixture of my old friend  Madeline. Her aura radiates the same. Unlike with other women, where  there's just sex, it's much more.

No need for companionship.

I should have known after the first night I bedded Lux. She has started  asking questions, wanting to know about my life. I had quickly  redirected focus to her life, allowing Luxury to discuss growing up and  her relationship with her mom. The tactic was to make sure I wouldn't be  the center of conversation, yet still at that very moment, Luxury  brought me even closer to her than I've ever want to be.