Chapter 47 A New Muse 2
Ian
“Stop laughing,” I growled through clenched teeth.
She didn’t even register it, just kept cackling, wiping tears of amusement from her eyes.
“I said STOP LAUGHING!!” I roared.
That finally cut through. She straightened, still grinning, still wiping her face.
“You know, sir,” she said, twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger, “I seriously doubt you ever satisfied her. Pattie was personally trained by Mr. King — the owner of this entire place.”
She said his name like it was holy.
“And trust me… when it comes to sex, Mr. King is on another level. Once he’s inside you, you never want to leave. He fucks you completely senseless.”
She nodded to herself, eyes half-lidded with memory.
The name hit me like ice water. King. The same last name as the man Claire had been sneaking around with. My pulse hammered in my ears.
I snapped my gaze to her. “Excuse me,” I said, voice dangerously low. “Your boss — the owner, is his name Liam King?”
Her eyes widened for half a second… then she pouted dramatically and shook her head.
“Liam? Nooo. It’s Raul King.”
I exhaled hard, shoulders dropping.
Of course. What the hell was I thinking? There could probably be a bunch bearing that last name, so the broke, desperate guy chasing a sugar mama could never be the owner of this place.
But she wasn’t done.
“Tell me, sir,” she continued sweetly, “did you actually make Pattie come? Or was she just faking it the whole time?”
I froze.
“Why are you mocking me?” I asked quietly.
She shrugged, innocent. “I’m just curious. Your dick isn’t the kind she’s used to now… and you’re definitely not violent enough.”
Something inside me cracked clean in half.
I stood up slowly from the bed and walked toward her.
She watched me come, eyes daring, challenging.
A slow, cold smile spread across my face.
My hand flew, a sharp, open-palmed slap across her cheek.
Her head snapped to the side. She staggered half a step.
When she turned back, she was grinning wider than before.
“Even your slap was weak,” she purred, voice turning molten.
Rage boiled over.
I slapped her again, harder.
“You will not insult me,” I snarled.
I fisted her hair, yanked her head back, and slapped her a third time, putting every ounce of pent-up fury into it.
I expected screams. Tears. Fear.
Instead… she moaned.
A low, throaty, shameless sound.
Her eyes rolled back for a second, lids fluttering.
I shoved her down hard. She hit the floor on her hands and knees.
Her whole body trembled, but not from pain.
She laughed again, soft and delighted, like I’d just given her a gift.
For one terrified heartbeat I thought: What the fuck is wrong with her?
Then she pushed herself up, sat back on her heels, tilted her head, and crawled forward until she was kneeling right in front of me.
She licked her swollen lips slowly.
“Rough handle me, sir,” she whispered, opening her mouth wide, eyes locked on mine, pleading. “Please.”
I wasn’t used to this. Never had been.
But my cock—soft just moments ago—surged back to full, aching hardness, straining like it was trying to tear through my skin.
I stared down at her, chest pounding, control slipping through my fingers like smoke.
Instinct took over.
My fingers twisted deep into her blonde hair, gripping so hard it felt like I might rip it from her scalp. I shoved forward without warning, forcing my cock straight down her throat in one brutal thrust.
She’d begged for rough. She was going to get it.
How fucking dare she mock me? Mock my stamina? Mock what I gave Pattie?
I drove to the hilt, burying myself completely. Her throat convulsed around me, tight and hot, as I started fucking her face in long, punishing strokes.
She gagged hard, wet, choking sounds spilling out around my shaft, eyes watering, mascara already streaking down her cheeks. Every gag, every desperate little noise only made me harder.
If I kept this pace I’d come again too soon. She’d laugh again. She’d win.
No.
I clenched my jaw until it ached, fighting the building pressure. Both hands clamped around her skull like a vise. I pulled her head forward as I thrust deeper, deeper, until her nose pressed flush against my pelvis and her whole body jerked violently.
Thick ropes of spit bubbled from the corners of her stretched lips, dripping down her chin, onto her bare breasts.
Yes.
This, this messy, brutal surrender, felt better than anything Pattie had ever given me in an entire year of careful, practiced nights.
I couldn’t hold back anymore.
My hips jerked forward one final time as I came hard down her throat, fist tight in her hair, yanking her head flush against me.
“Swallow it,” I growled, voice rough.
She did, every drop—throat working around me until I was spent.
When the last pulse faded, I pulled out and stepped back, chest heaving like I’d run a marathon. She coughed once, twice, body jerking with aftershocks, spit and tears streaking her face.
Then she looked up at me, eyes glassy and wicked, and slowly licked her swollen lips like she’d just tasted the finest thing in the world.
“Now this,” she rasped, still on her knees, “is how you make a girl come, sir.”
Right there on the floor, she started to tremble again and then I realized she was pissing herself, a slow, shameless stream running down her thighs, pooling beneath her.
The sight hit me like a drug.
I needed to get the hell out of there before I lost every last shred of control. Before I drained myself dry and couldn’t walk straight.
“What’s your name?” I asked, forcing my voice low and steady.
She smiled, slow, satisfied, filthy. “Jane.”
I gave a single nod. “Well, Jane… this won’t be the last time.”
Her lips curved wider, eyes gleaming with promise.
Thirty minutes later, I was out.
They didn’t send me back through the restaurant. A discreet side exit, down a dim corridor, and suddenly I was at the rear of the building. My car waited there, engine already idling, keys in the ignition.
The same waiter from earlier gave a small, respectful bow. “We’ll be expecting you again, sir.”
I didn’t reply, just nodded once and slid behind the wheel.
The engine roared to life and I peeled away, the neon glow of the club shrinking in the rearview.
That place was fucking insane.
I’d walked in hunting answers about Pattie.
I’d walked out having enjoyed myself more than I ever thought possible.
And deep down, in the darkest, most honest part of me, I already knew:
I’d be back.
Not for the information about Pattie.
For Jane.