Because He Torments Me (9 page)

The living room was sparse, with a cream shag
rug and two brown leather couches.
 
No television.
 
No art on the
walls.

There were two doors to the left that led off
the living
room,
I assumed one to a bedroom and one to
a bathroom.
 
A tiny kitchen was
nestled in the corner, if you could even call it that.
 
It was the kind of kitchen you’d
normally find in a hotel suite, little more than a burner and a refrigerator.

It wasn’t the kind of place I would have
expected Callum to live.

Yes, everything was shiny and new –
granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, the floors polished to perfection.
 
But it was small and sparse, in stark
contrast to the house he owned in Florida, where everything was huge and
opulent.

He tossed his keys on the counter, reached into
the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water, took a sip and looked at me
for a long moment.

I stared back at him.

“I can’t fuck you,” he said.

“I didn’t… I mean, I wasn’t expecting --” I
fumbled with my words, thrown at his bluntness.

“I cannot be with anyone for more than one
night,” he said.

“But we were already together for one night.”

“I know.”
 
He ran his hands through his hair.
 
“Fuck, Adriana, I can’t stop thinking about you.
 
I can’t stay away from you.
 
I keep trying and I just…you have my
mind a fucking mess and I don’t know what to do about it.”

He crossed the room and sat down on the couch,
and after a moment, I walked over and sat down next to him.

“Why do you have to stay away from me?” I
asked.
 
“I don’t want you to.”

“I just have to,” he said.
 
“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.” I reached out and took his hand,
placed my fingers against his huge palm.
 

But he pulled away and shook his head.
 
After a moment, he turned to me, his blue
eyes wild.
 
“What if… what if we
didn’t have sex?”

“What?”

“What if we didn’t fuck?
 
Just everything else.
 
Then it wouldn’t be breaking any rules.”
 
He took my face in his hands, ran his
thumbs over my cheekbones.
 

I closed my eyes and he kissed me softly.
 
  

“I could spank you, own you, touch you
everywhere,” he whispered huskily.
 
“Would you like that, Lemon?”

“But why, Callum?” I asked, hating the
desperation in my voice.
 
“Why can’t
this just be normal?”
 

“Because I’m not normal.
 
This could never be what you want it to
be, Adriana.
 
But I just…I can’t
help myself.”

He was kissing my face, his lips moving over my
forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks, my chin.
 
I tilted my head and he slid his mouth down to the hollow of my throat.

I groaned.

He stood up and took off his shirt, exposing
that hard, chiseled body to me, his broad chest heaving with excitement, his
eyes glinting wickedly as he looked down at me.

“Stand up,” he commanded.
 
“I want to look at you.”

I stood up, his gaze invading my skin, my body
burning as he drunk me in.

“Bend over the side of the couch.”

I leaned over, bracing myself as I felt him tug
the back of my dress up, exposing my thong and the cheeks of my ass.

“Do you know what it did to me, seeing you
talking to him?” he demanded.

I shook my head.

“Out loud, Adriana.”

“No.”

“It drove me insane.
 
It made me feel like I was losing my
mind.
 
I wanted to kill him with my
bare hands.”
 

His hand reached down and gripped the back of
my neck, pushing me hard into the couch, his other hand roaming over my ass,
grabbing the top of my thong and pulling it back before snapping it against my
skin.

“And this dress,” he said, pushing it up
further over my hips and then pulling my body back so that I was flush against
him, his hard cock pushing through his jeans, straining against his
zipper.
 
“Feel what it does to me?”

“Yes.”

He pressed his mouth to my ear.
 
“This dress is sexy,” he groaned.
 
“I didn’t like him seeing you in
it.
 
I didn’t like anyone seeing you
in it.”

“But you bought it for me,” I said.

“No back talk,” he growled, pulling on my hair.

He let me go and stood back up, his hand still
on the back of my neck, pushing me into the couch.

He pulled his belt off, and fear pooled dark
and deep in my belly.
 
He wasn’t
going to hit me with a belt was he?
 
That seemed too far, even for him.

I was pushed into the couch, my dress hiked up over
my ass, totally powerless, totally at his mercy.
 
I couldn’t move even if I wanted to, but
I was shocked to find that I didn’t.

“What are you doing?” I asked, panicked.

“Punishing you.”
 
He slid the leather strap over my
buttocks, and just the feel of it against me made my skin burn.
 
I was still sore from what he’d done to
me in Florida.
 

I bit my lip and gripped the arm of the couch
behind me, bracing myself for the blow.

“Do you know why you’re being punished,
Adriana?”
 
His voice was low and
sexy, his grip on my neck unwavering.

“Because I was bad.”

“How?”

“I was with someone else.”

“Good girl.”
 
He loosened his grip on my neck, and
then he slapped the belt lightly against my ass.

I squeezed my eyes shut, knowing it was just
the beginning.

“Whose are you?” he demanded.

“Yours.”

He lashed me again, this time the leather
hitting my skin harder, the lick smarting more.
 
My pussy flooded with warmth.

“I think you’re getting wet, Lemon,” he said,
and his hand cupped my mound from behind, his palm moving over my pussy through
my panties.
 
He kept it there,
varying the pressure on me, and I groaned.

Then he pulled back and hit me with the belt
again.

I cried out and bit my lip.

I’d never been so turned on in my life.
 
I would have done anything he asked,
would have given him anything he wanted in that moment, that’s how badly my
body had overridden my mind, how strong my desire was for him.

He rained three more blows down on me, then
tossed the belt aside and sat down on the couch.

“On your knees,” he growled, and I got on my
knees in front of him, kneeling in between his legs.
 

“Hands behind your back.”

I put my hands behind my back, making sure to
keep my eyes on the floor.

He pulled the top of my dress down, and I heard
him inhale sharply.

“Jesus,” he breathed, his fingers gently
tracing the top of my bra, dipping down slightly below the cups.
 
He pulled my dress down even further
until it was bunched around my waist.

He leaned toward me and reached around my back
for the hook of my bra.
 
He
unfastened it slowly, pulling the straps down over my shoulders and down my
arms, his fingernails scratching me lightly as he went.
 
His touch scorched my skin and even
though I knew it was against his rules, knew there could be
consequences,
I couldn’t stop myself from looking at him.

Those gorgeous blue eyes locked onto mine, and
he held my gaze for a long moment.
 
The electricity sparked and cracked in the room.

He hesitated and then he brought his lips to
mine.
 
“Adriana,” he whispered.
 
“God, Adriana, what are you doing to
me?”
 
And then he was kissing me,
open-mouthed, his tongue forcing me to surrender to him.
 
He kissed me until I was breathless,
until my lips felt swollen and raw, and then he moved his mouth to my breasts,
sucking my nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the hard peak.

Then he sat back down and I looked up at him,
waiting for his next instruction, hanging on his every word.

“Eyes down,” he said.

My eyes fell to the floor.

“Push your tits together, Adriana,” he said
softly.
 
“Show them to me.”

I pushed them together.

“Arch your back.
 
That’s it.
 
Good girl.”

My chest was heaving, my pussy soaking wet,
aching for him.
 
Why had he said he
wasn’t going to fuck me?
 
Was he
going to give me some kind of other release?
 
The torture was driving me out of my
mind, and he’d hardly even touched me.

“Do you ever touch yourself, Adriana?” he
asked.

“Yes,” I said meekly.

“Show me.”

My face flamed.
 
“I can’t – ”

“Adriana,” he said, his voice a warning.
 
I needed to do as he said, or there
would be consequences.
 
Delicious, painful consequences.

So I took my hand and slid it down my stomach
and over the outside of my panties.

I could feel how wet I was, so wet that the
fabric was sticking to my skin.
 
It
was embarrassing, seeing how turned on he could make me, this man who wanted to
tie me and whip me, use my body with no promises of anything other than pain
mixed with confusing pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” he said.
 
“Touch yourself for me.”

I rubbed myself a tiny bit harder, and I felt
myself starting to get even more turned on.

“Push your panties to the side.”

I pushed them over so that my pussy was exposed
to him, and I heard him groan and then the sound of his jeans being
unzipped.
 
His breathing became
labored, and then he said, “Look at me.”

I looked at him, his hand wrapped around his
cock, stroking
himself
as he watched me my fingers
move over my clit.

“Do you know how badly I want to fuck you right
now?” he groaned, his hand moving up and down on his shaft.

“How bad?” I whimpered.

“More than I’ve wanted anything in my life,” he
said.
 
“That’s it, baby, keep
playing with your pussy.”

I did as he said, my fingers moving over my
swollen clit as he jerked himself off.
 

“Put a finger inside yourself.”
 

I hesitated.
 
I’d never done that before, my
masturbation sessions usually consisting of just rubbing -- very rarely had I
ventured much past that.

But I wanted to please him so badly, and he was
making me so hot.
 
I slid a finger inside
my pussy.

“Fuck baby, that looks so good.”
 

We lapsed into silence, the two of us working
furiously, our hands and breathing settling into a matching rhythm.

He held his palm out to me.
 
“Spit on it.”
I hesitated, because it was so dirty, so debasing.
 

“Adriana,” he said.
 
“Do not make me get the belt back out.”

I spit on his hand, and he used it to lubricate
his dick as he kept jerking himself.

“Come to me.”

I inched forward on my hands and knees.

“Open your mouth.”

I opened my mouth and he jerked his hard cock
onto my tongue, slapping it against me, sliding it down my throat.

He closed his eyes and groaned, leaned back,
and I reached for him, taking my hand from my pussy and wrapping it around his
shaft, but he stopped me.

“No hands,” he commanded.
 
“Eyes back down.”

I put my hands back down as he put his hand on
the back of my neck, sliding his dick over my tongue.
 
Anytime I tried to close my lips around
his cock, he would stop me.

Finally, he stood up and picked me up off the
floor, carried me into the bedroom.

This was definitely not a normal apartment –
the bedroom was just as sparse at the living room, with just a bed and a
dresser.