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Authors: Lily Harlem

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I arched into him and our chests met, mine cooling now and
the semen crusting and tugging at my skin. He deepened the kiss, letting out a
small moan, and I whimpered as his rough chin abraded mine.

What was I doing?

“No,” I said, shoving at his shoulders. “No, whores don’t
kiss. Get off me.”

He stared into my eyes, unblinking.

His cell rang.

Withdrawing from me and lifting up, he reached for it out of
his pants pocket and answered it in a language that sounded like the same
foreign language he’d used earlier as he’d come.

Watching his body unfold and his back straighten, I shifted
up on the sofa. My heart was still hammering and a wetness between my legs slid
onto my thighs. The couple on TV were really going for it. The sound was low so
their moans and shouts were muffled, he was ramming his dick into her pussy
each time the swing she was strapped to vaulted to him.

After a long conversation, Jovica finally finished his call
and tossed his phone on the sofa. Something in his expression told me the
exchange had not gone well. He leaned down and placed his thumb and fingers
either on side of my mouth. Squeezed so hard that I had no choice but to open
up.

“If I want to fucking kiss you I will, whore. You’re mine to
do whatever the hell I want with.” He ducked his head and plundered his tongue
between my lips.

I gasped and jerked as he filled my mouth with hard,
determined passion.

“Now lie over this table,” he said, releasing me. With one
deft movement, he swept the DVDs and other odds and ends off the table onto the
floor. They clattered and landed haphazardly. An ashtray spread its dusty
grime. “Get your slutty pussy in the air so I can fuck it.”

Scrabbling forward, I sprawled across the cool table. My
breasts squashed flat and my hands curled over the edge facing the TV. I didn’t
want to kiss him so this position, on my knees, ass up, was perfect; it was
this impersonal aspect of sex that excited me. The absolute absence of emotion
and connection of hearts and souls turned me on so damn much. I just wanted him
to fuck me, however he wanted to. If it gave me pleasure it would be a bonus on
top of payment. Or so I told myself, because I knew damn well being penetrated
by Jovica would give me extreme pleasure.

He sat on the sofa behind me and ran his fingers up the
backs of my calves, into the crease of my bent knees and onto the sensitive
skin of my thighs. A new couple on TV were reaching their climax. The camera
had panned in on their slickly swollen genitals.

My own sticky groin was aflame as Jovica deftly parted my
labia and drove inside me again. I bucked for more and he gave it, another
finger. “A whore’s cunt,” he muttered huskily, “so fucking slack.”

I groaned and rested my cheek on the tacky surface of the
table. My pussy wasn’t slack. I hadn’t actually been with a man for several
months. Not since I’d finally acknowledged my whore fantasy and set about
finding a suitable client. So it did occur to me, at this moment, that
accommodating Jovica’s big cock might be a struggle initially.

“You’re dripping,” he said, still thrusting his fingers. He
was right, my pussy was clicking wetly and moisture seeped down my leg in
trickles. “So fucking wet it’s like a tap has been turned on inside you.” He
churned his fingers, sweeping them around and flicking over my pulpy G-spot.

As I trembled for more I was aware of him moving over me,
his chest hair tickling my shoulder blades. “You’re the juiciest whore I’ve
ever been with,” he muttered by my ear. “Hot and juicy and stinking.”

I moaned and writhed, loving the dirty talk and the shunting
of his fingers.

“I’m going to fuck you now, fuck you until you can’t even
remember your own damn name.”

My pleasure was mounting but I wasn’t too far gone to forget
the one thing I’d insisted on. “Condom, please, condom.”

“Absolutely, you think I want your nasty germs on my dick,
huh?”

Chapter Four

 

Jovica removed his fingers and lifted from my back,
presumably to put on a condom. I shut my eyes and felt strangely disembodied
lying over the low table. I folded in on myself. It was as if I was just one
big pussy waiting for orgasm. Nothing, no one else existed. I was just a mass
of pulsing need waiting to be sated.

The touch of his cock at my entrance tugged me from my dazed
state. Shit, it was so wide, so dense.

Involuntarily, my pussy tensed. He made a low, deep-throated
grunt and pushed his glans into my entrance.

Whimpering at the burning stretch, which I knew was only
going to get more intense, I clawed the edge of the table and clenched my jaw.
Then in one smooth, determined glide, the steely length of him sank to the
hilt. I bucked and clamped around his thick girth, both adoring and fighting
the bone-hardness of his shaft.

“Ah yes,” he said on a long breath, gripping my hips with
his big, callus-ridden hands.

He pulled out, almost completely, then forged back in.

Within a minute he’d set up fast but measured strokes,
pounding ruthlessly against my cervix each time. It felt as though he were
trying to ram his cock up and out of my throat, penetrate right through my body
and come out the other end.

I struggled even to breathe each time he hit maximum depth,
and my thighs and chest bashed against the table. His fingers tightened and he
upped the pace. It was already fast, now it was animalistic, wild, and I
couldn’t help my guttural groans of edgy pleasure. His cock ramming over my
G-spot so accurately, so hard was building me up to an almighty climax.

“Ah fuck, yes, you dirty fucking bitch,” he groaned,
releasing one of my hips and snatching up a handful of my hair. He pulled,
tugging hard so my neck and back arched almost to the snapping point.

“Oh God, yes,” I cried out unashamedly as this new position
slid the mushroomed head of his cock even more firmly over my G-spot.

“You like it hard and rough, don’t you, whore?” he snarled.
“Am I doing it hard enough? Am I?”

“Yes, yes, oh—” I reached my peak. Staring at the TV screen
at an image of a black cock penetrating a woman’s asshole, I came. My pussy
plunged into violent contractions as my deliciously deep G-spot orgasm ravaged
me.

“Dirty bitch of a whore, you think it’s okay to come, do
you, when I’m paying you to give me pleasure?” His grip on my hair tightened.
My scalp complained bitterly and I yelped.

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll gag you.”

I clamped my mouth shut, trying to contain my gasps, but I
could do nothing about the shudders of delight ricocheting up my spine and
tugging at the walls of my pussy.

He withdrew and released my hair. My forehead fell to the
table. In place of his cock his hands were on me, all over me, kneading my
buttocks, roaming down the cleft to my anus, dipping into my syrupy wetness.

“Now you’re gonna take it like her,” he said.

I presumed he was talking about the porn lady who was now
screaming for more. A flutter of nerves twitched my muscles; there was an
element of flight mixed in with the lust now. Did I really want to lose my anal
virginity to a rough, filthy-talking man who was paying to fuck me up the ass?

Hell yeah!

Which made flight not an option. My whore ego, my inner
self, which wanted this debasing, this undignified corruption, made me stay. I
had to see it through.

He was circling the tight pucker of my darkest hole,
spreading my natural lubrication around it. I tried not to move, but as he
increased the pressure at the very center and probed inside I couldn’t help but
jerk away.

“Keep fucking still.” There was a hint of amusement in his
voice, as though he knew he was pushing me, taking me to the edge. “This is
just my finger. In a minute you’re going to take my big, fat dick, so you
better get used to it, whore.” He backed up his words by adding another finger
and pushing in until I could feel his thick knuckles on my butt.

“Oh God,” I groaned. He was wriggling his fingers inside me,
stroking my internal walls and creating a sensation I’d never felt before.

“You’ve got a greedy little ass,” he said. “It wants me,
it’s clenching around my fingers.”

Suddenly the stretch increased, massively, the burn of pain
like a long leather whip cracking right over my hole.

“Ah, ah…oh please, I—” I cried, shifting on the table,
trying to move away from the bite. He was scissoring his fingers, opening my
tight band of muscle wide and spreading my copious lube inside me. The sinful
nip of pain was as unbearable as it was delicious.

“Will you shut the fuck up.” He pulled his fingers out. Next
thing I knew he was leaning over my face. “Open.” As he said it he rammed my
lacy black panties into my mouth. “Keep them there until I tell you otherwise.
I will not have nosy neighbors turning up to see what your fucking wailing is
all about, whore.”

The panties were damp and the tacky cream that had leaked
from my pussy earlier pressed onto my palate. But I was grateful for them, for
although they were uncomfortable and stimulated my gag reflex, I knew I would
not be able to help but cry out when he plunged his big cock into my little
ass.

And his cock was there now, waiting, priming.

I tried to loosen my sphincter, willed some kind of
relaxation, but it didn’t happen. I was too turned-on, too terrified and way
too far gone on this undignified ride to spectacular satisfaction. Eagerness
and the instinctual fear of pain collided in the most corrupt of emotions.

He pushed forward and the head of his cock popped into me
with ease despite my clamped anus. My soft, pliable body was no match to his
hard, strong one.

I moaned around the panties, long and deep, trying to focus
on the pleasure that skirted the pain so closely.

“Ah, so fucking tight, bitch, you’re going to snap my dick.”

He wrapped his hands over my hips once more and impaled me.
Not fast, quite slow, as if drawing out the pleasure of the stinging stretch.

He rode his cock farther and deeper. My whole body trembled,
sweat prickled on my skin. The sensation was so carnal, and the higher he went
the more chock full I became. Suddenly I had the urge to defecate and writhed
on the table in panic. Twisting, trying to look at him. Trying to get away.

Oh God!

A firm pressure landed in the center of my back. His splayed
hand. “Keep still,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “You’ve nearly taken all of
me. It’s only my cock you feel.”

I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut. Another few seconds and
the urge to push left me and in its place was an overwhelming sensation of
fullness.

“Ah yes, you’re so fucking horny,” he said as finally his
hairy thighs butted up against the backs of mine. “And you’ve taken every damn
inch of my dick.”

Biting down on the panties, I groaned and clenched my fists.
I felt so invaded, consumed, violated.

It was without a doubt the single most erotic moment of my
life.

“Now I’m gonna give it to you, whore.” As he spoke he pulled
out so the ridge beneath his glans sat just inside my sphincter. “Hold on for
the ride.”

Bracing my spine, I grappled for the edge of the table. I’d
seen his damn fine muscles—if he decided to unleash his strength I was in
trouble.

He tunneled in, gliding through my greasily lubed asshole
until his balls slapped against my labia.

“Ah…mmph…ah,” I managed around the lace.

“Take it, bitch.”

Then he was hammering, taking what he wanted. Gone was the
slow ride. He was collecting his goods. His purchase. And with each ferocious
stroke I was getting higher on endorphins. The burn was exquisite. Nerves I
didn’t even know I owned were being pounded and stimulated. I was going to come
again. It was building, great big vats of pressure growing deep inside me. My
greedy ass reaching out for the climax, demanding it.

“I’m coming, I’m coming in your slutty fucking whore’s ass,”
he hissed.

In one final ram, he penetrated me deeper than I would ever
have thought possible. His thick, taut cock stretched me to a point of
exquisite agony and I joined him in that blissful moment of climax.

Cock pulsing, he dropped his full weight over me, bashing
the breath from my lungs.

I grunted and reeled through the wonderful waves of spasms
and contractions. My whole universe had become his cock in my slutty ass. It,
we, were all that existed. My vision blurred, my body buzzed and my ass gripped
him as though it would never let the hell go.

“Ah fuck, that’s intense,” he gasped, his breaths hot and
hard in my ear. Fortunately, he lifted his weight.

I couldn’t answer around the panties.

He reached up and tugged them. As they dragged out my dry
tongue stuck to my lips then the roof of my mouth.

“You’ve got one fine whore’s ass,” he said, nipping my
shoulder and kissing the sore spot he’d made. “Really fine.”

Moaning and gasping, I shifted beneath him. I didn’t want
any postcoital sentiments and considering the other foul things he’d said,
praising my “fine whore’s ass” was scarily complimentary.

This bit, the end of the transaction, appealed to me as much
as the rest, if not more. Now I would be paid and discarded. I wanted to revel
in the moment of being nothing more than a sexual object.

He lifted and pulled slowly away from my body—inch by
slippery, heated inch. I couldn’t help the clenching of my sphincter and it
revealed to me every ridge and thick vein of his shaft as he smoothed over it.

Finally, he tugged out. “Get dressed,” he said harshly, his
body heat leaving me completely.

Scrabbling sideways, I landed on all fours and crawled to my
clothes. There was no point putting on my vest top, it was in shreds. Breaths
still coming fast and sharp, I shrugged into my denim jacket and fastened it
over my crudely abused chest. The cool buttons pressed on my sweat-damp flesh and
every rapid breath I took squeezed coarse denim against my taut nipples.

Unfurling my panties, I sat on my scorched, tender rear and
slid them on.

Jovica stepped into his boxer briefs and stood watching me.
There was a rise of color on his cheekbones. His chest was lifting and falling
briskly. His eyes were narrowed and a sheen of sweat sparkled on his brow.

“My hundred,” I said, poking my feet into my scrappy skirt
and tugging the tight material up and over my hips.

He glanced down at his cell on the sofa. “I guess the hour
is just about over and I’m not going to get it up again in the next five.”

He reached for a cigarette and lit it as if he had all the
time in the world.

“So pay me.”

He inhaled deeply, blew out the smoke then balanced the thin
end between his lips. Stooping, he sought his wallet and flipped it open.

I stood and slipped on my shoes. My body was trembling, from
the aftermath of the climax and from the thrill of being paid for letting him
fuck me in my mouth, my cunt and up my ass. It was a floaty, dreamy sensation.

He tugged out a wad of notes. “Here,” he said around the
cigarette.

Stepping up to him on weak knees, I snatched the money.
Counted it and shoved it into my front breast pocket.

Our gazes connected for the briefest of seconds, then I
strode past him. After four steps my heels unbalanced me and my foot twisted. I
stumbled and fell into the door at the same time as he grabbed my upper arm.

I cried out as a knife-sharp pain seared around bones and
tendons in my left ankle. But my cry faltered as he spun me fast and banged my
back against the door, whooshing the breath from my lungs.

Gasping, I looked up at him, blinking rapidly as smoke
filled the narrow space between us.

Releasing his grip on my left arm, he plucked the roll-up
from his mouth and ground it against the door, just to the left of my head. He
let the crinkled stub fall to the floor.

“You wanna be careful,” he said in a strangely quiet voice.
“You might get hurt.”

His eyes were on fire, the dark-brown iris ringed with black,
his pupils wide and glittering. Each untamed brow and long eyelash was clear to
me as was a miniscule freckle below the tiny inner curve of his right eye,
where tears would come from. He pressed his lips together so tight they paled,
and his nostrils flared with each breath. I could see inside his nostrils, the
little straight black hairs growing there.

He was so damn close and so damn raw.

I gulped. My heart tripped. This contact, this expression
was not only new it screamed danger. A sudden sense of cold dread seared
through my veins. My precarious position had just soared to flight level. Fight
was not an option. The size of him, the stored-up power vibrating through his
body was terrifying but also, and I hardly dared admit it, exhilarating. In fact,
if I hadn’t felt so damn scared I would have paused to examine why this
white-knuckle moment was making me buzz again.

“Whore,” he muttered, the left side of his mouth twitching.
“You’ve enjoyed your work tonight, haven’t you?”

“I… I have to go.”

He was roaming his hands over my shoulders, my chest and my
neck. He cupped my cheek and nape, held my head painfully tight.

He kissed me.

I wouldn’t accept it. I clamped my mouth and fought him off
with my fists, but it was like trying to move a slab of concrete. He was
unbudgeable, his weight twice mine and his muscles toned and strong.

He plundered his tongue in and swept around. His lips were
hard and ferocious against mine. He moved his hands down the channel of my
neck, to my throat.

I dropped my weight. In some corner of my mind I imagined
sinking to the floor and crawling away. It was a mistake. As my body slid the
grip on my throat stiffened.

Tightened.

BOOK: DangeroustoKnow
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