The Mobster's Whore

I wasn't expecting him to return the following night, dressed differently than the night before, in his impeccable, tailored armor of expensive wool, cotton, silk and cashmere. His hair is the only thing that isn't perfect about him, that and his eyes, and they betray how out of sorts he must actually be feeling at the moment.

He's sitting in that damn chair again, watching me silently, arms settled on the armrests as if he's expecting to be there a while.

I don't immediately sit up this time. I just kind of let him stare at me for a few minutes as I lay back, my cheek pressed into the soft cotton of the pillow. The sheets are bunched around my knees, the hem of my silk nightgown high around my thighs as I lay on my bed, my body on display for him.

Remarkably though, he keeps his blank gaze on my face. I know then that this visit has nothing to do with fucking, with him needing to take out his frustrations on me by screwing me senseless.

Whatever was on his mind now, whatever had brought him here in the middle of the night, dressed in that expensive suit, clearly had to do with me, specifically. It was probably the reason he was just sitting there, in complete silence, glaring at me as if he were trying to read my mind.

For some reason, that unnerves me. So I try to glare right back, though I can't reciprocate his intensity. It's impossible to put even a fraction of all that emotion into a look without concentrating all of your attention into it, so I kind of just look at him instead.

I take in his eyes - the windows to whatever he had in the space reserved for his soul - with all of their infinite depth. The hard, powerful muscles of his body, and how they all came together so beautifully to make him. The large hands that had left so many beautiful bruises all over my body, the voice that made my pussy throb with need.

And his face...

There was nothing like it. I saw it more than I ought to in my dreams lately, and when I wasn't dreaming about it, I hoped to catch sight of it, of him, just once every day so it would stop the aching inside of me.

How could someone so beautiful, so carefully, wonderfully sculpted, have so much anger, resentment and hatred within him? How could he be so ruthless, so dangerous and deadly when he looked like every woman's wet dream?

Maybe the devil crafted his demons to look like angels so they could tempt you that much easier into sin.

"I can't read you," he says suddenly, his voice raising goosebumps all over my skin. "I can't seem to get a good handle on the kind of person you really are. That bothers me."

I am quiet for a while, trying to figure out what the appropriate response to his statement should be. I'm surprised he's actually having this conversation with me at all, considering how closed off and distant he was.

"Why does it matter now?" I ask, finally sitting up in bed.

His jaw clenched, just briefly.

"I can't seem to stay away from you, and I don't understand why. If it was still just about the sex, I wouldn't care enough to be sitting here instead of sleeping in my own bed."

I am surprised at his honesty, and left speechless for the few seconds it takes me to process what he's really saying.

"Last night I almost made the mistake of falling asleep in your bed. Despite the disastrous consequences of giving into that weakness, I am back. Again."

"Why would it be a mistake?" I whispered, clutching at the sheets.

"I've already shown favouritism by removing you from the roster, and forbidding Mona from letting any of your former clients even speak to you, regardless of how much money they offered. Hunter is aware of... the soft spot I have for you, and he claims it's making me reckless where you're concerned. I don't need a weakness, Avery. Not right now."

"And am I? Your weakness?"

I speak without thinking, and I wonder if he'll retreat back into himself before we've settled this. His eyes dart between mine, as if he's suddenly uncertain, a look I've never seen on him before.

"You're becoming one, yes."

"You don't want that." I ask him softly.

"No."

"But you still want me, regardless?"

"Yes."

"Just to fuck?"

"No."

"You want more."

"Yes, but I'm not allowed to have more."

"Nobody will know, if we're discreet."

"That's a naive assumption, Avery."

"But you're here anyway, in the middle of the night, staring at me as if you're not sure whether to fuck or kill me." I whisper.

He clenches his jaw again, much harder this time and then changes tactics suddenly, throwing me entirely off guard.

"Why do you let me fuck you the way I do?"

The answer was pretty obvious to me, just as much as it was to him, but perhaps he needed me to say the words out loud.

"Because it's what you need."

"And you only do it for me?"

"Not entirely, no," I admit, shaking my head.

A beat of silence.

"You enjoy it as much as I do, regardless of how degrading it may be for you?"

"Maybe," I begin, "I enjoy it because it's degrading for me."

"Why?" he asks, his tone hardening. I blink at him, realising that I'd stopped being afraid of him for a while now. That, and his own honesty tonight, encourages me to speak freely.

"You're not the only person in the world with dark, twisted needs, Mr. Aldine. Mine just so happen to centre around being controlled by a man who uses my body for his own, selfish desires. You love it when your women submit to you, worship and obey you without hesitation."

He doesn't disagree. "I need the control to keep me sane. There's enough shit happening in my life that I don't need to be questioning whether I can trust you to remain obedient and submissive and loyal to me."

My gaze lowers for a second, thinking back to his reaction about my fake name and unknown past. I know I need to steer the conversation away from that before he starts questioning me again.

"But I've also seen how excited you get when I test your patience. I think you like that, because it gives you a reason to lose yourself in your own madness, to let the demons you try to keep hidden come out to play."

My voice is low, barely higher than an intimate whisper. I speak as if he's sitting mere inches away from me.

"And it's addictive, isn't it? Fucking someone who not only recognises and appreciates your depravity, but encourages you to delve even deeper into that tempting abyss? You don't want me to know how much you need my willingness to obey, my eager participation, in order to really let yourself off the leash. You like seeing the bruises you leave on my skin just as much as you enjoy hearing my moans while you fuck me. You can't have the pleasure without the pain, both in and out of the sheets."

His eyes flash with that familiar need again, but there's something else there too, an emotion that hadn't been there last night when he'd fucked me. It unsettles me, and I pause for a second in an attempt to figure out what exactly it is, but I can't do that without getting closer.

I'm hesitant to get close to him, because he's still looking at me as if he isn't sure what to do with me. I inhale deeply, and crawl forward on the bed until I'm sitting on the edge, just a few feet away from him now. His features are sharper up close, and I'm able to see the dark circles under his eyes, the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin, but he's still startlingly gorgeous.

I don't like how he's dressed so formally here, as if he were meeting with an enemy who couldn't be allowed to see his actual feelings. He'd been half naked last night, angry and passionate and impatient with lust, yet today he sits here fully dressed, closed off from me.

This close, I can smell his intoxicating cologne, see the bulge of his erection in his pants, and my mouth waters at the thought of setting it free. I lower my hands to the hem of the nightgown and slowly raise it, revealing my thighs, my pussy. The curves of my hips, flat belly, my perky tits and then finally, my face.

He growls low in his throat, his knuckles whitening as he holds onto the armrests, his nails digging into the leather as he fights to keep from touching me.

"You're trying to tempt me."

I respond by moving back a bit on the bed, laying down and spreading my legs wide so he can see the evidence of my need for him. I watch him rise from his chair with a predatory grace, his eyes flashing with anticipation, chest rumbling with excitement before he begins to strip.

His clothes fall one by one in a heap on the floor, and my lips part as he bares himself to me. I'll admit I feel some satisfaction from the fact that he can't resist me.

I watch the perfection that is his body move closer, slowly, until he finally pounces on me.

His hands, his mouth, they're both everywhere. He claws, pinches, squeezes and bites down, licks, kisses as much of me as he possibly can.

He grunts when I lock my legs around his waist and grind my wet crotch over his protruding length, and moves so I can't tease him anymore.

"How long did you sit in your office? Watching me from the cameras before you came down here?"

He freezes for a second, then pins my legs against my chest, using his own weight to keep them in place.

"I don't watch you," he growls through gritted teeth.

"Liar."

He grabs my wrists with one hand, then wraps the other around my neck and holds me down, his scowl deepening when he sees the pleased smirk on my lips.

"You sit in your office, staring at that tiny tablet for hours, curious about what I'm doing, and whether or not I'm getting off while thinking about you and your cock."

"The mere suggestion that I would let my life revolve around you, even for a second, is pure arrogance on your part," he retorts, leaning down to nibble on one of my nipples.

"I would believe that if you hadn't spent the past two nights watching me sleep, waiting for me to wake up so you could have someone to share in your disgusting needs," I shot back.

His gaze sweeps over my features slowly, then over the rest of my body a second before a wicked, terrifying grin spreads across his face.

"There are so many other things you could be doing with that hot, little mouth of yours right now."

My back arches suddenly, my head thrown backwards from the unexpected force of his cock filling me, spreading my walls wide apart.

"Son of a-"

I scream when he rams into me again, any traces of mischief or teasing disobedience gone from my face, my voice. I squeeze my eyes shut as he pounds into me, my insides burning from the deep, constant plunging of his hard cock into my pussy.

He's fucking me hard and fast and I whimper, my teeth biting down on my lip hard enough to draw blood. I can only trust myself to breathe right now, and even that is made almost impossible by the hand around my neck. Regardless, I try my hardest to draw breath even as he...

Stops?

His lips find mine again, and he lets go of my throat, bringing his hand between my legs, his index finger and thumb pinching my clit painfully.

I let out a string of curses, bucking my hips in an attempt to get his fingers off that overly sensitive part of me, but he holds fast, and my pussy begins to burn.

With need.

With an ache so extreme it robs me of breath and I moan in desperation. He drives into me just as his fingers tighten around my clit, and I come with a muffled scream, which he swallows with a contented grunt.

He lets go then, and I cry out in relief, my body melting beneath him as he resumes his hard, long thrusts.

He kisses me the same way he fucks me, and I'm surrounded by him entirely, unable to breathe, to move without him assaulting all of my senses. I let out a satisfied purr when he bites down on my lower lip, his cock buried to the hilt inside me as he pushes deeper inside me.

He grunts, his hold tightening around me, then he renews his efforts, plunging his shaft even harder, much faster, his strokes impossibly longer.

He stares at me the whole time, waiting for me to look up at him so he can find his own release. But I ignore him, because I know it'll drive him crazy and he'll lose his shit and fuck me the way he really wants to.

"Don't you dare, Avery. Look at me!"

I moan deliriously, closing my eyes so I'm not tempted to look at that face of his, but he won't have it. He smacks both of my tits, hard enough for them both to sting from the impact.

"Fucking look at me."

So I do, and what I see catches me off guard. He looks like he's in pain, like he's on the edge of something fucking phenomenal and he's glaring at me as if I'm pulling him away from it, purposely keeping him from getting to it.

Mr. Aldine pulls out with a grunt of irritation. He gets off the bed, his cock bobbing in front of him proudly, glistening with my cum and throbbing with his arousal.

"What's wrong?"

I move to the edge of the bed and grab hold of his hand, trying to pull him back down on the bed. He barely moves, and I let go reluctantly when he glares down at me.

There had been that unrecognizable emotion swimming in the depths of his eyes earlier, one that had made me feel a bit uneasy. I saw it again now, shining brighter than his impatience, his frustration.

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you don't want me."

He just looks at me. I frown up at him, eyes narrowing even as my heart begins to race in my chest.

"I'm worried that you'll push too far, and I won't be able to rein myself back in, that I might end up breaking you. Avery, the lines in this situation are so incredibly thin and something tells me that there are certain things you can't come back from, should I choose to do them to you. Not because you're fragile, but because it would remind you of the very past you've tried so hard to escape."

My eyes widen slightly at his words, and my breath catches in my throat. I don't like how close he is to the truth.

"You are my weakness, because you're not ready for any of the shit you need to put up with. You're not even ready to share your past with me, and I would need to know everything so I can protect you, pet."

I shake my head, looking up at him with wide eyes. "You don't have to protect me. I can protect myself."

His eyes soften slightly, and he smiles a little sadly at me, his fingers teasing my jaw, tilting my head back gently.

"Then why are you still running?" he murmured, peering into my soul.

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. I avert my gaze from his, and look down at my hands instead.

"I don't know what else to do," I finally admit.

"I know, pet."

I sigh softly to myself. "This was easier when you would just fuck me and throw me out afterwards."

He smiles, but the humour doesn't quite reach his eyes. "There are complications, disadvantages to being the boss's favourite whore."

I chew on my bottom lip in thought, my brain working furiously to process everything he'd just said to me. I'm not entirely sure whether we want the same things from this, but I'm almost certain he just offered to protect me from whatever I've been running from. But then I'd actually have to tell him everything, and I wasn't sure I was ready to do that yet.

What scared me most, though, was the thought that not even Mr. Aldine might be able to protect me from my past.

***

I will not lie to you. The next few days are absolute torture for me.

The equipment arrives the day after that confusing night with Mr. Aldine, and I keep myself busy with setting everything up so I can do my job, but I find myself thinking about him the entire time.

Frustrated with being left high and not so dry by him, I bury myself in the dark web for hours, doing my best to find the people responsible for the bounties on his head.

I don't really eat or sleep during the two days it takes me to get a lead. By then I'm so exhausted that I had to shuffle to my apartment in the early hours of Tuesday morning, and I couldn't even summon the energy to shower before I threw my exhausted body on the bed and promptly fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, having not seen Mr. Aldine for more than forty-eight hours, I took a very long shower where I spent more than ten minutes of it with my fingers buried in my pussy, getting off on thoughts of him and his cock.

I do come.

Very hard.

But it did nothing to alleviate the need Mr. Aldine had built in me. I couldn't even concentrate in class, or on much else, really. All I could think about was how I fucking ached.

When I went to bed at night, I hoped that I would wake up to find him in my room, and prayed that I'd hear the familiar sound of his voice or feel his fingers on my skin. The very same one that I had to admit, calmed and soothed me more and more lately.

But he didn't come.

He denied me everything I hadn't known I needed for days. His body, his eyes, his voice, his touch. I might have been able to live without those, but I desperately, unashamedly, craved his presence.

____________________________________

I was still in the city, because I couldn't leave. After several back and forths with the justice department and the feds, my lawyers had informed me that my movements had been restricted to the city exclusively because I was still under investigation.

This, when I needed to leave town for a very important merger that had been months in the making. A deal I had arranged with the king of Miami, Edward Hudson, the biggest, baddest fish in Florida.

I should've shied away from him and his entire operation, but my ego and my need for powerful allies had urged me to call him back.

I had plenty of mobs and crime families who would kill to get in bed with me, even those who hated me. I had chosen Hudson because he'd worked for his position the very same way I had, working his way up from the bottom to get to where he was today.

The meeting was supposed to be taking place in about an hour from now, at noon, but I'd been forced to send my partners in my stead, and not cancel completely, because that would be an insult.

One I couldn't afford right now.

So Liam Pearson and Wayne Latimore had taken my private jet to Miami. They were currently being driven by Mike to Hudson's vacation home in South Beach, and would meet with him shortly.

Regardless of my restricted movements, though, I had the entire city to myself, which was a godsend, because I couldn't be around Avery right now. Especially after what had happened between us that night.

I'd never spent much time thinking about women, their feelings and their thoughts, because I honestly didn't care about them. I'd avoid them entirely, if it wasn't for the occasional need to feel a warm mouth or pussy wrapped around my cock.

So I wasn't all too pleased to be devoting so much of my time and effort to one woman when I could be redirecting those precious resources elsewhere.

I'd regretted opening up so much that I'd fled the penthouse and taken up residence in another one of my buildings across town, just to avoid her.

An overreaction, perhaps, but that woman made me feel things I never thought I would ever feel. Not just sexually, physically, but emotionally too. She stirred something in me, this possessiveness I couldn't shake, and I wanted to be around her every second of every day.

But because I couldn't push aside my pride, the rather long leash I had on my temper had become shorter, and I exploded at the smallest of things, something Hunter was beginning to worry about.

Which is why he volunteered to take care of that lead Avery had given him, digging up dirt until he found one of those responsible for the hefty bounty on my head.

So here I was now, just after eleven on a chilly Wednesday night, watching Hunter do his best work yet. The torture had been going on for about an hour now, and the man was shaking and crying and screaming as Hunter removed the last of his fingers.