The Split

Cell phone pressed to one ear, she drove in the pitch dark of early morning, tears running freely down her face. His voice again, deep, raw, emotional, tore at her heart, and pummeled her defenses. How was she going to survive without him? But how could she continue with him. The guilt and fear were tearing her apart. It was an untenable position. Impossible to continue. Impossible to imagine stopping.

He said he’d give her space. Wait for her to call when she needed him. But he couldn’t say how long he’d wait. How long, before he’d show up one day and take her – willing or not – force her to feel and remember what they had together. His words made her shiver, partly in fear, partly in desire. He’d always had this effect on her. Since the moment they’d met. Before that, when nothing but the sound of his voice brought her close to orgasm and caused her heart to race.

How could she make him understand … this love for him, deep, unnerving, unfading desire for him, was killing her. And the knowledge that there was no escaping the lie she was living, without permanently harming her family, or ripping out her heart by telling him goodbye … how do you say goodbye to your dream come to life? Your fantasy in flesh? How do you return to a life made even more dull by comparison. Existing instead of living?

She turned into the parking lot and stopped the engine, wiping tears from her cheeks and taking in a deep breath. Just another day. Get through one more day. Grabbing purse and door card, she stepped from her car and walked towards the darkened building, the sad echo of her shoes the only sound in the empty parking lot. She pulled the door open as the lock light turned from red to green, and began to step forward when a hand slapped over her mouth and a strong body pressed behind her. She struggled in panic until she heard his soft, deep voice hushing her.

He turned and pressed her against the hallway wall, dark eyes boring into hers as heat rushed through her, and heightened her color. Placing a hard kiss on her mouth, he growled out, “Fuck waiting.”

Gripping her upper arm, he started up the steps, pulling her after him. She resisted slightly, but his fingers instantly tightened on her arm, and fear of bruising quickened her steps. At the top of the stairs, he glanced at the locked door and snapped, “Open it.”

She looked at the red beam of light and frowned. Before he could react, she threw the card key over the staircase, and with her heart pounding, whispered, “No.”

His mouth tightened in annoyance Dropping to one knee on the landing, he pulled her down and over with one jerk. His hand landed heavily on her upturned ass, the thin slacks offering no protection.

“You think that’s going to stop me?” Another heavy smack landed, forcing a pained squeak.

“Yes.”

“Do you?” He kept his arm swinging, feeling a sense of vindication with each loud slap.

“Yes.” She began to squirm to avoid his hand, knowing it was useless, knowing she deserved it.

“Do you?” He doubled his efforts, anger and lust giving extra weight to each smack.

“Ye - es.” Her voice broke and she let out an involuntary cry. Gritting her teeth, she fought to hold back the tears. She wouldn’t let him break her like this. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

But as the spanking continued, the burning sensation increased, and she could only think of trying to escape.

He tilted her further down, and focused cruel slaps on the tender bottom of her ass, listening to her high pitched cries and knowing the moment she gave in.

“I’ll ask you again. Do you think that’s going to stop me?” Two quick slaps forced her choked response, “No.”

Rolling her off of his knee, he left her curled up and crying, to run lightly down the steps and retrieve the door key. Reaching her once more, he unlocked the door, and pulled her up and after him.

She followed, stumbling briefly, and tried to think past the pain, but found herself inside a locked office, pressed against a door, and half undressed within seconds. His lips on her mouth, neck, shoulder, softened her, while the roaming, teasing hands sent familiar tingles of excitement through her.

Nude, shivering with need, she watched him strip, weakened as always at the sight of his muscled, furred, overtly masculine frame.

“Come here.” His sexual voice alone sent pleasure rushing through her veins.

Lifting her chin, despite the odds, she shook her head and softly said, “No.”

His brows rose at her response. “So that’s how you want it.”

Her breath released in a rush of air when he snagged her wrist and pulled her over to the desk, pressing between her shoulders until she was bent over and held immobile, the wood cool against her stomach and breasts. When the head of his cock pressed against her moist core, she felt the familiar ache and moaned lightly.

Slamming into her wet heat, he stretched her with his size, overwhelming her senses. Moving his hand to the back of her neck, he continued holding her down, as he gripped her hip and began to move deep and hard inside of her. The slap of his pelvis against her burning skin made her wince but was nearly overshadowed by the feeling of his massive cock, impaling and taking her, using her, raping her. His movements changed from hard, fast pounding to deep, searching, strokes. As he neared release, he slowed, and wrapping a hand around her hair, pulled her to arch against him and growled deeply in her ear. “Am I your Master?”

She shut her eyes against the bliss of his question.

Tugging her hair, he pressed deeply into her, touching her where no one had reached before. “Is this my spot?”

“Yes!” Her involuntary cry soared through him.

Pulling back, he aimed his hand and left a red palm print on her right cheek.. “Am I your Master?”

“Yes!” She felt the sob shake.

Moving his hands to her shoulders, he began to fuck her fast and furiously, each stroke forcing the breath from her until the feelings became impossible to ignore, and the tentacles of orgasm began to lift and tear him apart.

He came back to earth moments later, resting against her back, feeling her shoulders shake with soft tears.

Pulling slowly out of her heat, he lead her to the floor, pillowing her head on his tossed jacket, and began to spread her legs, glancing up sharply at the resistance.

“Flight me, and I’ll leave your ass black and blue.” His flat threat released her thighs, and he moved in between them, watched as her hands closed over her face to cover her tears. Reach out one hand, he tugged them away, refusing to let her hide.

With deft skill and intimate knowledge, he closed his lips and tongue around her and lifted her, teased her, controlled her, and when he chose, took her to the edge and over, closing his eyes to focus on her soft helpless cry of release, and the satisfying knowledge that only he could bring her there.

Holding her tightly in his arms, her shudders quieting down, he knew she would fight him – again and again, until her conscience could settle once more, find the balance in their illicit mating, the karma that kept them inevitably attracted and aching for each other.

Until that time, he would take, and force, and please her, without her permission, ‘beat’ and ‘rape’ her to assuage any guilt, remind her who owned her. Today. Tomorrow. Always.