Page 44 of The Beast Who Bought Me
Just go slowly crazy.
“You think just kneeling for me is worth five mill, little prince?” He sounds amused. “Come on. How much do you really want that townhouse?”
I rest my hands on my thighs to hide their trembling and lift my chin just enough to meet his eyes. “More than anything.”
“Then how, exactly, are you going to show me your respect?”
“I’ll suck your dick.” There’s no point sugar-coating it. Crassness is all this man understands.
He laughs. “If I want you to suck my dick, I just have to tell you to do it.”
“That’s the point. You’d be telling me to do it.Makingme do it. But this way, I’m offering. Offering out of respect. And you’d know it, because…” I take a breath. “Because you’d be the first man I’ve ever asked to let me.”
He lets me sweat for a second. Then he says, “Your offer is an amateur blow job and a sweet smile?” I stay quiet, hoping. Praying. “If you’ve never done it before, it won’t even be all that good.”
“No. But you could—you could teach me.”
“Now you want me toteachyou?”
I want to kill you slowly and watch you bleed out with the same dead stare you’ve been giving me since I came here.
“If you would be so kind,” I say.
His eyes narrow at my tone. But he just says, “Crawl over here.”
I comply, shuffling over on my hands and knees and trying not to glance over at the vivisection of my grandfather’s townhouse. The distance between the bed and chair feels infinite, and the chain from the collar around my neck drags along with me. My palms are sweating against the concrete, and by the time I reach him, I can barely bring myself to meet his eyes.
But I do.
He’s undoing his belt with one hand while picking up his phone with the other. “Hands behind your back,” he says without looking up. “And don’t move them unless I tell you to.”
He sounds almost bored. But I obey, clasping my fingers together at the small of my back.
Whoever he’s calling answers, and he orders, “Bid six million.” He looks down at me, moving the phone only a few inches away from his mouth, so whoever is on the end of that line could hear him if they wanted to. “Look how fast you got to your knees. Almost like you want my dick as much as the townhouse.” I say nothing. “Open your mouth.”
I part my lips, and he traces them with his thumb. The touch is impersonal, testing, examining his property. It reminds me of my first night in his house, when he examined my asshole the same way.
“Wider.”
I open my mouth more, feeling foolish and exposed. He presses down on my bottom lip with his thumb, and I tentatively touch it with my tongue, not sure if that’s right.
“Now use your tongue. Show me what you plan to do with your mouth.”
I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I’ve seen things in videos, heard stories from Jesse and his cronies, but actually doing it feels impossible. I try to take his thumb into my mouth, but I’m clumsy about it, unsure of the pressure, the movement. While I try to figure out what he wants me to do, I accidentally bump his knuckle with my teeth.
“Careful,” he mutters. But his pupils grow a little larger, and that gives me a flicker of hope.
“Seven and a half million,” he says into the phone, but his voice has dropped half an octave. “Christ. People will pay anything for real estate in New York these days.”
He pulls out his thumb and slides his hand into my hair, gripping just tight enough to hurt.
“Listen carefully,” he says, looking down at me with those empty eyes. “You’re going to take me in your mouth. Slowly. And if you gag, you breathe through your nose and keep going. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
His grip in my hair tightens sharply, even though I’m pretty fucking sure I kept any sarcasm out of my reply, despite what I was thinking.
“No,” he growls. “You say my name. I don’t want you to forget for a second who you’re kneeling for.”
