King of Depravity: Chapter 8

It’s the fucking please that gets me. She begged me in the same way earlier, when she asked me to not put her on her knees.

I hated the way she sounded then, broken and battered, like I’d wrung out the last of her dignity.

But this please… It sets me on fire. I lap at her little clit, sliding a finger into her pussy and holy fucking shit, she’s so tight around me, so soft and silky, my cock jumps and twitches.

She lets out a breathy moan before she absolutely clamps down on my finger. As she cums, she digs her fingers into my scalp, the convulsions curling her body in the sexiest way.

I take my free hand and grab my cock through my underwear to keep from cumming, like a fresh-faced schoolboy, in my boxers.

She’s turning me into a puppy dog.

Her spasms slow, her body wilting into the bed, my tattered T-shirt still hanging around her arms.

She brushes her hair back from her face, her hair spread out on the bed like a halo. Jesus, she looks so beautiful all languid and satisfied.

I lift up to stare, keeping my finger inside her. “That was beautiful, luv.”

She shakes her head, a smile playing on her lips. “I’m not sure it’s what you intended.”

“Course it is. I want to touch you, be touched by you. I’ll take any opportunity I can to hear you make those noises again.”

She giggles, just a small little sound. And I’d like to just watch her for a while longer, but my cock is straining against the band of my underwear, pushing up above the waistband. I rise up on my knees, pulling the fabric down on my hips as I take my cock in my hand and give it a few good pumps. I’m still between her legs, and the view of her pussy is even better than the one last night of her ass.

“I could look at you all the time,” I grunt, giving another tug.

But she slides away, moving further up the bed. I catch her foot, my brow slashing down but she only smiles as she lets my shirt fall down her arms. Then she playfully tugs her foot from my grasp, flipping around so that her belly is on the bed, her ass in my view again, her mouth lined up with my cock.

“Yes,” I growl out as I angle my monster toward her lips.

She’s tentative, licking at the tip, taking a few small suckles but I let her play, my breath growing ragged from all the teasing.

When her mouth finally opens and she takes in the mushroom head, filling her mouth with just the head, I feel the tingle as my cum starts to move up my shaft. “That’s it, luv, it won’t take much, I’ve been hard since last night…fuck…” I rumble out as she slides even more of me into her mouth and I hit the back of her throat.

I’m still pumping at my shaft with one hand, but the other I settle into her mass of honey hair, twisting it all up in my fist.

She feels so good I start spitting and cursing as she slides back off me and then takes me back in.

My whole body starts to shake, my thighs most of all. No orgasm has ever built like this, I can feel difference as she sinks down deep on me, choking a bit in her effort to take me in.

“Chloe,” I groan. “Yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck.”

Her hand comes to my hip, her delicate fingers small and so fragile looking as she holds onto me. I swear, I’m going to have her hand tattooed right there as she draws me closer.

I tighten my grip on her hair, but she pops off, looking at me with big eyes. “Killian?”

“Yeah?” I ache to have her back on my cock.

She looks at me, her eyes full of apology, “Could you not hold my hair like that?”

I blink down at her, my jaw going hard. “Are you going to tell me why?”

She shakes her head, her hair cascading about her shoulders as I let it go. “No. I don’t want to ruin this, I just…” And then, with my hand on her neck, instead of in her hair, she dives back on my cock.

My eyes squeeze shut. I want cum so bad but also… I pull back, the sound of her lips leaving my cock making a little popping noise.

She looks up at me with a wince. “I ruined it anyway.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” I look down at her, every muscle taut. “Tell me why you don’t like when I hold your hair and why it scared you to kneel.”

She nips at her lip, drawing in several breaths before she finally answers. “My stepfather…”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” I spit. If he sexually assaulted her, I swear I will make him hurt in ways he never even dreamed were possible. The way I threatened Dougy…. Child’s play compared to what I’m going to do to him.

She winces. Does she misunderstand? I run a gentle hand over her cheek, and this time, I cradle the back of her head, as I let her hair slip through my fingers. “Have you told anyone about him?”

She shakes her head.

“It will make you feel better to tell me.”

She draws in a shaky breath. “I’m not sure it will.”

“Why not?”

She looks at the painting, the one where her face is in pieces. “Because then you’ll understand that I’m really broken.”

I’m sliding down on the mattress, flat on my back. “Luv, there is no way you’re more fucked up than me. Trust me. You can share with me, and I’ll understand. Maybe better than anyone.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” It’s not lost on me that this is the second time she’s made me promise something. Does my girl struggle to trust?

She nods, drawing in a deep breath as she stares at the painting. “He was my mom’s third husband. I think she married him because he was a cop, and her second husband had made these death threats…”

I stare at her, because she was right about one thing. I’m starting to understand. I think I’m fucked up, but I mostly grew up in a stable house. My father fucking hated my guts, but that’s not important right now.

“Right. Three husbands. Second one threatened your life, third one was supposed to be the protector.”

Her face is drawn in tight painful lines. “I was like fourteen and I was so angry at my mom. I’m sure I sucked. But…” She looks at the painting again.

“Tell me.”

“He was such a hard ass. Like sadistic. It started with his belt. But when a teacher noticed marks on my legs…”

I can feel my anger rising as I picture an even smaller version of little Chloe being beaten with a belt. My hands clench into tight balls.

“He changed tactics and after that, he stopped leaving marks. Instead, he’d make me kneel for hours until I begged him to let me up and apologized for whatever shit I’d done, or what he said I’d done. The more resistant I got to apologizing, though, the worse it got. He’d take my bed, starve me.” I hear the sob, her body shaking with the sound. I pull her down on my chest and she burrows into me.

“Finally, when I was sixteen, I’d had enough. I refused to apologize, refused to beg. It went on for hours.… It was stupid to think I’d break him.” A small broken cry falls from her lips. “That’s when he got a bucket of water and put it in front of me where I kneeled.”

I know what she’s going to say and my chest grows so tight I can barely breathe. “Tell me that motherfucker did not—” I’m holding her so tightly, her body crushed to mine, and I try to unlock my muscles so that I don’t hurt her.

But she’s not listening, not even paying attention to my grip, as the words just keep coming, falling from her lips. “He held my hair tight in his fist and he pushed my head into the water, and I couldn’t breathe.” She starts hyperventilating then, her fingers digging into the muscles of my chest.

“Hey,” I whisper. “You’re with a monster, remember? No one is going to hurt you here.” I, however, am going to kill that motherfucker. Slowly. And with great pleasure.

She lifts her head then, her eyes full of tears. “You’d protect me?”

“You’re fucking right I would.” The words are out before I really think about them, but they settle over me like a warm blanket. I mean them.

The words affect her too. Because she pushes off my chest and kneels next to me, bringing all her hair over one shoulder.

Then she bends over until she can kiss the head of my cock again.

“Hey,” I say, with a shake of my head. “I know what I said earlier, but we don’t have to do this now. You can return the favor another time.” Because there is going to be another time. And a time after that.

I’ve already decided that this is too good to just be a random hookup.

“I want to,” is all she replies before she opens her lips and takes an amazing amount of me into her mouth.

It feels so good, my hand comes to her neck again. “I mean it, Chloe. We can finish this tomorrow.”

But she’s already taking more of me into her mouth. She gags but doesn’t let up. Finally, I pull her up, but she only plunges back down, one of her hands spread on my stomach, the other on my thigh.

She looks so perfect, feels so good, I erupt as I let out a guttural cry, my hips lifting off the bed as the cum erupts from my cock, filling her mouth.

She drinks me down, her fingers flexing on my skin, and when I’m done cumming, she brings her forehead to my lower belly. “You were right.”

“What was I right about?”

“It does feel better to have told you.”

Those words break something in my chest and I’m hauling her up my body, curling myself around her. “You want to tell me his name?”

“Why?” she lets me spoon her, pushing her bare ass right against my cock, and the damn thing stirs again. Apparently, he’s ready to go for round two. I ignore the need, wrapping my arms tight around her.

“Because I’m going to turn him into a meat puppet.”

She goes rigid in my arms and then looks back at me, her mouth open. “You want to make my stepfather a meat puppet? What does that even…never mind…” But she kisses me then. It’s not the hard kiss I gave her. Its soft and sweet, made even better because I can smell my cum on her breath.

No woman has ever kissed me like that. They’ve kissed me like they want me. But they’ve never kissed me like I’m something that should be cherished.

I cup her cheek kissing her back. Then I settle her back into the curve of my body. “Get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she yawns. “My alarm is set for six.”

“What the fuck for?”

“I’ve got studio time.”

“Studio time?”

“Yeah. I don’t have a big enough space to paint so I sign up for spots at the school’s studio. But I’m not a visual arts major so I get last pick of the available times. I can’t do late nights because of the bar, so I take the early morning stuff.”

So that’s where she paints. I wish I could watch her, but even I get that it would be creepy.

And then I realize, if I’m not careful, I’m going to turn into Gris. All gushy over a woman. Which is a problem because I’m my family’s enforcer. The man who does all the nasty shit.

Turning her stepfather into a meat puppet? Easy. Snuggling on Sunday mornings? That’s not going to be me. I’m the thing that goes bump in the night.

Then again, I probably shouldn’t worry. She only blew me because I bartered for it. As long as we keep this a tit-for-tat kind of affair, there shouldn’t be any trouble at all.

Then again, trouble is my middle name.