“At the end, you’ll be mine,” he promised. “But until then we have to meet in secret, because so help me God, I’m not going to deprive myself of this sweet, tight ass.”
He slapped my behind and I jumped at the feeling.
“Lean forward, look at me in the mirror,” he ordered.
I put my hands on the mirror, looking at him above me. His fingers were on my ass and his eyes were on mine. He moved them in circles, moving closer and closer to the hole he hadn’t had yet.
I cried out when his finger met resistance and he grinned at me in the mirror.
“Right there, baby? You want my fingers in there?”
“I do,” I whispered, feeling defeated and dirtier than ever. “Please, Olivier. How many can I have?”
“One,” he replied. I felt his spit gliding down my asshole next, and then his thumb touched the puckered hole again. “Open for me, baby. Let me feel that ass clenching down on me.”
My moans were never-ending. He forced his way inside and I couldn’t stop, my knees trembling, his free arm holding me in place.
“Shh,” he whispered to calm me down. “It’s okay, chérie. I’m where I’m supposed to be. You know how I know that?”
I shook my head helplessly when his finger started rubbing me from the inside. I was going to come. I closed my eyes tightly to stop the feeling of sparks flying from his touch.
“I know it because your face says it all,” he told me. “And not just your face, your body. You’re such a pretty, smart girl, aren’t you, Amber? Maybe not from the best background… But you did your best to adjust, didn’t you? Tried so hard, baby.”
I glared at him in the mirror and he chuckled.
“Don’t get offended, chérie,” he murmured. “You’re an intelligent woman, Amber. But the moment a man touches you… the moment his lips brush yours, the second his cock teases this pretty cunt, you stop being that person.”
The truth of his words washed over me like dread, and it made me him laugh cruelly.
“I know you can’t help yourself,” he said. “I know deep down this is all you are. A broken little girl who lives to be wanted. To be used like a toy. To be treated like a whore. You won’t be happy with someone who doesn’t treat you like that, will you?”
As if in a trance, I shook my head, my eyes on his in the mirror while his thumb moved in and out of my ass.
“I know you won’t be,” he replied. “I know you need a rough, fucked-up guy like me, Amber. That’s why I found you. That’s why I’m taking you. And that’s why I’m going to keep you forever.”
He slipped a second finger inside me and I squirmed in his grip. He grabbed me, pressing his body tightly against mine. I could feel his engorged cock digging into my back and I got embarrassingly wet for it.
“And don’t pretend like that doesn’t excite you,” he finished sweetly. “Because your pussy is already fucking leaking at the thought of being my little toy, isn’t it? That’s what you need, Amber. To be treated like property. Like my best jewel. Like my prettiest art piece. I’ll give you that, chérie. I’ll treat you like a work of fucking art.”
“Please,” I responded. “I need to feel your cock, let me feel you inside me.”
He chuckled, fucking me faster and faster.
“You can barely take two fingers, baby. I won’t fit in your ass,” he said.
“Just force it,” I begged when he made me look at him in the mirror again. “Just force it in. I want it to hurt. I want you to hurt me.”
“No, you don’t,” he growled.
“I do,” I cried out, and he buried his fingers in my ass up to the last knuckle. “Please, Olivier! Hurt me!”
“I don’t want to,” he said, and even in my state I could hear the surprise in his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to ruin you. I don’t want to break my toy before I’ve even seen all it can do.”
My knees buckled when his fingers touched a spot inside me, the feeling of him pushing into my ass so filthy it made me flush even more.
“Come for me,” Olivier muttered, his other hand going to my pussy and finding my clit. “Come for me and I’ll let you come like this next…”
He rubbed my clit in circles, making me lose my mind. Every time he brought me to the edge he’d stop. He touched me there less and less until he was making me scream just from having his fingers in my ass.
“Unless you don’t want to?” he asked sweetly. “You want to just come from having your ass fucked?”
“Yeah,” I replied deliriously. “Fuck it harder, Olivier. Hurt it.”
Those words again. This time, they made him stop, pull out of me and press me against the cold mirror with such force I thought the glass might shatter. My heart was pounding as we looked into one another’s eyes.
“I don’t want to hurt you, chérie,” he told me. “Why do you want to hurt?”
“I… I…” I started, tears welling in my eyes. “I thought that’s what you wanted. I thought that’s what it took.”
“Took?” he repeated, his lips on my neck. “It takes this, Amber… This body that drives me insane… Those eyes hiding your secrets from me… Your lips whispering in my ear, so sweetly begging for more. It takes your dripping pussy, your little asshole, your pretty mouth that fights back and makes me want to put you over my knee. It takes me wanting to know every one of your mysteries, every one of your daydreams and nightmares. That’s what I want, Amber. I want a happily ever after with you.”
“You do?” I whispered when he nipped at my throat. “You want that? Despite the… the Queen?”
“You’re the first woman who’s made me feel this way,” he muttered in my ear. “The first one I would do abso-fucking-lutely anything for. I’m a selfish man, Amber. And when I want something, I’m going to have it one way or another. I don’t give a shit what that woman says.”
Why is he calling her that woman? I thought. She was his mother, after all. But it didn’t matter. He wanted me just as much as I wanted him.
“I kissed Bruno.”
The words left my lips before I could stop them. He raised his head, staring down at me with calmness I hadn’t expected.
“I know,” he growled.
I stared up at him. So Safiya had told him.
“Are you mad?” he asked.
“No,” he replied. “You’re mine. He’s not getting you. Over my dead body.”
It didn’t seem like I had much choice in the matter, and for some reason, the thought of them both being so possessive turned me on.
“He’s a good kisser,” I whispered, and Olivier glared at me.
“What did you say?” he ground out.
“I think he would have tried more if we hadn’t been interrupted,” I added. “I think he would try to touch me again, like that time in the library.”
“He touched you?” Olivier growled. “During the challenge?”
I nodded, muttering, “I liked it.”
“Don’t you dare fucking say that,” he snarled at me, pushing me against the mirror. “Listen to me. You’re my property.”