Love Is Strange (I Know... #2) (4 page)

“Yes, more,” I said before I could stop myself, even as the burn brought tears to my eyes.

“What did you say?” he asked, thrusting deeper until I didn't know if I could take it. His thumb wasn't anywhere near as thick or big as his cock, but at that moment, it felt like it. It felt like I was overflowing, even though I wasn't anywhere close to being full. I was still so empty. I licked my lips, wishing his cock was in my mouth as he finger fucked me.

“I...” I trailed off, not sure what he would do if I gave the wrong answer.

“You want more, baby?” he asked, thrusting his thumb in and out, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh below my lower back. I'd never known I was sensitive there, but as he touched me it felt like a million sparks were going off under my skin. “How much more do you want?” He pulled his thumb away and I moaned and shook my head. No. I didn't want him to leave me empty. I could feel myself throbbing, vibrating. “Two fingers?” he asked and I could hear the cruelty in his voice. “Four?”

“Hmm,” I hummed, because it sounded like heaven and hell to be stretched like that.

“I bet you could take my whole hand,” he whispered and I could hear the evil behind the words. I couldn't imagine how that would feel. I couldn't imagine him destroying me like that. He knew it would be painful. He knew it would hurt me and make me scream and maybe even bleed, but he didn't care.

“No, God no,” I moaned, wondering how it would be possible.

“God?” he asked, and I could practically hear the cynical curl of his upper lip. “I'll be your god.” Then he forced two fingers inside of me, the dry pressure making me sob into the pillow. The fabric pressed to my cheek was damp with my saliva and my tears but he didn't care. “But I won't have mercy on you.” He ground his hand into me, forcing himself deep. “I want to see you gaping open like that,” he whispered. “I want to see how pretty you are on the inside.”

I felt my throat closing up, the fear rising in my chest so quickly that I felt like I couldn't breathe. I wondered how it would feel to be ruined like that, to be so destroyed, and yet I'd still be crying for more. I knew myself. I knew that once he was inside of me, I'd want more, no matter how much it hurt. I made a strangled noise as he thrust harder and harder, the burn turning into a friction that felt just as good as it didn't.

“You make it so fucking hard to play with you,” he said, his voice just as rough as his touch. “I'm about to come and I haven't even fucked you yet. What's the fun in that?” he asked, his words jagged and pointed. Then pulled his fingers way and spanked my ass again with his open palm, harder than before. I screamed and screamed as he hit me again and again. My abused flesh stung and prickled but I didn't tell him to stop. I just took it. I took it, again and again. Then his angry tantrum ended, just as abruptly as it began. I felt his weight shift and then leave the mattress and I turned my head to watch him. He was still wearing loose gray sweat pants and I could see his erection straining the front. I knew it must be difficult for him to ignore it, but he did. He was more focused on making me suffer.

He crouched down, the muscles in his bare chest flexing with the movement and reached under the bed. I heard the familiar slide of the leather bag across the floor and I knew what he was going for. In the years that he'd been gone, I'd built up an assortment of toys. There was the typical dildos, plugs, vibrators, and restraints that anyone could find at any decent sex shop. I'd added to the bag since he'd been home, but the collection had grown from the standard brightly colored latex toys. The bag was fuller, but with odd things that didn't necessarily belong in the bedroom. A coil of hemp rope and a coil of nylon rope. A length of small metal chain. An old wooden spoon with a long handle. Leather gloves. A white tube of plumbing pipe. He had a never-ending imagination when it came to sexual deviance. He'd had years alone to think of all the dirty things that he wanted to try. I doubt we'd even cracked the surface. There was no end to his appetite, but with him, there wasn't an end to mine either. I would do anything for him. Well, almost anything. And he knew it. He dug around in the bag for a moment and then flicked his eyes up to meet mine. I turned my head away, pressing my mouth to the pillow. I bit down on the fabric as stood again. I didn't want to see what he had. I wanted it to be a surprise.

I felt the warm slick of the lubricant and I bit down harder, trying to prepare myself for what he was going to do. But it still felt shocking when he pushed the rounded tip of the plug into me. I knew it was the bigger plug by the way it stretched me, so slowly because he wanted to torture me. He wanted me to feel all of it as it entered me and I did. I jerked my hips, wanting it inside as quickly as possible but he didn't let me have it. He teased, rolling it in a circular motion and stretching me wider, making me whine. I dug my fingernails into my palms as he pressed it deeper and then pulled back, then did it all over again.

“Don't,” I managed to say, even though it was probably a mistake to try to talk. “It hurts.”

“You like when it hurts,” he said. “You like it when I rip you open.”

“No,” I said pitifully but he laughed, a low sinister chuckle that made my toes clench. “I don't.”

“You want to bleed, baby?” he asked, then thrust the plug all the way inside until the flared molded bottom was flush against me, making me call out in a combination of pain and unbridled lust. My eyes went blurry and I bit down harder on the pillowcase. It was big and the fit was snug, too snug. I could feel myself slowly accepting it, but the position he had me in left me too open, too exposed. There was no way to temper the feelings. It felt too intense. My breathing was getting more and more shallow and my thoughts were starting to dull, but the intensity was building low in my belly. I could feel drops of my arousal slowly rolling down my thighs toward my knees. My fingernails dug in my palms so hard they could've drawn blood. But that wasn't the kind of blood he wanted. He dropped to the bed beside me and I forced myself to look at him. Tears were running down my cheeks and my hair was sticking to my face. I bet I looked terrible. But that's the way he liked me. All fucked up and crying over him. Wanting him like an addict.

He stretched out beside me, propping his head on his hand. He ran his eyes down the length of me, his eyes darkening. He ran the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip and I remembered how that tongue had just been against me. I remembered how it felt. I shivered and then I moaned lightly when my muscles tightened around the plug. I still felt full to the brim, but the feeling was starting to subside. I was starting to want more again. More of him. More torture. Just... more. He reached down into the waistband of his pants and stroked himself lightly, his eyes returning to mine. He wasn't going to give me what I wanted just yet.

“Remember how it used to be,” he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. I didn't like to think about the past and he knew that. But I knew immediately what he was talking about. He was talking about Austin. He was talking about the little dark house on the tree-lined street and the things he had done to me there. I shook my head, trying to force the memories, sharp like shards of a broken mirror, out of my brain. I didn't want to think about those times. I wanted to think about the then and now, about how he was in
my
bed, in
my
house. How he was not the same Elliot as he was then. Before he was a stranger. Now he's
my
Elliot. “I used to be able to play for hours,” he said, watching for my reaction.

“I remember,” I whispered hoarsely. My throat was dry and I swallowed, but it didn't help. I wanted his cock in my mouth, I decided. I wanted to suck him deep until I made myself choke. That would shut him up and make us both happy.

“You're trying to ruin me, woman,” he said, moving his hand over his cock. I can only watch the movement through the fabric of his pants. He won't let me see him yet. I think about begging him to see it, begging him to let me watch him jacking off in front of me like I wouldn't suck him or fuck him until he came as hard as he ever had. My body clenched around the plug again and my skin tingled and itched under the drying trails of arousal marking my thighs. I wanted him to fuck me, more than anything. I wanted to hear his moans and I wanted him to lose control.

“Punish me, then.” I'm pushing it, but I can't stop myself. He snorted out a little laugh and shakes his head. He wasn't going to give me what I wanted. Not then, anyway.

“It's getting late,” he said, his voice thick.

“Hmm?” I murmured, not comprehending what he was saying. I was too distracted to think straight.

“It's almost 7:30,” he said, his hand still working over his erection. Slowly. Methodically.

“I don't care,” I said, because at that moment, being late for work was the furthest thing from my mind. “It hurts, El.
Please
.”

“I don't like it when you leave,” he said. “I want you to stay with me.”

“I can't,” I said, my hips jerking involuntarily. “Nothing can change. Everything has to stay the same. Otherwise people will start to suspect things.”

“I don't give a fuck about other people,” he said, his breath catching in his throat when he made a sharp tug on his cock. “I only care about you and me.”

“Let me go,” I whisper. “Untie me.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked, furrowing his brow. He looked so good to me, I realized, even thought my haze. He'd always been good-looking but now it was painful how attracted I was to him. I wanted to run my hands over his face and pulls his hair and bite his lips and suck on his tongue. I wanted to ride him while I stared into his eyes. I wanted all of his wildness and weirdness and intensity focused only on me.

“I want you to come inside me,” I said and it sounded so simple. “I'll do whatever you want me to do before I go.” He stared at me, his eyelids heavy but his eyes still sharp. He pulled his hand out of his pants, leaving himself hard and unsatisfied.

“No,” he shook his head slowly. He sat up slowly, his beautiful body moving in the best ways. I watched him because I couldn't stop myself. He leaned over me, his skin pressing against mine. He was so warm and I moved toward him involuntarily, wanting more contact. He fumbled for something and then pulled back and away from me. I whined again because it wasn't fair. He kept giving me a little bit and then a little more and then taking it all away. He turned back to me, holding my phone. He swiped it and unlocked it. I didn't care that he knew my password, I cared more about what he was doing.

“Elliot,” I said, trying to force myself to be firm with him. It was hard with my plugged ass in the air and my arms tied, but he had to know I didn't want to play anymore. Well, I did, but I wanted it now. I was impatient. He slid his hands under me and forced me upright, so that I was sitting on my haunches. The world went on its side for a moment as I got used to it. I was dizzy as the blood rushed back to my brain and I gulped in a big breath of air. He slid behind me and pressed his chest to my back and supported me with his arm around my waist. I dropped my head back onto his shoulder, not knowing what he was doing but not fighting him either. I felt the cool glass of my phone pressed against my ear a second before I heard a dial tone.

“Call off,” he said, his lips brushing my other ear.

“What? I can't,” I hissed but then a click sounded and someone answered on the other end.

“Good morning, this is Amber. How can I direct your call?” the bright voice of the office secretary chirped in my ear. It always amazed me how awake she could sound before nine in the morning, which is when I usually fully woke up from my daze. Those days, being with Elliot all night, I was sleeping less but getting better rest than I had in years.

“Amber, it's... uh...” I trailed off when he dropped his hand to slide a finger against my clit. Then he bumped his hips against my ass, nudging at the plug that was snug inside of me. “It's Joan Vasquez,” I said forcing the words out although my brain was going blank. “Is Frank in?”

“No, he's not usually in for another fifteen minutes,” she chirped back, her voice cutting through the lusty mist that was taking over my brain. Elliot's hands were roaming again, squeezing and cupping my tits and pinching my nipples. I wanted to smack his face but I couldn't. I was at his mercy, like always. “Do you want to leave a message?”

“Can you uh, just let him know that I won't be in today,” I said, the words hitching in my throat as his erection against my bound wrists. I stretched my fingers out, trying to touch him, but he moved away from my grasp. “I'm really... I woke up feeling really bad. I think I might be getting the flu,” I said, pushing out the words so I could end the call as soon as possible.

“Oh! That's too bad,” Amber cooed and I could tell she didn't care. This was no big deal, I told myself. This was not suspicious, I told myself. People took off all the time. Nobody was looking at me, not even the police. I wasn't a threat to anybody. I was just like any other woman working a boring, nondescript job in the middle of a big city. Anonymous. I had no family here, barely any friends. No one was paying attention to me. But I still knew not to get too comfortable. To keep my head down as much as I could and make people think I was normal. Thankfully, I've always been a great liar.

“Can you let him know?” I asked. “I'll also... I'll also send um....” I bit down on my lip and closed my eyes as he tweaked my nipple, hard. He wasn't making it easy on me, but when had he ever mad things easy? I was used to it, but it still took me a minute to get back on track.