Page 9 of Ravaged
Before I could say another word, he pulled me into his arms, holding my neck in his grip, tight enough that I whimpered, but not so much that I couldn’t breathe. His eyes glimmered in arousal. He pressed his body against mine, leaning against the wall, and his cock hard against me. He licked my neck, all the way up to my cheek, marking me. Claiming me. Dominating me, making me small.
My chest tightened, and he spun me around, breathing down my neck. His cock dug into my back.
The nerves were getting to me. “You really know what you want, huh?” I breathed. Damn it, Teagen. This man did not like jokes.
“I want you,” his voice crackled over my ear. I shivered and he growled at the motion. As soon as I had made eye contact with the bouncer, time had started on the club member’s account. It didn’t matter what we did; I was getting paid.
And it wasn’t often I got to entertain someone like him.
He ripped off the sheer cover and unhooked the eyes in the bustier in one movement. I reached for his belt, but he had his pants undone and his cock in his fist, bulging and greedy. I gasped. How was he so damn big?
He shoved my shoulders, bending me over the couch, and his fingers flicked over my wet slit. I let my head hang; how embarrassing was it that I was already this wet? But he licked his fingers, hungry for my arousal, turned on by it. Then he entered me, all the way to the hilt. I moaned and squeezed around him.
My skin flushed. It wasn’t usually like this. This...fast. Things like this took time, even in the Dahlia District. But my belly swelled with desire, at his rough hands on me, the way he bit my shoulder as he leaned over and dug inside of me with his cock, deeper still until I groaned in pain, and he licked the sweat off of my shoulder.
“Do you like being taken like this?” he grunted. “By a stranger. You don’t even know my name.”
I blushed, a wave of heat circling through me. In the mirror, his eyes were distant, focused elsewhere. As if he wasn’t really present, but going through the motions. It wasn’t about me. Or was it?
But he was right. I didn’t know his name.
“Do you like being fucked like this, little one?” he growled, “Such an eager little slut.”
He reached around and rubbed my clit, and I moaned. It was embarrassing, but at least he wanted me. More than any of the other servers. He had picked me. Waited for me. And that desire made me powerful, like I was more than I gave myself credit for.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes. Please take me. Make me yours.”
“So greedy. So wet,” he murmured. “Are you this wet every time, or just for me?”
“Just you,” I said. He laughed, thinking it was a line. But it wasn’t. It was the primal lust, the way he moved towards me like I was his prey, like there was nothing that would stop him from capturing me.
“You like being ravaged, don’t you, little one?”
“Yes,” I cried. “By you. Destroy me. Ruin me. Ravage me.”
At those words, he pulled out and came on my back, hot lengths of rope marking his territory. The come dripped down my thighs and onto the floor.
Yeah, this was a man who knew what he wanted. And that was a dirty, filthy fuck, with me.
He adjusted and buttoned his pants, and I grabbed the sheer cover, not bothering with the bustier yet.
“So,” I raised a brow, “What is your name?”
“Ethan,” he said. My stomach rolled. No last name? The men that came through the Dahlia District, protected by NDAs, always loved bragging about who they were. But this man wasn’t like them. Hewashiding something.
“Ethan what?” I asked.
“Ethan,” he said, his voice stern.
He picked up the bustier and handed it to me. So we were done, then. Time to move on. I understood that. I slipped into the leg holes and hooked most of the eyes.
“How long have you been playing the harp?” he asked. I smiled. He must have felt a tad guilty about the lack of pillow talk. I could indulge him in that.
“Since I was four,” I said.
“Four years old?” I nodded. “It shows.” He motioned around. “Your talent is wasted here.” My smile grew melancholy, but I tried not to let the brightness fade. He wasn’t paying for my sob story. “You should be playing somewhere else.”
“I’m sure if I could, I would be,” I tried.
