Fortunately, he has something else in mind.
“I see something dark in you. I see you suppressing your real talent. And I believe I can help you bring it out. And earn some money while you’re at it,” he says, winking at me.
He actually fucking winks.
“So, are you interested?” he asks eagerly, and I only think it through for a moment before nodding slowly.
He ignores all the dirt from the street that is caked up on my sleeve, grabbing my arm and pulling me into a hug.
“We’ll do great things together,” he promises me.
And somehow, I know we will.
Not that I care about this man.
The only thing I give a fuck about is getting back at Blane, and claiming Emme.
He’s a dead man, and she’s mine.
Chapter 3
1 year later
“Oh Aiden,” she moans beneath me as I yank her hair back as hard as I can. She yelps with pain but I don’t stop there, pulling just a little bit more so her throat is exposed to my hungry mouth.
I kiss her perfect, white and slender neck with determination. I don’t like how perfect it is, like a swan’s. The first time I saw it, I already decided I’d stain it with dark blue and purple.
That was a year ago, and I’ve been fucking her for the better part of the time that passed since then. As I pound deep inside her, I look at her face, twisted with ecstasy and pain combined.
She looks so much like Emme …
Tall and slender, her long blonde hair falling down the back. Unfortunately it’s bleached, while Emme’s has that naturally golden quality to it. As I finger her coarse strands of hair I can’t help but remember Emme’s silky ones, slipping between my fingers.
Her face isn’t similar, her nose too small, her lips not full enough.
But she will have to do.
Though every single time I’m fucking her, only one thought goes through my mind.
This isn’t the real thing.
I grab her ass with both of my hands, biting at her neck as I pump inside her. She groans loudly, obnoxiously, like she’s a whore. I guess my cock made her that.
She gasps as I break the skin on her neck, drawing blood. I let it stain my lips, tasting the iron in it and lapping it up like some deranged monster.
“Please, Aiden,” she begs, just like I taught her. “Please, I can’t take any more, I need to come now …” She digs her nails into the skin of my back as she pants for more.
I move my mouth to hers and make her taste her own blood while she writhes under me. She tries to move away, squirming underneath me, but I won’t let her. I grip her tightly, moving her in tune with my own body.
“Take it deeper,” I order her, pushing as far as I can as she yelps with pain. “More.”
She does as she is told and her pussy fits my cock perfectly, taking all of me inside her. I can feel her walls contracting against me and she fits perfectly.
“Here you go, you little slut,” I moan
in her ear. “Here you go …”
With a groan, I pump a few more times, ignoring her cries of pain as I tear her up on the inside. Finally, I come with a loud curse, releasing my come deep inside of her.
“Oh, fuck, Aiden,” she moans for me. “Fuck, you’re good.”
I can’t take any more of her babbling, so I slide my still rock hard cock out of her pussy, our juices leaking out of her, running down the inside of her leg.
“Want me to lick it?” she asks, trying to sound seductive as she dips a finger in the liquid, bringing it up to her mouth. She sucks on her pointer finger in a way I’m sure she thinks is sexy, but only repulses me now that I’m done with her.
I turn around without saying another thing and she scoots over to me, kneading my shoulders and whispering what she’d like to do now in my ear.
“Would you let go?” I say roughly, pushing her off of me none too gently. “Get it together, Marissa.”
She does as she’s told sheepishly, just the way I taught her. As much as she annoys me, she’s a good fuck - until she opens that goddamn mouth of hers.
I get my clothes on without bothering to take a shower. I know I reek of sex, but I have no intention of hiding the fact. In fact, it turns me on, knowing who I’m about to go see.
I don’t say a goodbye to Marissa as I head out, but I do give her ass a smack. The satisfying sound makes me grin widely as I head out.
I head down the stairs, reaching the studio. I’ve come a long way in the year that has passed, went from a street artist to a house owner, complete with my very own studio where I sell stuff, too. And I’m doing pretty damn well, if I do say so myself.
“Adam!” a pleasant voice greets me and I turn around in time to see the door of the store opening and my benefactor walking in.
Mark Richardson is the man who dragged me up from the shithole I’d put myself in. He’s the one I should thank every day for putting me in the position I am in today - a successful, up-and-coming artist.
And how do I thank him?
Let’s see …
Marissa strolls down the stairs, out of breath and reeking of my come.
“Hi, Daddy,” she says, blushing furiously.