Sucking the Don's Cock

POV: First Person.

I lay spent, naked on the thick plush carpet, gasping for breath from a sexual encounter that had shattered my previous, painful experiences of physical intimacy. The quick, awkward fumble with that boy in the back of a truck had left me feeling like a disgusted, painful mess. But this was different. This was a brutal, earth-shattering collision of bodies that left me immensely pleasured. I lay exhausted, still gasping softly, staring up at the ornate ceiling of the vast office. My skin hummed with a lingering, electric heat. My chest heaved as I tried to pull oxygen back into my starved lungs. Every muscle in my body felt alive, sore, and tender, but the profound pleasure I had just experienced eclipsed the pain. I gasped softly at the sheer wonderment of it. This was what could happen between a man and a woman. This was the dark magic I had read about but never believed existed.

My heavy eyelids fluttered open. I met the amused, calculating blue-grey gaze of the very man who had just forcefully brought my body to this wondrous, unimaginable high. Cassian hovered above me, his broad chest rising and falling. His intent gaze was fixed on my flushed face. His big, sweat-slicked body still trapped me in place. A heavy, muscular leg lay across my sensitive thighs, restraining my movements, grounding me in the reality of what we had just done. He leaned over. He pressed his mouth to mine, kissing my swollen lips rough and hard. His tongue slid against mine, tasting of our shared sweat and raw desire. A hungry, needy moan slipped past my lips, echoing from my sore, stretched body. I arched up, wanting more of his blistering heat, wanting to prolong the connection that had just altered the fundamental wiring of my brain.

But just as quickly as he initiated the contact, the warmth vanished. He abruptly pulled away, severing the physical and emotional connection with shocking coldness. He rolled to his feet with the fluid grace of a stalking predator. He turned his broad, heavily muscled back to me, the intricate scars shifting under the dim office lights. The sudden loss of his body heat left my damp skin pebbling with goosebumps in the cool, air-conditioned room.

"How many men have you slept with, little girl?" he asked.

His tone carried an ugly, mocking sneer that made the blood run cold in my veins. The question struck me like a physical blow, slicing through the euphoric haze of my post-orgasm bliss. The sneering, dismissive tone made me want to sink into the thick fibers of the carpet and disappear from existence. Would he think I was the kind of girl who made a habit of tumbling onto the floor and throwing my legs open for every man I met? The raw humiliation burned the back of my throat like acid.

Profoundly humiliated by his sudden derision and the casual way he looked down at my naked, vulnerable form, I scrambled backwards on the floor. I desperately reached for the torn, useless remnants of my lacy red dress that lay discarded near the heavy mahogany desk. I pulled the ruined fabric against my heaving chest, trying to cover my exposed breasts and trembling thighs. I hugged my knees close to my body, adopting a defensive posture. My long hair hung in a tangled, damp mess down my bare back. I felt like a cheap woman of the night, exposed and judged by a man who had just used my body for his own primal satisfaction.

I forced myself to meet his flinty, unyielding gaze with as much bravery as I could muster. I refused to let him see the fresh tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I tilted my chin upward, adopting a haughty, defiant expression to mask my shattering heart.

"One… boy." I replied, my voice tight but steady.

With chilling clinical detachment, he nodded slowly. His pale eyes gave away nothing. He looked like a ruthless businessman mentally filing away a useless piece of trivial information at the end of a long, boring meeting. There was no warmth, no shared intimacy, no lingering affection.

"I'll get my men to drop you at your home." he stated tersely.

I stared up at him in stunned, silent disbelief. The words hung heavy in the suffocating silence of the office. We had just shared a breathtaking, soul-altering physical connection. He had taken my virginity with brutal possession and shown me a universe of stars behind my closed eyelids. Yet he was now coolly, effortlessly dismissing me. He was winding up a transaction, tossing me aside like a cheap streetwalker whose allotted time had expired. My mouth parted in astonishment. The pain and shock must have been glaringly evident on my flushed face.

He let out an exasperated sigh. He turned away from me, his movements fluid and careless. My eyes unwillingly trailed over the powerful lines of his back and shoulders—the very body that had just dominated me with such overwhelming force.

"Go home, little girl." he added harshly over his muscular shoulder. "You're out of your league here."

He did not even bother to look back at me. The finality in his demeanor propelled my stunned mind into harsh reality. Without another word, he strode across the vast office and disappeared into a hidden antechamber built seamlessly into the wall paneling. The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the vast, intimidating space.

A few seconds later, the faint sound of running water bled through the heavy wooden door. He was taking a shower. He was washing the scent of my skin, the sweat of our union, and the slickness of my body off himself. The sound of the running water mocked my romantic delusions, echoing in the hollow cavity of my chest.

I shivered on the floor. I felt unbearably cheap and dirty. The soreness between my thighs throbbed, a harsh physical reminder of how deeply he had penetrated me, how thoroughly he had claimed me, only to discard me moments later. I tried to stand, but my legs shook. I stumbled, clutching the destroyed red dress to my body. I grabbed the back of a heavy leather chair to keep from collapsing back onto the floor. Wave after wave of shame coursed through my system. I caught a glimpse of myself in an ornate mirror resting against the far wall. The reflection showed a stranger. A woman with a swollen, bruised mouth, messy hair, and glazed eyes. She looked thoroughly used, hollowed out, and stripped of her self-respect. I hated myself for my weakness. I hated that my body still craved the ruthless man who was currently washing me down the drain.

Time stretched into an agonizing wait. When the hidden door finally opened, he returned. He was fully dressed, his dark hair damp from the shower. He looked impeccably distinguished, untouchable, and composed, exactly as he had before the madness began. The primal beast that had ravished me on the carpet was gone, replaced by the cold, calculating mafia don.

He strode toward me. He carelessly tossed a heavy, richly textured woman's coat onto the floor near my unsteady feet. It was a creamy white garment, incredibly expensive, crafted by an exclusive brand I could never afford. A delicate, mature, perfume-scented fragrance clung to the heavy fabric. Another woman’s coat. Another woman’s scent.

"Just wear the coat, forget the clothes." he ordered brusquely.

His eyes were already focused on his glowing cell phone. He was reading a message, his mind already miles away from the office, from me, from the stain I had left on his carpet.

I stared at the expensive coat on the floor. The gesture cemented my worth in his eyes. I was a temporary nuisance. I dropped the ruined, soiled remnants of my red party dress. I picked up the heavy, foreign garment. Desperately wanting not to remain naked before his indifferent presence, I pulled the coat tightly around my deeply aching body. The fabric was soft, but the floral perfume burned my nose, a toxic reminder of my place. I wrapped it protectively around my waist, shivering as the heavy material swallowed my small frame. I seethed with profound hurt and embarrassment. I was a simple, gullible girl barely out of high school, and he was a wealthy, dangerous older man who treated women like disposable toys.

I determined not to show my internal bleeding and pain to this arrogant bastard. I squared my shoulders. I raised my chin, rallying whatever shreds of dignity I had left scattered on the floor. I turned to face him. I injected every ounce of cold, biting sarcasm I could muster into my voice.

"Nice meeting you too, Mr. Caspar." I said.

My blatant disrespect caught him off guard. The sharp tone shattered his indifferent facade. Surprised, he lowered his glowing cell phone. His pale eyes locked onto my face. He stared at me for a fleeting second before he threw his distinguished head back and roared with deep, genuine laughter. The harsh, masculine sound bounced off the walls. Exuding a raw, dangerous, and intoxicating power despite his heavily scarred face and broken nose, he dropped the phone onto his desk. He deliberately closed the distance between us. His predatory steps forced me to retreat until my back hit the solid wood of the heavy mahogany bookshelf. He boxed me in, planting his large hands on the wood on either side of my head, trapping me with his overwhelming physical presence.

"What's your name then, eh girl?" he remarked, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. A reluctant, dangerous smile played on his harsh lips. "I've f*cked you thoroughly but I don't know your name?"

The crude phrasing sent a fresh wave of heat pooling in my belly, warring with my desperate need to hold onto my pride. I stubbornly clamped my mouth shut. I gave him a glassy, defiant glare, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing my name.

His eyes darkened. The amusement vanished, replaced by a dark, simmering, purposeful glint. He aggressively pressed his hard chest against me, flattening my trembling body back against the wall. The heavy coat provided little barrier against the furnace of his body heat.

He twisted his large, calloused hand rough into my tangled hair. He wrapped the thick strands around his wrist, pulling my head back sharply. I cried out from the sudden, jarring pain. Taking full advantage of my parted lips, he claimed my mouth in a deep, intoxicating, punishing kiss. His tongue invaded my mouth, tasting of mint and dark danger. He ravaged my mouth with the same brutal dominance he had used to claim my virginity.

I whimpered, a pathetic, broken sound trapped in the back of my throat. I struggled weakly, bringing my fists up to push against his solid chest. But my traitorous body had a mind of its own. My hands immediately opened, my fingers frantically beginning to caress his broad, muscular back through his crisp shirt. I gripped the fabric, my nails digging into the hard muscles beneath, anchoring myself to the storm that was Cassian. My hips instinctively rolled forward, seeking the hard ridge of his groin.

He broke the kiss, pulling his head back. He panted heavily against my swollen lips, his breath hot and ragged on my skin. He looked down at me, his eyes blazing with a feral, unrestrained lust. Without breaking eye contact, he reached down. He shoved his large hand past the open lapels of the heavy coat. He bypassed my stomach and drove his hand straight down between my thighs.

He forcefully thrust two thick fingers straight into my slick, dripping wetness.

I gasped, my spine arching off the wooden bookshelf. My inner walls instantly clamped down on his invading digits, welcoming the violent intrusion. He pumped his fingers deep inside my soaking cunt, pulling a wet, obscene slurping sound from my flesh. He withdrew slightly and drove back in, using his rough thumb to stroke my highly sensitive, swollen clitoris ruthlessly. The brutal, rhythmic friction sent a blinding shockwave of pure fire shooting through my pelvis. My knees buckled under the sheer intensity of the sensation.

"Get the f*ck out now or..." he growled into my open mouth, his voice thick with animalistic warning.

He didn't need to finish the threat. The heavy ridge of his erection pressed hard against my stomach through his trousers, demanding release. The rational part of my brain screamed at me to run, to preserve whatever dignity I had left, to escape this club and never look back. But the primal, aching void between my legs drowned out all logic.

Driven by a nameless, feverish, and degrading desire, I surrendered. I sank slowly to my knees on the thick carpet in front of him.

Pure instinct took over my inexperienced body. I reached out with trembling hands. I grasped the silver buckle of his belt, undoing it with frantic haste. I unzipped his dark trousers, the sound loud in the tense silence of the office. I reached inside the fabric, wrapping my fingers around the blistering heat of his massive, thick cock. I freed his heavy member, letting it spring out against my face. It was rigid, heavy, and pulsing with demanding blood, the sensitive, swollen head weeping a shiny bead of pre-cum.

I leaned forward and took him deeply into my mouth. I had never done this before, but my body knew exactly what to do. I eagerly and desperately tasted him, the salty, musky flavor of his skin flooding my senses. My tongue darted out, swirling delicately and then hungrily around the sensitive head. I licked the weeping pre-cum, tasting his raw desire. I wrapped my lips around his thick girth, bobbing my head frantically, taking him as far down my throat as my gag reflex would allow. I trailed my tongue down the vein-ridged sides of his long shaft and licked at the heavy weight of his balls.

A harsh, guttural groan ripped from his chest. He looked down at me, his pale eyes crazed with want. Unable to hold back his dominance any longer, his hands bunched tight in my tangled hair. He held my head in a vice-like grip. His hips thrust forward brutally, driving his thick cock deep into my open mouth. He set a relentless, punishing pace, fucking my mouth with the same ruthless rhythm he had used on my cunt. I willingly sucked his manhood, my lips burning from the friction, my eyes watering from the depth of his thrusts. My own womanhood throbbed with a heavy, wet ache, my thighs slick with my own dripping juices as I serviced him.

He grunted loud and deep, his abdominal muscles locking tight. He exploded, shooting thick, hot jets of his ejaculation straight into the back of my throat. The salty, heavy load hit my tonsils in rhythmic pulses. I swallowed reflexively, gulping down his hot seed, trembling at the magnitude of what I had just done. I kept my mouth clamped firmly around his fading erection, milking the last drops of his climax from his heavy cock until his hips finally stopped jerking and his thighs trembled with exhaustion.

When it was finally over, the crushing reality of my actions crashed down on my shoulders with the force of a falling building. The feverish haze of lust evaporated, leaving behind a cold, sobering clarity.

As his tense body sagged with release, he slowly loosened his brutal grip on my hair. I backed away, pulling my lips off his wet flesh. I slowly rose to my feet. The heavy white coat slipped off my shoulder, exposing my naked, bruised skin to the cool air. My mouth tasted strongly of his thick seed. I wiped the corner of my lips with the back of my trembling hand. A deep, hollow, suffocating shame settled into my bones. I hated myself for succumbing so willingly to his dark, animal magnetism. I hated that I had dropped to my knees and eagerly swallowed his pride just because he touched me. I was aware that unless I left this room immediately, I would end up a permanent slave to his twisted desires. I was nothing but a cheap plaything to him, easily used and easily discarded.

I pulled the heavy coat tight across my chest, securing the belt with shaking fingers. On legs that were not quite strong enough to carry my weight, I swayed unsteadily. I turned my back on him, refusing to look at his exposed body, and moved toward the heavy oak door. Every step felt like walking through thick mud.

"Wait." he barked sharply. His voice was commanding, regaining its icy authority as he began to straighten his clothes and zip up his trousers.

I stopped. My hand hovered over the cool brass of the doorknob. Making zero effort to hide the devastating hurt, the hollow despair, and the unshed tears gleaming on my pale face, I looked back at him over my shoulder one last time. He stood in the center of the lavish office, a god among mortals, untouched by the soul-crushing devastation he had just wreaked upon my life.

"I'm not in your league, Sir. I'm the little girl who has to go home." I whispered brokenly.

My voice cracked on the final word, exposing the raw, bleeding wound he had left in my chest. The silence that followed was deafening. I didn't wait to see his reaction. I didn't want to see the mocking amusement return to his pale eyes.

Slipping quickly through the heavy oak door before he could say another word, I fled blindly into the dimly lit hallway. Panic and shame fueled my desperate, frantic escape. I ran down the hidden, narrow stairs, my bare feet slapping loudly against the cold stone steps. Tears finally spilled hot down my cheeks, blurring my vision. I burst out of the stairwell, hurtling frantically through an enormous industrial kitchen. Startled cooks in white aprons shouted and jumped out of my way as I dodged stainless steel prep tables and blazing stoves. The heavy scent of garlic and roasting meat hit my face, but I kept running, treating the massive club like a labyrinth I needed to escape to survive. I shoved open the heavy metal back doors and spilled out onto the dark, rain-slicked street outside the Behemoth. The cool night air hit my tear-stained face, shocking my system. A yellow cab was idling by the curb, just about to depart into the city night. I lunged for the handle, yanking the door open, and leapt breathlessly into the back seat, slamming the door shut before anyone from the club could follow me out and stop me.