Hell (Black Heart Romance)

She hasn’t moved, save for some trembling from her legs. Her breath comes in ragged gasps, and her face is still turned away from me, half-hidden. What’s she feeling now? Shame, most likely, since I doubt she imagined herself capable of coming in a situation like the one I put her in. I’m sure she sees herself as a good girl, beyond the depravity I’ve made my stock and trade.

Now she knows the truth about herself, and so do I. The girl has hidden depths. I can’t help but want to explore them.

This isn’t the time for that. I remind myself of the agreement we made. No, there was nothing in that agreement about a second go-round per visit—in fact, we never got into specifics. I’m not such a cold-hearted monster as that. I won’t take advantage of her for not knowing enough to ask for specific terms.

I go to the attached bathroom and wet a washcloth, cleaning what’s left of her off my cock. All the while, I keep part of my attention on her, but she’s still facedown on the bed. She’s breathing, though, her back rising and falling evenly.

I gather myself together, taking my time, savoring the sight of her. Used, dripping cum, broken. I already know I’ll want her again, and again after that. This was one of the four agreed-upon encounters, leaving me three more. I don’t know if that will be enough. There are so many things I want to do to her. So many fantasies I want to play out.

Once I’m dressed, I wet another cloth with warm water and bring it to her. “Rollover,” I command, but my voice no longer carries the edge it did only minutes ago. She does as she’s told, eyes closed, her face still turned away. At the touch of the warm cloth, she flinches, her thighs closing around my hand. “Relax. The fun is over…for now.” I think I hear her snort as if she finds what I said funny. Sarcasm?

Considering the fact that she came on my cock, I don’t think she has much room to be sarcastic.

Once I’m finished, I take the cloth back to the bathroom and toss it in the hamper beneath the sink for one of the girls to pick up later, after closing. “Get dressed.”

I turn to face her in time to see her sit up, moving slowly, wincing as she rolls her shoulders, flexes her arms. There are scraps of fabric underneath her, which I realize are her ruined panties. Cheap things, easily torn. She frowns briefly but says nothing, leaving them aside before standing. I’m sure she can afford more, thanks to the ten thousand I made sure transferred to her account earlier today.

What is it about her? Everything she does fascinates me. She’s hardly the first woman I’ve taken the way I took her, certainly not the first with debt in need of paying off. That’s one of Alexei’s primary jobs, making sure there are plenty of young women indebted to our organization.

I’ve had many of them, in whatever way happened to suit me at the time. And I’ve left them in various states of disarray—sweat-slick, makeup ruined, hair a rat’s nest, clothes rumpled or torn.

Never before have I lingered, watching one of those women pull herself together afterward. Once I’m finished, that’s it. There are other things to do. The same is true tonight, but my feet seem to have grown roots. I can’t move.

I clear my throat, noting the way she jumps at the sound. “There will be a car waiting for you downstairs. The driver knows where you live and will take you there.” I have to get out of here. There’s work to be done, for one thing. For another, the longer I stay, the more I’m going to want to talk to her. That’s the last thing either of us needs.

Her head bobs up and down, hands clasped in front of her. Nobody looking at her now would guess how she just got fucked, and how much she enjoyed it. Her eyes are downcast, focused on the toes of my shoes.

Before I can cross the room and open the door, she lifts her head slightly. “When should I come back?” she murmurs, her eyes shaded by the hair cascading in front of her face.

I consider this, studying her as I do. I’m tempted to tell her to return tomorrow, but that would be childish and undisciplined. I can’t use up my visits all at once, no matter how much I want to.

Besides, that would be too easy for her. I don’t want that, either. In fact, now that I think about it, I enjoy the idea of her not knowing exactly when I’ll reappear in her life. Living in her brain the way she’ll live in mine.