Where is Thorne?
And why do I care so much that he is not eating with me?
Thorne
I glance down at my watch. Just after midnight.
The conference call lasted longer than I anticipated. I run my hand along my jaw, feeling the rasp. My shoulders feel stiff, and I’ve missed dinner. My stomach growls, but I ignore it.
Right now, I’m hungry for something else. I crave her and I don’t think that I can wait any longer.
Rolling my shoulders, I stand and walk to the security door. I place my finger into the scanner and allow the computer to identify my iris at the same time. When the thick metal locks click, I push the door open and go up the flagstone steps into the corridor of the main house.
My shoes echo loudly in the large, silent house. All the staff has retired for the night and there is only the occasional lamp left on. I used to enjoy my solitude. I would work through the night and sleep during the day, never seeing anyone except for James. The world outside seemed uninhabitable. Full of insignificant people with their extraordinary bursts of need. Always grasping. Always wanting more from me. God, I hated people. Sometimes I wouldn’t leave the dungeon for weeks at a time. I worked like a demon. Day and night. Time ceased to matter.
That was before Chelsea turned up in my life.
She turned everything I believed about myself on its head. Suddenly, I didn’t find the thought of spending time with another human so repulsive. As much as I hated her for robbing me of my solitude, I fucking flew towards her flame like a helpless moth. My desire for her nauseated me, and the more addicted I became the more I despised myself for wanting her. Why her? She is so undeserving. A cold, manipulative thief. Of all the women I’ve met, why the fuck did it have to be her English ass that I hungered for?
I lay my foot on the first step of the stairs. God damn her, I don’t even have any control of my feet. They are taking me where every nerve cell, bone, and fiber in my body is urging me to go. I walk into my room and close the door. I lean against it. I can feel my blood roaring in my ears. My pants are tight and my cock is so hard and hot it aches. It is time for me to satisfy my hunger.
My eyes move to the door that connects our rooms.
I think of her in bed beyond that door wearing the translucent night clothes I paid for. I think of her breathing heavily on my neck as she clenched her teeth and fought against the inevitability of her orgasm. Watching that aroused me in ways I have long forgotten. Well, I am going to remind myself of that arousal right now. I bought the privilege of rubbing my unshaven jaw against her soft skin.
Chelsea agreed to fulfill my every need. Well, I have one that wants taking care of. I need her elegant face to contort with the lust that she cannot help as I fuck her hard. I walk to the connecting door.
For a second the old habits my parents instilled in me come to the fore and I consider knocking on the door. However, she is not a guest. This is my house. I don’t have to fucking knock or invite myself into any room.
I grasp the handle and push open the door.
The television is on, but it’s on mute. She must have been asleep, because she lifts her head off the pillow with a confused look on her face. In the flickering blue light from the television she blinks and appears bemused by my sudden entry into her room.
“Thorne?” she asks, her voice tentative, as if I might be a dream.
I do not reply. I walk over to her and extend my hand. She looks down at it, then searches my eyes for an explanation. I cannot offer her one. I don’t understand this craving for her myself.
Staring into my eyes she takes a hold of my hand. I tug her to me with enough force that she lunges towards me, her mouth opening in a scream. I catch her with ease, and lean down so that our faces are inches apart. I watch her intently. I’m waiting to see the hate in her eyes. If she hates me I can learn to hate her too. The pace of her breathing has quickened as well.
I swore I wouldn’t kiss her, but fuck …
Her lips look so soft and inviting.
I can’t resist her pink mouth.
My hand barely touches the side of her face, and she leans into my touch. Then she catches herself, and looks away from me. My thumb and two of my fingers grip her jaw and I turn her averted face so that she is forced to look at me. I lean in and take her mouth.
Jesus, I can’t even call it a kiss. My mouth devours hers as if I’m trying to suck her very soul out of her warm mouth. The way she opens herself and melts in my arms is indescribable. If I didn’t know better I would say this is the kiss of an innocent girl, not an experienced, manipulative woman. The kiss almost bewitches me …
I push her away suddenly.
“What is it?” she whispers as she moves closer to me. Her peach nightgown shimmers in the dim light. Through the delicate lace, I can see her breasts underneath. They are exactly how I dreamed they would be. Round. Her nipples are only a few shades darker than her skin. They are hard.
“Why did you come in here if this is not what you want?” she asks. Her voice is thick with passion.
I stare at her with surprise. This is the first time she’s acted as if she wants to please me. I am free to have her any way I want. She owes me.
I reach for her nightgown. My hands take on a ferocious life of their own. I rip it down the middle. She doesn’t flinch, just stares at me with those enormous sparkling eyes. I look at her white body while I undo my belt. Twisting the button impatiently from its eye, I slide the zipper down and shove my pants down my hips. I am so swollen and hard it actually hurts. I need to be inside her.
I push her away and she falls backwards on the bed. She lies on her back with both of her knees up. I grab hold of one of her legs and drag her towards me. Spreading her legs, I reach for her pussy, and feel how soaked her panties are. I smile at the fact that I have turned her on. Her back arches when I tease her plump clit under the fabric.
With one easy movement, I rip that last scrap of covering. She gasps and I look down at her sweet pussy, glistening like a pink oyster in the soft light. My fingers open the swollen, wet lips and expose the pearl of her clit. It reminds me of how badly I want to taste her again. I withdraw my fingers and suck them.
I push my underpants down and my cock springs out. Her eyes widen. I know my cock is big and impressive. The thick veins bulge with hot blood, making it hard as a rock. I grip my length with one hand and begin to stroke it from the base to the tip.
Chelsea hasn’t moved. She watches like a woman hypnotized. She is waiting on my instructions.
Thorne
Died in your arms tonight
Watching her splayed open and waiting for my cock makes me leak pre-cum. I want to tell her to lick it off, but I know I won’t last if she wraps that sexy mouth around my thickness. It’s her pussy that I want to feel around my cock. There will be other times to experience what her mouth feels like.
My breathing is staggered and harsh from trying to control myself.
I have a condom in my shirt pocket. I should use it. I don’t know her. Where she has been. It would be wise to use it. I should. I know I should.
I grab her slim ankles, pull her to the edge of the bed, and with the backs of her calves resting on my chest, use the tip of my bare cock to find her silky wetness. She moans.
God, I have waited for this moment forever. There’s no stopping me now.
I slam myself as deep inside her as I can. Her mouth opens in a soundless cry and her body jerks at the suddenness and violence of my entry. Her pussy is so tight it is like a clenched fist around my dick. When I had fingered her earlier, I knew that her pussy would be tight, but I had no idea.
Her tightness excites me to the extent I’m in danger of coming right there. I still myself deep inside her and try to hold back while she fights to adjust to my size. I look down at her and try
to remember that she is an untrustworthy thief. That reminder is enough.
I pull her legs open again so that I can see everything I’m doing to her. I can see how stretched her pussy is with my cock in it. Her fair flesh impaled on my tanned cock is a sight to behold. I could watch it all night.
Chelsea coos with each throb and thrust of my cock. I begin to move my hips back and forth sliding in and out of her.
I can see it on her face. She likes having my cock buried inside her. She closes her eyes momentarily, and she groans my name under her breath. Her beautiful nipples have hardened to pebbles, and I lean over her body and bite the pink peaks. She shudders, and pushes her breast into my mouth. Begging me to suck it.
When I do she places her hands behind my head and claws at my hair. I am still pounding into her, hearing the sounds her wet pussy makes when I move in and out of her. Her pussy feels so good; so good, that I don’t want it to end. It’s better, by far better, than anything I imagined.
Her pussy clenches, and every time it does, my cock throbs and I know that I won’t be able to hold on much longer.
I raise myself again so that I can look at her. I put each of her legs over one shoulder and hold her steady. I can’t hold it any longer. I make each stroke harder and harder. Chelsea lets out moans and unintelligent whispers. Her mouth is open and she looks like she is getting closer and closer to climax.
She covers her mouth then to stifle a scream, and it angers me. I want to see everything that I’m doing to her. I want to be able to hear every sound that she makes. I spread her legs and let them collapse around my sides so that I can lean forward. I grab her by both of her wrists and then raise them over her head. She is surprised by my actions, but she understands. Now that I am over her, my pubic region can rub against her clit while I rock my hips back and forth. I feel now that Chelsea is shaking underneath me.
“Oh, my God,” Chelsea gasps. Her eyes are beginning to roll back. I’m not finished with her yet. I don’t want her to come yet. I slow down my strokes. Slowly and deliberately I slide in and out of her. Her pussy is so wet I feel her juice pouring over my cock.
“Do you like the way this feels?” I growl in her ear.
“Yes,” she cries.
My strokes become rougher. “Do you like how I’m fucking you?” I ask again. I look into her eyes. She is quivering and squirming underneath me. I have found her spot. There is no way for her to hold in her pleasure.
“Yesss,” she wails. Her eyes are wide and she is trying to pull away from me. She can’t take any more of the pleasure that I’m giving her. Her gentle quivering has become a violent shake. She is ready now.
I let go of her wrists and grab her shoulders. I raise myself and begin to pound into her as deep and as fast as I can.
Chelsea screams. She’s completely under my control now. I place a hand around her neck. She takes it and squeezes. Her back arches. Just as she did when I finger-fucked her. Suddenly, her body becomes limp. She sucks in a breath, then her body undulates as wave after wave of pleasure fills her. The way her pussy tightens as she hits her climax drives me insane.
The way she forces me to squeeze her throat turns me on in a way that I cannot even begin to explain. I roar as I feel that I’m about to cum inside of her. Chelsea is clawing and grabbing at me while she continues to scream and come. It’s when our eyes meet again that I realize I’m coming.
I can barely control my movements, but I am still holding onto her neck and pounding her. I feel my cum jet powerfully out of me. The wetness of her pussy takes me to another dimension.
Our orgasms finish together and I collapse on top of her. We do not speak while we try to collect ourselves and catch our breath.
The encounter is incredible, but I feel as if I have dropped off a cliff. Shocked, I slide out of her and turn away.
“Thorne,” she whispers.
For a second I freeze, then I turn back to look at her. The expression in her eyes stuns me. It is almost as if she is telling me not to go. I shake the thought away. She is an expert manipulator. I brought her here against her will. I’m not going to fall for that old trick. I will not let her sink her claws into my flesh and believe that lie simply because I want her to want me as badly as I crave her.
She has lifted herself to her elbows. Her legs are still open. My eyes flick to her pussy. My cum is dripping like cream out of her reddened, puffy flesh. Something tightens inside my gut. I bring my eyes back to her face. She is watching me with that same strange expression. The air is thick with words unsaid.
Hell, I want to take her in my arms and hold her until she falls asleep. My hands clench at my sides. I can’t let her see how much power she has over me. I turn and walk out of her room. I must keep my guard up.
I must not let her get to me. At the very least, she must not see how utterly, completely, and totally obsessed I am with her.
Chelsea
I place my fingers on my neck, close my eyes, and my mind re-enacts the memory of the way his hands felt around my neck. The way he makes me lose control. That was not sex. That was us mating. On a deep and primal level. Just thinking about it makes my clit start throbbing.
I don’t know what the hell is going on with me. I have never felt like this before. I did what I would never let anyone else do. I let him enter me without a condom! I wanted him to. I wanted to feel his skin. I open my eyes and stare at the canopy above the bed. I’m really confused about my own feelings. I don’t understand Thorne’s intentions either.
He has barely spoken to me since he punished me in the limo. I know he deliberately avoided having dinner with me. I have only seen him when he is aroused and wants to use my body to prove his control over me, or fuck me. It is clear he despises me, but he cannot resist having sex with me. There is a part of me that says it is an arrangement set up by a cold, calculating man and the less I get involved the better, but there is another part of me that wants more. Much more.
I barely sleep the whole night. Once I even got out of bed and went to put my ear to his door. It was completely silent. I went to the bathroom to wash, then I sat by the window and watched the dawn break. It’s been a long time since I stayed up to watch it.
A very, very long time.
Twenty Years Ago
I look down at my father in a daze. His face is as white as a sheet. Rain is splashing onto it. The man must have taken the knife with him, because he is clutching his wound and blood is rushing out from between his fingers.
“Go get help,” my father croaks.
I hear the words, but I can’t move.
“Go get help, Chelsea. Hurry.”
“Papa,” I scream, but no sound comes out.
“Quickly, go home and wake Mama up. Tell her what happened. Bring help,” he gasps.
Still I don’t move.
“Chelsea,” he screams.
I blink, then I drop the basket and I run. I run as fast as my legs will carry me. Twice I slip and fall on some roots, but I don’t feel any pain. I just get up and keep on running. When I get home I don’t clean the mud off my shoes, or stop to kiss Momo. I just run up the stairs and burst into my parents’ bedroom. My mother is still sleeping. I shake her hard. She jumps with shock.
“A man stabbed Papa,” I pant breathlessly.
“What?”
“In the woods. A man stabbed Papa. Quick, we have to go to him. He needs help.”
My mother brushes her hair from her face and looks at me blankly. “What are you talking about?”
“Come on, Mama. We need to go now,” I urge frantically.
Mama slings a coat over her nightgown and runs out into the rain with me. A couple of times Mama has to stop to bend over, to catch her breath.
“Come on,” I cry with frustration.
By the time we get to Papa he has already stopped breathing. His eyes are wide open. I notice the strangest thing, then. The ra
in is bouncing off his eyes. I stand there and watch Mama fall on top of Papa’s still body and start to wail. For ages, I stand over my parents, helpless, guilty as hell. If only I had not dragged Papa from his bed. If only I had listened to Papa and waited until the afternoon. But I was stubborn. It’s all my fault.
All my fault.
Chelsea
Ignoring the thoughts still swimming around and around in my mind like goldfish in a bowl, I make my way down for breakfast. Of course, Thorne is not there. On the snowy-white tablecloth a vast spread has been laid out. Croissants, Danish pastries, muffins, jams, biscuits, juices, cold meats. James arrives to ask if I would like a cooked full English breakfast. I tell him I am not hungry I will just help myself to black coffee and a croissant.
“Very good,” he says with a nod, as he picks up the coffee pot and fills the cup in front of me.
I smile at him. “Thank you.”
“I’ve been instructed to inform you that Mr. Thorne is expecting you to attend a luncheon at the Ritz in London with him. The car will leave at 12.20.”
My eyebrows fly upwards. This must be the big unveiling of Thorne’s secret new AI that James is referring to. Why is he taking me there? A lowly thief that he does not trust. All his peers, the press, anyone of any importance in the AI and robotics world will be there. I know Elon Musk is attending and so are the big guns from Google.
James wishes me a good day and silently departs.
I stare at the mini jars of jam on the table. How curious. There is even a rose petal jam from Esfahan in Iran. I pick it up and read the label. The petals are picked at dawn so they are not faded by the sun. He wants me to go with him. Whatever lies behind his reason, he wants me with him. The thought of him wanting me on his arm in public thrills me, but I try to push away that rush of excitement.