I stood there, frozen, barely breathing, as Mike's lips crashed against mine. It wasn't a question. It wasn't tender. It was a command. His mouth took control, fierce and possessive, like he was branding me with the taste of him.
There was no warmth in that kiss. No gentleness. Just raw authority and an edge of heat that made my legs tremble. His hand gripped my waist, firm and steady, keeping me anchored while his lips moved over mine. He kissed like a man who didn't ask but he took.
I should have pushed him away. I should have screamed. But I didn't. Because I wasn't scared. Not in the way I should've been. I was burning, drowning in something I didn't understand. Something hot, dark, and completely consuming.
This man had threatened me, bought me, and trapped me in a contract that felt more like a sentence than an agreement. And yet, standing there in his arms, my body reacted like it had a mind of its own, my heart hammering, my breath hitching, my thighs tightening involuntarily.
When he finally pulled back, his breath lingered on my lips. His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable, holding me there without a single word.
"You're shaking," he said quietly.
I couldn't respond. My throat was dry, my body was trembling, and my lips still tingled from the kiss.
"Scared?" he asked again.
I nodded, barely.
He leaned closer. "Good. That means you understand who I am… and what's about to happen."
His fingers traced the edge of my blouse, not touching skin, but close enough to set fire along the surface. "I don't love," he whispered. "I don't do soft. But tonight, I'll make one exception."
He paused, gaze piercing.
"Because you're a virgin."
The words hit me like a jolt. I could barely breathe. My stomach tightened, and I felt heat rush to my face.
"I can feel it," he continued. "In the way your breath catches. The way your eyes search for the door. The way your body stiffens every time I get close." Don't be scared, you will love it.
His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "But there's no escape now."
Then he stepped back, his voice calm. "Take off your blouse."
My fingers trembled as I reached for the buttons. One by one, I unfastened them, the silky fabric slipping down my shoulders. I stood bare from the waist up, just as the maid had dressed me, no bra, no protection.
The cool air made my nipples tighten instantly. Instinctively, I raised my arms to cover myself.
"Drop your arms."
The command cut through me. I hesitated, then let my arms fall.
His gaze traveled slowly, intensely. Not lustful exactly. It was colder than that. Calculated. Like I was something rare he'd purchased and was now inspecting. His hand lifted, pressing gently to my waist, sliding up with painful slowness until his fingers brushed the side of my breast.
"You're beautiful," he said flatly. Not as a compliment. As a fact.
He leaned in and kissed the base of my throat, then moved along my collarbone, mouth warm and hungry. Then he reached behind me, unzipping my skirt. It slid to the floor in silence, leaving me in nothing but thin lace panties.
"Next time," he said, "don't wear underwear. Just the dress."
I nodded, barely holding myself together.
Then he pushed me gently and I stumbled back onto the bed. My heart pounded as I watched him slowly undo the buttons of his black shirt. One by one, he revealed smooth, toned skin, muscles carved like stone. Then he dropped the shirt entirely, exposing the full strength of his chest.
His fingers moved to his belt. He pulled it free in one slow, sharp motion. My breath caught.
He stood at the foot of the bed, towering over me.
"Has anyone ever touched you?"
I shook my head.
"Kissed you?"
"No."
That was the first time he smiled. Not warm or cruel. Just… knowing.
"Then I'll teach you."
He climbed onto the bed, straddling me without pressing down. His body hovered above mine, strong and heavy with heat. His mouth came down to my neck, trailing kisses down to my chest. When his lips brushed my nipple, I gasped aloud.
It wasn't pain.
It was a shock. A spark. A sensation that spread like fire down to my stomach and lower, curling between my thighs.
His tongue teased, licked, and explored. One hand cupped the other breast, kneading slowly while his mouth played with the first. My back arched despite myself. I bit my lip to keep from moaning.
"Don't hide it," he whispered. "Let me hear you."
His hand slid down over my belly. Slower and lower. Then he touched me gently, but firmly, through the lace. I gasped. He kept going, tracing the shape of me, pressing with just enough pressure to drive me mad.
Then he pulled my panties down. Slowly. Off.
I tried to close my legs, but he pushed them apart with his knees. He looked down at me.
"You're wet," he said simply. "That's good."
He slid a finger inside me.
I jerked. "Mike..."
"Shh," he murmured. "I'm preparing you. You should thank me."
His finger moved slowly, in and out, teasing and exploring. Then he added another, stretching me, filling me just enough to make my body tense up. But the heat didn't stop. It kept building. My breathing grew ragged, my hips shifting.
And just when I thought I couldn't take any more, he pulled away. Cleaned his hands. Then unzipped his pants.
I froze when I saw him. Thick. Hard. Bigger than I'd imagined.
"I... I don't think I can..."
"You can," he said. "And you will."
"I'm scared."
"You shouldn't be."
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "I'll be careful. But it will hurt. Just once."
He lined himself up. Rubbed the tip of him against my entrance.
"Breathe," he whispered.
I inhaled. Then he pushed in.
The pain hit fast and deep. My body arched. Tears pricked my eyes. I whimpered as he kept going, slow but firm, filling me inch by inch.
"Almost in," he said, his voice tight.
"It hurts," I whispered.
"I know. Just a little more."
Finally, he was inside me. He stopped, letting me adjust.
I couldn't think. I was full, completely claimed. My body trembled beneath his. My eyes stayed shut, breaths shallow.
"You did well," he whispered.
Then he began to move.
Slow at first. In and out. Gentle, almost reverent. As the pain faded, pleasure started to grow, warm and liquid and spreading through my belly, my thighs, my chest.
His hands pinned mine above my head. His mouth found my throat again, kissing with purpose. Every movement of his hips sent another jolt through me. My back arched, my moans grew louder, and my body betrayed me, welcoming him, wanting more.
And when the wave hit, I cried out. My body tightened, trembled, then shattered.
My first orgasm.
And when I shook beneath him, he grunted softly, thrust deeper, and followed.
His release filled me with hot and final.
He didn't move for a moment.
Just stayed inside me, breathing hard, chest rising and falling above mine.
Then he pulled out slowly and rolled beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were already closed, one arm thrown over his face.
Like nothing had just happened.
But something had.
He had taken something I'd never given anyone.
Tears burned my eyes, but I blinked them back. He said there would be no love. I had no right to expect it. But still, a piece of me felt… broken.
Used.
Owned.
A few minutes later, he stood and lit a cigarette. I tried to sit up, but pain flared between my legs.
He glanced at me. "No need to move yet. I'm not done with you."
And as I lay there, body aching, heart fragile, I realized the truth.
This was only the beginning.