Drugs & Dior

Chapter 2

Damon

I slide my hand down her body to her p*ssy with one hand, with the other, I grab her tit and squeeze it. She's moaning before I even slide my finger in and screaming once I do. I finger her until she's on the verge of coming and then I stop.

"Damon—" she moans. Before she can say anything else, I flip her over so her a*s is in the air. I shove two fingers into her and start thrusting in and out with them. "Slow down—" she moans. When I don't do as she asked, she keeps moaning.

Once I deem her ready, I pull out my c*ck and wrap it up. Once I'm ready, I shove it in, not for a second thinking about her. She moans at the rough contact.

"You like that, you sl*ty wh*re?" I ask, grabbing her hair and making her look up at me as I ram into her from the back. "Tell me you like when I manhandle you," I order, looking at her eyes.

She's in a different world.

"I like it," she moans.

"Like what?" I thrust.

"I like when you treat me like the dirty sl*t I am," she finally says.

"Yeah," I say. Thrust. "I know you do." Thrust.

I let go of her hair and grab onto her waist as I continue to thrust in and out of her on a steady rhythm.

Her body is begging for more as she screams "slow down!" Over and over. But I don't listen. I never do when they order me around. I'm the boss here, I'm the one in control. Always.

We go a few rounds until she can't take it anymore. She falls flat onto the bed and groans.

"I'm going to be so sore tomorrow," she says, turning to face me. Her fox eyes look at me through her eyelashes. Her lips are so red, dark red lipstick smudged around her mouth. There are black tear streaks down her face from her mascara. Her dark red hair is messed up and she looks like sh*t. But most girls look like they've ran a marathon after so I'm used to it.

I don't respond to her statement because I don't care. I want her to leave now, all she's doing is taking up space now that she can't go anymore. She curls up in the blankets and I get out of the bed.

Once my clothes are on I stare at her expectantly.

"What?" She asks with a confused smile. "Waiting for me to pay you for your services?" She smiles a genuine smile, it's obvious she's holding back a laugh. Laughing at her own joke. Pathetic.

"Are you planning on sleeping here?" I ask, putting on my shoes.

"Um, yes? Is that not what usually happens?"

"Not with me."

She looks at me with disbelief. "Are you seriously kicking me out right now?" She asks, sitting up in the bed and holding the blanket up to her chest.

"Yea," I say. "I have things to do, you can't stay here."

"I don't believe this," she says, getting up.

I watch her walk around the room scrounging for her black dress. She throws it on and holds her red heals in her hands.

I watch her walk out of the room, debate letting her leave alone, and then decide to watch her leave, in case she tries to steal something.