Sexy as Hell Box Set (77 page)

He didn’t stand a chance of fixing me, but still, I nodded, quickly, before I changed my mind. “Okay.”

He stroked the back of his index finger down my cheek. “Close your eyes and tell me, that might be easier.”

It might be, but there was no easy way to say this to Victor. It was something that I’d hated with every part of myself. Not the act, but the soul-aching intimateness of it with someone I hadn’t want to be intimate with. Being the one licked was considerably more invasive that being the licker, so I’d discovered.

“He did the same to me,” I blurted.

“Well, that’s okay,” Victor said, a small huff of air washing over my cheek.

He’d sighed. Was it relief? Had I actually said something that hadn’t shocked him to
Hell and back?

It seemed I had, so, suddenly braver, I went on, “They made me bark and beg and pant and finally, spread my arse cheeks. He rimmed me then, not making me come, because they never did that, just licking and prodding and poking till they got bored. And all the time the door had been open, and if only I could have pushed them off I could have maybe escaped, but I didn’t. They were big and fast, and the things they’d threatened to do to me if I even tried to escape, they—” A sob threatened to burst free, but I held it in by pursing my lips. I felt my cheeks heat and redden.

“Shh, shh, they’re not here now, it’s just us, they won’t hurt you ever again.” Victor pressed his lips to my temple. “You’re safe with me, I promise, so let’s do this, let’s get it out of your head and face it together.”

I meant what I’d said. Zara was safe with me. I could look after her for the rest of her life. Treat her like a princess, a precious possession if she’d let me. She never needed to work again, clean up or lift a finger. I would adore her. Make sure her every need was met, in and out of the bedroom. Spend the rest of my life making up for the fact that she’d had such a shit-awful time and had been dragged up instead of raised, and that she’d had a non-existent father and a good-for-nothing mother who hadn’t even bothered to look for her missing teenager in an entire three weeks.

If only she’d let me be that person—the one person to get inside more than just her body.

“You need to take your top off,” she said, pushing away from me. “We were both naked.” She went on to tell me what they’d done to her, what they’d said.

“Okay.” I could do that. It was cold now, but that was a minor detail.

Zara pushed at her
jeans as I dragged my sweater over my head. Even in this foul place with disgusting memories swirling around her she still looked beautiful. Her fragility made her more so, her tempered movements adding to her grace. The slight tremor in her body and the goose bumps on her skin made me want to rage, beat my chest, shout my anger to the heavens that those bastards had felt the need to hurt her.

But I couldn’t let those murderous thoughts hold me hostage now, for I knew they would if I gave them permission to. I’d have to deal with them another time. Right now, Zara needed my full attention. I had to be calm, controlled, able to deliver what she sought without being consumed with the need to set out on my own mission of justice
and vengeance.

She pushed her hair over her shoulders and stared at me, chin tilted slightly.

“Dogs don’t stand on two legs,” I said, pointing at the floor. “Get down, bitch.”

She crumpled immediately, dropping to the floor and hanging her head low.

“Now act happy,” I said. “I’m your owner, your master, and I’ve just come home. Act happy or I’ll kick you—that’s what happens to bad dogs, they get kicked.”

She began to move, slowly, on hands and knees, crawling around my bare legs, curling her body against me.

I stared at the way her long dark hair fanned out over her back and slipped down her sides. And watched the swaying curve of her buttocks, which were small and tight, the perfect handful.

“Bark,” I said, nudging her with my knee. “Bark and wag your tail.” Shit, was I going too far? It was what she’d told me they’d made her do. I was just trying to stick to the script as far as I knew. Was I doing okay? Damn it.

“Woof, woof,” she said in a strangled kind of whisper. “Woof, woof.”

My heart was breaking. How the fuck could they have done this to her? A pitifully young, desperately scared woman? “And your tail, wag your fucking tail, bitch.”

Zara hesitated but then twitched her arse from side to side, the movement making her hair slide further from her back, exposing the pale skin on her shoulders.

“Fucking hell, a bit more enthusiasm would be good,” I said, slapping her arse—not hard, but enough to send a ringing smack around the lean-to.

“Woof, woof,” she said with more gusto and shook her tailbone with increased vigour.

How long did she need me to do this? I had no idea. Had they gone at it for hours or just minutes? Her knees must be getting so sore on the floor, and her hands cold and painful. But she didn’t seem to notice, she was still curling around me, like a dog would, rubbing herself against my legs, making feeble barking and whimpering noises.

I glanced at my cock, hanging limply—this really wasn’t doing it for me. Time to move it on and take Zara somewhere happy and sensual, squash down, break those memories with something new and more powerful.

Bending, I stroked her head and then patted her shoulder. “Good dog. Now turn around, let me see your little doggy arse.”

She stilled, quieted.

I knew it wasn’t because she had any sense of embarrassment at showing me her anus, she’d done that before—bloody hell, she’d order
ed me to fuck her there, shove into her good and proper and not stop until we’d both come. No, she wasn’t embarrassed, she was wrestling with her past, trying to let it surface so that she could tell it to fuck right off, forever.

“Good dogg
y,” I said again, and stroked down her back in long, sweeping caresses. “Good little bitch.”

Her skin was cool, so was mine; night had brought with it not just darkness but also a chill in the air. I suppressed a shiver and squatted down behind Zara. Like before, I grimaced at the feel of sharp grit and damp muck on my knees.

“You have to stay still while I sniff your arse,” I said, gripping her hips. “And you should, because dirty old dogs like having their arses sniffed. Keep still.” I’d managed to inject some harshness into my voice; I hoped it was enough, I had no more to give in the pretend-bastard department.

Zara remained quiet and still, her legs slightly parted but not enough for me to see her intimately, even if it had been bright daylight.

I kissed her buttock, nipped it slightly with my teeth and heard her gasp. In big, curving caresses, I shifted her arse cheeks, knowing that the cool air would be washing over her hot, intimate places.

Leaning forward, I sniffed noisily, over-dramatically, the way she had when snuffling at my legs. It was obviously one of the things she needed to revisit, the sniffing thing.

She smelt of Zara, sweet spice and the bath bubbles from the hotel. I kissed as I breathed deep, travelling down between her cheeks, taking my time, enjoying the feel of her tender flesh on my tongue.

My cock was stiffening again, how could it not? A naked Zara before me, offered up, opening up. I sought out her pussy, pleased when a warm wetness coated my fingers. Was she enjoying me doing this to her? Was it working? Had she been able to push those bastards aside and be in this moment with me, and me alone?

I eased my fingers further into her hot channel.

“Ah, oh, oh…” she said. “Yes, yes.”

“Don’t talk, bark,” I said, hating myself for saying it and not sure whether she still wanted me to be in role. This was going well, I was sure of it. Why would she be this wet if it wasn’t?”

She groaned, rocked back onto me. Barked twice.

Oh, yes, she wanted it.

I pushed in higher, curled my fingers over the ridged, pulpy patch of skin that was her G-spot and set up a firm stimulation.

A long, low groan rattled from her and echoed around the lean-to.

My cock
thickened, reaching full hardness again. Damn, she was so fucking sexy when she just let it roll out like that. Spine-tingling sexy, cock-stiffening horny. I kissed, licked, laved over her buttocks. Dipped lower, to her pussy, dragged my tongue around the base of my fingers as I buried them deep.

This was the nearest I’d got to really feasting on her cunt, and I
licked and nuzzled, wishing she was on her back and spread open, but still, I was happy to take what I could.

My balls were tightening, my cock bobbing, tapping against my stomach in my stooped position. Lust was coiling in my belly. I wanted to fuck. I’d only just come, hard and fast, yet once more, fucking was beginning to own my thoughts.

“Dirty dog,” I managed. “You dirty dog, you want it doggy style, don’t you?” I had no idea if that was what she wanted to hear or what she wanted to do, but I’d said it anyway.

She moaned, jostled forward, then, as she shifted backwards, I placed the tip of my tongue over her anus.

She froze and pulled in a deep breath that she held.

I kept up my assault on her G-spot. Her pussy was clenched around my fingers, cream flowing thick and fast now. I didn’t think she was far off coming.

“Bark,” I said, then returned my attention to her anus, flicking my tongue over the small rosebud. The textured skin was tight and quivering.

She
gave a few feeble barks but stopped when I stabbed the tip of my tongue at the centre of her hole. Far from feeling like we were being dirty, this felt like we were being as close as we could be. She was letting me kiss her, lick her in her most secret place, and not only that, a closely guarded memory was being strangled, I hoped, with each sacred lave of my tongue.

They’d never let her come, so she’d told me. Well, I would. That would make this all about pleasure; demons hated pleasure, they enjoyed humiliation and pain of the bad sort. Pleasure, bliss and safety would send those demons running
back to Hell.

“Come,” I whispered against her skin. “Come for me, my love.”

“Ah, oh, oh, God, Victor,” she said, shaking, twisting, trembling.

I stroked her G-spot harder and again lapped at her hole.

“Oh, yes, yes,” she cried. “Victor!”

As she’d said my name her pussy contracted. Pulsing around me, squeezing me tight. A fresh gush of her cum flooded onto my fingers.

“Victor,” she said on a pant of expired breath. “Oh, Victor, yes, yes, thank you.”

Thank you? Had it worked? Had I done everything she needed me to?

I kissed her buttock, nipped it again. My cock was ready to burst. I needed to be in her.

Now.

Keeping my fingers lodged in her pussy, I straightened so I was kneeling behind her. I put the tip of my dick on her arsehole.

“Can I?” I asked, my voice strained and every ounce of self-control holding me back from plunging deep.

“Yes, do it, make it new for me,” she said.

With my free hand I scooped up her natural lube, coated my cock and
slowly sank into her snug back passage. Her sphincter eased open, and I kept on going, the elastic band of her anus hugging the base of my cock when I reached full depth.

She threw back her head and groaned.

I grabbed her shoulder, my hand getting lost in her hair, and released a guttural grunt.

Then it was there; cum boiled up from my balls. I didn’t even need to shunt in and out, just being in Zara, like this, with her connected to me mentally as well as physically had me coming in great big waves, filling her up, flooding into her.

It kept on bursting from me, as if my body were truly trying to get inside hers and stay there. Perhaps I would stay—being in Zara made me feel whole, as if I were doing something worthwhile. Living how I wanted to be living, regardless of what the rest of the world thought of her, and me being with her.

She was mine, mine to love and mine to fix.

Of course, I couldn’t stay inside Zara’s arse indefinitely. I had to withdraw, dress and then help her back to the hotel.

“Are you okay?” I asked for what seemed like the hundredth time as I shut the door, encasing us in the privacy of our room.

“Yes, I just, you know, need a minute.” She pointed at the bathroom and then walked over to it, a little unsteadily I thought, and locked herself inside.

I moved to the mirror, stared at myself, fearing that I’d see one of those boys looking back at me. I, too, was a man who’d made a woman act like a dog in a dirty shed, treated her like one too and then fucked her arse.

It wasn’t something I ever thought I would do in all of my life. I wasn’t proud of it, but what I was proud of, if I’d been as successful as I’d hoped I’d been, was that I’d helped the woman I loved break the backbone of some of her ghosts. I imagined those closet skeletons, their spine bones cracked, making them a misshapen parody of their former selves, a wonky, less rigid loom of memories that didn’t look so frightening anymore. If Zara saw them the same way, she’d see that she’d broken not only them, but their hold on her—even if only a little bit. Now, if she could make those bones crumble completely, that would be something. I wanted her to stare down at a pile of dust, easily blown away into the four winds, carried off and scattered elsewhere, never able to reform into what they had once been.