Under the sweltering heat I can feel my coveralls begin to stick to me. A sheen of sweat coat my dark skin as I thank the dark mother for my upward reaching curls crowning from my head and messily tied into a bun. Hours of grueling work in this heat had me feeling resentful. However, being the only female among the other laborers, I made it my business to step up. They never made me feel unwelcomed. They appreciated my hard work ethic and tenacity. I was after all, the daughter of a marine. Therefore, I had a lot to live up to. My father and I would spend hours in the back yard sparring. Instilling fear into the neighbors who took his vigorous training as child abuse. They’d peep through the cracks of their neighboring white picket fences. Clutching their pearls, they'd squawk and complain to their husbands about the disturbing screams.
"Don't be weak!" My father would yell after knocking wind from me with a powerful blow. I'd struggle to my feet with him towering above me. "Society does not see women like you as dainty princesses to protect. Best learn to protect yourself, cause no one else will. Now get the fuck up!" His words would echo in my mind every day. Whenever my back felt sore from a week of twelve-hour shifts, I’d hear his voice. Or when I noticed my hard work failing to provide the results or appreciation I had anticipated. Not a day went by that my father wasn't proven right. I was no princess nor was I seen as such and I had to work my ass off for a fraction of what my labor was worth. Being battle ready and prepared to defend myself was paramount, because in my reality, no one else would. So here I was under near hundred-degree weather, working my ass off with my blue-collar brethren.
Some yuppie in a log cabin, nestled in the woods on the edge of a lake’s shore, hired us to build what I was told would be a pool house in his backyard. Noon came and we took a much needed lunch break. That's when he decided to grace us with his presence. When usually he delegated from afar. In black jeans, a black blazer, navy blue button down and black dress shoes, Mr. Flynn strutted into the work site. Chestnut hair pulled into a low tight bun. A jaw line squared and accompanied by a sharp nose and fine lips. Once close enough, I saw his eyes. A pale winter green that felt unsettling to look at. Like looking into the eyes of a snake. He stood there and took a gander at the near finished product then at his paid laborers. We sat together in a huddle on a dug-up dirt patch.
"And so the Prince decides to grace us with his presence." I hear myself mutter.
"Very nice, gentlemen-" His eyes leered over to me. "And lady." I rolled my eyes. Fucking pretty boy. I thought. A small smirk crept on his face as I did not make my disdain a secret. He offered to let us eat our lunch in his lavish home to take a break from the searing sun. All but I accepted at first. Something about the gesture made me feel pitiful. As if he saw us as charity. Yeah, the job is filthy but it’s still a job and it paid well. And I am no one’s charity. After some pestering from the rest of the gang, I caved and followed them into the house too big for one person. Enjoying the central air, we sat at Mr. Flynn's dining table. They all engaged in locker room talk while I silently listened with a smile.
"You're one sick mother fucker you know that?" I teased Noah.
“What? She was legal!”
“Oh yeah she’s legal. In Japan.” I mocked. The sound of bellowing laughter echoed throughout the kitchen.
“You’re always bustin’ my balls, D.J.” Noah chuckled.
“Nah, that’s your wife’s job.” I gave my friend a playful punch to the arm.
“Would any of you like a drink?” Mr. Flynn interjected. A brief silence befell us and we exchanged looks.
“Uh, water will work just fine Mr. Flynn.” Noah croaked.
“I rather have a Guinness with a shot.” I heard myself mutter, not realizing I was heard loud and clear. My co-workers chuckled a bit and to my surprise Mr. Flynn gave something of a subdued laugh. A lopsided smirk crept on his face coupled with an arch brow. Attraction started to grow like a small tendril in the pit of my stomach. Thankfully, I am the master of deception and veiled my slight interest with a bored disposition. He took swift steps to his double door fridge and brought back a case of Guinness to the dining table. With a beer opener handy, Mr. Flynn popped the cap before offering me the bottle. I hesitated. Drinking on the job is not the best idea. However, I’m a sucker for a cold sweaty bottle of Guinness. Especially when served by a man as visually stunning as, him. Mr. Flynn’s smile broadened once I reached for the bottle.
“Thanks.” I said, well aware my tone came off more dismissive than thankful. He didn’t let go of the bottle right then. Instead, he uncurled a single finger to gently stroke my grimy hand with it. A shiver slithered down my spine and I visibly squirmed. Something of a satisfied grunt sounded from him and he wore a knowing smirk on his face.
“You’re welcome, Miss. I’m sorry but I can’t provide you with a shot.” His baritone voice smooth and sultry like honey, his tone playful. Made me wonder what he sounded like when caught in pleasure’s unrelenting clutches. Easy ole girl, calm your cunt. I remind myself.
“How long have you been working with Mr. Riles and his employees? I don’t remember seeing you the last time I had work done to my estate.” And why would the Prince notice the last few days I have been here adding to his little kingdom? With a lazy shrug I replied,
“Been working with Noah for a few months now. And please, I’m D.J. Not a ‘Miss’.” My words saturated in sarcasm. Mr. Flynn only seemed amused by this and continued to chat with me. Small talk is my least favorite subject and here I was stuck in the middle of it.
“D.J.? What’s it short for?”
“Désirée Jones.” I answered.
“Beautiful name. A woman working in construction is seldom seen. What made you choose this profession?” Asked Mr. Flynn, now handing out beers to all. My bottom lip found itself pinched between my teeth as I debated on whether I should answer or not. I’m not one for opening up to strangers. Particularly strangers from the upper echelons of society. I am an anarchist at heart and we anarchist don't take kindly to rich pretty boys. Despite my love of working with my hands, how I ended up in this profession was only the result of tragic circumstance. My Marine father had died overseas before I cross the various milestones of adolescence. In his absence, I joined the armed forces to help pave a path for me. Between the crippling student loan debt, my medical release from the Army after a decade of service, and the total lack of familial support, I had no choice but to grab the first job that paid worth a damn. My gender and its relation to my current occupation had hardly been an afterthought. Typical of me. Always preoccupied with the things I needed to do versus, well, everything else.
“D.J. knows how to wield a hammer. Had to have her on my team. She actually gets shit done unlike these lazy bums!” Noah rested a beefy hand on my shoulder and I smiled. Mr. Flynn nodded as if satisfied with Noah’s answer. Those crystalline emerald eyes still fixated on mine. God, I hate when people stare at me. I groaned inwardly. Mr. Flynn sauntered off with the swagger of a lazy feline. For someone so tall and broad, the grace of his gait was a bit unexpected. He stepped out into his backyard to take a gander at his new pool house. Leaving his hired laborers to finish up their lunch hour. Once out of sight, Noah nudged me in my side.
“I think he likes you.” Noah winked. I felt the bridge of my nose wrinkle from my face twisting into all sorts of disapproving expressions. Throwing the beer bottle back I took a generous and well-deserved gulp of my favored stout.
“That chestnut haired pretty boy? Please. Can’t fuck with a dude who probably never developed a callus in his life.” I scoffed.
“That pretty boy got money. Get in good with him he can be your sugar daddy. Won’t have to work with our sweaty asses anymore.”
“By the Gods…” I cackled. “Nah, I’ll pass. Besides, pain builds character. And being around you sweaty fucks is the definition of pain.”
“You bitch.” Noah shot back with a playful flick at my ear.
“Correction, bitch with character.”
We laughed and I instantly remembered why, despite what led me here, I loved my job. Lunch came to an end and we spent the rest of our time cleaning up while Noah gave Mr. Flynn a grand tour of his expensive addition to his estate. One by one, my team peeled off until I was the last to leave. Be the first on the scene and the last to leave, is what I was always taught. I didn't have to stay. But I offered to clean the rest of the debris and unused material so my friends can get home to their wives and children. Things I knew nothing of and planned to keep it that way. Being alone had its perks even if loneliness reared its ugly head from time to time. Having no reason to return home in a timely fashion, I didn’t mind putting in the extra time. Storm clouds began looming over head and the smell of rain warned of an impending shower. Damn it. I picked up the pace in attempt to beat the race against mother nature. Too preoccupied with trying to hurry the process up, I hadn’t notice Mr. Flynn standing behind my turned back.
“May I help you with that?” Being the skittish thing that I am, I nearly stumbled into the pool before Mr. Flynn caught me in his strong arms. That very moment, it became apparent to me that this man stood a good foot above my five-foot four frame and my shoulders just barely reached the width of his chest. His pale fingers gripped my arms with unexpected firmness. And for a moment, my ass grazed against something pressed against his trousers. Something that rested on his thigh and was monstrously thick. My inner beast growled with need and just as fast I put the bitch back in her cage.
“Holy fuck!” I jumped and spun around all at once.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to offer my assistance.” He wore a boyish smile and I felt the softer side of me swoon. Easy dumb ass, don’t even look at this dude. For a moment I had no words until I said,
“Um, no. I got it from here. There isn’t much left.” I continued to work.
“Well, it’s looking like rain. And when it rains here the bridge down the lone road into town tends to flood…” He grabbed hold of the metal pipe in my hand in attempt to assist me. “I highly doubt you want to be stuck here with me all night.” Cold unblinking eyes stared into mine and an overwhelming sense of unease washed over me. As if those green eyes could see under my clothes. Or see pass my stoic demeanor and unveil my hidden attraction. I’m an absolute sucker for green eyes. Resistant, I gave him a quick nod.
“Sure. Yeah, you can help.”
Awkward would be an understatement for how I felt. This man either failed at basic social etiquette or he simply gave no fucks. As he made it no secret that he was eyeing me from head to toe. Almost like a curious child not knowing what to make of me. No layer of coveralls, dirt covered tanks and steeled toed boots could make me feel less naked under his gaze. We worked in silence until rain burst from the heavens, sending us rushing inside his home.
“Son of bitch!” I hissed as my feet slipped and skidded against the wet kitchen tiles. Mr. Flynn gave me a light chuckle and handed me a kitchen towel. I toweled off my face before I noticed him taking off his drenched blazer and under shirt. His dark hair somehow unraveled out of its low bun and fell against his shoulders. Rain water rolled over every veiny muscle. His low-cut jeans failed to clothe the V-cut of his pelvis disappearing into his pants and my hungry cunt throbbed. I have to get the fuck up out of here. I thought to myself in a panic. Before he could utter a word to me, I quickly bid him a goodbye and hurried to my rust bucket of a car. Within the hour I made it to the bridge. How ever long I drove, it was long enough for the bridge to be partially submerged in water. I decided there was enough surface area to attempt the risk. I just wanted to get home and as far away from that fucking pretty boy as humanly possible. All went well for a few moments as my balding tires treaded through the rushing water. The river below, however, was rising quick and I had to move fast. My foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor and my car jerked forward only to be slowed down by the flooding river. A stream of obscenities fled from my lips until my car came to a complete halt and sat in the river like a sitting duck. Then, to my horror, the distant sound of rushing waters pulled my attention to my right. The river was rushing through its narrowed path and rising above the low bridge. Only option left was to abandon ship. I hopped out into waters coming midway up my calf.
“Sonofa-blerg!” My sudden outburst cut short by my stumbling face first into the river beneath me. In a panicked scramble I regain footing. A horn honked in the distance and I caught the high beams of a car behind me. Mr. Flynn stepped out of the passenger seat.
"Miss! Are you alright?!" He yelled over the pounding rain. Between struggling through choppy currents that nearly swept my feet off balance, and trying to see through my wild coils weighed down by the rain, I could only answer with a sputtering,
"F-fuck! God…da-fudge muncher!" Mr. Flynn grabbed hold of me and helped me into his car then rushed back to his seat.
"Good thing I followed you. I told you the bridge floods rather quickly when it rains here. I meant to have a new one built when I bought the property. Never got around to it."
"Yeah, well call me a stubborn mother fucker." I muttered as I fought to get my natural coils under control.
"Are you oh-"
A thunderous crack echoed through the trees as the bridge gave way and became lost to the rushing river, taking my car with it. Both Mr. Flynn and I sat there, mouths ajar and eyes wide as we watched my rust bucket bob away with the shattered remains of the rickety bridge. I didn't even notice my arms were extended as if I could somehow reach for the damn thing and pull it back onto land. Mr. Flynn’s eyes shifted over to me before he spoke the first profane word I heard him say since we started working for him,
"Oh, shit." Finally snapping back into reality, I exclaimed,
“Dude! My fucking car! That was my fucking car! God-fucking damn it… Bitch on tits! You kiddin' me, right now?! Did you see…how… I ...Ohmygod!" I buried my hands in my face and screamed into my palms. In the midst of my tantrum, I could hear the suppressed laughter on his voice as he said,
"I'm sorry about your car. I'll drive you back to my place."
After my fit I could only slump back into the plush seat of his custom interior. A fifty-yard stare in my eyes. Mr. Flynn spoke a few times. Something about turning the seat heater to warm me up and more apologies for my lost at sea rust bucket. Then something about he’s happy I’m safe, how I’m lucky and this could’ve turned deadly. But I couldn't hear him over my racing thoughts on how this cartoonish mishap would fuck me royally financially.
"You're shivering." Was the first thing I heard clearly as he handed me the jacket off his back. Not even noticing I was visibly trembling I turned down his offer polite like.
"No thank you. I'm sure you're not warm yourself. Besides, I should've thought quick and grabbed my jacket before my car went for a fucking cruise!"
What I said must've threw him off guard as the look on his face appeared amused and surprised. Then another look I couldn't quite place, perhaps endearment? Though I doubted that. I'm not endearing. But I must be in some strange way, otherwise he wouldn't be wearing that dumb beautiful smile and said,
"You’re adorable." His tongue licked at his bottom lip and I began to curse my sexual orientation. "Please, I insist."
"No keep it. I'm fine." I lied.
"It is non-negotiable." A stern tone replaced his previous gentle approach. That all too familiar throbbing sensation pulsed between my legs from this small display of dominance. Why am I like this? I am the daughter of a Marine damn it!
"Fine." I cleared my throat. "If it makes you feel better."
Mr. Flynn stopped the car to help drape his leather jacket on my shoulders. The fur lining already warm from his body heat and a whiff of his cologne caressed me. A strange mix of cinnamon and honey like scents. Both sensations somehow eased my anxiety. So much so I didn't notice me curling into a ball to bury myself under the garment. I caught myself and sat up right with quick snappy like motions. Fiddling with my dirty hard-working hands I mumbled,
"I uh, will pay for the dry cleaning."
"I think I can afford my own dry cleaning." He smirked. “Besides, there’s no need.” We fell silent for a few moments before he asked if I mind if he turned on the radio. With a nonchalant shrug I told him I didn’t. To my shock the speakers blasted the heaviest metal track adorned with the most beautiful guitar riff I have ever heard. Mr. Flynn caught me bobbing my head to the beat and asked was I a fan of the genre. Of course, I said yes and began to list off bands I enjoy. He too gave me a list of bands he favored, many of them were bands I listened to religiously. With a halfhearted smile I said,
“Hmph, didn’t expect you to be a metal head. That’s cool, I respect it.”
“I am more than just a pretty boy.” He replied almost snidely. Again, that emptiness in his eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror. My heart somehow dropped to my ass and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I’m pretty sure I didn’t call him that out loud. I thought. The luxurious cabin crept into view as we pulled up in his drive way and it hits me. My car along with my phone, and wallet is gone. The swell of the river won’t go down any time soon. And even if it does recede that sorry excuse for a bridge is gone. It is a Friday evening in a country hick town so finding nearby assistance was unlikely until Monday. Fuck, I’m stuck here with this man for the whole fucking weekend. Stunned by this reality I could only stay quiet. I remained withdrawn until we enter his home again. Mr. Flynn gestures for me to have a seat. Not even a moment after taking said seat I blurted out,
“Is there any way back into town?”
“I’m afraid not.” He said with a gentle shake of his head as he started a fire in the fireplace. “I purposely bought this property because of the isolation. That bridge? Was the only way off this property. And the only way in.” He said this with an amused smile he failed to hide. Alarm bells went off and I felt the skull splitting pain of a stress induced headache. My fingers massaged my temples as I tried to think.
“Okay okay… Do you own a boat?” The idea didn’t sound nearly as idiotic in my head as it did vocalized. Mr. Flynn leaned his back against the stoned wall by the fire place. His shirt clinging to him from getting caught in the down pour trying to save my simple ass. I could see how his button-down shirt clutched his waist and broadened chest, showcasing his perfect V-shape. His shaggy hair messy and damp. With casual almost lazy like body language, he scratched at his scruff and flashed an impish grin.
“No, I do not have a boat.” I persisted and asked if any escape route was possible. All of my suggestions were shot down. “At best I can let you stay here until Monday morning. That way I can make a few calls to get you home safely.” There’s that smirk again.
“I don’t feel right doing that.” I started to get up. More than prepared to camp outside. Wouldn’t be the first time I unwillingly slept outside.
“Right or wrong, point is, you’re stuck here. Don’t really have much of a choice.” I ignored him and hung his coat on the coat rack outside the door. Moments before I started to fix myself to refute his offer again, he said, “Plus your car is gone. And based on what I know, you live miles from here. So even if I were to help you back into town today, you’ll have a hard time getting back home without a vehicle.”
“What did you say?”
“I said your car is gon-“
“No. The part about you knowing where I live.” Anger could be heard in my voice but the real emotion behind that was fear. Has this man been researching me? Mr. Flynn’s lips curled into a wicked grin and my intuition warned me of impending doom. "You looked me up?!"
“What can I say, I find you fascinating." He said simply. Not interested in hearing another word, my hand found the door handle and yanked it open. Quick on his feet, Mr. Flynn moved behind me and shut the door with a swift effortless shove of one hand. The sudden slam forced me to jump and all my muscles stiffened. Sandwiched between him and the door he husked against my ear, "Come now that's not necessary. Where will you go? Is it such a burden to be with me?"
"Let me the fuck out of here." I growled.
"You know I hadn't planned it out this way." He said ignoring my demand. "Between the unexpected storm, the bridge, your car, I could've sworn there's a higher power working in my favor." He let out a low villainous laugh. I yanked at the door again only for him to shove it back. Closing the already constricted space between us, I found myself squished between what felt like a rock and a hard place in the literal sense. “That aside, let’s not be foolish. Even if you were to walk out that door, you wouldn’t last an hour in those conditions. Please, have a seat with me.” Eagerness seemed to weigh heavily on his soft-spoken words. As if his patience with some internal struggle was wearing thin. My shoulders slumped and I let out a shaky exhale.
“What do you want?” I said. Trying my hardest to eliminate any remnants of fear from my voice. Mr. Flynn took a step back and gently grasped my forearm. Leading me back to the in-floor lounge seating, he sat me by the fire. Legs crossed at the knee, Mr. Flynn sat in the lone reading chair adjacent from me. He stayed silent for a moment. Eyes fixed on mine as he thought quietly to himself.
“It is no secret that I am a privileged man. Those privileges have awarded me access to things that satisfy my more exotic tastes-“
“Is there a point?” I intervened already sensing where this was going.
“My point is I have had many women. From heiresses to fortunes older than us both combined. To super models. Sugar babies and career women. And everything in between. But none like you. Hard working, resilient… Prideful. Daughter of a Marine. Former decorated soldier of this nation’s Army with a number of deployments under her belt. Yet, there’s an obvious gentleness there… A vulnerability, if you will.” His voice trailed off and once again I felt exposed under his watchful eye. This seemed to bring a satisfied smile to his face. Silence remained my only reply as he continued to list off the sordid and private details of my present state. “All that hard work and sacrifice, for nothing. All the years you spent serving and for what? To struggle to make ends meet? Tell me, Ms. Jones, just how much student debt do you have? How many times have you barely made your rent?” He asked with a smirk.
“That’s none of your goddamn business!” I forced the words through gnashed teeth. Body reacting without my better judgement I shot from my seat, fist clutched and muscles tense. The warrior I once was now bubbling to the surface as rage blinded me. Hate and anger have always been my weakness. Go enough years unprotected then ridiculed for the very things that made you strong enough to survive in this world, you learn to be nothing else. Nothing, but a warrior. And this mother fucker was one infraction away from a broken leg and a lesson as to why my fellow brother in arms once called me the Wolf Bitch.
“On the contrary, I think it is my business. A man like me does not earn his wealth through charity, but investment. And I am willing to invest in you. Stay with me this weekend to do with you as I please. And I not only pay off your debt, but also your car and any dollar amount you ask. Of course, within reason.” The first full blown smile to spread across his face was by far the most frightening thing I ever seen. I could dodge literal bullets, embrace my father’s wrath with no fear in my heart, yet this moment sent chills down my spine. Orange flames from the roaring fireplace cast shadows against his pale skin. At that moment I was certain I was in the presence of the Devil himself. Defiant in my delivery I said,
“I’m not for sale.”
“Everything has a price. Even you, Miss.” He stood slowly from his seat. “Besides what’s one weekend of service to a life time of financial freedom? Seems like a win-win situation. And I promise, I am very skilled with my hands…” His fingers found the zipper to my coveralls and slowly began to unzip. “You will leave here beyond satisfied…”
Unsure why my body wouldn’t react in violence, I allow the top half of my coveralls to be peeled from my body. Beneath it, a thin white tank top covered in grime with a sports bra beneath that. I felt my body unwillingly relax as his curious fingers trailed my exposed mahogany skin. Finger tips trailed the indented scarred tissue on my shoulder and down to my tatted forearm. Both the scar and tattoo a remembrance of my final deployment. Then two hands moved to my waist. At its narrowest his large hands nearly enveloped my cinched middle. They were warm to the touch even with clothes acting as a barrier. He continued to test me further as his hand inched up my body until he reached my bust line. His eyes locked with mine as his thumb grazed a puckered nipple and I felt my entire body shiver. An involuntary airy whimper escaped my full lips. I caught a brief look of smugness appear on his face. In that instant I regained control and kneed him in the diaphragm. With a jerk he folded over.
“You’re going to have to work harder than that, fucking pretty boy. I already told you, I'm not for fucking sale!” I sneered. Holding himself, Mr. Flynn fumbled backwards as a wheezy laugh came out of that smug face of his.
“Oh Ms. Jones…” He growled. “I knew I’d like you.” Before I could think a hand clasped around my neck and my feet fumbled out of shock. Muscle memory took over and I managed to maneuver my way out of his vice grip. Moving to take out the knees first, I aimed low, hard and swift. The civilian part of me now loss to the sleeping soldier as our scuffle turned into an all-out sparring match. No matter how many hits I managed to land, Mr. Flynn remained unreactive as his sheer size and strength overwhelmed me. Hard labor makes for a hardened woman and small I am not. Yet this behemoth of a man whom to my knowledge, had no fighting skills to speak of, easily bested me by effortlessly lifting me from the ground as if I weighed nothing. He threw me over his shoulder. I screamed. I growled. I bit and even clawed him. Near unrecognizable, my mannerisms made me look and sound like a rabid little animal. Mocking laughter was the only response I could get as he carried me up a flight of steps.
“Get your fucking hands off me!” I roared. A hand slapped my ass so hard my ears rung. I let out small yip and his mocking laughter made my cheeks burn hot with embarrassment.
“Be silent. The theatrics are not necessary.”
Thrown onto a pile of posh bedding I attempted to sit up and fight my way out. This proved to be a failure on my part as he shoved me back down. I could tell he was only using a fraction of his strength. And I didn’t want to find out the extent of that strength either. Once again, I found myself pinned under the weight of him. A vascular hand collared my throat as he slowly crawled on top of me. Something in his eyes and the way he moved had changed. Graceful movements that bordered on elegance now looked more like a stalking apex predator sizing up their prey. With his legs straddling my smaller frame, he hovered over me as he stared. This deafening silence carried on for longer than I wanted. A breath of relief expelled from my lips when he finally spoke,
“I tell you what, Ms. Jones…” He leaned in closer. “We can play a little game. If you cum, within five minutes you’re mine to play with as I please. If you don’t, I will decline my request for a weekend of your servitude. And still honor my previous offer.” Fighting proved futile the more I laid there with this crushing weight against my body coupled with the discomforting grip around my neck. I had little autonomy to myself at this point and the only option was to play his twisted game. A frustrated growl rattled in my throat before I forced myself to comply.
“Deal.” Again, I saw that smile and I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. He planted a feathery kiss against my full lips.
"Good girl."
Stiff as a bored I lied there as he began to undress me gingerly. Naked and vulnerable, I lied there trying to ease my racing thoughts. For what felt like eons he just stared while he kneaded flesh with curious hands. Every visible scar on my skin he didn’t hesitate to touch then leave a kiss upon.
“Who would dare tarnish something so beautiful…” He whispered against my skin before his lips wrapped around a hardened nipple. My back arched slightly and I swallowed the soft moan I nearly let escape. I squeezed my eyes shut and willed my body to have some kind of control. But the sensation of his teeth gently grazing the puckered nub, followed by his wet tongue flicking at my nipple made this a near impossible task. I opened my eyes and watched him move to the next nipple whilst his eyes stayed fixated on mine. This time he bit down a bit harder. Pinched between his teeth I could feel the tip of his tongue lap at my nipple with long circular strokes. I found myself squirming and looked to the nearby digital clock on his nightstand. A minute hadn’t even past and here I was already writhing and feeling that familiar aching throb. A hand cradled my chin with enough firmness to keep my head still.
“Look at me.” I heard him rasp. With great hesitance I did as requested as his free hand trailed down my body. His index finger flirted with my navel before creeping lower. A single finger slipped between the velvety pedals of my cunt that was now dripping with arousal. Finger tips grazed the surface of my clit and a subdued cry came out in a whimpering shudder. I hate myself. Mr. Flynn groaned between clinched teeth. Allowing another finger to gently grind against my throbbing sex.
“Fuck… What a fucking mess…” Now moving in circular motions, I could feel my body betray me. Gotta beat that fucking clock. I looked at the time again. Only two minutes and twelve seconds went by. I’m losing. His fingers are grinding into me now and I start to do the only thing I can think to do: Run. A feeble attempt to crawl away turned into him pinning me down by the neck. My hands grab hold of his large forearm as a means to pull him off. But my world goes quiet. The rhythmic stroking of my needy cunt feels too fucking good. And I find myself at the precipice of what I call the calm before the storm. That agonizing build up every woman knows. The only out is to fight it mentally. I close my eyes and try to think of things that will lure me back to reality. All my everyday stressors. Work. School. Money. Human interaction. Existing…
“Look. At. Me.” I hear him command again and I instantly forget everything. My eyes barely flutter open and the sight in front of me destroys any fight I had left in me. Droplets of rain water seeps from his hair that is now draping over his face. He resembles some kind of animal as his fingers rub against my sex with more vigor. He looks lost to this like I’m about to be. A tongue licks at a tooth before a shaky breath flows from his lips. I can hear the sound of wet flesh fill these walls made of oak, plaster and stone. All of this is enough to drive me to the brink of insanity. The contrast of his pale fingers stroking against my deep brown skin nearly throwing me over the edge. Holding on by a thread I look at the clock again and see I am three minutes and forty-five seconds in. Maybe I can win this.
“I won’t…” I hear myself whimper with a weak voice. “I won’t fucking … Do this… I…Can’t…” Unsure of who I am trying to convince.
That fucking smile is on his face again and he changes his circular movements to long strokes. Strumming at my pussy like a skilled musician. “Fuck!” I hear myself cry out but it doesn’t sound like me. More like the wails of a helpless little thing. A wounded small animal of sorts. My hands desperately try to push him off but he flattens his weight against me. Our lips, just a breath away as Mr. Flynn moves his hips in tune with his assaulting hand. The pressure becomes too much as I fight to keep myself from falling over the edge. “No…” I growl. “God Fuh-F-fucking damn it!”
Thirty seconds down.
“Oh sweet heart…” He hissed against my lips.
Twenty…
“You don’t get it…”
Ten…
“You’ve already lost.” He growls.
Then it washes over me like a tidal wave, nearly drowning me. My body begins to shudder with violent uncontrollable spasms and my hips grind against his hand like a desperate bitch in heat. My mouth gapes open but no sound comes out at first. Just labored breathing before noises I never thought I knew how to make erupts from me. A cross between a strangled cry and weakened sigh is the only way to describe the embarrassing noises that fled from my lips. My body falls limp against his bed as he mocks me with his laughter.
“I can only imagine…” He attempted to catch his breath before lifting his fingers to his lips. Evidence of my lust coated his hand and webbed between his fingers. “ …How much fun fucking you is going to be.” Crawling off of me, he moves to sit himself in a large reading chair by the bedroom fireplace. I lie there, completely spent and confused. The fuck just happened here?
“Come.” He says simply with a casual come hither gesture of his still dripping wet finger. I nearly comply. Instincts wish to have me crawl on my hands and knees towards him and position myself between his legs. To test my limit and see how deep I can get that girthy shaft down my hungry slut throat. To serve without question in hopes to be rewarded with more of his delectably sick and twisted mind. Curious to know how many times he’ll make me cum and how he’ll go about doing it. If he’s as merciless as I hope he is. God, let him be the beast I need him to be. The sleeping monster within me needs it. Then I come back to my senses and attempt to run out the door. I barely make it half way across the room as he didn’t completely remove my coveralls. The damn thing remained bunched around my ankles and after a few awkward steps, with my already weakened knees, I flop hard against the wood floors. To my shock he springs from his seat, concern written all over that pretty face. Then a slight chuckle after seeing the only thing on me that’s bruised is my ego. He saunters over and grabs me by a flailing leg.
“I gotta say, I admire you. All the others I’ve made such offers to usually fold within minutes. Money does indeed talk. But you…” His hand found its way around my neck again. Forcing me to look him in those soul piercing eyes. Something in them speaks to a silent rage and a near desperate longing I have yet to see in another man. I have to get the fuck out of here. Away from this man. He suddenly yanks my coveralls from around my feet with one fluid motion taking my loosely laced boots with it.
“You’re a challenge. I appreciate you forcing me to work for something for a change. A real man grows tired of not having something to fight for. To earn. To conquer. Always having people handing him shit. Kissing his ass…” He says, still wearing a smile yet I easily sensed a bitterness riding on his words. Almost as if he wasn’t talking to just me, but someone else. Someone he resented. He stood upright and forced me to my feet by the neck. To my shock, he released me with a slight shove. I stumble backwards, naked and confused. Mr. Flynn’s tongue laps at his lips before he growls with a wicked grin,
“Run.”
Without a second thought I scurry away like a wounded animal with shaky stilts for legs. I wander almost aimlessly trying to find my way out of this unfamiliar lodge cabin with too many rooms and stairs. That orgasm must’ve been one for the ages because I could hardly hold myself up as I run down the main stairwell. I slip and fall down the last few steps and quickly regain my footing. Something of a metallic slam echoes through the house and all the lighting in the estate shuts off. Now all I am left with is darkness. I instantly remember where the kitchen is and grab a knife before darting into the backyard. The rain pounded against the greenery and vast lake encapsulating his estate. I’m not a strong swimmer. I remind myself and run into the tree line. It is cold, the down poor above me washes out the world before me and I can hardly see. I turn to my military training for guidance. Nothing in all my years in the Army has prepared me for this. But I remind myself to stay calm under pressure and rest by a nearby tree. Its branches partially shield me from the rain. Swiping the wild coils hanging down my face I look around for an escape route, a hiding place or a plan. Nothing but trees and lake stretching on for acres can be seen. I am without clothing and armed with a single kitchen knife that, based on my extensive knowledge of all weaponry, wouldn’t hold up. I can tell the tang of the blade doesn’t reach all the way through the handle. A flaw that would affect its use out here.
Then I hear a twig snap behind me and I hold in my breath. I hold the knife in my fist the way my father taught me. With the razor’s edge facing out. I crouch down behind the tree and still my racing heart as another branch snaps under the weight of something. Or someone. I close my eyes and listen close to the sound of crunching twigs, muddied dirt and… Growling? A low quiet growl close enough to be heard over the loud pouring rain. My skin is suddenly hit with a warm gust of breath hitting the back of my neck. I let out a war cry and slash my blade at the intended target. Proving to be much faster than expected, he evades my assault with equally skilled maneuvers and staples the knife into the thick tree bark. Another battle begins and this time I fight hard with no restraint. A right hook and a thunderous jab both landed with ease. Yet, no matter how many hits I land this man remains unhindered. Spitting the blood from his lip before chuckling to himself. As if nothing I do phases him and he somehow enjoyed this vicious assault on his person. Mr. Flynn wraps a large hand in my tangled natural locks and presses my back against the rough tree.
“Shush, little cub…” He coos. But nothing in his tone is soothing or gentle. His voice is rasped and low. Anger lingered somewhere beneath the surface. My bare feet slip against the muddy terrain. The only thing keeping me upright is him pinning me against the bark scratching against my bare skin. An ache in my hips hits me when he yanks my legs open. Hooking each one over his python sized arms as he grabs hold of the tree behind me for leverage. Weariness has already claimed every muscle and I am too tired to fight. Between the work week, warring with this beast in masculine form and failing multiple times at that, I simply can’t pummel my way out of this one. Flaccid grows my limbs until I feel the head of his cock lick at the slick lips of my sex.
“No…” I protest weakly. Unheeded, Mr. Flynn invades my body with a struggled thrust.
“Fuck you’re tight…” He forces the words through gnashed teeth. Pain flirts with pleasure as he stretches me inch by fucking inch, until he’s nuzzled deep inside. He stills before leaving a small kiss on my lips. Again, I am told to look upon him whilst his hips begin to move with a slow rolling motion. His cock felt almost infinite in length with every slow thrust and all I could do was cry out in pleasure. My finger nails dig into the tree bark behind me. Yet again my body betrays me as the ‘quiet before the storm’ creeps its way back under my skin again. Each of Mr. Flynn’s breaths comes out in shuddering exhales and his green eyes glaze over. I swear it’s the sexiest thing I had ever bear witness to. Every stroke, though slow and rhythmic, ends with a hard thunderous thrust that leaves me gasping for air. Flesh clapping against flesh drowns out the sound of rolling thunder and rushing wind. As if him fucking me is a vital part of this violent storm. I spread my legs wider without my thinking. My head tilts back against the tree and I am met with the sight of him towering over me with the near blackened sky and cracks of white lightening looming above him. My god, I’m coming undone. He feels so good. Is my only coherent thought. I surprise myself when I hear myself say this to him out loud, as if stuck in a trance.
“So good… You… Feel s-s-so fuckinggood…” I groaned against his fine lips. They curl into a wide and mocking grin.
“Yes…” He growls. “Now this, is the natural order of things…” Grunts Mr. Flynn.
Holding on to a thread of my nearly destroyed dignity I attempt to control my body. This becomes a detrimental failure on my part. I have no control. None. Control is in his possession now. Utterly taken and exposed while this man uses my body like his own personal cock sleeve. My moans come out in desperate sobs. I don’t want to do this. I hate myself for these urges.
“Still fighting it?” I hear him whisper in my ear. Mr. Flynn fucks me with more vigor as his large frame presses me against the tree. The feeling of its rough bark causes me discomfort and a guttural cry is literally fucked out of me. “That’s right baby, make me earn it…. Make me fucking earn it.”
My arms find their way around his neck and my forehead falls against his. Fighting is a foreign concept to me now and all I want is to grind my birthing hips against the length of his shaft. He’s more than earned the impending orgasm that is about to rip me apart. I. Need. This. Undulating my hips in all sorts of obscene movements I savor how full and completely taken I feel. I find my sanity here and I don’t understand this feeling. As if everything in my inner world fades to nothing. Euphoria embraces me whilst my body melts into his arms. I muster to say with a whimpering sigh,
“I…Cum…” A bolt of lightning cracks across the sky and unmeasurable pleasure seizes my body with a violent death grip all at once. A gush of my climax floods from between my trembling thighs. To my shock, Mr. Flynn takes this opportunity to lift me to his hungry lips and drink from me. Another pleasure wave assaults my body and a bit of squeal escapes me. I can’t take this anymore.
“Please… N-nyah!” He slips inside me again with ease. Pumping wild and angrily into my already thoroughly fucked pussy until he filled my hole with thick ropes of hot cum. Even in my near sedated state the feeling shocks me. With each spasmodic thrust a spurt of his seed fills my womb and the sensation throws me overboard yet again.
“Fuck!” Roars Mr. Flynn. Still riding the final waves of his climax, he struggled to stand upright as well as hold me against the tree. Another sexy growl rumbles against my ear before he says with a light chuckle,
“That pussy of yours will make trouble for me…” He finds the strength to lift me in his arms completely. Cradling me like a small creature as he brought me back to his estate. “Let’s hope this weekend will satiate my cravings.” That was the last thing he said before I fell asleep in his arms.
***
I awoke to the feel of hands groping and teasing me in the midst of my slumber. Fingers slid between sopping wet folds, tongue licked at puckering nipples and soft skin. At first, I thought everything that had conspired was a dream until my eyes opened to the sight of Mr. Flynn positioning himself on top of my body. Both of us without clothing. A feeble attempt at protesting was cut short when Mr. Flynn said with a deviant smirk,
“So apparently there’s a pandemic. Looks like you’re going to be stuck with me longer than expected…”
I’m fucked.
