Chapter 83 2.31. For Your Own Good [R-18]

A jagged ripping noise and Seth’s undershirt was in tatters in Lisa’s fists. Her black lips locked around his neck, sucking ravenously. His hips were boosted into the air as she stripped him of his briefs and he was bare beneath her, pinned to the bed by an ass as big and round and snowy-white as the moon. Lisa lowered her hips to frame his face and that heavenly weight settled across his chest, plump as a pillow and hot as a hearth.

“This is what happens to little thieves who think they can outfox their mistress,” she growled. “Don’t struggle.”

He hadn’t been struggling at all, actually, but now he did, thrashing between her encompassing thighs, doing a pretty excellent job at seeming desperate, if he could so judge his thespianism. “Let me go,” he tried, and oh Saints that was cheesy, but it tugged a shivering groan from her, and it was like she was opening a connection into his brain, like she was overlaying some permissible, pornographic reality atop his.

It came to him like the exquisite, life-affirming dread during his most perfect lifting flowstates. Like the bad ending every thief knew was coming, the weird stress dreams he’d had of climbing the scaffwood or waking up in a Syndicate basement. Like the surrender of a deer in a wolf’s jaws when it knows it’s caught. And he didn’t need to try anymore. He felt the fangs get close, felt them dance across his nerves to set each one tingling, felt them boost every little sensation of his lover’s bruising love, like the exact right pinch of heat to brighten a main course’s bouquet. The self-consciousness wormed back into the dark.

Seth il Gutierre was officially into this. He christened the moment of self-discovery with another thrash and another “Let me go.”

“Don’t waste your air pleading, boy,” Lisa said, though if either of them was out of breath it was her; her chest was heaving so hard she was having trouble getting the words out. “You’ll need every bit of it.”

She shifted herself forward. Her breasts hung heavy and wobbling before his tingling face.

“Not too heavy?” she whispered, and for a moment the evil iron was gone. The muscles in her legs were firm. Her triceps flexed as she planted her palms on the bed. She was keeping so much of her warrior weight off him, and he was dizzy with the perverse want to feel it all, to let her crush him like a bug, and fuck the consequences.

He couldn't really move his head enough to shake it. He winked instead. “Bring it on, baby."

"You sure? Because I might not hear meadowsweet with your mouth full."

"Fuck meadowsweet. I can handle it.”

She raised her hips from his chest; her lust glistened a bright strand between his breastbone and her blushing folds. “Can you?” The wicked fairytale stepmother was back in residence. “We’ll see.”

She took a handful of his hair in her fist and fucked his face like she hated him.

“This is for your own good,” she gasped, bucking and grinding. “Your own—fucking—good—”

Every thrust was a symphony of sensation. Her trim, perfumed bush and its stubble scraping his skin. Her clit, which drew husky gasps from her as it kissed his nose. Her sultry cunt, hot and pulsing. Her muscles squeezed him so hard his ears rang. He could barely breathe. She didn’t care and neither did he. She was treating him like a toy. Like a thing without thought, made only to please her. No room for his clever tricks. No nimbleness of his tongue while it was buried so far into her. No tricks of his fingers while her thick thighs pinned his arms to his sides. All he could do was endure her as she used him, as she chased bliss atop him.

It was incredible.

Saints, the view. Her head thrown back, her tits hanging heavy and ripe, her stomach flexing in time with the thrusting of her thick hips. Punch-drunk delight simmered through him at the uncontrollable pleasure he was giving her. He grabbed hold of her from behind, seizing those perfect handlebar hips, his thumbs digging into the cushion of her ass, his fingers framing the cute round puff of her matronly paunch, and now she was too far gone to care, too enraptured by his talented tongue to put on her punitive act any longer. “Seth,” she wailed, voice breaking. “Fucking saints, SETH—”

The cavalier thighs that clung so surely to her warhorse wrapped tighter and she rode his face into joyous oblivion, drowning out the creaking bed with a song so lascivious and unabashed that the empty house echoed with it. He was making her cum. Seth il Gutierre the nobody thief from nowhere was making a goddess cum.

Finally her burrowing desperation diminished. Sweat beaded along the taut, shining skin of her trembling abdominals. She cradled his head, rubbing curlicue circles into his hair as she lifted her sodden sex from his face.

She let out a throttled gasp. “Oh Saints. Oh no. Seth.”

“What?” he breathed, through the rosy haze and the stinging air.

“Your nose.”

Seth gingerly touched it. His fingertips came away showing onyx-colored blood. He pushed his nose a little harder. No sharp pain, but the throb of his pulse now. He laughed. “You fucked my nose bloody?”

Her weight was off him. She cradled him like a child. “I am so sorry.”

“An—Lisa. It’s fine. Really, it is. Doesn’t even hurt.” He cast about for a tissue and found one of the rags his undershirt had been torn into. “I just have thin capillaries. Happens when it’s about to rain sometimes.”

“Don’t excuse me.” Her lip trembled. “It’s this head, it—the woman who donated it was this lovely thin minx and I’m—I tried to do what she did when I’m a damn tank. Punishment time is over.” A crack in her voice. “Saints, I’m a monster.”

Ah, shit. She was starting to sniffle. Seth sat up, keeping the rag pressed to his face. “Verdugo al Ydris.” He gestured to his hips, where he remained standing at enthusiastic attention. “Does it look like I want punishment time to be over?”

A weak laugh battled back her nascent tears. “Maybe not.”

“Do you really think a guy like me needs a thin minx?” With the hand that wasn’t bloody he stroked her hair. “Cause I think I need a woman who can hold me down and show me a thing or two.”

“Okay, but I’m washing your face for you.” She sprung from the bed and padded to the en suite. Seth heard her fancy bathroom faucet running. “Saints know you’ve earned some pampering.”

“Hey, now. What proper servant wouldn’t be willing to shed blood for his Verdugo?”

She scoffed as she returned with a damp towel. “Quit acting the maggot. Let me see.”

“Acting the maggot? Crushing self-doubt? What’s Annalise doing in Lisa’s bed?”

“Shhh.” She exaggerated it into parody. “Ye wee blighter.”

He chuckled and let her clean his face. As the warm, damp cloth patted him, her fingers began a steady, rasping scratch at the root of his scalp. “Is it still going?”

He wiped at his philtrum and shook his head.

“How do you want to cum, Seth?” she whispered, setting the cloth aside. “It’s your turn. Whatever you want. Should we do the thing?” She encouragingly tugged the top of her hair in readiness to lift her head off. “Eh?”

“Not like that,” he said, and laughed at her disappointment. “The theatrics are fun. They’re really fun. But maybe the rest of the night we get as close to each other as we can.”

“Here, then.” She folded her legs around his waist and lay back. Her arms extended. “Beautiful boy. Come here.”

He slipped into her embrace. “You don’t have to stop the whole… mistress thing.”

“I haven’t.” She kissed his forehead. “There’s two sides to proper fox ownership, you know. This is the other. Let Mistress comfort you.”

Her scritching fingers reached his hair. He groaned as the meridian response shivered down his spine. “Little higher,” he murmured. She obliged.

“It’s been hard, hasn’t it?” Her legs intertwined with his. Her thighs were so hot and warm. The skin on them clung to his, sticky with sweat and nectar. “Adjusting to the big city.”

He nodded into her chest. His stubble rasped her milky-white skin.

“I was so excited to have a splendid man to show off that I rushed you a bit, didn’t I?” she whispered. “Well, you don’t have to rush here. You can be slow with me.”

Her scratching fingers and her husky, resonant voice were loosening every knot in his body. “Mmhmm.”

“Do you know what might be fun?” she murmured, as the scratches drifted down his spine. “I can teach you something.”

“Huh. Sounds kinda…” He wiped away his drool. “Kinda suspiciously enriching.”

“I could teach you what to do with this body.” Her legs softly parted, the skin pulling away from his with a silky kiss sound. “What feels best. Only the heads change, you know. The body likes what it likes. There are things Annalise likes. Things she’s too abashed to tell you. But I’m not.”

The puddle she’d caressed him into was reforming into a man again. Suddenly enrichment didn’t seem so bad.

Lisa’s hand slid between her legs and coaxed him further into readiness. “Would you like to learn how to make me cum, every time? Without threatening the integrity of this?” She nuzzled his nose.

“Still close?” he asked.

She kissed his ear. “Close as we can get.”

He adjusted himself, lying atop her in lazy, lounging missionary. She spread her legs wide, and guided his cock between them, wrapping her calves around his back and tucking his face into her chest, enfolding him back into her curvaceous confines, maximizing their skin contact.

He felt her hips tilt and gyrate beneath him. He reacted in kind. “Don’t go in yet,” she murmured into his hair. “Tease me. Close… slow… and then slide up, along the outside. You—” Her instruction tweaked into a whimper as the friction slipped through her folds to her clit. “You have this bit figured out.”

“Uh huh.” He treated her to another slow stroke. The elegant bowstring tendons in her thighs quivered. “You’re not so mysterious, y’know.” Oops: “Mistress.”

She huffed a shaky giggle. “Cocky little fox. Now. Go on. Push.” His cock halted mid-stroke; its head slid into something silky and snug and clinging. “Shallow. Shallow and… ohh. That’s perfect. That—” She paused to breathe. “Just the head. Rock it. Gentle. Seth. That. Yes.”

Sultry, slithering sound from where he was halfway inside her. Her body, parting and tightening, so eager to take everything. The haze was coming back. So much of him still needed to feel her. He tried not to sound like he was begging. “How long?”

“Until I do this,” she said, and she pulled his face to hers and stared him in the eye as her calves tightened and pulled, not quickly but unyieldingly.

And as he sank into her, and every fold and bump and ridge of her divine body caressed him, she held the stare, drinking him with her midnight eyes, and the passage of every inch reflected on her face as it went from its confident grin to a look of lustful, vulnerable wonder, her lips parting, her gaze widening, her eyebrows knitting upward. Until he was as far inside as he could be, and their hips met and the desire of their foreplay intermingled, wet and snug and welcoming. They shared one moaning shiver.

“And then feel me,” she breathed. “Just feel me for a second.”

His cock twitched against the crushing velvet that encased it. She giggled, and twitched back.

“How do I feel?”

“Like home.”

She kissed him, slow and possessive. Lisa kissed how Annalise kissed, he realized. Just like how Annalise kissed.

He began the slow, agonizing process of drawing back. The air stung the shining exposure where Lisa’s pussy clung to him, unwilling to let him go.

“Mmn—slower.” She shook her head. “Slower, okay? Nearly all the way out and then—oh fuck—” Her head tipped back as he plunged back in, rooting and scraping. There was a seam—a subtle one, where Lisa’s graceful neck met Annalise’s body. “Okay. Ohhhkay. Faster.”

He rose the pace to a slow, determined thrusting. Out as far as he could without breaking their throbbing connection, then in with as much force as he dared, sending a shockwave through the motherly softness on display before him that halted at the steel boundaries of muscle.

“Put your palm here. Right here and push.” She seized his forearm and stuck it between them, flattened his palm on her mound. He pushed, felt the downy give and the tickling pubic hair and the way the smush stopped shallow against the steel wall of her musculature. “Harder, pet,” she demanded. “You won’t break me.”

He pushed. He sped up. She hadn’t told him to, but he took her nipple into his mouth and sucked and she inhaled sharply.

“Good,” she gasped. “That’s good. Show your Mistress how strong you are.”

The last of her clear-headed lesson crumbled into the fast, building current of their pleasure. Seth wasn’t thinking any clearer than she was, but seh and ohh and ohhsaints ohseth probably didn’t count as instructions anymore.

But yes did, he supposed, and she kept saying it, and he kept speeding up, until his core burned and the bed was groaning and clattering against the wall, and Lisa’s curves were jiggling against him, meaty and voluptuous, her springy, thick ass bouncing into his hips, urging him faster, faster, and their skin was dampening with sweat and desire until every thrust wasn’t just the dry slap of skin on skin but the juicy plap-plap-plap of animalistic breeding, and her voice was getting higher, higher than he’d ever heard any head go, like he was stripping the years from her with every burrowing thrust.

Her forearms locked him tight, hugging him in like he was a stuffed bear. Her mouth was opening into a silent scream. Seth braced himself onto his knees and pistoned as fast as his overtaxed body would allow him to. “My—Seth, my—” She was barely a breath in his ear, a high wavering squeak Seth had to turn his head to hear. “My ass. Your thumb.”

“You want me to—”

“Please.” Her lovely eyes were screwing shut, her features contorting. She fluttered around him. The tendons in her neck thickened. He fanned his fingers across the gleaming cushion of her asscheek, and shoved his thumb inside.

The electrified jerk with which Lisa reacted nearly bucked him off her. Her arms shot outward, grip lancing into the bedspread like gravity was reversing. Her spine wrenched into an arch that crushed her stomach against Seth’s and he felt every perfect muscle in it spasm then lock, felt her go granite-hard all over, and the tight ring of muscle his thumb had pushed into clamped down on him, and she’d been so loud, so boldly bawdily loud the whole time, but she came silently, like every dial in her brain had maxed out and broken and the machinery that powered her voice had jammed up with the rest of her, and then her legs quivered and then jolted and she fucking screamed.

Her back slammed back down onto the bed; her embrace snapped back around Seth with the clap of joining skin. Her nails raked across his back. She howled wordlessly and spasmed again, and again, and then finally her climax loosened its ironclad grip on her, and her spine relaxed, and the pouch of her belly softened again with her heaving breath, and a mewling aftershock twinged through her and sent another jiggle along her stomach and her chest.

Seth’s fingertips pressed soft grooves into the meat of her thighs as she whimpered and trembled. “Holy fuck,” he whispered.

His wrung-out mistress sighed, a dazed ohhhh full of enervated awe, as if in response, as if she’d never heard those words in that order before.

He went to prop himself up. He couldn’t. She was still bearhugging him. Her legs crossed over his back and held him in place as she coiled tighter around him, though an exhausted twitch fluttered the slick muscles.

“Cum in me,” she mumbled. Her fingers had stopped their brainless scrabble and were rubbing circles into his shoulders. The rubble he’d fucked her into was reversing, building her brain back brick by brick. “You’re not going anywhere until you cum in me.”

He hitched himself higher, curling her legs up, and they were still clinging tight but now his hips were atop hers, giving him the purchase to hammer downward. Her knees pushed her breasts together and her ass was blushing beneath his hands from all the friction and she was beaming at him, beaming beautifully as he fucked her, she’d already come twice, he remembered, and now it was his turn.

She grabbed two handfuls of his ass and tugged, and her abs rolled her hips along him, and she was fucking, too, bringing herself up to meet every movement, hastening him closer.

“Saints and fucking seraphs,” he gasped. “Ann—Lisa. Sorry.”

“No saying sorry, Sethy. Not anymore.” She laughed, brightly, and now she was grinding her hips back and forth, and clenching and unclenching, and her insides sucked him in, gripped him and twisted and milked him. “I am she, and she is me. No more friction. Call me Annalise. Call me Lisa. Call me Mistress. Call me Mommy.”

He coughed a bewildered laugh into the cleavage she was drowning him in. “Mommy?”

“No?” A grinning hum. “Worth a try.”

“Lisa, I’m—I’m close.”

“Okay, so not Mommy.” She held him suddenly fast, pinning him to her at the deepest point of his movement. “But Mistress.”

“Mistress.” He was too fucking horny to be embarrassed by saying it. “I’m so fucking—I’m almost there—”

“I feel it,” she cooed. “You’re gonna make such a mess, aren’t you? We can’t have that, can we?” She belly-danced against him, gyrating forward-and-back and he’d never felt anything like it, it was making his eyes cross. “You’d better let it alllll out inside your Auntie Lisa. Every last drop.”

His brain was shutting off one fold at a time.

“Give Mistress what’s hers.” Her ankles hooked at his back. “Come on. Come on, little fox. Come—”

He came.

Her words trailed off into a scratchy sigh as his helpless cries muffled into the sweltering, sweat-slick canyon of her breasts. She did that thing again, that sliding sucking clench, and her sweet, gentle laugh filled his vacating brain as he lost himself in her, pulse after melting pulse, a slippery, boiling lake of it that he glided on as her insides gripped and coiled and pulled more and more and more out of him.

“More,” she crooned in his ear, as he bucked and gasped. “More, boy. Give me everything.”

He was tuning into the mindless pet they’d pretended he was. He was born for one thing and it was painting as much of the Verdugo’s womb white as he could reach.

“So warm,” she sighed. “You’re so warm.”

His automatic pistoning frenzy wore itself out. He crumpled.

She giggled and relaxed her legs’ grip on him. “Oh, Seth, you really stuck me, didn’t you?”

That same state of fuck-drunk hypnosis he’d plunged her into before had now come for him. He went “Woough” and that was about all he could manage.

“Let’s stay like this a while,” she whispered.

“Uh huh,” he managed, and they breathed and he lay on top of her, half-hard and buried inside. And he wondered, as he stroked Lisa’s hip, whether the name he had been about to call when he was inside her was Annalise or Anna.

“I want to make sure it gets as deep as it can,” she whispered. “I want a little piece of you to belong to me. Always.”

She was leading him back into himself, into the world of love and language. “Fuck a little piece.” He kissed her collarbone. “You’ve got the whole thing.”

“I do, don’t I?” Her knuckle gently traced his jaw. “Like a Saint heard a prayer I didn’t even know I was praying.”

His kiss trailed up to her chin. She beamed and stretched herself like his touch was shining a patch of sun onto her.

“Saints,” she remaked. “I am sloshing.” The emotional whiplash sent Seth into a giggle fit. Lisa smirked and winched him closer against her. “It’s a good thing we’re unlit. I daresay you’d have just fucked another set of twins into me otherwise.”

“Stop. Can you imagine? Your kids’d kill me. I’d—”

I’d need to avoid the stairs, he almost said, but she didn’t know he knew, did she?

“You’d certainly not want to linger at the top of any staircases,” she said, and he guffawed with the relief of a secret unburdened. “They told you, then?”

“Before we were together,” he said. “Officially.”

“And you screwed me anyway.” She shook her head and tutted. “You really are in need of guidance, aren’t you?”

“I learn,” he said, and his thumb curled into the skin of her lower back. She giggled. “But if we’re talking about secrets…”

The giggle stopped. “Are we?”

“I promised myself I’d ask this when I was lying naked in your arms.” He propped his head onto her arm. “And here I am, and there’s my clothes over there.”

Lisa’s lips pursed. “What’s this about, Seth?”

“Desdemona wanted to get in my head.” He brushed her cheek. “So she told me about yours.”

“I really despise that bitch.” Solemn understanding dawned on her face. “What did she tell you about Alice?”

“She didn’t say a thing about Alice,” he said. “I want to know about the woman who donated Lisa.”