My Sweet Songbird: Requested Trilogy - Part Three Page 7

  Reaching down, I fumble with the buckle of my belt, growling as the leather bites into the loops of my pants, becoming stuck. Mia’s eyes follow my movements and she flattens herself against the wall even more, drawing her knees to her chest and clutching them tightly.

  “I didn’t do anything,” she says. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Don’t say a word!”

  She clambers to her knees, eyes trained obediently at her trembling hands. “It is my pleasure to obey your command.” Her voice wavers.

  Pushing my pants to the floor, I step out of them but keep my belt in my hand as I tear my shirt off and toss it to the ground. Standing naked before her, I command her to look at me. Her eyes travel over my body in fear and awe. There’s no excess to my frame, emphasizing every line and sinew of my sculptured body. I am a fucking god. Her eyes get stuck on my cock and she swallows, salivating at the thought of it pushing inside her. I snap the belt over my thigh and her eyes travel to the red welt left behind.

  “Strip.”

  Her trembling hands lift to slide the straps of her gown over her shoulders. The material slides over her skin, almost as though it’s caressing it before pooling around her waist. Her breasts are displayed before me and they are flawless, perfect in their symmetry. Leaning forward, she rises to her feet, eyes still cast to the ground, her movements compliant to my commands. Red silk falls to the floor, spilling around her like a pool of blood.

  “Bend over the bed.”

  Her head begins to shake before any words come out of her fuckable mouth. “Please, Sebastian—”

  I slap her across the cheek. Not hard. Not enough to cause any damage. Just enough to warn her, like I did repeatedly last night. It’s these small motions, these small sparks of pain which make me the hardest. I relish the feel of them on my skin just as much as I relish the terror in her eyes. We both know I am capable of so much more. It is an unspoken game between us.

  “On the bed!” I bellow.

  She launches herself onto the mattress, her knees hitting the floor and her face buried into the covers. Her fingers clutch the material as though it will help her bear the pain. Her knuckles are white. Her ass is gorgeous and pale, not yet licked with red welts.

  Fisting my cock, I stroke it a few times, groaning as I imagine the feel of pushing inside her. I’ve been a good boy. I haven’t taken what is rightfully mine even though it’s been temptingly before me for days.

  The time for patience is done.

  She is mine.

  By the time this night is over, she will be begging for more. She will be writhing beneath me in ecstasy. She will be marked by my belt, my hand, and my cock.

  Small muffled whimpers escape her as I approach. I run the belt over her ass, allowing it to kiss her skin with leather before I brand it. And then I lift it into the air and let my monster out. She cries in pain when it lashes against her and my cock pulses at the sound. She’s crying, her tears soaking into the covers of the bed. The welt across her ass is a flawless line of red. It’s raised angrily, and I reach down to brush my fingers over its perfection. Lifting the belt again I whip it down, drawing my lip between my teeth and biting through the flesh so I too can feel pain.

  Her cry is louder this time but cut short by a tortured sob.

  “Please Maestro, please stop. Please don’t hurt me.”

  I lean over her, my cock pushing into the warmth left behind by the belt. “But pain is life, my sweet songbird. Pain is what makes us stronger.” Lowering my head, I run my tongue up the entire length of her spine, starting between the two dimples that grace her lower back. She shudders, eager for me, and grips the bedding harder.

  But when I lift the belt to strike her again, she scrambles up the bed, turning her back and cowering against the headboard. Her tears are stained with mascara. Her lipstick is smeared. Her hair is disheveled from where it’s rubbed against the covers. She is a carnal mess.

  “Stop, Marcel. Please stop.”

  She isn’t looking at me. She’s a quivering mess. And she called me Marcel. I am not Marcel. I am her Maestro, her lover, the owner of her soul. I am nothing like him.

  Confused by my hesitation, she looks up. There’s something in her gaze that softens me and she pounces, uncurling herself from her huddled position and gravitating toward me.

  “Please, Maestro.” She places her hand on my chest, over my heart. “Please Sebastian, don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything.” She shuffles forward, glancing upward through lowered lashes. “Just tell me what you want.”

  The fire in my veins cools with her touch. The hum of my blood slows. The noise in my head falls quiet.

  Inching forward, her gaze floats between my eyes and lips. She’s hesitant, searching for my permission. Her lips are soft when they press against mine. Normally, when someone touches me it is weighted with unease and agitation, but her hold calms me.

  Sliding her hand up my chest, it twists around the back of my neck and snakes into my hair. Her nails scrap against my scalp. No longer shy in her desire, her tongue explores my mouth hungrily. I gather her in my arms, pressing her body against mine. Our kiss deepens until she pulls away, her lips bruised with desire and cheeks flushed with passion. Dropping to all fours, her eyes travel up my body, her mouth inching toward my hard cock.

  And then she licks me from base to tip.

  I groan, my gaze moving to the ceiling before coiling back to look down at her and fisting my fingers into her hair. She gasps as I yank her head back, freeing myself from her lips. She’s eager. Too eager. She’s diverting me from my purpose, but for some reason I allow it.

  “Do you think you can distract me with your mouth?”

  Tears trip and fall over her cheeks. She shakes her head, protesting her innocence, so I shove it back toward my cock and feed myself into her mouth. She gags when I push to the back of her throat, but I hold her in place. Her hands lift to my thighs, pushing against them, trying to escape. I release her by yanking on her hair again, allowing her to breathe.

  “Tell me you want me. If you’re truly sorry, if he truly doesn’t mean anything to you, tell me you want me.”

  “I want you,” she sobs, rising up on her knees. “Please, Sebastian, please fuck me. Make me yours.” Wrapping her arms around my shoulders she almost climbs onto me, pressing her wetness against my cock and rubbing her desire over me.

  It is too much. The need to be inside her is too strong. Shoving her backwards, she falls to the mattress, her hair fanning about her gloriously. Her legs fall open willingly and I push inside. Her fingers dig into my back as she hooks her heels into my ass cheeks, urging me to fuck her deeper. I drive into her, sweat and passion dripping from me as I am consumed with lust. I fuck her relentlessly until she cries out, her walls spasming and wrenching out my own release.

  I collapse on top of her, our chests pressed together and our blood pulsing in unison. We lie like that until our bodies begin to meld together, my spent cock still buried inside her. I feel heavy at the same time as I feel as though I’m floating. I am neither burning with rage or cold with indifference.

  Maybe this is what it feels like to be at peace.

  mia

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  MIA

  Sebastian stands as a chiseled god before me, vengeful and fearsome. He’s naked and holding his belt, his skin rippling with rage. His dark hair strikes a perfect contrast against his pale skin. His eyes blaze like blue fire. But even though he’s before me, even though I’m quivering with fear, all I can think about is Ryker. The moment his ocean-eyes landed on me, my world stopped. My heart leaped into my throat and began to thud with elation. Ryker is here. He is under the same roof. He is safe.

  Lifting the leather, Sebastian brings it down on his thigh, not even wincing as it slaps against his flesh and leaves behind a line of red.

  “Strip,” he orders.

  There’s a darkness in his eyes I haven’t seen before, an uncontrollable fury that dominates his movements and I
know it is my fault. I warned Ryker this would happen if he ever saw us together. He thought we would be able to fool him, but I warned him that Sebastian would look into my eyes and see that I longed for another man. Every ounce of desire and affection I had for Ryker came crashing back the moment I saw him. When I touched him, I almost drowned in the waves of need. And despite the fact that I plunged a knife into his shoulder, I knew he felt it too. We tried to hide it from our expression. We tried not to ignite the fire of rage that burns so easily inside Sebastian, but it was too late. He’d already seen.

  My hand shakes as I slip the straps of my dress over my shoulders and let it pool around my waist. Sebastian watches as I get to my feet, his gaze following my dress as it falls to the floor. His eyes roam up my body slowly and his tongue darts out between his lips as an animalistic groan escapes.

  “Bend over the bed.”

  My eyes are stuck on the belt that hangs at his side, my mind going back to the feel of Marcel’s strap as it lashed against me. I’m terrified of that pain. “Please, Sebastian—”

  His slap catches me by surprise and I lift a trembling hand to cover the warmth.

  “On the fucking bed!”

  Scared to ignite his anger more, I throw myself onto the bed, squeezing my eyes shut and bracing myself for the pain to come. I can’t hold in my tears as he steps behind me and lifts the belt, letting muffled whimpers of fear out as I bury my face into the bedding. And then the pain comes. It slices across my skin as sharply as though he used a knife. I dig my fingers into the covers, grasping tightly as he hits me again. It’s so much worse the second time and I scream into the blankets.

  Memories of Marcel mix with reality. I’m taken back to that feeling of helplessness, that complete and utter vulnerability of being at his mercy.

  Pleading words tumble from me. “Please don’t hurt me.”

  But he just presses against me as he whispers in my ear. “Pain is life, my sweet songbird. Pain is what makes us stronger.” His tongue burns as it lays a trail of moisture up my spine.

  I try to stay still. I try to be obedient and submissive because I know it is what he wants, but the memory of Marcel is too fresh in my mind. I can’t do this. I can’t lie here while he strikes me. I wish I was stronger. I wish I could bear the pain, but the terror that wells inside me is too strong. Scrambling to get away from him, I hug the headboard. Visions of Marcel’s sinister smile keep mixing with Sebastian’s face and I squeeze my eyes shut, my words coming out wrenched between sobs.

  “Please, stop.”

  And he does. For a few moments, we are both frozen, one kneeling arrogantly, belt in hand, the other cowering in fear. Hazarding a look, I find him staring at me curiously, the faintest of lines pressed between his brows. There’s a break in his darkness. A crack of light which slips into his expression. Risking punishment, I move toward him, placing my hand on his chest in supplication.

  “Please, Sebastian, please don’t hurt me. I’ll do anything.” And in that moment, I mean it. I would do anything to stop the pain, anything to stop the visions of Marcel that torment me.

  I press my lips to his, hesitant but hopeful that I can calm his rage. I kiss him passionately and desperately, eager to please him, eager to distract him from his anger. Daisy’s words echo through my head.

  Figure out what Junior wants and how to make him happy. It will make your life here easier.

  Even though everything inside me abhors the thought of placating him, I know it is the only way I will survive. Closing my eyes, I thread my hands into his hair, imagining him to be Ryker. I know my advances have worked when he wraps his arms around me and presses his body into mine. Swallowing my fear and my distaste, I drop to all fours and take him in my mouth, hoping that it will be enough to satisfy him.

  Fisting his fingers into my hair, he pulls sharply, yanking my head back and forcing me to look at him. The darkness is still in his eyes, but it’s sated a little by my actions.

  “Do you think you can distract me with your mouth?”

  I was hoping it would be enough to fool him, enough to content him. Shaking my head, I lie about my innocence and he knows it. Pressing me back down, he pushes his cock back into my mouth, shoving it in until it hits the back of my throat and I gag. He’s incredibly hard and his cock suffocates me. I try to pull away, but he holds me in place, sick laughter erupting from him as I struggle for air, pushing against his thighs in an effort to escape him. When he finally jerks my head back, I gasp, coughing and spluttering with his hand still fisted in my hair.

  “Tell me you want me,” he hisses. “If Ryker doesn’t mean anything to you, tell me you want me.”

  All dignity has left and all I want is to quell his darkness. “Fuck me, Sebastian,” I plead brazenly. “Make me yours.”

  Humiliation and bile rise at the back of my throat but he’s unconvinced. I move closer to him, writhing my body over his, sliding his cock between my legs and covering it with myself shamelessly even as tears fall from my eyes. He smears them with his fingers before pushing me onto the bed and climbing over me. I open myself like a whore begging for more and he plunges inside, ramming himself deeply in one fluid motion. He’s like steel within me and I’m surprised as I clench around him. He’s merciless in his fucking, driving in and out and using me as nothing more than a fuck-toy. I grab onto him to steady myself from his demented thrusts, whimpers and moans of pleasure or fear falling from my mouth as he ruthlessly pounds me.

  Release coils, and I inwardly beg it to dissipate. It doesn’t, and I cry out as an explosion of euphoria rips through me, tearing my heart and shredding my soul. My release triggers his and he collapses on top of me, his chest heaving, his heart beating rapidly against mine.

  His cock is still inside me when he falls asleep. Even though the desire has left it, it’s somehow still hard and thick within me. His body is hot and heavy on top of mine and I want to roll him from me, walk into the bathroom and scour him from my body. But instead, I just lie there, looking up at the intricate molding on the ceiling and letting silent tears roll down my cheeks.

  It doesn’t matter that Ryker is here. If he couldn’t save me before, why would I expect him to save me now? He will never be my savior. He will never be my escape.

  How can I even look him in the eye again knowing what I’ve done? I’ve allowed the devil to fuck me. I’ve allowed the devil to come inside me while my nails dug into his flesh and my lips cried out his name.

  I am Sebastian’s.

  He is my Maestro.

  Daisy is right. The sooner I accept it the sooner I might be able to find a fragment of peace in this fucked up world.

  The moon is high in the sky and casting strange shadows across the floor when Sebastian finally rouses and rolls off me. My legs are stiff and sore, having rested at an odd angle with his body heavily laid over mine and his cock still inside me. Already it is alive again, jutting into the air as he lays on his back and looks at the ceiling, stretching himself. If not for the monster inside, he would be handsome. If not for the monster, I might curl myself into his side and hope to find sleep. But I cannot look at him and not see the monster. It lies coiled within his smile, disguised in the piercing brilliance of his eyes.

  Lifting my hand from where it lies limply on the bed, he brings it to his chest, pressing it to his heart. His pulse beats steadily in my palm. Thud. Thud. Thud. Nothing like the fluttering turmoil of mine.

  “You’re the first person I’ve allowed to touch me like that.” His voice is as quiet and gentle as I’ve ever heard. He applies pressure to my hand, pushing it harder against his skin.

  I don’t know what to say, or if he even expects a response. Turning his head, he twists to look at me. “Sing for me.” It’s a plea, not a command.

  “It’s my pleasure to obey—”

  “No!” He’s vehement in his dismissal. “That time is over.” He turns, lying on his side, his head propped up with his hand.

  I speak quietly. “What w
ould you would like me to sing?”

  Reaching out, he strokes my cheek with the back of his finger. “Sing what’s inside you. Sing your emotions. Sing what’s in your soul.”

  He doesn’t want to know what’s inside my soul. It is filled with loathing for him and longing for Ryker.

  “Anything,” he says. “Just sing anything. There won’t be any repercussions for your choice, I just want to hear your voice.”

  I clear my throat and lift myself to kneel on the bed, the words to a song he won’t want to hear filling my head. I wince as my heels dig into my backside. A cold breeze floats in through the window and tickles my flesh, prickling it with goosebumps. Sebastian runs a finger down my arm, attempting to soothe them but the hairs remain raised as I start to sing.

  His eyes lock on mine, darkness filling them once more. They show a hint of surprise when I swap the pronouns on the first line of the chorus, but he doesn’t stop me. In fact, a slight hint of amusement dances at the corners of his mouth, threatening to erupt into a smile.

  My voice quivers under his attention, feeble in the vastness of the room. Getting to his knees, he stares at me so intently that I have to close my eyes. He’s too close. Too intimate.

  His hands are on my face. They drag over my skin, slurring my words when they catch on my lips. But I don’t stop singing. I lift my voice, letting all the pain and sadness I feel pour into the lyrics.

  When I open my eyes again, Sebastian’s hands are wound into my hair, his eyes boring into mine. The last line weighs in the silence between us.

  He clears his throat as though dislodging some sort of emotion. “You belong to me,” he says. “You belong here.” He presses his lips to mine, begging for a response and I swallow my hesitation to kiss him back, hoping to keep this sweetness about him.

  “Your voice is different. There’s a rawness there that wasn’t before.” He presses another kiss to my lips and I close my eyes again, surprised by the gentleness of it. “It is so beautiful, I don’t even care that you called me a creep.”