The Dark Forest: A Collection Of Erotic Fairytales(134)

His eyes drifted to the phone screen, each second of the call ticking away. Sinclair was still listening, still watching, and Adam was going to make sure he understood exactly who was in charge, and what happened when he didn’t follow the rules.

Rebecca started to shake her head from side to side, her hips rolling in a constant rhythm, and as much as he wanted to take her—in this moment he wanted to break her more. To break them both. Picking up the pace, Adam forced her to the edge, dragging her there with each devious stroke of his fingers, and before he could stop himself, his other hand found its way into her hair to hold her down to the thin mattress. He hovered above her, mesmerized by the struggle painted across her face.

Mine, his mind purred and he forced his fingers deeper, stretching her.

As he tightened the grip in her blonde tresses, she suddenly came, a loud moan escaping as she arched hard off the fabric. Her hips jerked, bucked, trying to pull away from his touch but he followed her and dragged it out, ignored her whining pleas for him to stop. A moment later she screamed louder, her body shuddering into another orgasm, and there was nothing he could do in that moment but stare.

So. Fucking. Perfect.

Slowing his touch, he pumped his fingers inside her, amazed by the pool of wetness forming under her. Rebecca went limp, only a soft whine leaving her on an exhale, her muscles involuntarily shivering. With a hint of regret, Adam withdrew, releasing her hair, and unlocked the gag before he grabbed the little phone. The call was still going as he stood, and he looked up at the camera, grateful the mask hid his expression, before he abruptly pressed the end button. Tucking it away in a pocket, he forced himself to walk out of the room. Away from the all-too-feminine form on the floor, chained, open and waiting for him.

So wet. She’d been so wet.

As Adam pulled the door closed, he flipped the lock and then leaned back against it before he ripped off the mask. In a moment of weakness, he brought his fingers to his lips and tasted her. Even better than how she smelled, better than how she moaned—she tasted like heaven.

“Get a fucking hold of yourself,” he hissed and wiped his hand off on his pants. With a quick adjustment of the bulge behind his zipper, he moved towards the office, steadily reassuring himself. “Sinclair says he signed the papers. It worked. She’s a means to an end. That’s it. A privileged little whore.”

He slammed the door, putting one more barrier between him and the girl. Plugging in the phone, he double-checked that the routing program had operated perfectly. Still hidden, still safely tucked away in the little dungeon he had built just for this. A quick check of his email confirmed receipt of the package. Yes. It was finally happening. Digital scans of the contracts would be next, and then everyone would follow his explicit instructions to start destroying the man. Scattering his wealth across the world.

In the meantime, he had new orders for Daniel Sinclair. It was all ready, a new email with a new to-do list, and with the click of a button, he sent it off.

A new timeline that Adam had a feeling Sinclair would take much more seriously this time.

Drumming his fingers on the desk, he tried to distract himself, avoiding the cameras as much as he could, only glancing at her form once to ensure she’d spit the gag out.

The way she’d screamed…

Groaning low, he grabbed himself through the front of his pants. He wanted to fuck her, to bury himself between her thighs and feel her arch against him the way she’d bowed into the air. But he couldn’t, not yet. Switching to the video he’d put together for the first email, he hit play and watched it again. The loft apartment, in black and white, with Rebecca curled up on the couch. His eyes devoured the images on the screen, her surprise as he pulled her off the couch. The first reveal of her long legs. He could still remember her pleas, playing in his mind at top volume, and the moment she ran his cock pulsed, so hard it hurt. She had fought, she had been strong—but he was stronger. It had taken so little effort to bend her over the couch, cut her underwear away, and take her.

Unzipping his pants, he shoved his boxers out of the way to grip the steel of his shaft. He could remember the silken wetness of her pussy on his fingertips, remember the way she’d clenched his cock as she’d come, the way she was lying on that mattress now, bound in cuffs and at his mercy. His strokes grew rougher, faster, building as he remembered her soft voice, her muffled sobs behind the gag, the way she screamed when the belt snapped against her skin. With a barking shout, he came, ruining his pants, his heart pounding in his chest—but on the screens in front of him was only further torment that the orgasm had barely ebbed.

On one screen she was lying limp over the couch, her hands in cuffs, her legs spread. On the other she was on her back, chained down, crying almost silently. The occasional hitched breath was all that the microphones could pick up.

Fuck.

Rapunzel, Rapunzel... what am I going to do with you?





Chapter Six





It had been hours of lying on the mattress with her thighs wide, her body aching with welts, cheeks chapped from her tears, before he’d finally returned. The man wore his anger like a dark halo, somehow invisible and obvious, but the slamming of the door and the rapid rise and fall of his chest had been more than enough warning.

Her father had missed another deadline.

There had been no phone call that time, no belt, no teasing touches, just him as he’d climbed between her thighs, torn his zipper open and thrust deep. She had begged, cried out, and he’d fucked her so hard she’d come.