Page 51 of Hired Help

“If you want to refund me, go ahead.” My arms are too weak to lift, and I let them fall above my head, my body fully exposed, open for his pleasure as his stroke continues at its unrelenting pace. “Pay me back every cent I gave you if my money offends you that much.”

A hand clamps across my mouth while embers spark into flames, turning his brown eyes toasty.

“Try to talk that shit, now.” He grinds into me, this time far enough inside it flirts with the edge of pain. “If you want to speak again, you better clench those muscles, honey. Until you make me come, there’s not a peep out of you.”

I immediately attack, my fingers prying at his large hand and making absolutely no difference.

After a few thrusts, he lets his full weight fall on me as he uses his supporting hand to capture my arms and pin them so I can’t move.

“And now you’ve lost touching privileges,” he murmurs, head level with mine, nuzzling into my ear then drawing back to smirk at the expression of panic in my eyes. “Better get a move on before you lose anything more.”

I relax, loosening all the muscles that want to tighten. His smile widens and a pulse of fear beats in my neck. This isn’t a man I can fight against and win.

He lets go, pulling back and out of me, releasing my mouth and hands, then gathering me up and twisting me to lay face down on the bed. He shoves my head into the mattress, slaps my thighs until they widen, my brain still not caught up with the new angle.

Then he’s back inside me, riding me harder and harder, his thrusts beating me for my act of defiance, his cock a weapon more punishing than his belt.

The lack of air terrifies me. I scrabble at the covers, but he just gathers my hands again, locking my wrists behind my back and pressing so much weight onto them, any air left inside my lungs is expelled in a burst.

“Is this what you wanted? I keep giving you options and you keep ignoring them, so I’ll have to guess this is what you need.”

The stretch between my legs is too much, my nerves crying out from the overstimulation. I struggle, trying to turn my head but it’s impossible. Stars dance in front of my eyes.

Then he lifts me, hauls my torso back against him as he rises to his knees, the thrusts so powerful they jolt me into the air. I haul in a breath, seeing stars worse than ever, then my cunt clenches, gripping him harder than I ever have before, contracting until a cramp dances in the wings, waiting for the chance.

His fingers find my clit and rub, too hard, too much, too fast. I come again, riding into the surge with no regard for safety, my orgasm a masterclass in self-defence.

And during my frantic ecstasy, I bring him with me. His cock plunges deep and holds, twitching as his release bursts forth, an arm across my midriff squeezing me until I’m close to bursting before he roughly shoves me away.

I lie, jumping with each new muscle spasm, the sudden loss of him leaving me empty, my cunt throbbing with despair.

He’s out of the bed, striding to the bathroom and I choke back a cry, curling my knees and hugging them to my chest to ward off the desolation that wants to claim me.

Where are his soft arms holding me? Where are his words of praise and encouragement, his offer to continue playing even though I’m a novice, terrible at this game?

The next cry escapes but offers no relief.

I tuck my head into my knees and bite my lip hard enough to raise bruises, but the pain does nothing. My body is wracked with a dozen different aches, too distracted to focus on a new source, especially one that’s under my control.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

DAEGAN

In the bathroom,I snap off the condom and toss it in the bin before washing my hands. When I stare at my reflection in the mirror, I still look like the same man I was before I left the house to go meet Brooke.

Inside, it feels like a different story.

Inside, it feels like I fucked up the relationship between me and my son, and now the one between me and Brooke; both beyond the point of repair.

The vodka I drank earlier has lost its buoyancy, instead dragging down my mood.

I want to stay in here. Lock the door and wait for my frustrating house guest to leave, but no part of me believes that would work. With a deep breath, I let myself back into the bedroom and find Brooke curled in a ball, crying.

Fear springs into my chest.

I started by wanting to hurt her and moved to wanting to please both of us, but perhaps her head didn’t make that same leap. She’s young. She might have been lying there terrified the whole time while putting on a brave face.

It’s not what her body told me, not what her actions told me, but she’s distraught.

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