Page 27 of Impure Vows

Finally, she pushes through the glass door, and I follow, my footsteps silent. The lobby is as grimy as I expected—faded wallpaper, a flickering neon sign that buzzes incessantly. She approaches the front desk, the clerk barely glancing up from his magazine.

“I need a room,” she says, her voice shaky.

The clerk looks her over, unimpressed. “Cash or card?”

“Cash,” she replies, fumbling with her wallet.

I watch from a corner, taking in every detail. She hands over a few crumpled bills, and the clerk slides a key across the counter.

"Room 205."

Perfect.

She heads for the stairs, her movements quick and nervous. I wait until she’s out of sight before approaching the desk myself.

The clerk looks up, his expression turning wary. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” I say, sliding a few hundred-dollar bills his way. “I need the key to Room 205.”

His eyes widen, but he doesn’t question it. Money talks, and in this shitty ass dump, it screams. He hands me a duplicate key, and I slip it into my pocket.

I take the stairs two at a time, my pulse quickening with each step. The hallway is dimly lit, the carpet threadbare and stained. I reach her door, listening for any sounds inside.

There’s a soft rustling, the sound of her unpacking. I insert the key and turn it slowly, savoring the anticipation.

Adrenaline shoots straight to my cock as I grip the doorknob, hesitating just long enough to savor the moment. My hand rests on the cool metal, a shiver of anticipation coursing through me. This is it. Time to claim what’s mine.

I push the door open slowly, savoring the creak of the hinges. Her back is to me, her figure tense and unaware. All I can think about is bending her over the bed and taking her right now.

Patience.

Instead, I clear my throat, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife.

She jumps, whirling around to face me, her eyes wide with terror. I smirk, enjoying the delicious fear in her expression. “Miss me?”

Aliyah backs up, her hands trembling as she stretches them out in front of her, like they could somehow ward me off. Her voice quivers, "What do you want?"

“What do you think?” I step inside, closing the door behind me. The lock clicks into place, the sound final. “You’ve been running, Aliyah. But you should know by now, you can’t hide from me.”

Her eyes widen as I advance, every step deliberate, every movement calculated. I can see the pulse at her throat, fluttering like a trapped bird. She backs up, and I keep coming, not giving her an inch of escape.

"Stay away," she whispers, but her voice betrays her. It’s weak, trembling.

I close the distance between us, savoring the way she cracks under my gaze. "You know that’s not happening," I say, my voice low and controlled, each word dripping with authority.

She stumbles, the back of her knees hitting the bed. Her legs give out, and she falls onto the mattress, eyes still locked on mine. I step closer, towering over her. The sight of her splayed out, vulnerable, sends a rush of heat through me. My cock strains against my pants, a painful reminder of how much I want her.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly. I lean in, running my nose along the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent. She smells like fear and something sweet, something intoxicating.

"Please," she says, voice cracking. The sound of her begging, the raw fear in it, is music to my ears.

I brush a stray curl from her face, my fingers lingering on her soft skin. "You belong to me, Aliyah," I murmur, pressing myself against her. Her body tenses, but she doesn’t push me away. Not that she could.

Her whimper sends a jolt of pleasure through me. It takes everything I have not to take her right here, right now. But Iwant to savor this, savor her. I need her to understand that there’s no escape.

My hand trails down her body, feeling her shiver beneath me. The heat between us is palpable, electric. I press my solid cock against her once more, leaning in close, my breath hot against her ear.

“I have an ultimatum for you,” I whisper, my voice low and rough. I rock my hips against her, thinking that next time we won’t be clothed.

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