Unconventional Page 3

  Just like the streetlights and population, her questions and comments space farther apart as I continue to silently drive out into the country and beyond the city limits. I don’t even have music playing. Instead, with only the sound of road noise, I’m striving to hear her thoughts. I want to know what she’s thinking, the struggle she’s fighting.

  As the country night’s sky deepens to a velvety black filled with a sparkling of glittering stars, I finally turn to her. Though she’s stopped questioning, her body language is screaming. My Erika's body is pressed against the door as far from me as she can get. Her blue eyes are opened wide as she studies me, as if it’s the first time she’s seen me. We both know that isn’t the case.

  She hasn't had the nerve to open the door of a moving vehicle, but she's perched and ready. Perhaps the idea of jumping at seventy miles per hour is keeping her still. I hope it’s more.

  “Where are the red shoes?” I finally ask.

  She blinks. The light from my dashboard is our only illumination. “I-I left them at the station.”

  I turn back to the road as I shake my head and ask, “Did you see my note?”

  “I didn't know it was from you.”

  My palm strikes the steering wheel, causing her to jump and flatten herself closer to the door. “Who the fuck did you think it was from?”

  “I-I didn't know. I wasn’t thinking about it.”

  “Just how many men leave you notes in your private dressing room telling you what to wear?”

  “I didn't know it was from a man.”

  I turn her way, smelling not only her fear but also her desire. The sweet scent of her pussy has me ready to take her in this truck and not wait for the cabin.

  Erika's head moves from side to side as she makes one more attempt to inch closer to the door. “Please, this isn't like you, Victor. What's going on?”

  It's the first time in what seems like ages that I've heard my name from her lips. “So I'm not Mr. Cross?” It's what she calls me at the station.

  “You are. That's your name.”

  “And yours is Erika Ellis?”

  “Victor, I don't—”

  I cut her off. “Sir.”

  Her shoulders straighten. “What?”

  “No names this weekend. You may address me as Sir.”

  “I-I may what? I will not—”

  We are now out of the city and smack dab in the middle of nowhere. Buildings and even houses are a thing of the past. Soybean and cornfields cover the countryside. Thin rows of trees line the open fields next to grassy ravines that meet the narrow gravel shoulder. The moon is barely a sliver. One wrong move during a dark night’s drive and the truck could end up in a five-foot-deep gulch. Thinking only about the woman in my truck, I stomp on the brake and pull the truck to the shoulder. The tires squeal and the undercarriage pings as rocks and gravel fly. Faster than Erika can process, I throw the truck into park, unbuckle my seatbelt, and slide next to her, pinning her between me and the door.

  The heat of her body radiates to mine as her breathing deepens.

  “Don't even think about opening that door,” I warn, my voice more of a growl. “There's a five-foot drop out your door and if you fall, I'll follow your fine ass down and take you right there in the mud.”

  She swallows, her frightened eyes staying fixed on mine.

  With one hand in her hair at the nape of her neck and the other possessively splayed over her upper thigh, I pull her toward me. Between the door and her seatbelt, she's trapped.

  “Sir,” I repeat. “Your only other option is Master.”

  A tear teeters on her lower lid until she blinks, and it dangles from her overly thick mascara-covered lash. “Vic—”

  I pull her lips to mine. Her hands ball into fists as she shoves against my chest. I'm too big, too strong, too determined. With her finally in my arms, I take what belongs to me, abusing her mouth with mine. Without hesitation, my tongue plunges into her warm, sweet haven, searching and probing. Her tiny fists pound as my chest crushes her tits. The thump of her heartbeat drums below mine. Her fear and arousal fill the air, a sweet, intoxicating aroma that instantly turns my cock from hard to steel.

  With my fingers winding into her brown hair and unashamedly yanking her head back, I continue to hold her lips captive. Kiss by kiss, her pleas soften. The more I probe, unrelentingly bruising her mouth, the more her muscles relax, and her body melts against mine.

  When I finally pull back, our gazes lock, and I silently dare her to speak. When she doesn’t, I reach for her hand. Erika tries to hold it back, but I'm not in the mood for negotiation. Taking her hand, I push her palm against the front of my jeans, rubbing it over my throbbing erection. “Feel what you do to me?”

  When she doesn't answer, I pull her hair again, wrenching her neck backward, causing a gasp to fall from her lips. “Do you feel that?” I ask again.

  “Y-yes,” she whimpers.

  My lips curl upward. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Chapter Five

  Erika

  Oh dear Lord, this can't be happening.

  I close my eyes, hoping to block everything out, but I can't. Victor continues to rub my hand over his erection—over his large, hard, angry cock. I've never seen him like this. He's not the cameraman who watches me, the man I’ve known for a while. He's possessed.

  “Say it again,” he demands.

  “Yes, Sir.” My voice isn't my own. It's weaker and submissive.

  I've never been submissive in my life.

  “Say what you do to me.”

  My scalp stings as his hold of my hair intensifies.

  “I make you hard.” When his dark eyes narrow, I add, “Sir.”

  Victor releases my hand and moves his under the hem of my skirt. Every nerve in my body is on fire. There are flames scorching places within me that I never knew existed. The fatigue from the station is gone, replaced with adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream at record speed. The higher his fingers move, the more I'm electrified.

  “Please...” I’m not sure what I’m asking. This isn’t right. It’s not the way it should be.

  His fingers inch up my thighs, causing me to shudder at his forwardness. He's touching me, and I'm exposed, only a thin layer of material between him and my core. Why didn't I change before I left the station? In jeans, he couldn't touch me. In jeans, I'd be safe.

  But would I?

  I gasp as he brushes the crotch of my panties.

  “Kitten, you're soaked.”

  Kitten?

  “You're soaking wet,” he repeats. “You want me to put my hard cock in your pussy in that dirty ditch, don't you?”

  “No!” I say, appalled by his language—words I’ve never heard him or any man utter—as I try to close my legs and stop his invasion.

  He's too strong. His finger curls under the cotton crotch and teases my clit, sending shock waves crashing through me. Despite my verbal protests, one finger and then two find their way between my folds. I try not to moan, but my body is clenching his fingers, holding on tight.

  “P-please,” I plead. “Please don't do this.”

  “You want it. You want it bad.”

  “No, I don't.”

  My head jerks back and I screech in pain as he pulls my hair again, this time causing tears to trail down my cheeks.

  To my utter shock, Victor sticks out his tongue and licks my face, from my chin to my eye. I try to back away, but I can't. He does it again, his spearmint-scented breath in my nose as his saliva covers my cheek. All the while his fingers continue to assault me, to plunge in and out of me.

  “Cry, kitten,” he says. “I'll drink every tear, each drop making me harder. Each one is another thrust in your pussy because you're going to relieve this ache in my cock. I'm going to take you in ways you’ve never imagined.” He glances down to where his hand is under my dress. “Look at how you're rocking your hips to my touch. You want this. You want me. You're mine, and you always
will be.” He sits straighter, looking directly into my eyes as his fingers still. “You know that, don't you?”

  I'm not sure what I know, embarrassed that my body is reacting—no, appalled. This is wrong, and yet I was moving with his fingers, wanting him to touch my clit, needing for more than what he's giving me.

  Another long lick of my face, and I fight to not flinch. “Tell me,” he demands.

  “What? Tell you what?”

  My head snaps back again, my scalp screaming from the repeated attack.

  “Don't make me punish you,” Victor warns.

  Punish me?

  “Hurting you is my goal only to bring you pleasure, but if forced, I’ll do it for punishment too, kitten. I'll make you cry. I'll make you scream. Follow my rules and this will go much better for you.”

  His rules?

  His fingers leave my core. But before I can think about the loss of his touch, cool night air and the truck's AC reach my chest as he rips the front of my dress, pulling it apart at the seams.

  “That’s the station’s...”

  My words fade away as he hisses at the sight of my breasts, pushing up out of my lace bra.

  “This is what you wear to make the men of Milwaukee hard?”

  “No...” I shake my head.

  Without removing my bra, Victor pushes the lace cups down, exposing my breasts.

  He leans forward and catches one nipple between his teeth. Shock waves ripple to my core as it elongates.

  “Look at your nipples,” he teases. “They're hard as rocks. You're turned on. Now tell me what I want to hear. Tell me who you belong to.”

  I don’t want to look. I can feel how my nipples are betraying me. Instead, I look him in the eye. “M-my husband.” It’s not the answer he expected, but it’s the truth. For now, I do.

  He pinches my other nipple, and I shriek at the jolt of pain. “Try again, and don't forget to say Sir.”

  “"I do, Sir. I belong to him. I'm married.”

  “Does your husband know that? Have you told him? Does he make you wet?” Victor sucks on the finger that was only moments ago inside me. “Does he make you this wet?”

  I can't process all of his questions. My husband can make me wet. He has. I nod.

  “Then why did you choose to keep him waiting? If you wanted him, you wouldn't work an extra broadcast, would you?”

  “I-I...it wasn't about him.”

  He tweaks my nipples, pinching them roughly with his fingers. “Oh, kitten, it should be, but since it's not, you've got me. I'm going to teach you how to treat a man.”

  “Please...” It's all I can think to say.

  Victor leans back, giving me space for the first time since the truck stopped. “Take off your underwear.”

  “What?”

  His fingers roughly squeeze my cheeks, crushing my mouth against my teeth until the taste of copper lets me know it's bleeding. “Sir,” he says. “Don't make me say it again.”

  I nod. When he releases my face, I move my jaw from side to side before I say, “Yes, Sir.”

  He sits back again, never taking his eyes from me while I shimmy out of my panties. It's not an easy process in a torn dress and confined by the seatbelt.

  “Give them to me.”

  My pulse races as I hand him the light pink panties that match the bra still under my breasts.

  Victor takes my panties to his nose, closes his eyes, and inhales. He sighs. “I love your scent. But I never knew that you'd be so fucking wet.” And then his dark eyes are back on me. “If you forget to say Sir one more time, these are going in your mouth. Do you understand?”

  I shiver at the thought. “Yes, Sir.”

  Who the hell is this man?

  His cheeks rise as his lips curl into a cruel smile. “That's my pet. Before we're done, you're going to not only know who you belong to, but you'll say it too.”

  I don't answer as he scoots back to the driver's seat and fastens his seatbelt.

  When we're done? That's what he said. Will he let me go? Will I get back to the man I married, the kind man who would never do this to me?

  As I reach for the cups of my bra, Victor stops me. “Don't cover yourself. I want to look at you, at your hard nipples. I want to know that all I need to do is reach out to get your attention.” He reaches over and rolls one nipple between his thumb and finger, eliciting a gasp.

  I bite my lip to stop the moan that is perched ready in my throat.

  “I plan to keep you naked all weekend,” he says.

  Silence falls over the truck as I try to comprehend what is happening. But I can't. It's more than I can process.

  “When we get there,” he continues, interrupting my thoughts, “the first thing I'm going to do is fuck that smart mouth of yours. You like telling people what to do, don't you?”

  Let him try. I’ll bite.

  I don’t answer him. This is ridiculous. He can’t talk to me like this.

  Still holding my panties, he lifts his chin and puts the truck into drive. We ease back onto the road. For not the first time, I entertain the idea of escaping, but to where? We’re in the middle of nowhere. There isn't a soul around. Not even one car has passed his truck since he pulled over. I bet my phone doesn’t even have a signal.

  My eyes dart to my purse.

  Victor reaches it before I do, pulling my phone from the cavernous inside.

  “No, kitten. This weekend is just about us.” Pushing the power button to turn it off, he stashes it in the glove compartment. His dark eyes momentarily turn my way. “Remember, follow my rules or be punished.”

  I’m dumbfounded.

  “You think that because you're on people's TVs,” he continues, his voice deep and threatening, “that you're better than everyone else, don't you?”

  “No, Sir.”

  Victor snaps his eyes in my direction and then back to the road. “Don't lie, kitten. I'll punish you for lying—every time. Don't forget that. Consider this your one and only warning. I've seen you. I've watched you. You think you're special.” He lifts my panties and inhales again. “You're right.”

  “I am?”

  “You're special to me. Only to me. You're everything to me. You’re whatever I want you to be: my slut, my whore, and the love of my life. We'll be together forever.”

  I shudder at his words: slut, whore. They aren’t right. Forever?

  “I'm going to make you mine in every way.”

  It's wrong that my thighs are growing slicker with his nasty adjectives. My husband would never talk like that. Compliments and endearments—that's what he's always spoken. It's what every normal woman would want, yet Victor's cruel words are twisting my insides in an unfamiliar, painful, yet erotic way, drenching my core.

  “I'm going to not only fuck your mouth, but all of you—everywhere.”

  My eyes grow wide as I hear his meaning. “No. I can't. I've never.”

  Victor grins. “You will, you are. Say ‘yes, Sir.’ Tell me I can fuck your ass.”

  Chapter Six

  Victor

  I've wanted her ass for as long as I can remember. The way it shimmies in the dresses on the set. The way she shows off her legs and teases everyone with the tight skirts. Sure, she's married, but I'm certain that tight, puckered hole has never had a cock buried deep inside of it.

  It will. It will forever. My cock will be deep in her ass.

  The cab of the truck grows quiet as I let her think about my promises, as she reflects on our new relationship, and as I let her contemplate how things have changed. My plans may be unconventional, but the conventional hasn’t worked. She’s ignored me for long enough—treated me like I didn’t exist. This is our future.

  I steal a glance her way. The thick makeup from the set is stained from her mascara tears. She’s mulling over my threats and promises. I can sense it in the way she stares out at the narrow strip of light illuminating the direction we’re headed. She has to know that she can’t stop us now.

  I don't
force Erika to answer, to tell me that I can take her everywhere, because when Erika tells me that her ass is mine, I want her to mean it. I want her to beg me to fuck her, hard and raw. She's going to beg for it, and when she does, she’ll be mine to have.

  “Where are you taking me?” Erika finally asks.

  “Oh, kitten, I'm taking you to a remote place where no one will hear you scream.”

  “Please, Vic—Sir,” she quickly corrects. “Please, take me home. We can forget this ever happened. I won't say a word—”

  “You’re right. You won't say a word unless I let you.”

  Her head moves from side to side as she turns toward the window. With time, her self-righteous posture bends to the inevitable. From her body language, she’s telling me that she’s accepted her fate. I just don’t know how that translates to her actions.

  It takes another thirty minutes, but finally I turn off the country road onto a lane of gravel under a canopy of trees. The cabin is at least half a mile from the main road—main being a relative term. It’s far enough back that with the trees, unless you knew it was there, you'd never find it.

  I'd been here the day before, preparing for our arrival.

  Ms. Erika Ellis may have delayed our road trip, but she couldn't have escaped her fate if she'd tried.

  I pull the truck alongside the rustic old cabin and turn toward Erika. “Welcome to your new home.”

  She doesn't move as I open my door. When I reach her side of the truck to open her door, she remains perfectly still. “Come now, kitten, I don't think I've ever seen you speechless.”

  “Please, V—Sir, please don't make me go in there. This will change everything. Take me back to town before this goes too far.”

  I offer her my hand as if we're about to dance, and in a way, we are. “Yes, kitten, this will change everything. When this is done, you'll know you’re mine—forever.”

  Her hand trembles as she places it in mine. It's small enough that I wrap my fingers totally around it, encasing it, keeping it and her for me. She looks down as the soft summer breeze blows against her exposed tits.