Dulce

The dark in me is attracted to the dark in him, but there is no light at the end of this story. No winners. If we follow this twisted path, we’ll both end up losing, and we’ll take everyone else down with us.

A warm breath blows over my erect nipple as the fingers inside me slip free and focus on circling my clit harder and faster until I’m strung so tight that I feel like my spine will snap.

“Let go, little lamb,” Aslanov whispers as a tongue flicks against my nipple and the fingers are forced back inside me.

I scream as I fall. The sound coming out is nothing more than a muffled whimper as my muscles squeeze the fingers inside me so tight that I’m surprised I don’t break them.

“You can leave and take care of that now.” Aslanov’s voice sounds amused as he addresses the other person. When they don’t protest, I realize I’m not the only one he has control over. Everyone here is a pawn to be played how he sees fit.

The click of the door closing over my ragged breathing sounds like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet room.

Hands at my mouth, pull out the scrap of fabric before massaging my jaw.

“Now sleep, and perhaps next time you’ll think twice about lying to me.”

I wouldn’t bank on it, but at least now I know the kind of man I’m dealing with. I thought there would be lines he wouldn’t so blatantly cross. It made me cocky and tipped the scales of power in his favor, but in doing this, he also played his hand.

He might have the power to make me bend, but I know now that I affect him too, just as much, if not more, to be able to break through the stoic indifference he portrays to everyone else.

And powerful men who become focused on pussy make mistakes.

Lucky for me, I love pushing buttons.

* * *

I wake with a start as if coming out of a nightmare, but I don’t remember anything other than the overwhelming feeling of panic.

I look around the room and see nothing out of place. I’m on the sofa, the blankets tucked up tight around me and nobody else in sight.

Swiping a hand down my face, I rub my wrist as my dream comes back to me. Only that wasn’t a dream, was it?

Slipping a hand between my legs, I find my underwear missing.

“Son of a bitch.”

I look around the room again, wondering how the fuck I got here without waking up.

A glance at the clock shows it’s 5a.m., but I’m too wired now to sleep. I get up, slip on my running clothes, and sneak out.

I wince at the bright early morning light as I stretch my aching muscles.

I start out doing a light warm-up lap to get everything loosened up. I lap around the perimeter of the school, wishing I could blast my music. But the sad thing is, every girl knows they can’t afford to not be aware of their surroundings when they are out alone. Even someone like me who is capable of defending herself.

On the second lap around, I pick up my speed and pound my frustrations into the pavement. I’m pissed, and rightly so, but I’m mostly angry at myself.

I’m supposed to be the one in control here, the one calling the shots. But last night, I was most definitely out of my league.

I run until my side hurts and my legs feel like Jello before bending over to catch my breath. It’s still quiet out. I passed another student running laps, but he was in his own little world, music blasting from his headphones, making me growl. But the rules are always different for guys, aren’t they?

When I can breathe without the immediate threat of coughing up a lung, I dial the office.

“What’s wrong?” Sugar answers after the first ring.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Strange places have that effect on me too.”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Is something going on?”

“No, just a new girl making adjustments,” I lie, not ready to admit defeat yet.

“I know you, Dulce. Something’s going on.”

“It’s nothing, honestly, but could you do me a favor?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“Most people just say sure, but not you,” I grumble as I slowly start my walk back to the house.

“That’s because your favors tend to involve bail money and whipped cream by the gallon.”

“Okay, that was one time.”

“What about Baltimore last year?”

“Okay, it was two times,” I admit with a pout.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Can you give me the skinny on Miss Smith? I’ve spaced on her first name.”