Buttons & Hate (Buttons 2)

She saw the darkness settle in my eyes again. She could read my thoughts better than anyone at this point. “Let me ride your cock.”

My cock sprung to full attention.

“Two buttons.”

At that moment, I would’ve agreed to any number. I unbound her wrists and carried her to the bed in the corner. I lay against the headboard and positioned her on my lap. “Fuck me hard, Button.”

She rested on the balls of her feet and gripped my shoulders for balance. Then she bounced up and down my dick like a pro, taking in every inch of my enormous length. Her tits shook in my face, and she made the sexiest face as she moved.

She was amazing at everything.

She pulled one hand away and placed it behind her back. Her fingers reached my balls, and she rubbed them gently as she rode my cock. She massaged them, touching the sensitive tissue with precision.

“Fuck.” I clenched my jaw because it felt so good. She had the skills of a call girl and the innocence of a bound slave. My cock couldn’t handle the lustful goodness. She was the best sex I’d ever had—hands down. My cock was in heaven and never wanted to leave. This was the pussy he wanted to fuck for all eternity. Could I ever really let her go? I promised I would but everything was different. She gave me the kind of satisfaction no one else could ever give. What would I do without her?

The thoughts were too much for me to handle. They brought me into darkness, and not the good kind. I focused my eyes on her tits and watched them bounce. Within a moment, I was back in the game. My cock twitched inside her and prepared to release the next round of cum. “I love this pussy.” I didn’t mean to talk dirty. It just slipped out because my cock was in full control. It made me say and do things I would normally avoid.

“My pussy loves your cock.”

And I came.

***

Everything was back to normal.

That terrible night was just a distant memory. She never questioned me about my sister or why I pushed her away so aggressively. She left it in the past—where it belonged.

She worked for her buttons ruthlessly. We were sitting together at dinner when she crawled under the table and blew me. When I was in my study, she’d come in unannounced and ride me. She wanted sex around the clock, collecting buttons like they were falling from the sky.

When her jar hit seventy, I grew nervous.

In just a few weeks, she’d collected nearly a third of her debt payment. If she kept up this rate, she would be gone in a few months. While I was enjoying all the rough sex immensely, I didn’t want it to end so soon.

I didn’t want her to go.

I was a man of my word, and I had to honor my promise. When she reached three hundred and sixty-five buttons, I had to remove the tracker and let her walk out my front door.

There was no other choice.

But my hand shook at the thought. My brain went into a panic. Heart palpitations wrecked my chest. My estate would never be the same without my Button. My playroom would never feel so welcoming. Eating dinner alone would feel lonely again. I thrived on solitude before she walked into my life, but now, it actually scared me.

I would never find another woman like her.

I would never find one so fearless and strong. She didn’t just handle pain. She was molded by it. Her dark history prepared her for this moment just as mine prepared me for the same thing.

When the time came, would I really let her walk away?

***

She sat across from me at the dinner table, her hair in open curls that were utterly fistable. She wore a deep purple dress that didn’t have sleeves. She either looked good in everything she wore, or Lars understood her body at an innate level.

The thought made me a little jealous.

She was different tonight. She was quieter than usual, not making eye contact with me. She sipped her wine and ate quietly. The questions she usually asked about my day were absent. The silence was discomforting.

So I spoke first. “How was your day?”

She finished eating her piece of French bread. Her small mouth moved slightly when she chewed. She had impeccable table manners, something I appreciated. And when she chewed, she didn’t make a sound. “There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

My spine coiled when she lead the conversation. She was dominant at the right times, increasing my possessiveness and instinct to control her. She was an opponent that baffled me every single day. “I’m listening.”

“I have seventy buttons in my jar.”

That was known information. I’d been keeping track in my head. Every button I gave her was full of regret. There were times when I didn’t want to give her one at all. I wanted to lie and say her performance was terrible. But she wouldn’t believe that for a second. She felt how much come I gave her every single night—multiple times. “I’m aware.”