He didn’t need any more affirmation from me. He crawled on top of me, rolling his large, strong body onto mine. He blocked out the rest of the room, and I saw nothing but his face, nothing but the mask and the sparkling green eyes behind them. I stared deep into those eyes while he reached down and positioned his cock at my entrance. I didn’t dare look away. If I looked at him, I was reminded that he was not Rocco, that this was something I’d chosen.
I couldn’t not look at him.
He must’ve known eye contact was important for me, at least in this moment, for he didn’t look away from me, either. He held my stare, not saying a single thing more as he pushed his hips down. I breathed in a gasp when his bulbous cock bore into me, filling me up in a way nothing had in a long, long time.
It wasn’t painful, I don’t think. More like uncomfortable because I wasn’t used to such a large dick being inside of me. Hell, I wasn’t used to any dick being in me, for that matter. My body adjusted to the new addition between my legs quickly; I was sure the overload of orgasms helped. He needed no additional lubrication; my core was wet enough.
Being full, it was a strange sensation for me. Not something I would’ve guessed I’d be doing a month ago. Taking back my life by sleeping with a stranger wasn’t something a normal person would do, I don’t think, but here I was, a member of the Playground, a high-end sex club, having sex with a man I’d just met.
It might be wrong, but it felt right. This was my fucking life, and I was going to do whatever the fuck I wanted.
He waited a moment before starting to thrust, making sure I was okay before doing anything more. His arms encircled my head, his body heat filling me much in the same way his cock currently did to my pussy. The way he moved his hips hit me just right, and I arched my back, letting out a low, breathy moan.
My hands went to his sides, holding onto him, feeling his muscles jerking with every move he made. Such a powerful man, his strength more than obvious. Whatever he was doing in a club like this beat me, but I shouldn’t care. If he never approached me, I might still be sitting out there, waiting and debating, second-guessing myself.
The bed was so large it didn’t even rock beneath us, but that didn’t stop the man above me from trying to make it move. His hips began to thrust harder, pushing his cock deeper into me, so far inside I swore I felt his cock in my stomach. The moment he started to go at me rougher, he let out an animalistic sound, and it made me wonder if he’d been holding back this whole time, if he could go wilder, fiercer, harder, and he’d been slow and steady for me.
Again, kind of sweet, in a weird way.
“Fuck,” he whispered out in a grunt, pumping his cock in and out of my core like this had turned into some sort of race. “You feel so good.” His mask leaned against mine. “So tight. So wet. You really are perfect.” That last sentence was difficult for him to say, and I wondered if that meant he was getting close.
He wouldn’t say I was perfect if he knew everything about me. How I’d snapped and killed, and how I felt no guilt over it. How I’d almost killed myself three years ago, how weak I’d been. I was one fucked-up girl; there was no denying that. To try would be to invite disappointment.
But that’s the thing about this club: you never really knew who you were dealing with. Or, you know, having sex with. For all I knew, this guy could be a killer too. Wouldn’t that be ironic?
My gaze on him, I watched as he unraveled above me. It was… different than it had been three years ago. Watching this man come was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. The sound he made when he erupted, how he pushed his cock as deep into my body as it could go, filling me up to the core. Even the mask on his face couldn’t hide the utter pleasure coursing through his body during his orgasm.
It was certainly a thing to see. Not only was he a prime specimen of a man, but he was absolutely sexy when he was coming—to the point where I’d focused so much on him and his sounds, his expression, that I almost forgot I was a part of this, that his cock was buried inside me.
His body damn near collapsed onto me, and he weighed so much I struggled to breathe. He must’ve found it funny, because he was chuckling by the time he rolled off me, pulling his cock out of pussy in the same movement. I didn’t dare look down at it; if I did, I’d see how it was slick from being inside of me, and still rock-hard, as if he was raring to go for round two.
I… I supposed I wouldn’t mind a round two, but I couldn’t stay here all night. I had to get home at a somewhat decent hour, lest my father start to wonder about where I’d gone. All he knew was that I was out shopping. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I had to get home.
“Well?” the man spoke, his voice ten times gruffer than it had been before \ sex. “Are you all right?”
Did he want me to praise him? Pat him on the back—or on the cock—and tell him he’d done a fantastic job at making me forget the past and showing me what bodies were capable of? Seemed kind of silly, but I supposed we all had our quirks.
“Yes,” I told him, sitting up. I gave him my back as I swung my legs off the bed. “It was very nice. You’re good at that.” I could feel his cum start to leak out of me; when I got home, I’d have to shower immediately.
As I got dressed, I heard him sit up on the bed. “Wait. That’s it? You’re leaving? I didn’t say I was done with you, princess.” His husky voice now held a bit of concern, along with a hint of that possessive ownership I was so used to hearing when talking to Zander.
But that was the whole point of this club. No strings. No ownership. No automatic possession after a quick fuck. Just a thanks and a wave goodbye.
“I have to go,” I said, not like I owed him an explanation for where I was running off to, but still. And then I rattled off the next part before thinking about it: “My father doesn’t like it when I’m out late.” Shit. That was something I should’ve kept to myself, but once it was said, I couldn’t take it back.
The man crawled to the edge of the bed. “Your father? How old are you, exactly?”
I glanced over my shoulder, my arms working to pull up the dress. “Old enough to join this club.” I couldn’t get the damned zipper; I’d managed earlier in my room, but I hadn’t been trying to do it so quickly. My stupid fingers fumbled too much.
Or maybe that was because I knew I’d said more than I should’ve to this man.
He got off the bed, and his fingers grabbed at the zipper on my dress. He didn’t zip it up right away, though. He repeated: “How old are you?” As if it mattered. As if he cared. I tried to swat his hands away, but he had a good grip on the dress, and on the zipper. He stood behind me, his head angled down at me, and I could do nothing but let out a sigh.
Well, sigh and say, “Old enough to join this club, but not old enough to legally drink. How about that?”
He must’ve heard something he didn’t particularly like, for in the next moment, he muttered, “Fuck. You’re a kid.” One hand on my hip to hold the dress down, the other worked to zip it up.
Once the dress was fully on, all zipped up, I whirled around on him, glaring. “I am no child,” I hissed. “If you think you know everything about me because of my age, you couldn’t be more wrong.” He already knew what happened to me before, that I hadn’t chosen who to be with—basically that I’d been raped, even if that wasn’t quite the whole story.