“S-sir?” she squeaks. But there’s not a goddamn hint of innocence in her voice. She’s the kind of slut who loves being used like a human fleshlight. “Mr. Somerville?”
After plucking the buds from her ears and discarding them carelessly, I grab a chunk of her hair and press her cheek into the tile. “Shut the fuck up.”
Music spills from the wireless buds on the floor of the shower. The muted sound of pop reaches my ears as I clutch her hips, nails digging into the fabric of her uniform. These little maid outfits don’t fool me. She’s far from innocent. I know my father has the younger maids wear short dresses. They’re as professional as they can get without bordering on pornographic and they like it, too, flaunting their white stockings, their taut asses, their giant tits threatening to spill with just the right bending motion.
I flip up her skirt and tear a hole in the center of the white stockings, exposing her shaved cunt. Juices glisten over her pussy, causing a primal growl to rise in my throat as I stroke my thumb between her folds, another squeak erupting from her as the brush clatters to the ground.
“That’s right,” I grumble. “All wet for me. You were fucking waiting for me to come in, weren’t you, you fucking slut?”
I pull her hair, making her cry out a “yes, sir” that floods my body with need.
This isn’t about pleasure. This is about power. This is about me getting what I’m owed. An empire rests just beyond the horizon, my father’s business that rightfully belongs to me and only me. And this cunt gives me one aching iota of it, a mere taste of what I could actually have if I just work harder, fuck harder.
“I bet you fucked him today, too,” I hiss as I shuck my shorts to the ground. I rigidly pump my cock, the sensitive flesh stimulated by the potential of my father discovering my cum dripping from her twat later. “I bet you’re going to fuck him later like the slut you are.”
I pierce her fiercely, growling with the first breath of relief that slicks through my body.
Not enough.
But almost enough.
“Say you’re a fucking whore,” I spit as I rear back. My hips throb as I try to control my revulsion and desire mingling into one fucked-up moment of intense rage. “Say you like my cock, you fucking whore.”
“I like your cock,” she whimpers. “I’m a fucking whore and I like your cock, fuck…”
I split her open, gloves squeaking on the mirrored wall as she flattens against it, standing up on her toes to arch into my thrusts. She does like it. Every time I’ve fucked her, she’s begged for more, shivering under the weight of my commanding hands.
Arousal slicks my temporary retreat, providing a lubricated path to her core. I wrap my fingers around her throat and grin manically when she struggles to breathe. Cutting off her only supply of air loosens my hips and produces an explosion of animalistic thrusts that echo forceful smacks in the expansive shower. A squeak caps each pump as my fingers dig deep into her trachea, a gruesome gurgle bubbling from her lips.
Her whimpers pitch higher and higher, drowned out by the sound of my blood pounding in my ears. My vision grows red around the edges as I bow forward, brows coated with sweat as I double my drive into her wet, vulnerable flesh. The only reason I relinquish pressure on her throat is because her face is turning blue.
Can’t very well fuck a corpse. That’s just in poor taste.
She sucks air into her lungs, a sickening gasp rising before she begs, “Fucking use me, Parker.”
“Shut your filthy whore mouth,” I growl as I shove my fingers between her lips. She gags on the digits, eyes rolling back as drool spills from her lips and slicks my fingers. Wiggling as deep as I can produces the kind of retching sound that follows a hard night of hitting the bottles. “Wider. Wider, bitch.”
More moans vibrate against my fingers. The bitch just can’t get enough of having every hole in her body plugged with a Somerville. My rage doubles when I realize that my father will score next, sometime later, at some point in the evening on an expensive fucking end table or in the middle of the goddamn kitchen.
And here I am pounding away in the privacy of my bathroom.
I’m a fucking idiot.
Her piercing cry breaks through my thoughts, drawing me back into the grounding warmth of her clenching pussy, her shivering legs, her wet mouth around my fingers. I pull out my fingers and swat her cheek, her responding groan making me slap her harder.
“You just want to be used, isn’t that right?” My eyebrows pinch together as my core tightens, signaling a release that is sure to blast us both apart. “Your cunt is the only useful part of you, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Fuck, yes, keep using me!”
Gazing down at my body threatens to snap my control. Her delicate ass shivers with every thrust as my cock disappears into her cunt, drawing me into a hypnotized state. White cream drenches my shaft and drips to my balls. I feel the fluid trickle under my sack and I groan, grabbing the back of her neck to steady myself as my balls tighten.
Not yet. Not fucking yet.
Heat rises in my gut, flushing my shoulders, my chest, and my face with tension. I’m hanging on by a fucking thread, but I can’t help myself, edging into the eruption that I know will give me just a few seconds of peace. Coming is the only thing that ever makes me feel completely relaxed. It’s what I chase despite knowing the relief is temporary. It’s what I know will quiet my mind.
But only for a second.
A glance at the mirror just beyond the maid’s hands reveals a soapy image, one of a vicious and bestial man gripped by a grudge. When I blink, the reflection warps, the blonde hair and blue eyes of the maid shifting into black hair, dark eyes, and a petite, pampered body.