Love Is Strange (I Know... #2) (2 page)

I was no match for him, but I already knew that.

I dragged my hand upwards and snatched the mask off his head, revealing his dark hair, long on the top and short on the sides. I yanked on the dark strands and he moaned into me, his hands dropping heavily to my thighs. The smooth leather of his gloves caught on my sweaty skin as he shoved my legs apart. I kicked at him and he sidestepped, avoiding my attack. His swift movement broke the kiss and I used the opportunity to slap his face again, the satisfying crack of the skin to skin contact echoing across the office.

He lunged at me again, shoving his hand between my thighs. I clamped them shut, trapping his fingers. We were both breathing heavy, our lips inches from each other. I could still taste him in my mouth, sweet and sharp, but salty as well. Dark blood glistened in the corner of his mouth from my last attack, and I could almost taste the iron of it on my tongue as well. I jerked my knee upward, aiming for his balls, but he used the movement against me and forced himself further between my legs.

“Why did you leave the door unlocked?” he said and it took me a minute to comprehend the words because I was focused on his bloody lip.

“Fuck you.” I balled my hand into a fist, but he grabbed my wrist, his long fingers circling around it and rendering it useless.

“You left that door open just for me, didn't you?” He dropped his chin to look in my eyes again. His gaze held a manic glint, sparkling with excited malice in the low light. “You knew I was coming. You were waiting for me.”

“You're insane,” I hissed.

“You were waiting,” he repeated, dragging my hand to the front of his jeans, where his erection strained against the thick fabric.

“I forgot to lock it,” I said, my breath catching in my throat as my fingers found the thick ridge of him. My eyes slipped shut as thoughts assaulted my brain... thoughts of him thrusting his big cock in me, forcing himself inside of me again and again. Thoughts of how he would feel. Thoughts of what he would do to me. Thoughts of what he would make
me
do.

“Shit,” he said, holding my hand steady against him. “You like to lie, don't you?” He pressed his lips to my temple. I flexed my fingers, my the skin of my palm itching. “Why do you keep lying to me?” He dragged his teeth down the side of my face, his breath tickling my cheek. His arm encircled my waist, pulling me closer to his chest. I gripped his erection and he moaned, rolling his hips against me. “Goddamn, I want you,” he whispered harshly in my ear. “You want me too, don't you?”

“No,” I said immediately, shaking my head.

“Liar,” he said, and I could have sworn I heard his voice in my brain, not in my ear. Then he leaned back, giving me space again. I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, my ribs crying out at the simple movement. He dropped his hands to his belt and I knew what was coming next. I scooted quickly to the side and slid off the desk, my feet dropping to the floor. I backed out of the cubicle, banging my elbow on the way out. He followed me, unzipping his jeans. Stalking, slow and deliberate like the animal he was. A warning bell rang at the back of my mind and my stomach clenched.

I knew.

I knew how it was going to end up, the second I saw him standing in the dark. And sure enough, he grabbed me and swept me off my feet. I ended up on my back on the floor, his hand up my skirt, fingers pushing my panties aside. I threw my elbows out, scrambling onto my stomach and pushing myself to my knees. I tried to crawl away, the carpet burning a rash into my skin, but he grabbed the waistband of my skirt and pulled me back down onto the floor. Then he covered me with his big body, slapping a hand over my mouth as he rolled me over onto my back. I raised my knee, getting him between the ribs, bone hitting bone. He grunted in pain and satisfaction flared up in me, my small victory seeming larger than it was. He hoisted himself up on his knees and stared down at me, the sharp lines of his face highlighted in the shadows. He was terrifying, but also impossibly handsome. I couldn't see his eyes, but I knew what I would find there – madness. Pure, unadulterated craziness.

He enjoyed my fight, as only a true deviant would.

He took off his gloves and tossed them aside. I squirmed and he slammed his thighs on either side of my hips, locking me beneath him.

“Don't,” I said, pushing and clawing against his thighs in vain.

“Don't what?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as he slid his hand into his pants. I watched him pull his cock out, biting down hard on my lip as he ran his hand down his thick length, like he was showing off for me. Then he let his dick go, and it bobbed in front of him like it was begging for my mouth. Then he dropped his hand to my chest and gripped the front of my silk blouse. “Don't what?” he repeated, mocking me. I swallowed hard, the warmth of his hand seeping through the thin fabric and into the skin below.

“Please,” I said, my voice soft. Like pleading with him would stop him.

Ha.

He smirked and unceremoniously ripped the front of my blouse open. I could hear the buttons land on the floor around me, hear and there. The cool still air of the office hit my sweat-damp skin and a chill ran through me. My nipples tightened and I arched my back involuntarily, the sensitive tips rubbing uncomfortably against the lace of my bra. He ran his warm hand up my sternum, almost delicately, like he didn't want to hurt me, but again, I wasn't fooled. He wanted to hurt me, badly. He wanted to hurt me until I screamed and begged and bled. He closed his eyes for a minute, savoring his victory.

After that, I was his. For however long he wanted me. I couldn't move. I couldn't get away. I could fight, but the outcome would be the same. He slid his hand behind my neck and forced me up onto my elbows. My hair slid over my shoulders and into my face, and he swept it away as he brought his hips closer. The head of his cock dragged across my lips and I could feel the slick of his pre-come.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded as his ready cock twitched in front of my face. I turned my face away, running my tongue over the salty wetness on my lips. He clicked his tongue, tsking at my little act of defiance. He fisted his hand in my hair and jerked my face toward him. Then he pinched my nose shut until I had no choice but to open my mouth and gulp in air. Then he slid the fat tip of his cock in between my lips and over my tongue. He moaned and bucked forward, shoving himself all the way to the back of my throat. I felt my eyes roll back in my head as he choked me, my fingers digging into the carpet. My toes curled and my feet pointed. He cupped my face with his big hands, his thumbs caressing my cheeks as he reared back. I moaned in relief as my jaw relaxed, my tongue swirling around the tip of him as he pulled out of my mouth. Then he dove in again, his hands stiffened on my face as he held himself on the edge of bliss. I knew he wanted to come, and I shuddered at the thought of his thick come sliding down my throat.

Suddenly, unexpectedly, he shoved my face away from him and his dick popped free of my mouth. It glistened in the low light, wet from my mouth. Then he was shoving my skirt up and throwing my legs open so fast I couldn't react. I couldn't do anything until he ripped my panties off and tossed them over his shoulder. Only then did my muscles came back to life. I shoved back, scooting on my bare ass, trying to get away. But he was doggedly focused. He grabbed my hips in a death grip as he lowered himself on top of me, pinning me to the ground. He was heavy and it was all I could do to force a breath into my lungs. I knew what was coming next, but it was still a shock when he breached me. He stilled on top of me as he shoved an inch inside and I bowed my back, the feel of him too intense for words or sounds or thoughts.

After what felt like a lifetime, he slammed into me without warning, smashing me against the unrelenting floor. My bare thighs tightened around his hips, his jeans rough against my electrified skin. He clawed at my chest, roughly freeing my breasts from my bra and pinching and squeezing the nipples until I slapped at his face and dug my heels into the carpet. Then he bucked into me again, his big cock invading and plundering me inch by inch.

“I want to rip you in half,” he growled in my ear. “I want to destroy you.” He punctuated his words with his hips, fucking me harder and harder. “Tell me you want it.” He grabbed my chin and forced my face to his. His lips brushed against mine, and then he flicked his tongue over the swollen flesh. My eyes slitted open but I couldn't see. The world was dark. All I could feel and hear was him. “Tell me you love it,” he whispered, then swerved his hips so slow that I gritted my teeth at the sharp sensation, the line between pain and pleasure mingling and blurring in an otherworldly way. It hurt, of course. My whole body hurt. But if he kept doing it, I was going to come.

And then he would win.

“You disgust me,” I replied, the words strangling the moan in my throat. He snorted out a soft laugh, his breath hot on my lips and I inhaled, pulling him deeper into me without thinking.

“Say it again.” He ground his hips into mine and I writhed beneath him, my body no longer under my control. I could feel all of my muscles tighten at once and he buried his face in my neck as I squeezed him deep inside. “
Fuck,
” he hissed.
"Your pussy is so tight for me.” With a pained groan, he thrust again, his breathing ragged. “No matter how many times I shove my big cock into you, you're still so fucking tight." His vulgar words swirled through me and I rolled my head to the side, needing so much. I wanted him deeper inside and hating him at the same time.

It was sick, but I had no choice but to succumb. He didn't give me a damn choice. He ran a hand up my thigh, his fingernails digging into the soft flesh. I shivered as he roughly pulled my leg higher on his hip, opening me up wider for him. I moaned, the sound ragged and unsatisfied, as he slowed his pace. I could feel every thick inch of him inside of me, the friction and the sense of being filled to the edge of breaking slowly driving me insane. Then his thumb found the sensitive place on the back of my thigh, right under the swell of my ass. I threw my head back, my eyes squeezing shut and my whole body going tight.

“Son of a bitch,” I murmured as I felt the orgasm coming over me. It was a black and dirty and felt like drowning, but I dove into it headfirst. He'd abused me and hurt me. After all that, he didn't deserve my orgasm, but I sure did. He dug his knees in and wrapped one arm around my waist, raising my ass off the floor, sensing my distress. My back bowed, my skin stretched over my sore ribs, and I threw my hands out, grasping at the short fibers of the carpet as I came.

“You wish you hated me,” he said, his voice weaving in and out of my orgasmic haze. “But you love my cock too much.” I slitted my eyes open and he was staring down at me, his gaze flashing a dark fire. He pressed his tongue to the corner of his mouth, like he was plotting something. A thrill ran up my spine and I clenched around him, feeling how hard he still was inside of me.

It wasn't over yet. He wasn't done with me.

Sad to say, I wasn't done with him either.

Chapter Two

H
e didn't say another word as he spun me over onto my stomach, like I weighed nothing.  I grunted as my chest hit the floor. He lifted my hips but reared back. His dick slid out of me and I gritted my teeth to keep from calling out. I was wet, but it still felt rough and almost brutal the way he left me. My body didn't want to let him go. I felt limp, boneless. I couldn't do anything but lay there with my cheek against the carpet, breathing hard. My hair pooled around my face, blocking my vision. But I could still feel.  I could feel his roaming eyes on my ass. I could feel the wetness smeared between my thighs. I could feel the cool air on my exposed flesh. I felt completely exposed to him, even though we were still technically almost completely dressed.

I liked it.

I liked that he was tense behind me, holding himself tight. I liked that he could see how he'd affected me. My pussy was wet for him – my pussy was his. And yet he held back, keeping himself on the edge, keeping himself from his own climax. I knew he was planning something devious, something sick, but I made no move to escape. I couldn't. He had me exactly where he wanted me.

When he ran a finger through my slit then pumped it inside of me, I moaned and rolled my hips. I was too sensitive, too swollen, but it still felt damn good. It made me crave his evil cock again, even though I knew he would wield it like a weapon. When he took his finger away, I scowled and worked my lower lip with my teeth, tension already gathering my belly again. When he thrust the finger, still wet with my cream, into my ass, I tasted the coppery taste of blood on my tongue. It took a minute for the ringing in my ears and the stinging in my ass to stop before I realized I'd bit my lip too hard.

“You like that, don't you?” he asked, sliding into me up to the knuckle. I couldn't stop myself and a strangled scream ripped from my throat, the sound loud in my ears. He pumped it in and out of me, rough and callously, and I screamed with each invasion. My screams only egged him on, and he fucked me harder and harder until I pushed up on my elbows and threw my head back. The feeling was too intense. I wanted more or I wanted less. The sad thing was I wasn't sure which. I just craved... something. Nothing. Everything.

He curled his finger inside of me and I jerked against him, my body moving away from him automatically. But he wouldn't let me go. He wrapped his free hand in my hair, yanking my head back. “Get up,” he rasped in my ear, his lips brushing against my skin, sending another electric shiver through me.

“What?” I breathed, the word slurred like I was drunk.

“Up,” he ordered and I had no choice but to obey. We struggled to our feet, his finger still buried deep inside of me. My knees knocked together as he curled the finger again and I almost dropped, but his hand in my hair held fast. He hooked his chin over my shoulder, holding me against him. I could feel his erection pressing against my ass, hot and still sticky from my pussy. “Your desk,” he growled. “I want to see your desk.” I could only moan in response, my scalp and my ass aching and my pussy dripping. He bumped his pelvis against my ass, forcing me forward. I stumbled ahead, toward the light spilling out of my cubicle. He held on to me and steadied me as I walked on shaky legs. It seemed to take forever to get to the desk – every step his finger seemed to get deeper inside of me, more invasive. We turned the corner into my little work cocoon and he pushed me forward onto the hard surface of my desk, my elbows landing on stacks of folders and papers and sticky notes.

“This is where you spend your days?” he said, kicking my legs and opening my thighs. I gasped and craned my neck to look at him, wondering what he was planning for me. More fucking, definitely. But what else did he want? “Pushing papers? Sitting on your pretty ass and typing a hundred words a minute?” He pumped his finger in and out languidly, but narrowed his eyes in thought. “Do you like it?”

“Do I...” I trailed off, only able to concentrate on the slow slide of his finger.

“Do you like sitting here all day for hours on end?” He leaned over me. “Do you like this stupid, boring, piece of shit job?”

“It pays the bills,” I murmured, dragging my tongue across my dry, injured lip.

“Does it pay for that fancy car outside?” He snorted out a derisive laugh. In tune, he thrust  his hand hard against my ass. I called out, not bothering to hide what he was doing to me any longer. He'd already made me come, so it was no secret that he was torturing me, minute after minute, with every violent intrusion.

“What do you care?” I said and I could hear the want and desperation in my voice. He laughed again and shook his head. He ran his free hand slowly down my face, sweeping stray strands of hair from my cheek.

“Maybe you shouldn't work so much,” he said. “Or if you're going to be here so damn late, you really should lock the door. You never know who could be watching.” He dropped his face to mine and brushed his lips against my cheek. “And waiting.” He darted his tongue out and licked the ridge of my cheekbone. “Goddamn, you're so fucking good.” He moaned and then he was angling his big cock against me. He yanked the silky fabric of my skirt aside and spread me open. He slid inside again, my wet pussy giving no resistance. I lifted my hips to pull him deeper, despite the awkward angle. It was uncomfortable, but I didn't care. He covered my body with his, crushing me. My knees banged against the side of the desk as he fucked me but I moved with him, wanting him to come. I wanted to hear his breath in my ear as he exploded into me. Our moans mingled as he finger-fucked my ass and pounded my pussy. The feeling was too much and I could barely keep myself together. But I wanted to hear him come apart at the seams and only then would I be satisfied.

“When you're sitting here, I want you to think of me,” he gritted out, his voice as rough as sandpaper. “When you're staring at your computer, remember how I bent you over and ripped your clothes and fucked your wet cunt.” He inhaled sharply through his teeth and bucked into me, banging my hips into the edge of the desk. He slapped my ass and the sound rang in my ears. I clenched myself around him and he growled like the animal he was. He pressed his lips to my ear again roughly. “Remember how disgusting I was and how much you liked it,” he whispered and then abruptly pushed himself away from me.

My hips raised up off the desk, involuntarily, as the cool air hit my skin. I wanted him back, but he didn't care. He pulled away and I could hear his low exhale as the passion overtook him. I rolled onto my side, balancing on my hip in time to watch him come. He squeezed his big cock and let go, spurting ribbons of his cream onto the faux wood grain of my desk. I lay there, mute and in awe, watching him. He dropped his eyes to meet mine and I could see that he liked that I was watching him. He pumped his hand, milking himself through his orgasm. His hand was slick with his release. I stared at his fingers without meaning to. I didn't want to tempt him. But it was too late. He released his cock and held out his hand, his fingers glistening and musky with his passion. I pulled my face away but he thrust the fingers of his clean hand into my hair, tightening his fingers and tugging at my scalp.

“Open your mouth,” he said, not asking. I tried to turn away but he wouldn't let me. He jerked my head back and tears prickled in my eyes at the sharp pain. He let out a little breath and cocked his head. “It's over.” He said the words so easily, like it was nothing. He brushed his wet fingers across my lips. “You can stop fighting.” He pressed his knuckle between my lips and I could taste him. I could smell him. He forced his way into my mouth and I moaned in response. He was pushing so far, pushing me to do things I never would do. And he knew it. He liked it. He smiled lightly as I gagged and tried to pull away. But he wouldn't have it. His grip in my hair was like steel. He wasn't backing down.

So I stopped fighting.

I sucked his fingers and wrapped my tongue around them, cleaning him off and swallowing it all. I could feel it roll down my throat. It seemed to warm my chest as it worked it's way down to my stomach. I was sure I could feel it, invading my blood stream and all of my cells. His grip in my hair softened and his fingernails grazed my scalp, sending tingles of unexpected pleasure down my spine. Then he pulled away and I sucked my cheeks, tasting the last remnants of him.

“Now that,” he said, nudging me lightly forward. When I realized what he meant, my eyes widened.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. He'd already asked too much. I couldn't do anymore. My body ached all over. I felt humiliated, abused and used from the inside out. He snorted out an amused sound and shook his head.

“Get on your knees,” he said calmly. He didn't care what I wanted. He never did. He only cared about his own pleasure and driving me insane. He only cared about his power and his games. He could make me suffer again; he could make me obey. So I did as he asked. I slipped off the edge of the desk and kneeled slowly, my legs shaking. “I want you to clean it all. I don't want to see any of it left.” He scratched at the top of my head and it made me want to hum. Although in that moment I hated him, I couldn't deny that I was a slave for the little bit of softness and caressing he was showing me.  But he untangled his hand from my hair and took a step back just as I was starting to get used to his soft touch. “Go on,” he urged, his tone light but forceful.

I leaned forward and ran my tongue up the cool, smooth plywood of the desk, closing my eyes when his taste exploded on my tongue again. I should've felt humiliated and I did, but more than that, I felt dirty. I was slick between my legs and my whole body throbbed. My knees burned from the rough commercial carpet. But I didn't stop. I licked it until it was clean and them I swallowed it all. When it was done, I opened my eyes and swiped my hand across my mouth. I sat back on my haunches and looked over my shoulder expectantly. I don't know what I expected, but I was still surprised.

He was gone.

The office was silent and empty again. I was alone, the only sound the humming of the AC and the jagged sound of my own breathing. I stayed there on the floor for a minute, waiting for my heartbeat and my thoughts to stop racing. Then I stood on my weak legs, bracing myself on the desk. He was right; I didn't think I'd ever be able to look at that desk without thinking of him. I clutched the edges of my blouse, pulling them together to cover my chest. I ran my hand through my hair, waiting for the calm to come. Eventually the drug of what had just happened would wear off. I forced myself to walk back to where he'd thrown me to the ground. I stooped and ran my hands over the floor, collecting as many of the discarded buttons as I could. The blouse was ruined, but I didn't want to leave any evidence. I didn't want anyone else to know that something out of the ordinary had happened there.

I tossed the buttons into my purse and then I went to the closet where the cleaning service workers kept their cart. They would be there later that night to do their work, but I didn't want to wait for them. I grabbed the bleach and a roll of paper towels and went back to my desk. I sprayed everywhere his come and my tongue had touched. I imagined the bleach burning away all the evidence as I hurriedly wiped it up. The smell assaulted my nostrils as I thoroughly finished the job, wiping and wiping until I was surprised the veneer still had a sheen. I put everything back and then went to the bathroom and flushed the paper towels, getting rid of the evidence in the most effective way I could think of. I forced myself to look at myself in the mirror. In the bright, offensive lighting, I looked objectively terrible. I ran my hands through my hair and splashed some water on my face. I told myself I just had to get home. When I got home, everything would be fine.

I slid on my trench and buttoned it up all the way to the neck. I grabbed my purse and did a quick one-over of the office. It seemed innocuous and normal, like always. But now it was ominous as well. The dark shadows of empty cubicles held an unspoken threat. The front door wasn't just the exit but also the place where he'd come in and shattered the silence. It felt like him in the office, now. It wasn't impersonal anymore. He'd made it very personal.

I turned off the lights and headed for the door. My heartbeat sped up again, wondering what I would find outside the door. I wondered if he would still be there. I wondered if he was really gone or if he was waiting for me. I shivered as I thought of him following me home, surprising me when I least suspected and when I thought I was safe and protected. He'd already destroyed that illusion. I was never safe.

I set the alarm as I went and then took a deep breath. The alarm beeped insistently, reminding me I didn't have much time before it set. I had to push open the door and go out into the dark night. I would be vulnerable again, but I'd never stopped being vulnerable. As the beeping sped up and time grew short, I forced myself to push open the door and step out into the cool air. The door closed behind me and the beeping stopped. I stared out at the quiet parking lot, the distant hum of the city the only sound in my ear. The street beyond me was quiet. The cafe across the street was closed. There was no one around.

My heels clicked as I hurried across the parking lot toward my car. If I could just get inside and get home, I told myself, then everything would be fine. It was the only thing I could do. But I didn't feel much relief as I yanked open the door and slid into the driver's seat with no fanfare. Nothing happened. No one was waiting in the shadows to grab me, kidnap me, drag me away from the safety of my everyday, predictable life. I jammed the key into the ignition and then my blood went cold when I heard a movement in the backseat. A strong arms slid around my neck and pulled me back against the headrest, not enough to strangle me but enough to cement me in place.