Sheer Torture Read online

  I gasped and writhed on the bed, wanting him to stop and wanting more than anything for him to keep going.

  Our gazes locked, his eyes blue and deep and stormy, his stubble-rough cheeks still brushing against the insides of my legs as his tongue and mouth and jaw worked in tandem. One hand still held me down on the bed, while the other forked my pussy, his thumb brushing over my exposed clit.

  “Do you enjoy torturing me, princess?” he growled after what seemed like forever.

  “Kind of,” I breathed, and his blue eyes hooded.

  He blew softly on my clit, then delivered a stinging slap to my spread pussy.

  I gasped.

  “Still enjoy it?” he growled.

  “I…” I wanted to say I did, but I was breathless.

  “Do you?” he demanded, and another stinging slap was delivered to my pussy.

  “No, sir.”

  “Again.”

  “No, sir.”

  “No, sir, what?”

  “No, sir, I won’t torture you again, please, just…” I couldn’t take it anymore, what he was doing to me, the way his fingers were brushing so lightly against my clit, how the stinging pain had turned into warm pleasure that radiated through my entire body.

  “Please just what?”

  “Please just fuck me.”

  “Dirty girl,” he murmured in approval, and then he was standing up, shucking the rest of his clothes.

  I watched as his cock came into view, beautiful and rock hard. Landon’s body was a work of art, his abs carved from granite, his chest dusted with soft hair.

  “Please, sir, fuck me.”

  I craved him, needed to feel him on top of me, inside of me.

  He stood by the side of the bed and unhooked my bra, then pulled my panties down slowly, leaving me naked.

  “You want to be fucked, angel?” His fingers strummed against the hollow of my throat, wandering down over the curve of my breasts, brushing feather light over each nipple before continuing down over my abdomen.

  “Yes.”

  His index finger found my folds, brushing over the sensitive tissues, my nerve endings responding instantly to his touch.

  “Please.”

  “Are you going to use that smart mouth again?”

  “No.”

  “I want to tie you up so bad, angel,” he said. “I want to gag you and keep you from talking.”

  I whimpered.

  “You’re lucky I don’t have a gag here. So I’m going to have to find another way to keep you quiet.”

  And then in one swift movement he’d moved up on me, his cock in front of my face, and then he was grabbing the back of my head, pushing me down on him.His cock was thick, hard, unexpected and shocking in my mouth.

  I choked, and stared up at him, on top of me, so strong, a look of pure possession in his eyes as his hips began to buck.

  He cupped my chin as he fucked my mouth, and I did my best to keep up with him.

  When he finally released me, I gasped and coughed for air.

  “Have you had enough?” he whispered. His cock was still in my face, and he stroked it once, his fist tight. His other hand was between my legs, his fingers inside of me.

  My pussy clenched on him.

  “Please,” I begged.

  He climbed on top of me, lining his body up with mine. His hard cock rubbed over my pussy, forking my folds but not fucking me. The sensation was excruciating, a kind of sexual torture I couldn’t have imagined existed.

  “Please,” I begged again, and now I was writhing underneath him, grabbing at his back, trying to arch up into him. “Please, fuck me.”

  “Is this what you want, Ms. Courtland?” He took my arms and pinned my wrists to the bed with one hand.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Say it.”

  “I want your cock. I want you to fuck me.” The need and desire I had for him so intense that I felt like I was losing my mind.

  He grabbed his cock with his free hand and jerked it against me, teasing me, and then, just when I thought I was going to lose it, he slid into me.

  He fucked me hard, fast, thrusting into me in one long, hard stroke.

  I was so wet, so ready for him, and yet his cock was so big I inhaled, breathless, as he stretched me.

  “God, your pussy is good,” he breathed. “I’m not going to be able to last long baby, I’m going come inside of you.” His hand slid over my rib cage, and I shivered.

  “Landon,” I murmured. “God, Landon.”

  “Aven.” His mouth claimed mine in an open-mouthed kiss, and at the same time he pulled my leg up at the knee, getting better angle on me, sinking even deeper into me than he was before.

  My pussy clenched and pulled at him, drawing him in deeper, so deep I could feel him hitting against my core. The sensation was so intimate -- I’d never felt so connected to another person in my life.

  I cried his name over and over again as I came, feeling him shoot off inside of me, filling me, owning me, his mouth on mine the whole time.

  After, he held me in the dark, his fingers running over my arms.

  My body was limp and wrung out from my orgasm, and I felt relaxed in his arms, safe, taken care of.

  Even so, I propped myself up on one arm and looked at him, imploring.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he demanded, frowning.

  “You know exactly why I’m looking at you like that.”

  There was a pause, and the side of his mouth slipped up into a self-satisfied smile. “Because I just gave you the best orgasm of your life?”

  “Stop.”

  Silence stretched between us, and for a moment, I was afraid it was all pretend, that the connection I’d felt between us, that him being here, really had been just about sex.

  “I missed you,” he said gruffly.

  “Then why didn’t you call?”

  He reached up, took a lock of my hair, twisted it slowly in his fingers. “I wanted to. I wanted to so badly, but you…” His jaw set in a line.

  “But I what?”

  “You said you loved me.”

  “So what? It’s how I feel. I’m not going to apologize for telling you the truth. You said outside that you didn’t want to keep things from me anymore. So, I feel the same way. I don’t want to keep things from you. I love you. And in Vermont, you said you were falling in love with me. Was that the truth?”

  “Yes.” He turned onto his back, scrubbed at his face with his hands. The moonlight was shining through the slats in my blinds, illuminating the contours of his face, and God, he was so beautiful, so perfect that it made my heart hurt.

  “Being without you these last three days was torture.” He turned toward me., his blue eyes serious. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being out with those men, couldn’t stand them looking at you, thinking they could have what was mine.”

  “Then why didn’t you call?” I demanded again.

  “Because the only thing worse than not having you is having you.”

  “Stop talking in riddles.”

  “Being with you is torture,” he said, pulling me close. “Knowing that I want to love you and hurt you at the same time…”

  “It’s not hurting me,” I said. “I like it.”

  “It’s fucked up,” he said, and he looked at me, imploring, and I saw the torment in his eyes.

  “Who told you that?”

  “No one had to tell me.”

  “Was it one of the…” I trailed off, running my hands over his biceps, feeling the smoothness of his skin. “Was it one of the other women you’ve been with?” As much as it pained me to say it, of course I knew there were other women. He had a whole room in the house in Vermont, one that was there long before me.

  “No.” He shook his head. “Women would let me do whatever I wanted to them, but…you’re different.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I love you.”

  He gathered me in his arms then, and I snuggled up to hi
s chest. His body was warm, and I listened to his heart beat, strong and steady. We fell into silence, and I knew we were both thinking about what he’d said in Vermont – how maybe I liked what he did to me because I was punishing myself for what happened with my parents.

  “If it’s so wrong,” I said finally, “then how can it feel like this?”

  “I don’t know, angel,” he said, kissing my head. “I don’t know.”

  “He’s not my brother! He’s not my brother, we’re not related!” Violet’s excited proclamation woke me at 5 am the next morning. When I opened my eyes, she was standing in my doorway, phone in hand, waving it around excitedly. She ran to me, her bare feet sliding on the braided throw rug in front of my desk, and she jumped onto the bed next to me, grabbing my hands. “We got the DNA results and Conner and I aren’t related!”

  “That’s amazing, Vi,” I said honestly, blinking sleepily. I sat up, suddenly wide awake as I realized she was only able to jump on the bed because Landon wasn’t there. The spot next to me was empty, and my excitement at Violet’s news was tempered somewhat by the fact that he was gone, again.

  “Isn’t it?” She stood up and spun around my room, picking up a lipstick from my dress, smearing it on her lips and pouting at her reflection playfully, hand on her hip. “Now Conner and I don’t have to worry about anything. We can be together!”

  There was a faint headache starting at my temples, and I massaged them for a few seconds. “Violet, I need to tell you something.” I swallowed, twisting the comforter between my hands. I hated to ruin her good mood, but she needed to know. “Last night, Landon… well, he seemed to think that maybe Conner’s dad – their dad -- was the one who sent someone after you.”

  Violet’s face fell a tiny bit, and she grabbed a tissue and wiped the lipstick off her lips. “Yeah, I know. Conner said the same thing. His father really didn’t want the press getting wind of the fact that Conner and I could be related. I guess he was trying to scare me away.”

  “And that doesn’t bother you? That Victor Sheer would do something like that to someone his son was dating?”

  “Of course it bothers me,” Violet said. “But it’s over now. There’s no reason for Victor to do anything anymore. Conner and I aren’t related. So there’s no need for his father to try to scare me off.”

  “But – ”

  There was a knock on my open door, and Landon stood there, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand. He was dressed in a fresh black suit, showered and shaved, his hair perfectly coifed.

  “I brought you coffee,” he said to me. “But if the two of you are talking, I can come back.”

  “I was just leaving,” Violet said. “I need to get back to Conner’s apartment. And buy some concealer.” She giggled, like buying concealer to hide the bruise on her face was akin to hiding a blemish. “Thanks for taking care of me, Aven. I’ll see you this afternoon.” She leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. I didn’t have time to ask her what she was talking about before she was gone, skipping out the door in a haze of happiness and denial.

  “You’re here,” I said to Landon, who was leaning against the doorframe.

  “Where else would I be?” His eyes roamed over my body, and I became suddenly aware of the fact that I was naked under the sheets.

  “I don’t know. Home. The office. Just…gone.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No. I’m not going to leave you again.” He crossed the room to me and sat down on the edge of the bed, handed me the coffee.

  “Thanks,” I said, inhaling the scent and taking a long sip. It was dark and rich, just the right amount of cream, and no sugar. Which was not how I usually took it, but then again, my usual coffee didn’t taste this way.

  “What kind of coffee is this?”

  “I had it delivered. It’s a dark Italian roast. Do you like it?”

  “Yes. Did you have your suit delivered too?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  I shook my head, marveling at what it must be like to be able to get literally anything you wanted delivered to you, like it was nothing.

  Landon stood up. “I’d like to have you accompany me to an event tonight.”

  “What kind of event?” I took another sip of coffee, my stomach turning in anticipation.

  “It’s a benefit for a behavioral health center, upstate, near Syracuse. My father serves on the board, and our family has been one of its biggest benefactors.”

  “Will your father be there?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “I don’t want Violet anywhere near him.”

  “Let me take care of my father.” His jaw tightened.

  I nodded. “Do I have to dress up?”

  “Yes. Violet will be accompanying Conner, so I’ve made arrangements for the two of your to go shopping this afternoon. A car will pick you up and take you to Caldwell, where a personal shopper will assist you.”

  “Okay.” My hand tightened around the coffee cup and I took another sip. He leaned down and kissed my lips softly, tasting of mint and smelling of aftershave.

  “I’ll see you later,” he said. “Text or call if you need anything.”

  And then he was gone.

  Only this time, I knew it was different.

  This time, I knew I would see him again.

  Shopping when you had unlimited amounts of money and a personal shopper at your beck-and-call at Caldwell – one of Manhattan’s swankiest department stores -- was completely different than walking into the mall and picking something randomly off the rack.

  The shopper, an older women with a frosted blonde bob named Jo, had dresses ready for us, each of them more beautiful and more elegant (and more expensive) than the last. Violet and I took our time, showing off for each other, giggling and taking selfies, until we finally chose -- a long silver sheath with a halter neck for Violet, and a red silk number that dropped down low in the front for me.

  Jo took our measurements, and had our dresses tailored to fit while Violet and I ate lunch across the street at DaCapo Grill, a fancy pants seafood restaurant, all of it thanks to Landon Sheer and his credit card.

  After lunch, we were whisked to the top floor of the Caldwell building, where a salon so exclusive no one even knew it existed, well, existed.

  We had blowouts and mani/pedis and then, in a moment of pure embarrassment, I was waxed down there “at the request of Mr. Sheer.”

  Well, it was a moment of embarrassment for me, anyway. The woman who was in charge of waxing me acted like she did this every day. Which, obviously, she did.

  Violet and I chatted and made jokes while we were attended to, passing a gossip magazine back and forth, and there was a lightness to my sister that I hadn’t seen in a while.

  And yet, when I got back to my apartment and the porter who’d been sent home with me had handed me my dress bag and left with a tip, after I’d found a note on the counter from Emma who told me she had a second interview at the fashion delivery service she’d interviewed at a few days ago, when I was in my room, alone, a certain darkness settled over me.

  Conner and Violet might not have been related, but Conner’s father had sent someone after Violet when he thought they were.

  He’d been so desperate to protect his son, his name, that he’d been willing to hurt Violet to do it.

  How could I ever have a relationship with the man? How could Violet?

  And more importantly, was that the kind of thing he was going to resort to every time Violet or I did something he didn’t like, or when things weren’t going his way?

  I’d been so excited to go tonight, to be with Landon, to spend time with Violet and even to get to know Conner a little better.

  But now I just felt… off.

  I walked toward my room with the dress bag in my hand.

  Landon was set to pick me up in half an hour, and I was pretty much ready. All I needed to do was get dressed. Thanks to the spa, my hair was flawless, my makeup perfect, my skin smooth and glowing.
/>
  My phone rang, and I glanced down to see Landon’s name on the caller ID.

  “Angel,” he breathed when I picked up.

  “Mr. Sheer.”

  “I’m told by my credit card company you had a very productive afternoon.”

  “Oh!” My cheeks warmed. “I’m sorry, they wouldn’t let me look at prices, they said you’d approved everything.”

  He laughed. “It’s fine, I wanted you to have a good time. You should never worry about money when you’re with me, do you understand?”

  I breathed out. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, it’s just… it’s weird to me, spending your money.”

  “Well, it’s not weird to me. And that’s what matters.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Anyway, that’s not why I was calling,” he said. “Are you in your bedroom?”

  “Yes.”

  “I left you present. Under the bed.”

  I leaned down and pulled out a tiny box, set it on the bed. It was crimson red, and tied with a black ribbon.

  I opened it.

  Inside was a small gold ball, with what looked like a rubber handle on the end of it.

  “A Christmas decoration?” I tried, holding it up doubtfully.

  He laughed, and I loved the sound, loved that I was making him laugh, even if it was because of my naivety.

  “Not quite. It goes inside of you.”

  “Inside of…oh.”

  “I want you to put it inside your pussy, Ms. Courtland.” His voice was deep now, heady, laced with that dominance I’d come to know.

  “Now?”

  “Yes. I want to hear the sound you make when it spreads that tight cunt.”

  I too off my pants, then slipped my hand down the front of my panties, using the rubber handle to guide it. The ball was cold and I made a little whimper. “Oh.”

  “Good girl,” he said. “Now push it inside.”

  I pushed, the gold ball spreading my pussy, the weight of it placing a constant pressure on my clit as it settles into place.

  “Now put your thong on.”

  I put it on.

  “Good girl,” he said. “God, you sound so hot, angel. I can’t wait to fuck you senseless later.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Um, what… when do I take it out?”