9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Ophelia

" I feel like I'm in a Stephen King novel. Are you planning on tying me down and drinking my blood straight from the vein?" To be honest, I've only read three of his books and none of them had vampires, but holy fuck, the possessed car was enough to traumatize me forever.

"Tying you down, most definitely. The rest isn't my kink." Great, he's hot and has a sense of humor and…buys women for shits and giggles. Then ties them up. In any other scenario, this whole isolated cabin in the woods would totally be my thing. I mean, who doesn't want to get away with a hot, British, rich man for a weekend of domination and kinky fuckery? Sign me up!

Except this situation is different.

We were…something. Okay, I didn't text him back, but only because I've been busy trying to save women from the fucking sex trafficking rings. You'd think it would give me a pass on him cheating on me.

Pulling my coat a little tighter, I don't even pretend to get my bag. Mister Hotshot can do it himself.

"You know…you could've just asked me to submit for a weekend, no need to go all out." I say this with a straight face, allowing my sarcasm to seep out like poison.

"I tried, sweetheart, but you never got back to me, did ya? And, well, I don't fucking beg. That's your job." At his words, I snap my head to the side and throw him some hefty daggers with my glare.

"You're gonna have to earn it, Mr. Overlord." Holding two bags on either shoulder, he lets his gaze travel down my body, intimate and slow, before retracing his path and staring straight into my eyes. My breath catches but it can't be helped. Having the entirety of this man's attention is doing something to my body.

It's not that I'm opposed to getting utterly fucked by him, it's that…he was planning on buying someone else. Anyone else, apparently.

If I were na?ve, I'd say it's fate.

At the very least, this is a coincidence, and let's just say, in my business, we stopped believing in those a long, long time ago.

Just as I step over the threshold, I look around the quaint little space—by little, it's two stories high—then spin around to stare at him.

"So what's your plan now?" I'm aware of my shitty attitude, and maybe once the initial shock of seeing him here wears off, I'll be in a better mood. Until then, well…this is what he's getting.

With my hands on my hips and my coat gaping open to reveal my half-naked body, I stand my ground as he drops the bags and comes to within a couple of inches from me.

I think he's going to kiss me. I think he's going to sweep me up in his arms and carry me to bed. I think he's going to apologize for planning to fuck other women while still in contact with me.

I think wrong.

Using his entire height as a means to dominate, Rhett leans over me as his face transforms from laid back to hard as steel.

"On your knees. Hands on your thighs, back straight, head down." It takes me a second for all of those words to compute. He's a Dom…that's nothing shocking. I've been with a couple of dominants in my day, although none were able to rip the sass out of me, but that's neither here nor there. However, just the subtle change in the tone of his voice tells me this may very well be a different experience.

But that's not what intrigues me the most. What are the chances that Rhett and I hook up—kinda—at a club in Miami only to run into each other in fucking Detroit? The same place I'm trying to lure in a major trafficking scumbag who trains sex slaves?

No, it doesn't make sense, but blaming it on coincidence seems more plausible than a trafficker buying a woman to then destroy, train, and sell. I wish it were the case because then it wouldn't be so fucking lucrative.

I'm about to tell him to shove his expectation up his ass with a rusty fork until I remember that the only reason I'm here is to do what I'm told. It's imperative that I keep up my charade. Who knows how well Rhett knows the people from the auction? Hell, I don't know how it happened on the other side, maybe the buyers all hang out and have drinks, chatting it up about how they're going to get their rocks off for the next three days.

No, I cannot take the risk of this trafficking ring finding out we're so fucking close to getting to them.

So I play the part of the dutiful submissive. At least, I try.

Shrugging off my coat, I don't miss the quick but no less lusty sweep of his eyes up and down my body before I lower myself to my knees and place both palms on my thighs. My back is straight, my toes pointed—thank you internet searching at two in the morning—my head lowered in reverence.

If anything, this weekend I'll be able to snoop around and find out as much as I can about my weekend MasterDom. I wonder if he's also a MasterChef. That would be a dominant I could get behind. Or…under.

I guess I got lucky, if I'm being honest with myself. The risk I took by offering myself up was high, but in the end, I'm no closer to getting our villain than I was this morning.

"That's a good girl. See, Kitten, when you put your mind to it, you please me." I absolutely did not just shiver at his words. Not even a little bit. But I won't deny that his voice is like dark chocolate dripping over melted caramel; rich and delicious.

This game isn't unfamiliar to me so I play along and keep my snark to myself.

Good girl.

Pfft. I haven't been a good girl since the day I slit my dad's throat open and left him to bleed out on our Italian marble floors. I do regret that, though. It was a bitch to remove the stains.

The sound of the slider lowering between the teeth of a zipper catches my attention and I don't need to be trained to know what's coming next.

"Open. Show me your tongue." I'd be annoyed if I weren't so fucking turned on.

Raising my chin, I keep my eyes lowered and stick my tongue out, nice and flat so his dick has room to slide inside. What I don't expect is for him to pinch my tongue and pull. Hard.

"Is this tongue going to cause problems, my cranky little kitten?" My first instinct is to bite him, but he's probably hoping I do so he can punish me. I shake my head but I can't help what my eyes are saying.

"That's my good girl." As soon as his words are out, he takes five steps back then stops. "Now, crawl to your Master." It's the tone he's using more than the words he's saying that has me lifting my ass off my feet and pressing my palms to the wooden floor. Like a lion in search of a good fuck, I move slowly toward Rhett, keeping my eyes on the floor. I'm being pliant right now but I hope he doesn't think this is going to be an ongoing thing this weekend. Good grief, I do not have the required level of control to be a true sub.

Once I reach him, he places his large palm on the crown of my head and pushes back until my eyes collide with his.

"That wasn't so hard, pretty pup, was it?" Oh, so now I'm a dog? I liked "kitten" better, they like trying out their claws once in a while. "Now, suck my cock like the good girl I want you to be."

Without a second to adjust my position, Rhett has my jaw in the palm of his hand, forcing me to sit back on my haunches. My mouth drops open and my tongue eases the way for his dick to slide inside, stopping only once he reaches the back of my throat.

The last time I gave head, I was in complete and total control, so to say I'm caught off guard today is a scary understatement.

"Ahhh, yes. Nice and warm, just the way I like it. But there's one thing missing." His hand slides to the back of my head, pushing my face into his groin and forcing the tip of his cock way too far down my throat.

Fighting the urge to gag, I reach out on instinct to pull away from him but he's too strong, too sure footed for me to do anything but go with the flow. He's well within his rights as far as the huge fucking pile of a contract we signed is concerned. My only hard limits were related to bodily functions that weren't saliva or cum. Also, no disfigurement or permanent damage, and that feels less like a limit and more like common fucking sense but…here we are. Not to mention, I can end this anytime I want with my safe word.

Chimera . Kai-Mee-Rah. Three simple sounds that touch on every single criterion needed for the protection of a submissive. It's unique and easy to remember, the syllables are distinguishable, and there's nothing complicated about it. He knows it, I know it. And if he forgets it, I'll fucking remind him and it won't be enjoyable for him.

"Breathe through your nose, pretty girl. Or gag. It doesn't matter. Either way, I want your tears." Pulling out of my mouth, he's right back inside in an instant, and this time I fight the urge to bite down on the shaft and pay the consequences of my actions later. Except I don't. I follow his instructions and breathe through the uncomfortable feeling of having something so fucking deep in my mouth.

The worst part though isn't the way the floor is biting into my kneecaps or the way my lips are pulled tight around his huge fucking dick. No, it's not even the way my scalp tingles and burns when he closes his fist around my hair.

The worst part? It happens when I feel the first drop running down my cheek, falling on the back of my perfectly positioned hand.

This motherfucker is making my eyes leak and it looks way too much like actual tears.

It all feels like seconds have gone by, but apparently not since he's been fucking my mouth long enough that he feels the need to warn me he's about to come. Pulling my head back, his dick slides out of my mouth just as he curls his fingers around his shaft and covers my face with his cum. Like any other normal person, I close my eyes to avoid getting blinded by his seed, but that only exacerbates the filthy noises coming from his mouth right before the ropes of his orgasm hit my face. Over and over again, he gives me his pleasure and for a brief second, I feel content.

Then I realize I've just been used as a vessel for his pleasure without anything in return.

Rude.

Although his half-mast dick is barely tucked back into his briefs, the head—still wet from coming—is trapped by the elastic and I'm guessing he's not done yet.

The next thing I know, his hand is at the base of my neck and he's lifting me back to my feet, encouraging me to walk backward until we enter the half bath and he pushes me against the nearest wall. One of his hands snaps the hand towel off the holder before he turns on the water and soaks the towel.

"I like your face covered in my cum. It suits you."

"Maybe I'll return the favor." It's like standing has given me back my sarcasm.

"I'm counting on it, my little temptress." I frown. What the fuck? Shouldn't he be choosing one nickname and sticking to it?

"What's with the endearments? You changing it up in case you forget my name?" His fingers squeeze tighter around my throat as he brings the towel to my face and cleans me up, slow and steady, like it's the most important job he's ever done.

"Oh, Ophelia—"

"Sunny." Fuck, I love being a brat.

When I open my eyes, I'm met with stormy green irises that border on hazel, dark and intense. I'm guessing he doesn't like my nickname.

"I'll call you whatever the fuck I choose. And when I do, you'll answer ‘yes, sir or master or overlord." His grin shows just how proud of himself he seems to be.

"If I'm in the mood." In a matter of mere seconds, I'm turned around, face pressed hard against the mirror and ass in the air. Thank fuck I'm wearing sky-high heels or else this position would be even more uncomfortable.

The first sound to alert me that I may have pissed him off is the ripping of my panties. Who knows? Maybe not. Maybe he's a serial panty ripper and now I'm pissed I didn't put that as one of my hard limits.

Motherfucker. Those things cost a fucking fortune.

"I'll bill you for that." Oh my fucking God, I need to shut up before he does something rash and I'll have to break all the damn rules and end him right here and now.

The only warning I have that he's about to fuck me into submission is the reflection in the mirror of his hips rearing back seconds before his dick is slamming inside my pussy. A strangled moan escapes my mouth at the sheer brutality of his thrust, and once he's fully seated inside me, he leans down until his mouth is flush with my ear.

"This weekend is gonna be so much fun. I'm gonna. Fuck you. In. Every. Single. One of your. Holes." Every pause is followed by a deep plunge into me and I can't deny how fucking good he feels. I can't help the way my legs part just a little more and my breathing hitches with every one of his touches. I can't ignore the burn of his fingers against the side of my face as he pushes me into the mirror where I can both see him and his reflection.

I refuse to lie and say I'm not fucking loving this hardcore fuck I'm getting, but in the back of my mind, I know there's more to this story than meets the eye.

As Rhett pummels in and out of me, I rub my clit against the surface of the counter but it's no use. There isn't nearly enough friction to get me off and at this angle, an orgasm seems fleeting at best.

"I wanna come." I don't think, those words just tumble out of my mouth and into the space between us.

"You'll come when you deserve the privilege."

Goddammit. He wasn't kidding about his Dominant side. He's not an amateur, he's playing the game from start to finish, and if I weren't so high on need, I'd applaud his performance. But fuck, I'm so close…so damn close, and he's going to make me work for it.

"Please." I won't call him sir. That's what my mother called my father and I won't be that. I won't become that.

"Please what?"

I don't answer and just suck it up. He doesn't want me to come? Fine. I'll do it myself when he's asleep.

"Kitten got your tongue?" Rhett pulls out of me, turning me so we're facing each other and I'm sitting like a normal human on the bathroom counter.

"No."

"Hmmm." His eyes dart from one of mine to the other like he's reading a book and he's completely enthralled by it. "There's a story in your silence, Ophelia."

"Sunny." This time, my tone isn't as harsh, but I like reminding him that there are rules in place and he can't break them any more than the others from the auction. It's like I'm reminding him that he's nothing special and my little tantrum makes me feel much better.

"The pseudonym is to protect the participants' identities. You and me? We're far from strangers, my juicy peach." On his last syllable, he slams right back inside me, his fingers tangled in my hair as he pulls my head back and exposes my neck to his hungry mouth.

I'm so caught up on his sucking and licking that I barely register the way his fingers pinch my nipple or the force of his pounding as he bottoms out on every plunge inside. This time, when his mouth comes back up to mine, I don't hesitate and I don't pretend. Instead of giving as hard as I'm getting, I double down and ramp up the intensity. My teeth sink into his bottom lip, and without a single thought, I draw blood.

To his credit, Rhett doesn't even flinch, he just bites me right back, tenfold. My taste buds are assaulted by the distinct coppery taste of my blood, and probably his as well, but it doesn't take away from this delicious moment between us.

Only once I'm convinced that my mind is about to fucking check right out from the intensity does Rhett bring his fingers to my clit and flick the swollen nub once, twice, and I fucking lose my mind.

His hips never stop, fucking me through my orgasm as my lungs try to fill with air after every cry of pleasure I expel in that tiny bathroom.

"That's it, my gorgeous little demon. Come for me." This time, he's the one to lose his finely tuned control. It's not overt and it's not as outright as me, but I notice the way his brow turns down like he can't understand what's going on.

He enjoyed watching me come. My orgasm fed his own and he's wondering what the fuck just happened. I understand him because my brain is having a hard time coming to grips with just how good that orgasm felt.

"I guess we started off the weekend with a bang." He doesn't laugh, outright, at my joke but the corners of his lips turn up just enough for me to see the crinkle in eyes.

Yeah, Rhett, I've got you hooked.

Now, let's work that to my advantage.

Sliding out from beneath the sheets, I swoop my arm across the back of the couch chair and take Rhett's white button down shirt so I can put it on. It's crisp, and as I bring the collar to my nose, I recognize the woodsy scent from the small time we spent wrapped up in each other at the club all those nights ago.

I roll my eyes at myself, because acting this infatuated with a guy is not normal, and go about buttoning from the bottom to half-way up my torso.

The bedroom is right under the peaked roof, one side open to the downstairs living room, the other a wall of windows with a breathtaking view of a clear, calm lake. I'm not sure which lake this is. Seems too small to be a Great Lake but I'm not familiar enough with the geography up north to even pretend to name bodies of water.

It's gorgeous, though, that's for sure.

As I lean against the window sill, I wonder what exactly I've gotten myself into. This weekend was supposed to be about catching the vile piece of shit who's been kidnapping young girls and training them to be vessels for depraved men, yet here I am, fucking my way through each room of a country cabin with no neighbors in sight.

I suppose the chances of getting picked by the right guy were slim to none but I couldn't let the inkling of an opportunity go by unchecked. Hell, maybe the guy wasn't even there tonight, maybe this was just fate telling me I needed a great fuck in my life.

Well, mission accomplished.

The thing is, as great as that orgasm and the playing have been, being confined in a cabin with a man I don't know isn't getting me any answers.

Looking over my shoulder, I contemplate rifling through Rhett's pockets, maybe even that huge bag he brought inside earlier.

Once he was finished fucking me into next week, he slapped my ass and told me to go run upstairs and wait for him on the bed. By the time he got here, he was completely naked with only our bags in his hands.

There's no denying his body is fucking perfect, and I'm actually excited about exploring every inch of him…if he ever lets me touch him.

After that, he slid right back inside me and got me off with a slow, torturous rhythm, until my body froze and the only proof that I was coming was my open mouth in a silent scream.

No, I can't go through his things right now. He's only been asleep for twenty minutes, tops. I've seen the shows and the movies where the protagonist thinks it's safe to snoop. It never is. Never, not once.

I'll wait, thank you very much.

When the opportunity presents itself, maybe I'll find a clue, maybe he knows the elusive James Smith. It's a long shot but it's not impossible since, one thing I've learned in the last few years is that these people all run in the same circles. Rhett here, is bound to know someone who knows someone and I intend to find out everything I possibly can to shut this trafficking ring right down, all with the help of my girls.

A small smile curls at the corners of my lips thinking of Opie and Tabby. I'm sure they're worried, but they know me well enough to be sure I'm staying safe.

I feel his heat at my back at the same time as I hear the tickle of his words at my ear.

"I like seeing you in my shirt. There's something incredibly sexy about it." His dick is pressed against my ass cheek and the way he gently unbuttons his own shirt to reveal my naked body beneath has an addictive quality to it. I could get used to these kinds of feelings. One day. Far away. And with someone who doesn't pay for sex. "Come on now, Kitten. Time for round three."