“How are you feeling this morning, Princess?” a groggy voice asks

from behind as the arm draped across my middle tightens

slightly.

I jump, and it takes me a moment to wake enough to be aware of my surroundings. I quickly realize I’m still stuck in the same nightmare I have been living in for the past few weeks. I don’t want to admit to myself that waking up next to the man who bought me last night isn’t an entirely unpleasant experience.

Maybe if I try hard enough I can convince myself I only like him because he has been the first person to be kind to me since my abduction. Not because he makes me feel both safe and cared for.

One minute he’s unrelenting and demanding, then the next he’s gentle and full of normal conversation as if we were getting to know each other. Almost as if last night was some strange one-night stand.

“Princess?”

Closing my eyes again, I answer sleepily, “I’m okay.” Which every man should know is code for I’m miserable, angry, unhappy, annoyed, or a combination of all those feelings, but I don’t want to talk to you about it.

“Just okay?” he asks, clearly not knowing the true meaning of the phrase. “I

think we can do better than that.”

The man’s arm around my middle reaches up so his hand can cup my breast,

while his fingers lazily begin to caress the rapidly hardening nipple. Instinctively

I push myself back into his arms, seeking to get as close as I can to the pleasurable feeling he’s sparking throughout my body.

I freeze suddenly when my ass brushes against his thick morning erection. It

surprises me, catching me off guard, though I don’t know why. Even though I know it happens, having never woken up next to a man I didn’t expect it.

A tongue flicks the skin at the back of my neck, sending a shiver through me.

Several gentle sucking kisses that leave me groaning in frustration follow. I don’t want to desire this man. I should hate him. But my body, my pussy, has turned traitor. It tingles with so much need for this man’s attention that I don’t fight him when he wraps the arm he’s laying on under my body. Reaching around, he teases my nipples with barely-there caresses. His other hand slides lazily down my body. I find myself rolling further back into him, encouraging his exploration. The tips of his fingers finally reach the top of my pussy. He stops and teases the skin there, sparking goosebumps throughout my body.

I groan. “Sir.”

“What do you want, Princess?” he teases, continuing to play with my body.

“Touch me,” I find myself snapping in frustration. I grab his wrist and attempt to pull his hand down further, shifting to spread my legs apart.

The answering slap to my pussy has me gasping for breath and creaming with need.

“I’m in charge. I say when and how my perfect little cunt gets played with,”

he growls in my ear, nipping the lobe roughly. Gone is the man who in the middle of the night let me take charge and explore his body. This man is the one who first walked into the room last night.

“You asked,” I growl back, no longer truly afraid of him.

“Be careful,” he warns. “Or I won’t let you come and will just fuck you for

my own pleasure.”

“I’m sorry,” I whine pitifully, the need within me to come becoming almost

unbearable. I hate myself just a little bit more at that moment.

The hand on my breast squeezes my nipple almost painfully between his thumb and forefinger, and I grab onto his arm attempting to anchor myself in reality as the pleasure continues to build.

The hand cupping my pussy moves, rubbing me in torturous slowness. I gasp in relief as two thick fingers force their way unrelentingly into my wetness—

filling and stretching me. I begin to ache in a different, just as needful way. The man uses his thumb to rub my clit in slow circles as he curls his fingers inside of me.

“Should I let you come before I fuck you?” His voice is clearer now, the fog

of sleep having dissipated.

“Please,” I answer. One of my hands traitorously reaches back and grabs his

backside, squeezing it encouragingly, while the other is caressing the arm of the hand which is touching my pussy so pleasurably.

“Since you asked so nicely,” the man states before he begins vigorously rubbing my clit with his thumb at the same time he’s pumping his fingers in and out of my sopping wet channel. The hand at my breast continues its twin assault adding to the onslaught.

It doesn’t take long before my muscles contract in pleasure around his fingers, and I gasp for breath. He continues his assault until the last of the orgasm has left my body. I lean back against him, breathing hard and completely sated. Damn him—the man knows exactly how to make my body come alive.

“My turn.” He rolls me under him and onto my back. I’m still shaking from

the pleasure I’d received when, without warning, he thrusts his hardness fully into me. I gasp, grabbing onto his shoulders as my legs automatically raise and wrap themselves around his back. I look up at him; his eyes are sparkling with desire and his dark hair is tousled, sticking up every which way, softening the look of his hard exterior, making him seem almost—cute, instead of the powerful, demanding, yet irresistible man I met only hours ago.

“This is the perfect way to start the day,” he grunts almost to himself as he begins moving, his rhythm demanding and unrelenting. “Fucking a hot, tight, soaking wet cunt, that’s all yours.”

For the second time already this morning, I begin to feel the tell-tale tingles of an orgasm rising through my body. My hands reach down and grab his naked

backside, encouraging his movements.

“Sir,” I plead, wanting— needing—to come again.

His lips find mine, taking them roughly and leaving me breathless when he pulls back and looks into my eyes.

“Touch yourself,” he orders, shifting his weight onto one arm so he can reach back with the other and grab my hand, pulling it away from where it was gripping him. “I want to feel your cunt squeezing my cock as I fuck you.”

I slid my hand between our bodies and find my swollen clit.

“That’s it, Princess,” he encourages me as I slide my fingers through the parted folds where we’re joined.

His movements are rougher now as he slams into my body, pushing me into

the bed, its metal frame hitting the wall in the rhythm he’s creating. I copy the rhythm with my own movements as I bring myself closer and closer to orgasm.

“Come,” he demands, pulling my hand away and replacing it with his own calloused fingers. His touch sends me over the edge, and I buck against him as I fall over. I feel my inner walls contracting painfully around his hardness as I bring him further inside. His body tightens suddenly, and he lets go with a rush of wet warmth filling me. He continues his movements, getting every last ounce of pleasure out of the experience.