7. Dylan

CHAPTER 7

DYLAN

Alex walked me down a long and dark hallway, stopping in front of the last door on the right.

“Do you remember how this went last time?” he asked, hand on the knob.

“Clothes in the corner,” I said, cock already halfway to hard.

I was so far beyond exhausted, tired from work and worn down from the week spent thinking about him incessantly. I wanted to go home and crawl into my bed, but if I didn’t get the rent for the following month paid, there wouldn’t be a bed to crawl into.

“And then?” he prompted.

I swallowed. “Then yours.”

“Good listening, pet.”

Heat burned at the base of my spine, my brain still unable to determine if I liked the endearment or if it was embarrassing. The heat of shame and arousal felt the same these days, and then Alex opened the door and I stepped into the room.

Even though the club was beyond posh, I didn’t have high expectations for the private room. It was dark and simply decorated with what I imagined to be the essentials—including a bed—but everything looked rich. After all, I wasn’t poor by birth. I knew how to spot luxury materials and it was clear that in here, just like Alex’s home, no expense had been spared.

“I’m waiting,” Alex said, the door lock sounding loud as a gunshot.

I smelled like spilled vodka and lemons from work, the scent whooshing up around me as I stripped out of my dirty work clothes and folded them into a neat pile by the door. Once I was naked, I turned to find Alex standing in the middle of the room, his legs spread and his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had on another expensive pair of jeans and a white V-neck shirt that looked like it must have just come out of the package. Heading toward him, I realized he was also wearing a Rolex, which shouldn’t have surprised me, but I’d never seen that style of Submariner in person before.

I hesitated when I reached him, debating what I wanted to take off of him first. I knew, somewhere in my gut, that taking his clothes off should have been demoralizing or demeaning in some way, but the first time he’d asked it of me, it very much felt like a privilege. This second chance was no different, sensation pricking the tips of my fingers when I lifted the hem of his shirt over his head.

Like last time, he didn’t help me at all, which made it difficult by the time I got to his shoes and socks, but I fought through it, leaving us both naked in the end. I set his clothes in a pile beside mine and met him once again in the center of the room that somehow felt so much larger without my clothes on.

“Turn around and let me see your ass,” he said.

I did.

Alex dropped into a squat behind me, kneading and pressing his way around the remnants of the bruises on my ass and the backs of my thighs. Some were worse than others, and some had faded entirely. I didn’t want to admit I’d secretly been dreading the day the last of them healed back to healthy skin. Hopefully, he’d leave me with more so I could think of him for longer this time.

“How many times have you jerked yourself off since I saw you last?” he asked.

I snorted, tilting my head back to stare at the black painted ceiling. “I lost count.”

“More than five?”

“Yes.”

I’d managed five times in the first two days.

“Ten?” he asked next.

“More.”

He stood and stepped closer to me, pressing his chest against my back, his hard cock against my bruised ass. Wrapping one arm around the front of my chest, he hauled us close as our bodies could get, throwing me enough off-balance that I reached for his forearm with both hands to steady myself.

“I haven’t touched myself once,” he whispered in my ear, lips warm against my lobe. “Though I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

“Why not?”

“Why didn’t I touch myself?” he repeated.

I nodded.

His fingers dug into my forearm and, in one quick motion, he spun me and shoved me down to my knees. Alex fisted my hair, angled my head back and teased his wet dick against my mouth, which I quickly opened for him.

“Because the real thing is better.”

“You didn’t reach out,” I said, but as I opened my mouth he took it as an invitation and pushed his cock past my teeth and onto my tongue, silencing me.

“I reached out when I wanted to,” he said, pushing his thick shaft into my mouth with far less patience than he’d used the first time. “When I was ready for your throat again.”

I should have been offended at the comment. I knew it. An entire lifetime of social conditioning and expectation dictated that his reduction of me to nothing more than a body to use and fuck should have been humiliating. Instead, my cock leaked a stream of precum against my thigh and I breathed through my nose so I could open my mouth wider for him.

What I felt instead of shame was an overwhelming sense of pride and longing. He’d waited for me, for this. I’d been so good to him, so good for him, he’d wanted more. Considering how many things I’d recently failed at, all the circumstances that had come together in my life to send me to the brink of mental and financial collapse, Alex wanting me, waiting for me…it was the biggest win I could have ever asked for.

He tested his entry into the back of my throat and I gagged around him, back bowing even though his tight grip in my hair didn’t allow me to get away from him. The gasping breath I tried to manage allowed me enough of a reminder that be the rest of it as it may, Alex was still a stranger who was paying me for sex. While the end result might have been a win, the relationship itself was the same as the rest of the ones in my life.

It was transactional.

Cost of goods sold.

“Green?” he asked, jaw clenched.

I answered with a jerky nod.

“I want to fuck your throat.” He licked his lips and I wanted to melt into the floor. “Can you handle that?”

Probably not.

I nodded again.

Alex grabbed my head, one hand on either side, and then he delivered on his promise, shoving his fat cock so deep into my throat I didn’t think I’d ever be able to breathe again. My body didn’t care, responding by breaking out in gooseflesh down my arms and legs, my cock twitching its way toward my stomach with every pump of his hips.

I closed my eyes, tears streaking past my lashes as he set a punishing pace that had my jaw quaking for how much work it was to hold it open. I finally had to reach between my legs and press the heel of my palm against my cock so I didn’t shoot a load onto the floor.

“You’re so good at this, pet,” Alex whispered, fingernails biting into my scalp. “So good at being used.”

I whimpered, spit sputtering out of my mouth, and as fast as Alex put me on my knees, he had me on my back. With one of his knees on the floor and the other digging into my forearm, he covered my eyes with one hand and took his dick into the other. Before I could even register or ask why, hot bursts of cum landed on my swollen mouth and my tear-slicked cheeks.

Alex grunted and groaned, his knee boring into my muscle with such an acute pressure, something in my body misfired. That had to be what happened because I cried out beneath him, my own cock emptying untouched onto my stomach. If he noticed, I couldn’t tell. His fingers were still clamped down hard across my eyes, and I sucked in a breath, choking out another strangled cry as my cock spasmed and spurted.

After what felt like an eternity, he peeled his hand off my face and took his knee off my arm. Blood rushed to the pressure point, another searing burst of pain—an unwanted awareness of my body—and the last bits of cum trickled out of my slit. He sat on his ass and smeared his fingers through the mess on my stomach, tracing his way up to my mouth and tapping at my lower lip.

“Green?” he asked softly.

“Green.”

He shoved his fingers into my mouth, depressing my tongue and pushing my cum straight into the back of my throat. I gagged around him, arching up off the floor and practically flying into his arms. He kept his fingers deep in my mouth, pushing further until the need to throw up all over him passed.

“That’s how deep inside your mouth I was,” he said, pulling his hand free.

The rush of air caught me off-guard and I choked at the same time I tried to breathe, coughing so hard it hurt my ribs. Alex waited silently beside me on the floor while I tried to compose myself and staying silent long after I had pulled myself together. His cum dried on my face, cracking around my mouth and mine had pooled in my navel, tugging at the thin trail of hair that ran down my stomach to my still-hard cock.

“There’s a cabinet in the back of the room,” he finally said. “Go find something in there that interests you.”

“I don’t know about any of this.” My voice broke, hoarse and tired.

“Use your imagination.”

I was halfway to the cabinet when his voice rang out again, “And get condoms and lube.”

I swallowed, pulling open the cabinet doors and doing my best to swallow down the overwhelm I felt at the sight in front of me. There was plenty in the cabinet I knew about—cuffs and gags and paddles and blindfolds. I’d seen enough porn in my life to understand the basics of that kind of kink, but there were other things… whips and chains, and implements that looked far more severe than the rest of it.

The only thing I knew was I wanted Alex to hurt me.

I wanted him to leave fresh marks on me that I could sit on and poke at for days after we parted, so I pulled a wooden paddle off one of the hooks. It looked like it was oak, polished and heavy, the threat of it enough to make my cock twitch back to life after my earlier unplanned release.

I took the paddle, lube, and a strip of condoms back to where Alex still sat in the middle of the room. He squinted up at my selection, mouth pulling into what almost looked like a frown.

“Green?” I asked him for the first time.

He huffed, the frown quickly shifting into half of a smile.

“Green,” he said, pushing onto his feet and taking the supplies out of my hands. “Go bend over the bed, stretch your arms toward the wall and spread your legs as far as you can.”

I did, tucking my cock up against my stomach as I situated myself the way he’d instructed.

“You’re still marked from my hand,” he said, sounding almost proud. I wished I could see his face to confirm. “This paddle is going to make it worse.”

“I like the bruises.”

“There’s cream to help heal them,” he said.

“I like the bruises,” I repeated.

“I imagine you do, pet.” Alex tossed the lube and the condoms beside my face on the bed. “Tell me how many times you got yourself off this week.”

“Twelve,” I admitted, closing my eyes.

Fuck, I was tired.

Alex rubbed the wood against my ass. The surface didn’t feel so smooth as it pulled against my sweaty skin. “Twelve strikes, then. A hundred dollars each sound fair, pet?”

I wanted to scream.

I would have done it for free, but I needed the money more than I needed the orgasms.

Tears pricked at the backs of my eyelids again, a salty reminder that no matter how kind the words out of his mouth sounded to my ears, this wasn’t anything more than an exchange of services for payment. Sex for money. That was what he’d offered and what we’d agreed on. That was the reason I was here, bent over a bed with my ass on display and my cock ready to burst.

“More than,” I said through gritted teeth.

“I hope you think that when I’m finished.”

Before I could reply, he brought the paddle down on my ass hard enough to lift my feet off the floor. I screamed, clawing for the wall, my cock pushing another pulse of precum onto the sheets.

“Green?” he asked.

I fucking sobbed, gasping for breath. “Green.”

As quickly as I’d thought about the money, I forgot it, unable to focus on anything besides the sound of that handcrafted wood paddle landing down against my bruised ass with all the force Alex had in him.

“Fuck, Dylan,” he cursed under his breath, and I didn’t dare open my eyes to find out why. “Just…fuck.”

He spanked me a third time, fourth time, fifth.

The walls fell away and I sucked in the cleanest breath of air I’d ever breathed in my life. The pain twisted and morphed, shapeshifting into sensations I’d never have words for. I understood why Tate was chasing after sex, if what he wanted to replicate was anything like this.

Six.

Seven.

Nothing fucking mattered anymore. Nothing beyond me bending over the bed and taking this blunt force against my ass and my thighs, but every strike of the paddle felt like a caress, a promise.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

I was coming again, my whole body burning from the inside out as I spilled onto the sheets, my cock so hot there was no way it wasn’t branding itself into my stomach with every pulse. I needed to crawl away. I needed to push back. I needed less and more and everything all at the same time.

Eleven.

Twelve.

The paddle dropped onto the floor and Alex tore open the condom wrapper with his teeth. Time was fast and slow, and the lube was cold between my cheeks. He pushed two fingers into me and I didn’t even have the words to tell him I’d already gotten off, that my body was already loose and pliant for him.

He replaced his finger with that perfect, thick cock of his, pushing into me with one forceful thrust. His coarse thigh hair abraded the backs of my thighs like razor blades, and I welcomed it. The pain wrapped around me like a blanket, tighter and tighter until I found security in the weight of it.

It was so confusing, but it was also the only thing I’d understood for months.

Alex fucked me onto the bed, using his body to push my knees onto the edge of the mattress. He hauled me onto all fours and slammed into me, cock splitting my ass open just like he’d finished doing to my mouth. He rutted into me, chest rumbling with a low growl when his cock impossibly thickened inside of me. There was no protest in me, only compliance and greed for more. My body was bruised and battered for him, at his pleasure, and I bore down, swallowing the last centimeter of his cock into my body as he filled the condom.

“Jesus, you’re the best hole I’ve ever fucked.”

I knew it was a compliment; I told myself over and over as he bowed over me, body shaking from the force of his orgasm. I was still a wet and trembling mess myself, but the reality began to trickle in.

The only things I’d get to go home with were twelve hundred dollars and the need for a shower.

Not him.

Sex for money was fine, but I couldn’t have sex with Alex Burke ever again.

I wanted him too much.

I wanted him for real.