Chapter 10 WHAT HAVE I DONE?
Constantine's POV
I sink down, the hardwood floor cold against my skin. He unbuckles his belt slowly, deliberately, never taking his eyes off me. When he frees himself, I feel my stomach twist with a mixture of dread and something else I don't want to name.
'Open your mouth, маленькая птичка.’
I do.
He guides himself to my lips, and I taste him…salt and musk. He doesn't give me time to adjust. He pushes in deep, hitting the back of my throat, making me gag.
'Relax,' he orders. 'Breathe through your nose. I don't want you dying on me.’
I try, but it's impossible. Tears stream down my face as he sets a brutal pace, using my mouth like it's nothing more than a hole for his pleasure.
'That's it,' he growls, his hand fisting in my hair. 'Take it. Take all of it, you desperate little сука.'
The words are designed to humiliate me, and they work. Shame washes over me in waves, mixing with the unwanted heat pooling between my legs. I hate that my body responds to this. Hate that some twisted part of me is getting wet from being used like this. He pulls out suddenly, leaving me gasping for air, spit dripping down my chin.
'Stand up. Bend over the couch.'
I stumble to my feet and do as I'm told, bracing my hands against the leather. I hear him move behind me, feel his hand trail down my spine, over the curve of my ass.
'Look at you,' he murmurs, his fingers sliding between my thighs. 'So wet already. Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind doesn't.'
'I hate you,' I whisper.
'I know.' He sounds almost amused. 'But that doesn't change the fact that you're dripping for me, does it?'
He pushes two fingers inside me without warning, and I cry out, my body clenching around the intrusion.
'So tight,' he says, pumping his fingers slowly. 'Tell me, маленькая птичка. When was the last time someone fucked you properly?'
I don't answer. I just can't answer. His other hand comes down hard on my ass, the slap echoing through the room. I yelp, my body jolting forward.
'I asked you a question.'
'I don't—I don't remember,' I gasp.
'Then I guess I'll have to remind you what it feels like.' He removes his fingers and I feel the head of his cock pressing against me. 'This is going to hurt. But you're going to take it anyway, aren't you?'
I whimper. ‘Ye—’
Before I can finish, he slams into me in one brutal thrust, and I scream. The pain is sharp, overwhelming, mixing with pleasure in a way that makes my head spin. He doesn't give me time to adjust. He just starts moving, fucking me with a ruthless pace that makes my legs shake.
'This is what you are now,' he growls, his hand wrapping around my throat from behind, pulling me up against his chest. 'My personal whore. My stress relief. You exist for my pleasure and nothing else. Say it.'
'I'm—I'm your whore,' I sob.
'Louder!'
'I'm your whore!' I scream, and I hate myself for it. Hate him for making me say it. Hate my body for clenching around him, for racing toward an orgasm I don't want.
'Good girl,' he purrs in my ear. 'Now come for me. Show me how much your body loves being used.'
His fingers find my clit, rubbing harsh circles, and I shatter. The orgasm rips through me like a tidal wave, leaving me gasping and shaking and utterly broken.
He follows moments later, burying himself deep as he finishes inside me. When he pulls out, I collapse onto the couch, unable to hold myself up anymore. He steps back, tucking himself away, his breathing barely affected while I'm a trembling mess.
'Clean yourself up,' he says coldly. 'Bathroom's down the hall. Then get dressed and go home.'
I look up at him, tears streaming down my face. 'That's it?'
'What did you expect? Cuddling?' He picks up his glass of whiskey like nothing happened. 'This is what you signed up for, Constantine. Get used to it.'
I force myself to stand on shaking legs and stumble toward the bathroom. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, I barely recognize the woman staring back. Red eyes. Tear-stained cheeks. Marks already forming on my neck and hips. I look destroyed.
When I finally make it back to the living room, fully dressed, he's sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone.
'You can go,' he says without looking up.
I walk to the elevator on numb legs. Just as the doors are about to close, his voice stops me.
'Constantine.'
I look up, meeting his cold eyes.
'Tomorrow morning. Eight AM. Don't forget.'
The doors close, and I finally let myself break down completely, sliding to the floor of the elevator as sobs wrack my body.
What have I done?
What the fuck have I done?