Eyes closed, lips parted, he drummed his fingers on the surface of the polished table, following the sound of the music as it beckoned sweet victory. It wouldn't be much longer now, and he could finally rest in peace knowing that the balance had been restored—that revenge had been served.
Chopin's Prelude in E minor bathed the room as he gave himself to the melody, satisfaction simmering inside of him just beneath the surface. It was bubbly and almost out of control, and the need to gloat was eating at him. But not yet. He wouldn't jeopardize his plans by celebrating too soon. Not when the pieces had fallen so perfectly in his lap.
The sudden staccato woke him from his reverie, and he turned his attention to the decanter on the table. Filling the glass to the brim, he gulped it down in one go, rising from his seat and putting his jacket on.
It was showtime.
He'd tarried long enough as he'd dreamed up all sorts of scenarios, the anticipation almost killing him.
But it wasn't because of her. It could never be because of her.
She was just a pawn in his albeit flawless game, and she'd be quickly dismissed once she'd outlive her purpose.
No, this was the allure of the hunt. The knowledge that after months of dancing attendance at her feet, of pretending to be anything less than the monster he was, he'd finally get his due.
The beginning of the end.
The fact that he'd get some pleasure from her rather delectable body was just a side benefit. But he knew that he would be getting more than just simple, corporeal pleasure. He would be getting the satisfaction of conquering that which had not yet been conquered—fact that was made more potent by the power he knew he had over her.
He could sway her mind as he wished. He could command her to do his absolute bidding and she would not falter. That rapt adoration that dripped from her eyes whenever she looked at him—that was his undoing. It made him feel powerful and it provided him with a drug so strong it inundated his senses in an astounding euphoria.
He hadn't banked on that when he'd first approached her. He hadn't even given her much thought, if he were honest with himself.
But once he'd introduced himself to her, once he'd insinuate himself in her life, he'd realized just how potent her brand of hero-worship was. Because in her eyes, he could do no wrong.
The misguided little chit. A smile probed at his lips at the thought. He'd given her the one thing she craved—attention—and she'd laid her heart at his feet, offering to do anything to keep him happy.
She'd turned, one might argue, into the perfect pet—cute, adoring, and loyal to a fault.
He'd whispered a compliment here, a nicety there, and she'd been putty in his hands, all sense leaving her.
She'd stopped worrying about their age difference, or about the secrecy he'd sworn her to, and she'd definitely stopped complaining about the degrading things he would often make her do. After all, she had one purpose—to please. And she was nothing if not obliging.
Opening the door to his '63 Benz convertible, he hopped into the driver seat, pulling a cigarette from a nearby compartment and popping it into his mouth. Turning the volume up on his stereo, he revved the engine, the car purring to life as he led it down the highway and towards his destination.
He drove by the school, ready to pull into the parking lot when he saw her.
She was sitting by the gate, hands in the pockets of her hoodie, her head down as she tried to ignore the passing stares of her classmates. From his vantage point, he could only see the profile. But that was enough to make all the blood pool low in his groin.
He might have an ulterior motive for doing this, but there would never be any hardship in using her.
High, sharp cheekbones that descended into an equally sharp jaw, her features looked like they had been sculpted in marble. Her dainty heart shaped face was only made more striking by pale skin and a pair of hazel eyes that spoke of hidden fire and unreleased passion. Wavy mahogany tresses flowed down her back, the color stark against her porcelain pallor and making her look even more like a real-life doll.
A doll he'd have the pleasure of breaking.
She didn't look happy. But then, she never did. He knew her life was miserable just like he knew he was the only thing that brought her joy—real joy. After all, he'd banked on that from the beginning.
With a history like hers, abandoned by everyone in her life and never given more than a second thought, he'd known she'd be an easy target.
And as he pulled into the parking lot, the sound of the engine drawing everyone's attention, he watched slyly as her features changed. A lightness descended upon her face, her lips pulling into a small smile, her eyes wide and luminous and damn it all to hell if it didn't make him even harder.
He knew that today was the day—the day he'd finally own her, and a low hum of anticipation escaped him as he watched her trudge her way towards him.
She still kept her head down, even though the happiness was evident on her features. And as she reached his car, he noted her flushed cheeks and dilated pupils and realized he wasn't the only one awaiting their time together.
"You're here," she said, almost breathless.
He merely let his brows arch in a quiet invitation and she immediately slid into the passenger seat, swinging the backpack off her shoulder and throwing it in the back seat.
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, pet," he gave her a wink, letting his palm rest on top of her head in a semi-affectionate gesture. After all, this was the only tender thing she'd ever get from him. But she didn't mind that.
She was so far gone she'd take any scraps of attention he'd give her. Proof being the giddiness written all over her face as he drove them off, heading to the hotel he'd booked for the afternoon.
"I'm so excited," she let out a tiny squeal as her eyes roamed around the busy streets, her head tipped upwards as she gave herself to the light breeze that brushed against her skin.
The more he watched her, the more his urgency increased, his cock already at full mast as his mind conjured up everything he would finally do to her.
But he was as perplexed as he was aroused.
In his experience, sex left him completely cold. As a curious teenager, he'd had a couple of failed attempts that had completely turned him off the act. His abhorrence for touch and need for total control made for a lethal combination and had ensured that everything was over long before it even began.
He'd always lived according to a few self-imposed guidelines that maintained his sanity—or what little of it he had left. His life might be a chaotic mindfuck, but there were a few things that even he depended on—an order that belied his disordered mind. And he'd never steered off course before.
He was about to break all of his rules for her—for his revenge.
Because he'd never wooed a woman before. He'd never had to gain a woman's trust, and he'd definitely never been gentle with one either—though his capacity for gentleness was questionable at best.
For all the effort he'd put into this entire scheme, he knew the satisfaction would be tenfold.
He desired her, a good start since that had never happened before. He was also able to bear her touch without the usual revulsion—another first.
But she also made him hot with the way she looked at him as he could do no wrong in her eyes. As if he were her very own superhero. That adoration he always found in her gaze did things to his ego. Dangerous things that could turn into addiction if he weren't careful.
"How was school, pet?" He asked, sparing her a glance. She was huddled in her seat—her usual position. She was a beautiful girl—woman, really—if it weren't for her lack of manners. Sometimes he was ashamed to be seen with her in public, her outbursts often giving him a headache. Good thing, though, that their relationship relied on secrecy and he didn't need to wine and dine her to get in her pants.
Still, he couldn't help his reaction to her. There was something incredibly wild—almost feral—about the way she carried herself, as if she'd scratch someone's eyes out if they offended her. It was all carefully subdued when she was with him, but he knew better. After all, he'd watched her for a long time before he made his first move. He knew her inside out.
"Good," she shrugged, "the usual."
She'd wanted to spread her wings into the real world, but it had bitten her in the ass when she'd realized just how different it was from her imagination. She'd had to come face to face with her own failings and the fact that she wasn't like the others. She had no experience socializing, no experience talking to anyone other than her family. She certainly had no experience talking to boys.
And they'd wanted to talk to her. Oh, they had, because who wouldn't when she looked like a wet dream? She had no idea of her own appeal though, and it had been infinitely easy to make sure she wouldn't either.
One word here, one there, and he'd managed to turn her into an outcast, ensuring that no boy would look twice in her direction, no girl wanting to befriend her. He'd made sure she was isolated, because only then he could swoop in and save the day.
It had worked.
It had worked wonderfully, and a smirk pulled at his lips as he watched the way she sighed as she thought about school—the place she'd so desired to attend, but had failed to live up to her expectations.
He'd been her first kiss. Her first everything. And today he would seal the deal too, making her his forever and bringing him one step closer to completing his plan.
"Did anyone upset you? Tell me, and I'll make them pay," he offered with a knowing smile.
"No, no," she returned the smile with a tentative one of her own. "Don't worry. I'm happy I'm with you now," she added.
"Are you, pet?" His hand trailed up her leg until he reached her upper thigh. She was wearing a pair of baggy jeans—another result of the rumors he'd created. He'd wanted her appeal hidden, and for his eyes only. And so he'd made it so she wouldn't have the courage to show her figure.
Only he knew how she looked like naked, how shapely her long legs were, or how smooth her skin was. Only he'd seen her like that, and only he ever would.
She felt the heat of his palm through the material of her jeans, and a blush enveloped her features. Especially as his hand slowly climbed up, reaching the junction of her thighs.
"You're finally going to be mine, aren't you?" He asked in a husky voice, and her cheeks heated at his question, color climbing up and staining the paleness of her skin in a shade of red.
She gave a jerky nod, almost ashamed.
Lifting his hand, he touched her jaw, letting his fingers trail over the work of art that were her features. Damn it all, but he could see himself keeping her. She wasn't just the perfect pet, but she was also the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen, and the thought of her serving him forever had never sounded more appealing.
He turned her so she could face him.
"Don't be ashamed, pet. This is what happens when two people love each other," he gave her the words he knew would sway her.
"You…you love me?" She asked in a tremulous voice, her gorgeous eyes turning a different shade as the sunlight hit them at an angle. By Hades, but she was stunning—and soon to be his.
"Of course I do," he lied, letting his lips widen in a seductive smile. "I've loved you from the very beginning," he murmured.
His capacity for love was as nonexistent as his capacity for gentleness. In his world, there wasn't room for any. But women were romantic creatures, and they thrived off meaningless declarations, so it didn't hurt him in the least to give her the words he knew would prove her undoing.
She placed her hands in her lap, fidgeting. The corners of her mouth threatened to erupt in a full smile that she barely held in check—probably not wanting to come across as overly enthusiastic.
But he knew. He knew her so well, that every hesitant play of emotion he found on her face was a certainty for him.
"I love you too," she whispered in a small voice, her eyes dropping to the floor.
The monster inside him preened at the words, his ego doubling in size as he realized he had her exactly where he wanted.
Reaching the hotel, he gave the keys to a valet, helping his pet out of the car and leading her to their designated suite.
"Are you having second thoughts?" He asked as he swiped his card at the door, opening it wide and motioning her inside.
"No," she quickly shook her head. "Of course not. I'm just nervous," she said, lowering her head and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
That one gesture felt like the height of eroticism and he found himself yearning for her in a way he'd never done for another before.
"Take off your clothes," he issued the command, the urgency in his voice evident. His control was already slipping.
Putting some distance between the two of them, he regarded her through hooded eyes. And as she started to remove her clothes slowly, hesitantly, so did he.
She took off her hoodie.
He took off his shirt.
She unbuttoned her pants and lowered the zipper.
So did he.
He mirrored her every movement, until she stood naked like the day she was born, her body bared and ready for him.
And he was too. His cock was straining against the plane of his stomach, hard and leaking, the tip already smeared with drops of pre-cum as the sight of her continued to arouse him to no end.
"On the bed," he ordered, and she obeyed.
Her lower lip was between her teeth as she bit on it in apprehension. Still, she did not disobey him. She laid herself on the bed, her entire body at his disposal.
He stalked towards her, his intent clear. But as he reached the end of the bed, he stopped, merely admiring.
She was such an exquisite creature, all creamy skin and sinuous curves, and as he gazed upon her lovely form, he fisted his length, giving it a good pump.
"You're all ready for me, aren't you, pet?" he asked in a smooth voice, and she quickly nodded, her eyes full of love as she turned them towards him.
"Good," he purred, slowly lowering himself on the bed and moving towards her.
He parted her legs, settling between them.
Then, in a gesture of unprecedented kindness, he bent his head and took her lips in a sensuous kiss, his tongue probing deep in her mouth and inviting her to a slow dance. He brought his hand to her nape, holding her to him as he took his time ravishing her mouth, the action making her slowly lose her inhibitions as he aroused her desire.
She brought her arms to his shoulders as a small moan escaped her lips, her breathing already labored as every stroke of his tongue made her lose herself even more in his embrace.
He continued to kiss her, sneaking a hand between her legs and probing her flesh—she was wet enough, he supposed.
He wasn't the type to bother with such niceties. After all, this was all for him, not for her. And as the thought crossed his mind, he realized he'd been nice enough to her—certainly more than he'd ever been to anyone else.
Fisting his cock, he aligned it to her entrance, pushing inside. He felt her snugness and the way her cunt gave way in the face of his advance, felt the tear as he ripped through her barrier in one smooth slide.
Her mouth opened on a scream, but it never reached his ears as he swallowed it, forcing her into a kiss as he pushed himself even deeper in her body. Every inch he pushed inside of her felt like he was closer to heaven than he'd ever been.
Her hands were pushing at his shoulders, her mouth moving wildly under his. But only when he was fully seated inside of her did he lean back to look at her.
Her eyes were damp, and tears were running down her cheeks, and hell if that didn't make him harder, his cock swelling inside her even more.
"It hurts," she whimpered, looking at him like a wounded puppy. He knew that a normal person would react to that. A normal person would stop and ask if she were alright.
But not him. Never him.
"You have to bear it, pet," he told her in that affectionate tone of his. "You have to bear it for me, right? You love me, don't you?" he murmured low, leaning down to lick the tears off her cheek.
She nodded, biting her lip as she peered at him through her wet lashes.
He held off a chuckle as he realized her tears turned him on even more, the sight of her puffy and tear-streaked like that doing things to his cock and intensifying his pleasure as he rocked against her.
Gods but she was tight. Tighter than he'd ever imagined, her walls milking his cock like her pussy had been made for him and him alone.
Lowering his hands to her hips, he held her to him as he retreated, his cock slipping out of her completely before he surged back, the friction making him see stars as he felt his pleasure mount.
"Ah," she yelped in pain, crying out louder and louder with every thrust that he had no other recourse than to bring his hand to her mouth, forcing her to shut up.
"It will be over soon," he told her, thrusting into her until he felt himself slip, a staggering pleasure hitting him as his orgasm neared.
His hand on her mouth, he tuned everything out as he kept on fucking her, ignoring her thrashing and her muted whimpers of pain.
He just continued to avail himself of her body until the moment came, and on a guttural cry he released himself inside of her.
"Fuck," he muttered as he collapsed on top of her, allowing himself five brief seconds of reprieve before he turned, rolling away from her.
His entire body was covered in sweat, his mind still foggy from his climax, and for a moment he had to wonder what it was about her that had given him so much pleasure. And it had been more than just pleasure, crossing into the all-encompassing realm of ecstasy that gave meaning to the French saying la petite mort.
Rising from the bed, he spared her a glance to find her huddled against the headboard of the bed and clutching a sheet to her chest. Her eyes were wildly assessing him, a pained expression enveloping her features as she sought to get as far away from him as she could.
He stilled, his mouth curling in disgust before he realized he could not afford her fear—or any other negative emotion from her. Not while his plan was still ongoing.
He let his gaze roam over her form, noting the blood on the sheets and staining the pale of her thighs.
With a low curse, he strained a smile as he turned his charm on her, rounding the bed and taking a seat next to her. Reaching out to touch her, he noted her slight flinch as she moved back, her eyes still full of fear.
"It won't hurt forever, pet," he forced out the words on a pleasant tone. "It's only the first time."
She blinked, more tears gathering at the corners of her eyes and spilling on to her flushed cheeks.
Goddamn, but the sight of her hurt like this was more potent than any drug, and before he could help himself, he leaned towards her, his tongue sneaking out to catch the falling tears.
"Now you're mine," he whispered against her cheek. "All mine," he drawled, primitive satisfaction brimming to the surface as well as an insidious gloating as he knew where this would all lead.
"I…" she stammered, and for the first time she looked as young as she was.
"I know you liked it," he didn't let her continue. "And it will only get better over time," he lied. "Because we love each other. And this is what people in love do."
She stared at him for a moment before slowly nodding her head.
Trailing his hand down her front, he reached between her legs, finding cum mixed with blood leaking out of her cunt. He twirled a finger at her entrance, his eyes on her face as she stifled a wince at his touch.
Good. She was learning.
He continued to play with their fluids, pushing two fingers inside of her and massaging her walls.
"This," he raised his fingers, showing her the white mixed with red. "This will stay between your legs at all times," he told her on a stern tone. "I want you to carry me around you wherever you go," he continued and her cheeks reddened as she dipped her chin in a quick nod. "If it leaks, you push it in," he said as he jammed his fingers inside her, pushing his cum back into her body. "But you must never, never, let any drop out. Understood?"
Her eyes were two big orbs as she looked at him bewildered, the words foreign to her ears. He knew he was going too far, but he didn't care. No, he didn't want to care. Not when she was his pet, and her only purpose was to serve for his pleasure. And it pleased him to have her marked like this—smelling of him and feeling him in her body long after he was gone.
"Yes," her whisper was barely audible, but it was enough to please him.
"Good," his lips pulled up in a twisted smile. Removing his fingers from her body once more, he brought them to her lips, urging her to open her mouth and suck them in. "Good girl," he praised when she did. "This is why I love you, pet," he added, and her features immediately lightened up. "You always listen to me."
She preened at his declaration and sucked his fingers clean. When she was done, he stepped back, an odd expression on his face as he took in her ravished appearance and the way she looked at him as if he could pluck the moon from the sky and give it to her. She was so taken with him, she quickly forgot all about her pain, and for once her obsequiousness struck a chord in him.
"Go clean yourself," he rasped harshly, turning so he could put his clothes back on.
He heard the rustle of sheets and the sound of the bathroom door closing, and only then did he let his true emotions reach the surface and infuse his features with an arrogant smirk.
Pulling a cigarette out of his pack, he lit it up, staring out the window as he inhaled deeply.
One step closer. He was one step closer.
And no one would stand in his way.
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