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Losers: Part II: Chapter 18

Manson

As I pulled the Mustang into the parking lot outside Anthony’s, nerves roiled through me in a slow, thick wave. But it wasn’t the sickening dread of anxiety, it wasn’t mind-numbing, heart-pounding panic.

It was the kind of nerves I experienced before a race, when the rumble of the engine seemed to move through my entire body and take over everything. Or before a bondage scene, when I had my subject on their knees waiting for me; knowing I had the power to hurt or pleasure or destroy at will.

It was a headrush, a flood of power that was so fucking sweet it was like a drug.

For a moment, I had to sit there in silence, eyes closed as I let my energy settle. Jess and her date would be here any minute, but she wasn’t here for him.

She was here for me.

After locking up the Mustang, I headed for the entrance, buttoning up my jacket on the way. I hadn’t worn a suit since Kathy and James Peters renewed their vows, and it was easily the most expensive clothing I owned. I didn’t even know how much it had cost exactly, since Kathy had bought it for me.

There was something grimly satisfying in experiencing how differently people treated me when I exchanged ragged jeans and boots for a perfectly tailored suit. When walking into a nice place like this, I was usually under scrutiny from the moment I came in the door. But the host greeted me and led me inside without any issue.

I took a seat at the bar, taking a few minutes to soak in the atmosphere before I looked at the menu.

This place was pricey, upscale. The lighting was romantically dim, the bar backed by a massive surface of reflective crystalline tiles that caught the light and the colors of the liquor bottles. White cloth covered the tables, candles flickered. Gauzy red curtains and potted plants afforded a bit more privacy to the tables, but I had a good vantage point from the bar.

I saw her as soon as she walked in.

Jess was ravishing in every sense of the word. Her hair was fixed half-up with numerous little pins that glittered in the light, the loose length falling over her shoulders. Everything she was wearing, I’d chosen for her. The silver heels, the figure-hugging pale pink dress, even the lingerie she wore beneath. I pulled out my phone, opening the photo she’d sent me earlier as she was getting ready.

Words weren’t enough to describe her. A glimpse of her was enough to get me hard, and I had to angle myself toward the bar to hide the bulge. But I kept my head turned slightly in her direction, not wanting to take my eyes off her for even a moment.

At her side was Greg — tall, dark-haired, square-jawed. He actually looked a lot like Kyle, which immediately revolted me. The host led them past me, and as Jess walked in front of me, her eyes darted over.

It drove me wild, the way her gaze lifted to my face and said a thousand things in the space of one breath.

Longing. Submission. Obedience. Excitement. Her body language was perfect. She carried herself without a single indication of what was really going on.

She was here for me. For my pleasure, awaiting my orders. Greg — poor fuck — didn’t have the slightest clue. He was too busy talking about himself, droning on and on as they were seated. Jess smiled and nodded politely. I had yet to even see her open her mouth.

Why the hell was this what her mother chose for her? Some self-absorbed guy who could sit there bragging about himself when he had a woman like that in front of him? God, anything I had to brag about — and I didn’t have much — was utterly forgotten at the sight of her.

There wasn’t a single material thing in the world that could come close to being good enough for her. She deserved so much more than that.

Motioning for the bartender’s attention as he walked past, I ordered a Sazerac and settled in to watch the show.

Greg suggested they order a bottle of wine. Jess wanted white; he explained why red was better, and I sipped my drink to cool the anger that flared up in my chest. This fuck was already unbearable.

The bottle arrived, and she tasted it. By the way her lip twitched, I knew she didn’t like it.

After letting them get settled in for several minutes, I caught the bartender’s attention again. “Would you mind pointing me to the restroom?”

He directed me to a back corner, where there was an archway framed by flowering plants. Catching Jess’s eye as I got out of my seat, I turned and headed straight back.

It was easily the nicest public restroom I’d ever been in. An orchestral melody played from the speakers, and I paused in front of the large mirror, washing my hands before I adjusted my collar. Vincent had said I should wear a tie, but I really wasn’t about that shit, suit or not. I’d left the collar unbuttoned instead.

Waiting for Jess felt like the longest couple minutes of my life. But I’d told her not to make it too obvious, not to get up too soon after I did. Someone came in, used the urinal, and left. Then the door opened again, and heels clicked across the floor…

She stepped around the corner, and it took my breath away for a moment. She looked eager, but uncertain. Excited, but slightly afraid.

Perfect.

She came to stand in front of me as I leaned back against the sink. Her eyes glittered with makeup, her lips a soft shade of mauve. It fascinated me how she could do that, transforming her face like an artist.

Although, I loved her bare skin the most.

Loved. That word kept coming up when I thought about her. It felt strange, even dangerous, like I was betting for the highest odds.

I’d always been a risk-taker. Couldn’t stop now.

“How’s your date?” I said as she stepped closer, and I brushed my hand down her bare arm. Goosebumps ignited as I touched her and it made me grin.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s been trying to explain property taxes to me like I’m five. Apparently, he’s really into real estate. And he thought my name was Jenny.”

Switching places with her, I pressed close behind her as I watched her face in the mirror. Her breath hitched as my hands came around her waist, caressing low on her dress. Someone could have walked in at any moment, but the risk of being caught made my heart beat faster.

“You look so gorgeous.” I left the words in whispered kisses along her neck; I dug them into her skin as I held her tight. She’d tried to cover the hickeys on her neck and had done a damn good job. But up close, I could still see the marks through the makeup.

Our marks. Our girl. Ours.

Fuck the game. She could go on playing if she wanted, but this was no game to me. It never was.

“That motherfucker has no idea how lucky he is,” I said, my voice a whisper that made her shiver. “Sitting at a table with a fucking goddess and all he can do is talk about his own damn self. Shameful.”

She braced herself on the edge of the marble sink with a gasp as I shoved her forward. I pulled up her dress, peeling the fabric over her ass like it was the juiciest peach. White strappy panties hugged the curve of her hips, and I took a moment to enjoy the sight of her like that: bent over, dress shoved up, her beautiful legs spread for me.

Humming appreciatively as I traced my finger up the inside of her thighs, I said, “What a good girl. You know exactly how to get into position for me.”

“I’ve had some practice,” she said, winking at me in the mirror. Her tone had grown husky, and she sounded so fucking sexy. I slid down her panties, and she bit her lip. “Someone might come in.”

“You’re right.” The panties fell to her ankles. “Someone might come in, see you bent over the sink being eaten out, and maybe they’ll even stay to watch.”

Holding the image of her blushing face in my mind, I knelt behind her and buried my face in her. I lapped my tongue over her, savoring every sweet bit of flesh I could possibly consume. The taste of her was intoxicating, as was the way her body moved with me, reacting when I got it right.

She groaned softly, and I grabbed her thighs, holding her in place.

“Shh, don’t be too loud, angel,” I said, then proceeded to eat her until her gasping little cries became too much for her to control. Her legs were trembling and her face was flushed as I stood, wiping my lips with the back of my hand.

“Please don’t stop now,” she whispered. “Please.”

But she knew what I liked, and I liked her on edge: shaking for me, waiting for me, riding the pleasure until I decided she’d had enough.

“I have one more treat for you,” I said, reaching for the pocket inside my blazer. “I don’t want you to forget for one single second who owns you. Who gets to be inside you.”

I pulled out her jeweled plug and a bottle of lube, and her eyes widened.

“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Oh, fuck…”

“The entire time you’re sitting there with him, this is what you’ll feel.” I squeezed the lube onto my fingers, spreading it over her and probing my fingers into her. “I own this ass. I own your pussy, your clit, this entire gorgeous body, every goddamn inch of you…is mine. It’s Lucas’s. It’s Jason’s. It’s Vincent’s.” She clenched her hands into fists in an effort to be silent, shuddering with pleasure as my fingers pumped into her. “You’re ours, and I want you to remember that every time you squirm and feel how tight this plug is inside you.”

She watched me in the mirror as I stretched her, before I lubed up the toy and pressed it inside. She whimpered softly, and her eyes fluttered when it settled fully inside her. I pulled up her panties and adjusted her dress, lifting her from the sink so I could get a good look at her.

“It’s like it’s not even there,” I said, before I gave her a quick smack on the ass, and her eyes lit up. “Better get back out there before your date starts to worry.”

She was breathing deeply, trying to compose herself.

“Damn it, Manson.” Her voice shuddered. “Sometimes I think you’re the devil himself, with the way you make me feel.”

She couldn’t have paid me a higher compliment.

She returned to her table, and I went back to the bar a minute later. The bartender had been kind enough to keep an eye on my drink, so I tipped well before ordering another. I really wasn’t a big drinker; my relationship with alcohol was cautious at best, considering what I’d seen it do to my parents. But I was enjoying myself even more than I’d expected to and wanted to indulge.

They ordered their food and Greg was still talking, although he’d finally asked her where she worked. I ordered a white wine and had it sent to her table because she damn well was going to need it; fuck whatever red wine swill he’d stuck her with. When I told the bartender not to say who it was from, he chuckled and luckily went along with it.

Greg was pissed about the wine and was looking around like he was going to beat someone’s face in. As if he had the right. As if he had any claim to her.

Jess looked pleased, smirking as she sipped the drink. And that was really all that mattered to me.

But she was also distracted, squirming in her seat. Maybe she thought I was cruel for keeping her on edge, but I did the same thing to myself. I’d ride the edge as long as physically possible, greedily taking every last ounce of pleasure I could.

But I couldn’t wait much longer.

The moment she set down her fork, I caught her gaze and curled my finger at her. I left for the bathroom again, trying to subtly adjust myself on the way.

I paced in front of the mirror, my patience on the verge of snapping. I needed her now. Right now. Before I marched back out there and fucked her over the table right in front of him.

I loved to share, but only with the right people. I wanted to watch my girl get fucked hard, used as messily as she could be, but I wanted to know that whoever was doing it truly appreciated it. I wanted them to do it right, to satisfy her in the way she needed to be satisfied. Anything less than that was unacceptable.

It was a damn good thing the bathroom was empty, because the moment she walked in, I snatched her by the throat and backed her into one of the stalls.

“On your fucking knees,” I snarled, and she dropped in front of me, lifting her chin to keep her eyes on me. Jerking open my belt, I groaned softly at the sight of her. I wanted to rip those pretty little clothes off her, make her scream my name, fuck her until her eyes rolled back.

The moment my cock was in front of her, she wrapped her lips around me, sucking me into her mouth. She kept her eyes locked on mine the entire time, those green irises as alluring as a succubus. She took me deep, until I hit the back of her throat. Her muscles clenched, then all the way out again, her tongue swirling around my head.

“Fuck, that feels so good. Such a good girl…” She laid her hands on my legs as she balanced herself. Wanting more, I drew her wrists up so her hands could push up my shirt and scratch over my abdomen, her claws leaving long red lines on my skin.

She was so damn good. Those perfect lips bobbing up and down on my shaft, her long lashes blinking slowly over her teary eyes as she took me into her throat again and again. I was already struggling to control myself — it was too soon, too fucking soon.

I pulled back, grabbing her arm and tugging her to her feet. She looked at me in surprise, but then I was pressing her back against the stall door, my tongue in her mouth as I kissed her. I squeezed her throat until her breath stuttered, then turned her around and pinned her face-first against the door.

“Pull your dress up,” I ordered, and she obeyed. I ripped her panties down and sunk into her pussy until I could feel the plug in her ass nudge against my abdomen. I grasped her hips, arching her back as I fucked her. She bit her lip but that didn’t stop the moans coming out of her; her self-control dwindling by the second.

“God, you feel so good,” she gasped. “Fuck, please touch me, please…”

I rubbed her clit until she was weak, slumping against the door with her eyes half-lidded. We had to be quick, we couldn’t draw this out too long, but I was going to send her back to that table with my cum dripping out of her.

“You like that?” I said, and she nodded quickly, desperately. She felt so tight with the plug inside her, I could feel the swell of it as I pounded her. She was throbbing around me, ecstasy making her hold her breath as she came right up to the edge of orgasm. “Come for me, angel. Come on my cock.”

God, she clenched so tight. It was like the only thing that had been holding her back was my orders, and once I’d told her she could come, it crashed into her uncontrollably. The thought alone had me gasping, my balls tightening, practically ripping apart at the seams as I came inside her.

“You are mine for the rest of the night,” I said. For the rest of the night…for the rest of fucking forever. The two seemed nearly synonymous in my mind at this point. “I want you to take an Uber straight home after dinner, understood?”

“To your house?” she said, and a shiver of heat went straight up my spine.

When I said “home,” her first thought wasn’t of the house she lived in. It was our house. Our home.

“To your house, angel,” I said, holding her a little tighter. “Text me when you get there.”

“Yes, sir.” The words shook but they were strong. I could barely manage to keep standing, but I held her up with me, supporting her as she caught her breath. I kissed her shoulder, her neck, her cheek — but we’d taken too long already and it wouldn’t do to get caught now.

“Straighten up,” I said. I pulled out of her, immediately missing the loss of soft, comfortable warmth inside her. “You have a date to finish, remember?”

“Don’t want to,” she said. She faced me, her back to the door. Her cheeks were so pink and her lips were swollen from how hard I’d kissed her. “I just want you.”

Oh…

Fuck.

I smiled at her, at the pout of her lips and the pleading look in her eyes. “You’ll have me all night, angel, I promise.”

Her smile was like the clouds parting in the middle of a thunderstorm. Sunshine and destruction all wrapped into one.

A storm I’d chase to the ends of the earth.


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