The Cellar

For two weeks, the silly little black box Joelle had deposited inside his glove compartment, had tortured him. So tonight, he resolved to have done with the situation, once and for all. After pulling it from the car, he returned to the house and gently tugged the antique watch from its burgundy, velvet lined coffer. But when he popped open the cover and read her father's words, he collapsed to the stairs.

"To my Joelle, forever you changed the beat of my heart," he hissed as his fingers traced the inscription. It had been a mistake to read it; he knew that before he even opened the ridiculous little trinket.

"Fuck!" he roared. Snapping closed the lid, he slammed his fist against the cinereous marble. A long fissure, like a crooked smile, snaked across its glossy skin in taunting recognition of his wretchedness.

Within moments, the engine of his vintage Mach One roared to life. This time, as opposed to visiting his local haunts and choosing a target, his destination was unclear. This time, without thinking, he found himself on the interstate, driving at a speed unrivaled even in the world of Indy.

***

Daddy's Gentleman's Club was reliably packed that Saturday night. It was hectic beyond compare. The scuffed, graphite vinyl floor was clogged with a sea of sweaty drunkards and dirty old men. A few surly frat boys peppered the room, grabbing and fondling anything with tits. With a deep sigh and crumpled shoulders, Joelle fell into her chair.

"There's no way I'm getting through that without someone tweaking a nipple," she grumbled.

After brushing out her unwieldy crimson wig, she pulled from her bag a tiny bejeweled g-string and matching top that accentuated the fullness of her breasts. It was her favorite ensemble and a sure money maker. Eager to get the night over with, she dressed quickly and applied a coat of Berry Cherry lipstick.

"You have a dance in room two," Daddy announced as he yanked her from the dressing table.

"Ouch," she griped, rubbing her arm, "violence is never the answer."

Joelle was still massaging her bicep when she pushed through the curtain to the suite of private rooms at the rear of club. She had acquired a few regulars, customers who appreciated her particular blend of talents and she trotted in, expecting to greet one of their eager faces, happy for the extra cash she'd make.

When she saw Lucien sitting comfortably on the couch, with a devious smile adorning his face, her heart stopped. Instantly, a wave of rigidity consumed her, as though she were dipped in cement and left to cure.

As always, he was impeccably dressed. Tonight he had shed the more formal button down shirt and wool gabardine slacks, for the more casual look of a thin, charcoal sweater and tan linen pants. Lucien was GQ's wet dream, and sometimes, like tonight, she hated that about him.

Despite the tingling in her loins and the dampness in her thong, the ache returned to her chest and a newly discovered anger consumed her thoughts. Turning tail, Joelle stomped to bar.

"I'm not doing it! Give him his money back Daddy, I won't dance for him!" she yelled, jabbing her thumb in the direction of her tormentor.

Without glancing from his liquor order, Daddy icily replied. "We don't give refunds."

"Then I quit!" she yapped.

"You're doing the dance first. He paid, you play," he threatened.

Pulling a wad of cash from her top, Joelle stormed back into the room. "I won't dance for you," she hissed as she threw the money onto his lap, "there's your cash back."

Lucien casually thumbed through the bills and offered a quizzical stare. "You're five hundred short I'm afraid," smugly he retorted.

"What?" she spat incredulously.

"Your math skills are appalling, I paid six for you."

"What the fuck did you pay six hundred dollars for?"

"An uninterrupted hour," Lucien said offhandedly.

"You're a shit, Lucien," she snarled.

"That may be, but I fail to see the relevance."

"One dance! But you don't get to talk or do that voodoo thing on me again."

Without pause, Lucien nodded once and slipped his fingers across his mouth, as if closing a zipper.

"Spread your legs for me," she demanded. Kneeling at Lucien's feet, Joelle clenched her hands around his knees, deeply sinking her nails into the soft threads of his linen pants, feeling his skin buckle underneath.

He smiled and shook his head, spreading his legs.

"Lucien, spread your fucking legs for me," she jeered.

With a slight chuckle he spread them wider, inviting her to make the next move, and she gladly obliged. Joelle ran her hands the length of his thighs, snaking her body between his legs, stopping when his cock was nestled between her breasts. With a shake, she felt it twitch.

Satisfied he was appropriately turned on, her hands travelled to his strong chest and around his neck. She pulled herself onto his lap and straddled his waist. Unsnapping the clasp between her breasts, she let the shimmering fabric fall to the floor.

Hitching her hips, Joelle ground against his ever-hardening cock. "You like that?" she purred just inches from him lips, taunting him with the possibility of her mouth.

Lucien smiled wickedly in return while threading his fingers up her back.

"No touching," derisively she whispered in his ear.

"You failed to mention touching."

"Your reading skills are appalling," she mocked, nodding to the large "no touching" sign on the wall.

"Very good Joelle, you were paying attention. But I never gave my word that I wouldn't touch you."

"No touching!" she snapped.

"Certainly," he assented.

With a fiendish smile, Joelle peeked between her legs and saw his hard shaft tenting his pants. She ran her hand over his dick, offered it a tight squeeze and flicked it back out.

Sliding her body along his, she let her breasts and abdomen graze his mouth as she stood before him. Straddling his face, she pulled tight her thong to reveal the cleavage of her lips, letting his mouth come within an inch of what he desired.

"No touching," she admonished as his fingertips tickled up her thighs.

Without regard for her words, Lucien hooked his hands behind her knees and tugged, collapsing her to his lap. Quickly, his hands locked around her lovely jaw and drew her lips to his. The game play was over for the evening and they were going home.

A war of desires consumed Joelle's mouth, lust versus wrath, two deadly sins battling for supremacy and, for a moment, he wondered which would claim victory. But when her eyes closed, he knew that lust had won.

Despite herself, she submitted to desire and found her mouth open and willing, inviting him in. Tangled now in her hair, he pulled harder, enveloping her lips. Soft and luscious, his tongue rolled against hers, filling her mouth with the taste of honey.

Hungrily she consumed him, drawing in every ounce of his flavor, tasting him all the way to her soul; delighting in the boundless passion he exuded. Lucien was the summit of euphoria and despite her anger, she sought even more.

Her mouth still entwined with his, Joelle felt the soft caress of fabric engulf her naked skin. With a sudden jerk Lucien was standing, his potent hands holding firmly to her thighs as he resolutely pushed through the curtain.

"Hey jerk-off, no touching the girls!" Daddy roared as they passed the bar.

For the first time since he had claimed it, Lucien released her mouth. "My girlfriend wishes to leave. You would be wise to refrain from uttering another word about it!" Lucien snarled.

In desperation she sought his mouth again, crushing her lips against his more fervently than before. Something about the absolute command in his voice drove her crazy and she captured his gaze as she drew his tongue deep into her mouth.

Hurriedly he pushed through the doors, glaring at the brawny bouncer who stood sentry just outside. As he took a step forward, Joelle offered a flick of her hand, shooing him away.

Lucien spilled her gently across the hood of his car, peeling away his jacket to reveal her quivering body. Joelle felt the tear of fabric from her hips and a cool breeze against the moist furrows of her now exposed labia. Delicately his fingers probed her, curling inside and capturing the first pools of her essence, as his mouth consumed her nipple.

The taste of her skin inflamed his desire and Lucien was now desperate to be inside her. With a violent jerk against her hips, Joelle was straddling his ready cock as he struggled to free his insistent flesh.

"We're in a parking lot!" she blurted, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable.

"I am aware of that," Lucien purred before sheathing her other nipple in the warmth of his mouth.

"No," she heaved, pulling free from his lips, "take me home, I can't do this." Abandoned and wreathed in the remnants of his tongue, her nipples perked brazenly in the damp chill of spring air.

"Joelle..."

"No," tersely she interrupted, "take me home."

Once again, feeling desperately humiliated, the anger resurfaced and all passion faded into the ether. The tide had turned and, despite his beguiling words and velvet voice, there would be no dissolution of her anger, at least not tonight.

When Lucien pulled to the curb beside her apartment building, Joelle sprang from her seat and up the steps. Eager to get her near naked body indoors and her eyes off him, she rushed into her apartment.

"Go away!" she rebuked, as he slammed the apartment door behind them.

"I'm afraid not, you are still wearing my jacket."

Hastily, Joelle pulled free from his entrancing scent and hurled his jacket across the room. "There! Now go away!"

"You look beautiful," assuredly he noted.

She did look beautiful, standing there in the cool air of the apartment with her nipples perked and ripe; ripples of goose bumps flowed like water across her delicious skin. Strong and self-assured, she made no effort to conceal herself. That was yet another thing he missed about Joelle, she wore her skin proudly and defiantly, like a cloak of confidence.

"You're an ass!" she hissed, her foot tapping wildly against the floor, jiggling her voluptuous breasts. "Get out!"

The vision was enough to make him chuckle, but under the circumstances, he refrained. "I think I would prefer stay," he sighed, plopping down onto her tattered futon, "I like what you've done with the place; it has a certain -- je ne sais quoi."

"What do you want Lucien?" exasperatedly she groaned.

"You."

"Why would you want a junkie fucking whore like me?"

"You are not a junkie fucking whore Joelle," he repealed, "I have injured you, and for that I am heartily sorry."

After pulling a t-shirt from the drawer, and quickly over her head, Joelle opened the door and offered a reticent stare. "Good night Lucien."

Reluctantly he rose from the futon and tugged from his jacket pocket, her leather box of memories, tossing it gently onto the bed.

Immediately snatching it up, she angrily shoved it back into his pocket. "I gave that to you, it wasn't bait to get you to come back, I wanted you to have it," coldly she rebuked.

"Why?" he asked, still perplexed as to her motivation to give away something so precious to her.

"Because in my life I haven't had many people do nice things for me, and I would venture to guess you've had even fewer. I wanted you to know what that felt like, no strings attached."

"Thank you," he muttered as his hand slipped into his pocket and found the little box, rolling his fingers across its leather skin. "Good night Joelle."

***

Regardless of how many times he had knocked on her door, he always seemed to find it being slammed in his face. That left him with only one option, trickery. Certainly it was an underhanded thing to do, but since Joelle had refused to speak with him, she had given him no other choice. So, after she collected her mail that evening, Lucien abandoned his physical form and slipped behind her, through her apartment door.

At eight o'clock, right on cue, Joelle turned on the shower and, while waiting for it to warm, brushed her teeth. He watched as she pulled the ratty t-shirt over her head, revealing the curves of her body, and slipped into the shower.

Though distorted by the filmy plastic between them, she looked lovely, coated in glistening water and slathered with soap. Her high sculpted cheekbones and pouty, full lips, delicately embraced by a thin sheen of steam as the water coursed through her thick auburn hair. When she closed her sapphire eyes to wash her face, he made his move. Pulling back the curtain, he slipped inside and leaned against the wall, watching her unobstructed.

Joelle jumped when she felt something tickling her back. "Fucking roaches!" she squealed, hopping around in an attempt to locate her assailant.

Content that it was merely her imagination and heightened sensitivity to all things six-legged, she resumed her face scrubbing ritual. But when it happened again, another creature came to mind.

"You fucker!" she shrieked, waving a shampoo bottle through the air. "Get out shithead!" Another tickle across her thighs confirmed her suspicions. "Lucien, I'm not kidding, get out!"

The unmistakable heat of his body pressed against hers. She would know him anywhere, visible or not. His body fit flawlessly against hers, as if they were made one another.

Stupid, unpredictable demon, she thought absentmindedly. Catching her in her most vulnerable state was a dirty tactic, even for him.

When his hands traced her thighs, she knew it was over. Within seconds, just as she had expected them to be, Joelle found her legs wrapped around his waist. Only this time, he seemed intent on a more forbidden activity.

And as if to confirm her suspicions, he finally spoke. "Not until we have finished what we started."

As he leaned her against the russet tiled wall, Lucien felt the head of his cock pierce her moist flesh. It had taken two weeks of moderately successful practice to get to that moment. Though he affirmed in his mind that they would never cross paths again, there was a piece of him that knew they would. When that day came, he wanted to be ready. Aside from his eternal penitence, this was what she had been asking for and he had been striving to find the balance within himself.

"I hate you," she gasped.

"I truly wish you did."

As his cock cleaved her flesh, Joelle felt her hips respond with no direction from her mind. Moving in slow circles, she let him glide around the edges, allowing the turgid head of his dick to slide tenderly between her smoldering, parted lips.

"Let me see you," she whispered, unable to find her breath.

With pearls of water rolling down his golden skin, he appeared. Plump droplets fell from the tips of his hair, rolling down his chest and between their bodies. Quickly Joelle wrapped her arms around his neck and conquered his mouth.

A deluge of water cascaded between them, spilling across their lips and heightening the sensation of his mouth. And the feel of his skin, slick and warm beneath her hands, fueled her desire to taste him.

Unable to wait any longer, Lucien slid her gently down the head of his cock, and with a soft pop, her tight walls pulled him in. He tasted the moan in her mouth, a tickle of vibration and urgency. More than anything he wanted to slam himself inside, to feel her warmth surround him, and the rush of stimulation surge through her body; but for now he would be tender.

Silently Joelle pleaded with him to prolong the moment, wanting to bask in it, wanting to feel every mouthwatering inch. It couldn't be rushed, she needed it to linger, his beautiful, infernal cock, she wanted it inch by fucking glorious inch.

Slowly he penetrated, peeling back her throbbing lips, savoring the feeling as she welcomed him in. Lucien wanted to explore her slowly as he reached the very depths of her core. He wanted to feel her envelop him, every ounce of her flesh, beyond her walls and straight into the very center of her being.

Tucking her head between her arms, she watched the magic unfolding between her legs. Losing herself in the sensation, she closed her eyes, reveling in the pleasure of him. The contours and curves of his cock, every single ripple of its muscle, filled her slowly.

Control vanished into the ether and there was no way to temper her hunger. Joelle's mind had spun into an alternate state and all that remained were their two bodies, blazing molten heat against each other. Suddenly, and without warning, she needed desperately to feel his fullness inside her.

"Harder Lucien," she gushed, "I know you want to."

Moving his arms beneath her thighs, he spread her wider; opening her fully. There was one hesitant stroke and then a moment of pause. With unleashed, carnal desire, he bore into her. His cock conquered her walls like a feral animal, ruthless and unstoppable, viciously claiming her and demanding to be inside.

Joelle screamed, as agonizing bliss coursed and rolled through her in a tidal wave of orgasm. Thrusting her hips against the cantilever of his arms, she took in his remaining lengths, only to slide him out and drive him back in again. Losing herself in the voluptuousness of his turgid cock and enslaved by sublime stimulation, Joelle locked her arms around his neck and surrendered, letting him take complete control.

"Fuck me," she demanded as she rolled her hips, eager to feel the full thrusting of his pounding dick.

"I'll hurt you," he growled in her ear.

"I know," she muttered, proffering herself to him and welcoming the full glory of his massive size.

Lucien's thrusting was frenzied, his cock was excruciating and magnificent, savage and severe, euphoric and delicious. Joelle was lost in the rhythm of it pumping inside her. It was beyond ecstasy; it transcended reason and swept her away to a place devoid of all concern.

Violently he kissed her mouth as he pummeled her walls, splaying her open, pulling at her core and spreading her wider, filling her again and again. There was no going back, Joelle consumed him, all of him, and she was now in control. The feel of her warmth and the tight tug of her cunt against his cock was beyond any ecstasy he had ever known.

"Fuck me harder!"

"Joelle... fuck," he snarled, "I... it will hurt."

"I don't care," she insisted breathlessly.

With a throaty growl Lucien pulled her hard against his hips as he thrashed inside her voracious cunt, seemingly eager to reach beyond its depths. And if it were possible, she would let his cock batter well beyond her walls. If there were more of him, she would gladly take it. She would take what he would give her, regardless the pain, to feel him inside her, fucking her ruthlessly, wasting and spoiling her forever. Joelle would give him that and take what was hers, all of him.

Joelle rocked and hitched her hips, opening herself wider as he plunged his dick as deep as she could bear. A roll of thunder roared through his chest as his intensity climbed. Slamming her back against the wall, Lucien knocked the air from her lungs as he worked to spread the flaming walls of her cunt even farther still.

"Oh," she grunted, "shit!"

Her back ached as he worked her g-spot. Grinding her hips, she let him tickle her insides, feeling the head of his cock caress her spot. Lucien's shaft pushed and shoved against her walls, filling her loins with every inch. Desperate to climax again, she slammed her hips against his, feeling the delicious pain of his dick beating against her cervix, stretching her beyond the point of euphoria.

Screaming again, her body writhed and twitched in rapturous orgasm, finally collapsing her against his inflamed flesh. Pleasure and pain, Lucien was both of those things, in all manner of speaking. He soothed and tore, he ripped and mended, he was all things to every piece of her.