20 comments/ 38711 views/ 64 favorites Michelle and Ricardo By: elledee This story is very similar to Soular's Seven Days, but only in the basic premise. As the story builds, you'll find them to be nothing alike...hopefully anyway! Enjoy and let me know what you think. Even if you hate it, tell me why. Thanks! Michelle felt the softness of lips pressed to hers and pressed her even more into them. Still half asleep, she allowed her lips to part and allowed a firm yet soft tongue to ease into her mouth. Then, almost as soon as it started it was over. The lips were gone and she curled her body into itself shifting slightly in her slumber. Ricardo watched her, interested in her reaction. He had expected it to wake her, and that he would have to calm her frantic nerves with an explanation. But she hadn't even opened her eyes. He watched her for a moment longer, wondering what she was dreaming about, and turned to leave. It was early in the afternoon when Michelle finally woke. The bed was so warm and comfortable; she didn't even want to get out of it. She lay there with her eyes closed, breathing in the lavender scent that lightly graced the linens. Lavender. Lavender? Nothing in her room smelled like lavender. Especially not her sheets. Her eyes flew open. This was not her bed. It was too big. And she would never purchase cream colored sheets. And this wasn't her room. This room was half the size of the entire upstairs of her house. She felt the fear rising in her throat, threatening to choke her as she looked around the room. She was afraid to get out of the bed, but also afraid to stay in it. Her breath quickened and swallowed simultaneously. She had been kidnapped. She was going to die. She was going to be raped and killed. Chopped into a million pieces. Hastily, she rushed from beneath the covers and rushed to the window. She had to be on the second or third floor of the house. And the lawn was extensive. Perfectly manicured. Oh, no. Some rich sick pervert had kidnapped her. And the house was probably gated. She wrapped her arms around herself as her mind raced. At least she wasn't naked. She still had on the cotton tank top and shorts she had put on before bed. In socked feet, she walked towards a door. It was just a closet, full of clothes she didn't bother to look through. She slipped on a pair of sneakers. They fit perfectly and looked new. Fucking pervert. She shook her head and opened another door. It was a bathroom. There was only one door left. She turned the knob slowly. Praying, she pushed it open. There was a hallway. A long dark hallway. Tentatively, she headed to her right. Before she could even make it to the stairs, she felt a hand on her arm. Jumping, she screamed and tried to pull away. But the hand was stronger than her. "Let me go!" She screamed not bothering to look back. She continued to jerk away, kicking her leg back to strike whatever was holding on to her. As soon as she finally managed to make contact, the arms of whatever wouldn't let her go, wrapped tightly around her upper body. "Get the fuck off of me!" she hissed evilly. "Let's go back to you room." The voice was dragging her backwards as she struggled against it. Finally, the arms released her and she heard the click of a door closing. She was right back where she started. Fuck. She whipped her body, eyes narrowed in determination, but as soon as she saw him, all thought left her. He was gorgeous with a chiseled face, muscular body, olive colored skin and eyes almost as dark as her own. Taking a step back, she composed herself. "Who are you?" "They call me Diablo." He almost laughed as her brow furrowed in disbelief. "Like, the mafia guy Diablo?" "Something like that..." he responded, walking towards her. "You're not old enough." She took a few more steps back. "Well, I guess you can say I'm Diablo the second. My father is the one you are referring to." "I don't owe your family anything." He could see her lips trembling. He didn't doubt that her mind was racing, recalling every horror story she had heard about the ways of his father. "But your family owed my family a lot." "Look, I don't know anything about that. Any business you have with my cousins in between them and you. My parents don't have anything, so if you're asking for ransom money, you're not going to get it." She looked so sweet and innocent as she explained herself. She thought this was about her cousins, who were probably petty drug dealers. "I'm not sure who your cousins are but I was referring to your parents. They owed my father fifty five thousand dollars." Michelle looked as though she might faint. "What?" It was so faint he barely heard it. She took a seat on the edge of the bed. "We never had that kind of money." "Clearly. And that's why you're here." She looked at him confused and upset. "You want me to work for you?" "Something like that..." "To pay off some debt they have? My mother wouldn't come work for you?" "Your mother has nothing for me," he seemed to have some type of permanent smirk etched across his face. She was still confused, her brow knit together as she tried to process the information. "You're parents and I had a deal. They took out a loan fifteen years ago, and haven't paid back one penny." He sat next to her, and she visibly stiffened. "So I demanded payment." She held her breath, waiting for what she knew was coming. "And they gave you to me to do with whatever I please." She clutched her chest and the sound she made could only be described as that of her heart breaking. "You're lying." She whispered. "My parents love me. They would never do that. They...." It was almost like she was trying to convince herself as opposed to him. "They love me..." She moved her gaze from her lap to his eyes. "Could I be left alone please?" There were tears in her big brown eyes and he knew he couldn't deny her such a simple request. Besides, she was his for as long as he wished. It wasn't his place to comfort her, so even though hit seemed appropriate to hold her, he simply stood without speaking, and closed the door quietly behind him. As he sat in his at home office, he couldn't help but think of all the things he wanted to do to her. His heart went out to her...to a certain extent. But her parents had put themselves in a vulnerable situation in that situation and he simply happened to be in a position to take advantage of it. It wasn't his fault her parents were heartless enough to give away their only child with few questions asked. He wondered if they knew he had been watching her. When he drove through the neighborhood, or stopped by their home to inquire about payments, he found himself admiring her thick thighs and her narrow waist. Not to mention that wild hair and smooth dark skin. There was a sensuality that showed through the innocence of her. He felt himself hardening at the thought of bringing the sex from deep within her to the surface. He knew it when he kissed her lips hours ago. They were full, but not out of proportion to her face and the way his felt against hers, God, if she ever let another man experience that, he would have to break that man's face. Adjusting his tie, he decided to head to work. Michelle sat perfectly still absolutely shell-shocked for about fifteen minutes. She didn't know what to think or feel. She couldn't even cry. What was to become of her? There was a soft tap at the door, but she didn't answer. Whoever it was came in quietly, and sat a tray on the bed next to her. It was an older woman. She was short, even shorter than Michelle, who was only 5'5. The woman pressed the back of her hand against Michelle's cheek. "Pobrecito." She murmured. "Eat." Michelle couldn't help herself. She wrapped her arms around the woman's waist and wept. "Pobre." The woman continued to murmur shaking her head as she stroked the girls' poufy hair. They remained in that position for five minutes before the woman pulled away and repeated firmly, "Eat." She wiped away Michelle's tears with the corner of her apron. She stood there waiting until she began to eat and walked to the bathroom. She ran her a bath and by the time Michelle was done eating the sound of the water running into the tub had stopped. The woman lifted Michelle from the bed and pushed her in the direction of the bathroom. She looked back as she headed towards the bathroom, but the woman was already half way out the door. Sighing, Michelle kicked off the shoes that weren't hers and removed her clothes. She wanted to think she had found a friend in the woman, but another part of her didn't want to trust anyone. The bathtub was larger than any one she had ever seen in a house that she'd been in, and bubbles looked all too inviting. And there was that lavender smell again. She slipped into the water, and the perfect temperature immediately soothed her frazzled nerves. The lavender scent must have been that woman's touch. Audibly, she moaned at the sensations that pleased every one of her senses except taste. Up to her neck in foam, Michelle soon found herself slipping into sleep again. "Morena?" It was the most soothing voice in the world. "Bonita?" Someone was stroking her forehead. It was the woman. "What is your name?"She asked. "Como te llamas?" "Alicia." She answered, smiling at Michelle's Spanish. "Soy Michelle." The woman merely continued to smile and lifted a towel for Michelle to step into. Obediently, she did. "Michelle, tengo ir. Manana, si?" Alicia said. "Si." Michelle nodded. When the door closed, Michelle grabbed a bottle of lotion and allowed herself collapse on the bed. Hmmph. It was Aveeno. She had sensitive skin, and nothing else really moisturized her skin without irritating it. What a weirdo. As she smoothed the lotion over her skin, all she could think about was how fucked up her life would be. What if he wanted her as some type of sex slave? What if he wanted to pimp her out to other men? In her opinion, criminals had no morals or compassion. She knew her situation was hopeless. But she wouldn't cry. She would be strong and find a way out. There was always a way out. After choosing some almost perfectly fitting plain clothes that weren't hers from the closet, Michelle set out to investigate her surroundings. Most doors were locked or were guest rooms. She bumped into a few scary looking men before she wandered through a set of glass doors and into the backyard. She exhaled and forgot to inhale. There was green as far as the eye could see. Pops of bright yellow, white, and pink flowers drew her immediately. It looked unreal. It wasn't perfectly manicured, which only appealed to her even more. She walked slowly to the flowers, letting her fingertips skim the petals. There was the hint of a path, shaded by trees and she followed it, touching vines and trees as she went. After about five minutes, she came upon a swimming pool, and even a waterfall. It was beautiful as well, but she couldn't swim, so she turned around to walk back towards the house. Just before she stepped back into the sunlight, she saw him. She stopped, wishing the forest was real, so that she could run into the wilderness never to be found again. "How was your day?" he asked, nonchalantly. God, her mouth was dry. "Fine." She dropped her eyes. "Will you walk with me?" he asked loosening his tie. She nodded, unable to speak. He was next to her now, in her space. He began to walk and she followed, dragging her feet. "What have you been up to all day?" "Nothing." "I heard you met Alicia." He stopped walking and sat down just off the path against a tree. "Yeah. She ran me a bath." She sat on the ground too, a few feet away from him. "We can't really have a conversation if you're going to sit that far, now can we?" Without answering, she scooted towards him. "Much better." They sat in silence for a moment before Michelle spoke. "So what exactly do you want from me?" He leaned forward and lifted her chin. "Your body." She flinched at his response. "But..." she tried to look away, but he kept his hand on her chin. "I don't know much about sex...men wouldn't...I never really-" "Men? Who the fuck said anything about other men?" She pulled away, startled by his outburst. He cleared his throat, composing himself. "Excuse me. Dinner is at seven thirty. You will join me." She nodded in comprehension and stood. "I should go wash up." She walked away stiffly, unsure of what to make of everything that had happened. He seemed upset because she thought he was going to have her sleeping with other men, but what else could possibly want from her? She supposed he could want her for his own personal use, but why when he could be dating the most beautiful women in the world? Ever since childhood, she had thought of herself as plain. She knew she had a pretty smile, and was blessed with a decent figure with minimal effort, but she was short, with crazy hair and dark skin. And she had no sexual prowess whatsoever. She was awkward and goofy. She dragged herself to the closet that wasn't hers. What was she supposed to wear? She decided to wear a loose fitting blouse and dark wide leg jeans with a pair of flats. She pinned her hair up and applied some eyeliner she found in the huge closet and some lip gloss. Precisely at seven thirty, she headed down the stairs to what she assumed was the main dining room. There were at least two that she found when she explored the house earlier, but this one seemed like it had been used more often. No one else was there, but she slid into a chair on the side of the table. "Why did you pin your hair up?" she heard from behind her. "I thought it would be more appropriate for dinner." She answered softly. "It looks nice." He sat directly across from her waiting for her to look up. "Thank you." She almost whispered. "Do I have to call you Diablo, or can I call you by your real name?" "You can call me by my given name. I would actually prefer it." He watched her purse her lips and release them. "What is your real name?" "Ricardo." He replied. "Okay." She said softly. A butler arrived with plates of food and set them in front of them. She looked at the plate quizzically and didn't move to eat it. "It's salmon." He informed her. "I'm aware of what it is." She said with more attitude than she intended. "I'm allergic." "No one told me that." He was clearly disturbed. "Would you like something else?" "No, thank you." She said pushing the plate away from her. "Would you like to go out?" "No." Her response was blunt, but he had no intentions of being seen in public with this man. "Are you always this difficult?" "Yes. But I'm really not very hungry. Could I be excused?" "Of course. You're a grown woman. You don't have to ask to be excused." As she rose from her chair, she fought the urge to smartly respond to the irony in the statement. Michelle hung the clothes back in the closet and washed her face. Pacing the room, she wracked her brain to find a way out of her predicament. There had to be a way. Why couldn't she have another year so that she could finish school and start paying the money back herself? Her eyes felt sore from the pressure of the tears welling up behind her eyes. But she wouldn't cry. She refused. As soon as she calmed herself, the door to "her" room opened. It was Ricardo. God, would he ever go away? "Yes?" she said turning towards him. "I just came up to talk." He was moving closer to her "Okay." She backed up until the back of her body hit the foot of the bed and winced at the slight, dull pain. He stood in front of her, intentionally making her uncomfortable. "I'm a little sleepy." Clearly, she was lying and she was horrible at it. "Oh, really?" His finger wrapped around a few loose strands of hair. "Yes, really." she replied pushing his hand away. "I want you." He said bluntly, his gaze holding hers. Though she knew the bed was directly behind her, she instinctively tried to back away from him. "Now. Take your clothes off." Michelle searched his face, praying that he wasn't serious. "Please. Wait. I..." She licked her dry lips as her heart thudded, heavy like an anvil in her chest. "You will learn that I am not a patient man, Michelle. Let's start with your top." Taking a step back to give her enough space to move, he gestured for her to begin removing her clothes for him. Her teeth caught her bottom lip as she looked away in shame. Fortunately, autopilot took over as she grabbed the hem of her t shirt and pulled it over her head. Then, she stepped out of the yoga pants she had found in a drawer. "I hate you." She whispered softly as she slid her panties down her chocolate legs. "Not for long." He responded moving to touch her cheek. Again, she pushed his hand away. He sat down in a chair across the room. Still, her eyes were stuck on some unseen object across the room. His eyes scanned her body; the way her chest rose and fell, how her nipples began to tighten and pucker from the cold, how her teeth still dug into her lip. "Come to me." Slowly, she walked to him, eyes to the floor now. "Look at me. Watch me watch you while you walk." She brought her eyes up to meet his. It was so difficult, almost painful to watch his eyes drinking her in. Mostly because it wasn't the perverted old man stare she expected. There was something else to it. More like he was appreciating her form, rather than leering at it. By the time she reached him, tears were marking her cheeks. She refused to sob in front of him again, but knew it would be pointless to wipe away the tears. More would soon come to replace them. She stopped just in front of him and waited for further instructions. "Why are you crying?" His fingertips grazed her hips and she fought the shiver the coursed through her. "Because I hate you." She said coldly. "So much that it drives you to tears?" He looked up and noticed that her chin was trembling. "You're a beautiful girl to have so much hate in your heart." She looked down at him incredulously and laughed, not bothering to respond. "What's funny?" he asked pulling her into his lap, holding her. Immediately, her body stiffened. "Please," she mumbled uncomfortably in his arms, "Could you just...I just wanna....get this over with." "Get what over with?" he questioned, stroking her thighs. He could literally see the goose bumps rising on her flesh where he had caressed her. "Please." She repeated softly. He ignored her, inhaling the smell of her, touching the hair she had originally denied him access to, all the while, the tears still staining her face. They sat that way for a little over a minute, until her body began to shake with the sobs she was holding inside of her. Abruptly, he lifted her and carried her to the bed and laid her on top of it. Then, surprisingly, she felt tissue gently encasing her nose. "Blow." She obeyed, blowing her nose softly into the tissue. He wiped her nose gently and brought another tissue to her nose. "Again. A little harder." Michelle sighed first, and then blew her nose into the tissue, eyes closed, too mortified to look at him. He wiped her way her tears, some of which had made their way down her neck and to her collar bone. "Ricardo. I'm begging you." She whimpered feeling his lips on her neck. Why did having the bulk of him pressed against her feel so good? Why did she want so badly to be held, even if it was by him? She wasn't begging because she didn't want him. She was begging because she did. He needed to leave, and show mercy on her. She was so close to breaking from the loneliness that lived inside her. Even if it was purely physical, even if the situation was so fucked up, all she wanted was someone to be close to her. The sensation of his tongue across her collar bone elicited a sigh from her she failed to bite back. His hand slipped between her thighs right after she snapped them shut. He gently bit the flesh just beneath her collarbone and it jerked her out of the sensual fog that had begun to blanket her mind. In one fluid motion he managed to position himself between her thighs, preventing her from blocking his access the slick heat between her legs. Michelle and Ricardo "You're beautiful." He breathed into her neck. "Why do you deny me?" His hands slid up her sides and his touch tingles like sparks of electricity. "Give yourself to me." "I don't have to. My parents already gave me to you." She said bitterly. "That's not what I want." He sat up, still between her legs. She followed his gaze and every muscle in her body tightened as she realized what he was looking at. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Her pussy damn near took his breath away. It was just spread enough to allow him to see where the liquid chocolate of her flesh morphed into a molten pink deeper inside of her. She would have given anything to simply melt into the mattress, but she knew nothing could spare her from the humiliation of knowing he was looking at her most intimate body parts. Her pussy was completely bare and he wondered who she was fucking that asked her to keep it that way. Suddenly, her back arched of the bed. He hadn't necessarily done it on purpose, but somehow his index finger had found its way deep inside her. The look on her face only spurred him on as he watched her lips tremble and her eyes squeeze shut. As he rotated his wrist while thrusting his finger inside her, her eyes flew open and she looked up in him in surprise. "Stop, please." She groaned. This was so wrong. He shouldn't be touching her in such a way. "Relax." He whispered. "Let me do this for you." He thrust harder, feeling her wetness slide down his fingers. "I don't...I don't want it." She whimpered between breaths. Despite her protestations, he thumbed her clit sending intense sensations up into her hips. He could literally see the muscles in her abdomen tighten as her orgasm rolled over her. She was breathless and shaking, trying to pull his hand out of her body. Words wouldn't come to her, so she pleaded with her eyes when the pleasure became too much. He ignored her and quickly thrust a third finger into her, stretching her. "Fuuuuck..." She moaned as her body convulsed around his fingers. Her pussy clamped down on his fingers so tightly that he didn't want to risk hurting her by attempting to pull them out. God, she had the sexiest fuck face in the world, as he knew she would. She threw her head back into the pillow, her lips slightly parted, as her eyes narrowed to little slits. He watched her come around his fingers until she completely relaxed. His fingers slid out of her slickness and she turned on her side, shocked and disappointed by how easily she submitted to him, came for him, moaned for him. She hated him. "Michelle..." he called her softly as she grabbed a pillow and clutched it to her body, covering her naked form. She didn't respond. Sighing, he grabbed her and tried to turn her around. They wrestled for a moment as she still somehow managed to keep the pillow covering the front of her body. If the smell of her sex wasn't in the air making his dick hard, he would have thought it was cute. But instead it was simply frustrating. "Michelle!" He grabbed her and roughly turned her body towards him. The wide eyed look she gave him made him slightly regret being so rough, but it was her own fault. "What?" she mumbled into her pillow. "What is wrong with you???" No answer. "Look at me or I'm taking the pillow." She kept the bottom half of her face buried, but exposed her eyes to look up at him. "What's wrong?" "I don't want to be your whore and that's what you're making me into." "I'm not making you a whore. I'm not leaving any cash on the dresser at the end of the night." He logic-ed, much to her annoyance. "You know what I mean! This is immoral! And I feel like a slut." She ducked behind her pillow again, embarrassed at her confession. Ricardo pulled the pillow down a little. "How can you feel like a slut?" He asked softly, caressing her forehead. "I've brought you pleasure and not asked for anything in return, except for you to relax." "You don't understand." She responded helplessly. He pulled the pillow from her and pressed his lips to hers. "Ricardo, please." She whispered, her lips brushing his as she spoke. "My heart can't take all this." He kissed her again, slipping his tongue into her mouth. If only she knew, that was what made her so irresistible. He wrapped his arms around her losing himself in the smooth warmth of her skin as he stroked her tongue with his. He was gentle with her, wanting to coax her to kiss him back. And she did a little, submitting to the press of his body against hers. The closeness, her body and mind longed for it more than she had ever longed for the closeness of a person in her life. He held her a little tighter, wishing he could feel more of his skin against hers. Suddenly, he let her go and stood. "I don't want to....I'm not going to make love to you tonight." He said raspily, shoving a hand through his hair. "But I want you to spend the night with me. If I try to...if you get uncomfortable...too uncomfortable...then you can leave. Deal?" she nodded her head as she pulled the pillow back in front of her. He nodded too, and turned to leave. She laid there for a few moments collecting her thoughts. Her mind was restless, unable to force on one thing before rushing off to try to make sense of another. Eventually, she simply decided to get dressed and try to find his room. It would probably take forever. She had forgotten to ask which was his. It only took her a few minutes to find Ricardo's room. Once she realized his wasn't on the same floor as her own, she headed upstairs and simply followed the sound of his voice and as she got closer, she saw the faint light beneath the door. Drawing in a deep breath, she tapped on the frame of the door. The door opened and she stepped inside. Quickly, telling someone to "just handle it", he ended the phone call. Michelle perched herself on the edge of his bed trying not to stare at him. He only had on a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and the sight of his chiseled abs made her want to run her tongue right up the center of his stomach. If only he wasn't...him. Michelle picked at her cuticles, nervous and anxious about spending the night with him. She knew she wasn't ready to have sex with him, and she didn't trust him not to try to fuck her. She also didn't trust him to hold up his end of their bargain. Her body became rigid as she felt the smoothness of his palm against her cheek. Everything in her wanted to pull away but she knew there would be no point. He could and would have her exactly how he wanted her regardless of what she said. The idea that she had to fight her initial instinct to lean in to the comfort and warmth of his hand disgusted her. "Are you tired at all?" He asked. She only nodded in response and followed his lead as he slid beneath the covers, pulling them up to her chin. "Ricardo?" "Yes." Turning to face her, he pulled the comforter away from her face. "Why me? I mean, why choose me? So many other women would come to you willingly. Gorgeous women who would...do anything to be close to you." Maintaining eye contact was impossible as she asked the question that had been wracking her mind. There had to be ways to get payment from her parents other than accepting their only child. He could have taken the house, their car, anything. "You're gorgeous and you will eventually come to me willingly." Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, he could see the exasperation all over her face. She was so cute. She hated him. She wished she could ball him up like a little piece of paper and stomp on him and then pick him up and tear him up into tiny pieces. Her chest was tight with the frustration of his half-answer and the helpless hopelessness of her situation. Finally, she turned on her side putting her back to him, promising herself that she would focus on falling asleep. They lay there in silence for a few minutes until Ricardo couldn't help himself. He wrapped an arm around her and drew her to him. "Let me go." She mumbled into her pillow. "No." he said blandly, making himself comfortable. "I hate you." He didn't reply, only buried his nose in her hair. It smelled like white grapes. Soon enough, she found herself slipping into a dreamless sleep. Michelle awoke to the sound of rushing water. The sunlight barely managed to stream in through the thick curtains and cast thin slivers of pale light across the hardwood floor. Ricardo emerged from his bathroom, still in his pajama pants, greeted by her sleepy gaze. "Did I wake you?" he asked softly. She shook her head and snuggled deeper beneath the covers. "Still not ready to get up?" She shook her head no again. Her lips seemed fuller after her night of slumber and her hair was slightly disheveled, like she had just been kissed passionately. He fought the not so subtle stirring that yelled to him to take her as she looked up at him beneath hooded eyelids. "Are you going to work soon?" she murmured sleepily. "Mmm hmm." He replied stroking her hair. She blinked and began to move from beneath the blankets. "Where are you going?" "I don't want to be in your way while you're getting dressed." She blinked again, trying to wake herself up. "You aren't in my way. Don't leave." She relented wordlessly, falling back into his pillows. Michelle watched him, burrowing in his blankets until only her eyes were showing. Her gaze lazily followed him as he readied himself for work. Every once in a while he would glance at her, catching her eyes with his own. She puzzled him. One minute she was perfectly calm, the next she was a cold angry being whose eyes seemed to flash red, and another she was sobbing inconsolably. Fully dressed, he returned to her side of the bed. "Yes?" she said after a moment of him watching her. "Would you like to come to the office with me?" "No." He laughed out loud at her blunt response. "Why not?" "Doesn't seem like a safe place to be. And I don't want to be seen with you." She shifted again beneath his blanket making herself more comfortable. He couldn't help but smirk at her response. She was so damned difficult. Most people found themselves trying to be as accommodating as possible towards him, but she seemed as though she could care less about what he wanted. He slid a hand into the warmth she had created beneath the covers and then beneath her top. She gasped softly from his touch on her skin. "Your hands are cold." She exhaled. "I'm sorry." He whispered, bending to pull her from her cocoon. He helped her to her feet and searched her eyes for something, any glimmer of affection towards him. She only looked back at him, her eyes searching as well. For what, she wasn't sure, and that only made her search harder. "I-" she started. "Last night," he interrupted, "You asked me why I chose you from the other women who want me. Do you still want the answer?" She nodded in response. "Because you are unlike any other woman I had ever seen." She started to pull away, thinking he was bullshitting her, thinking sweet words would win her to his side. "Listen." He brought her back into his arms. "Not just physically. How loyal you are to your family, you work and keep nothing for yourself. You're selfless. You're sensitive. Your heart is open and vulnerable." "Please." She begged struggling in his arms. Tears were stabbing violently at the backs of her eyes trying to force their way forth. "Stop. I don't want to hear this." The more she struggle the tighter he seemed to hold her, so she allowed her entire body to relax, becoming dead weight in his arms. It was sudden and his quick reflexes were the only thing that kept her from hitting the floor. He held her up and placed her back on the bed. "I hate you." She spat bitterly. "I hate you, and you don't know anything about me. You don't know anything about me!" She pressed a pillow over her mouth and screamed out every last drop of anger towards Ricardo, her parents, God; every sorrow her heart ever felt; every bit of paralyzing helplessness she felt from the situation, into that pillow. It tore at Ricardo to hear it. Even the pillow couldn't muffle the emotional agony that consumed her. He had never heard anything like it, and he had heard men screaming in pain from the loss of limbs, begging for mercy. None of it had seemed so desperate as this. After she screamed, she wrapped her body around the pillow and wept softly, her body shaking gently. "Michelle." He touched her arm and her body became instantly rigid. "Don't. Touch. Me." Her voice was so cold, it almost scared him. Almost. "Michelle. Get up. We're going out." "I'm not going anywhere with you." He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. "Let me go, you fucking barbarian!" She thrashed wildly. He pretended to drop her, causing her to clutch his body in fear. He swatted the back of her thigh enough to sting. "Stop acting up." Surprise more that actual acquiescence kept her still until her got her to her room. He set her feet on the floor when he got her to the room and looked at her sternly. Her arms were crossed angrily in front her chest and she wouldn't look at him. "I know you're angry. I can't even imagine how angry, or what other emotions you're feeling right now. But you're here now. With me. I'm not going anywhere. And neither are you, if I can help it. There are rules, Michelle. And I make them. Go pull yourself together. We're going out." By the time he finished his speech, her bottom lip was trembling as she fought more tears. Fuck. When she looked up at him quickly with those big brown glassy eyes, he caved. Her body seemed to sag from the weight of the stress of the past day. She turned from him, right after she felt a tear mark her cheek. Shaking his head at his coarse management of her, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. Neither spoke as she turned to bury her face in his chest. He held her as she sobbed, and she began to hate herself all over again. Seeking solace in the arms of the one who caused her pain. He guided her to the bed and they lay there in her bed him cradling her as she cried at the reality of his words. There are rules, Michelle. And I make them. "I shouldn't have spoken that way." He said almost as if he could read her mind. Ricardo had held her for at least an hour before speaking. His immaculately pressed suit was about as wrinkled as it could get and her hair was matted completely on one side of her head. She didn't respond. Sliding out of his arms, she got out of the bed and walked to the bathroom. Not bothering to close the door, she started the shower and stripped her clothes. Showers always made her feel better during hard emotional times. It was like she could temporarily wash away the pain. He got out of the bed and followed her after a moment. She was oblivious to him, staring blankly ahead as she detangled her hair. The water splattered shower door and beginnings of steam slightly obscured her figure, but he felt like he would know her body anywhere. She stood beneath the shower head and rinsed out the conditioner, her hair forming tight ringlets. As sexy as the sight was, the sadness that sat heavily on her features kept him from truly becoming aroused at the sight. Stepping out of her peripheral vision, he undressed actually scared of her imminent reaction. When the shower door opened she stepped back with nowhere to go, frightened. She relaxed, realizing it was him, but then tensed again realizing it was him. He took her loofah from turned her around. Starting at her neck he began to wash her, gently kneading her muscles as he worked his way down. She became gelatin in his arms, even forgetting to become nervous when he dropped to his knees and slid his hands between her inner thighs and up to her pussy. When he rose again, she made no effort to turn around and he realized that she had been leaning against the shower wall. Her eyes were half closed. "Please don't stop." She said barely audible over the perpetual sound of the water. "Turn around." She obeyed, looking up at him. Her cheeks were wet, but he didn't know from what. He squirted more body wash onto the loofah and started on the front of her. He watched her face as he washed her. There was sex in her eyes, all over her face. Though he knew he wasn't misinterpreting the look, he was still apprehensive about acting on it. He wanted her, no regrets. He washed her breasts and moved his hand down her torso. Her eyes practically begged him to touch her there, to make her come. "Don't make this hard for me." He breathed in her ear. She only continued to give him the same look. Telling him to take her. He dropped the loofah and placed his hands on her hips. They trembled slightly as he waited for her to protest. She only spread her legs slightly and placed a hand on his shoulder. He touched her sex and watched as her teeth caught her bottom lip. He stroked her gently between her lips and felt her grip his shoulder tighter. "Are you ready?" She only nodded and placed one of his hands on her thigh. He lifted it and placed his dick at the entrance to her. His heart thudded in his chest, heavy like and anvil. She looked into his eyes, waiting, feeling the muscles of her pussy spasm in anticipation. Her lips parted and her eyelids lowered as she felt him enter her. God, she was beautiful. And tight. And so wet. And hot. Fuck. He stroked her burying himself in her. She gasped from the fullness of him before he was fully in her. She whimpered as he pushed further, stretching her. He could hear her breath become ragged in his ear as the water beat against his back. Her nails dug into his arms as he held her up. He stroked her slowly, torturing himself and her. God, he had waited so long for her and she was everything he imagined. He felt her body tighten and then begin to tremble. Was she coming already? The moans that slipped softly from her throat told him she must have been. That and the way her pussy gripped him a little tighter. Did he have any clue what he was doing to her? Each time he stroked her, he stroked her clit, equally as slow, building the sweetest of orgasms within her. She clung to him, wanting another, just one more. Just one more would make everything better. She looked into his eyes trying to tell him. To make him understand. He pulled out of her abruptly, causing her to exhale in shock and disappointment. He turned off the shower and pulled her out. She followed him, confused. Then just as abruptly, his mouth took hers, kissing her deeply as he pushed her back against a wall, his tongue thrusting against hers as his fingers dug into her flesh greedily. He lifted her up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around him. He was in her again and it was exquisite. She shook as he thrust more forcefully into her, his mouth still on hers. He couldn't get deep enough into her. He wanted to lose himself in her. Drown in fucking her, sexing her, making love to her. Her body became his as he pounded into her, her cries begging him to stop and continue all in the same moan. She whimpered his name as she came again, tears of sheer ecstasy streaking her face. "You are mine." He breathed harshly in her ear. "And no one else's. This pussy," he breathed stroking her harder, "Is mine. You are mine." He pulled out of her, turning her and pushing her against the counter top. He pulled her hair drawing her gaze up to the mirror. Her entire body was trembling, even her lips as she looked upon herself and him in the mirror. Before she could speak, he was in her again. Her pussy was even tighter now after two orgasms and she whined softly from slight pain he caused from entering her. He was completely still as he watched her body in the mirror noting how gorgeous her dark skin looked against the olive tone of his own. How her chocolaty nipples stood out proudly atop her breasts. Michelle and Ricardo "Touch your clit." He commanded roughly. Her hand released its hold on the counter and moved to her slit. She stroked the sensitive bud slightly and immediately threw her head back against his chest. "Ricardo, please." She begged, speaking for the first time. "Please what?" He asked, remaining still inside of her. She moved her hand from her clit and begged him with her eyes again. "Did I tell you to stop touching your pussy?" he felt a gush of wetness leak from her at the sound of his words. He grabbed her hand and moved it back to her clit. "Touch your pussy while you talk to me." "Please" She whimpered. "Please...just...please." She was stroking her clit and the more she rubbed, the more strained her voice became. "Rub your clit." She was about to come. He could tell. Her legs were barely holding her weight, her eyes weren't focused on anything at all. God, she was beautiful. Her nails dug into the countertop as she pressed against him. "Come for me." He whispered pulling her hair. She fell apart then, no more moans, no whimpers, though her mouth was open as though her throat were pushing out sounds. She shook violently, as a single tear trailed down her face. Her pussy gripped his dick and it seemed as though it wouldn't let him go. As soon as the sensation started to fade, she felt him thrusting into her. "Oh, God." She breathed, brought back to reality. "Please, please. Oh, God." She began mumbling incoherently. He stroked her watching as her body submitted fully to him. He pulled her hair again, forcing her to watch him taking her, ravaging her. She came again, soundlessly, her body shaking around him. He came then, exploding unexpectedly within her. He had felt the come boiling in his balls, but had been forcing it back time and time again, wanting to prolong his stay in her sweet pussy. He pulled out, bending her over at the same time, jetting the rest of his pearlescent come across the mahogany colored globes of her ass. There. She was completely his now. She looked up at him in the mirror, breathless. He grabbed a hand towel and wiped his come off of her skin and then cleaned himself. He could barely stand, but he forced himself to carry her back to the bed. She had twitched subtly in his arms as he carried her, submerged in the gentle aftershocks of her orgasms. He collapsed in the bed next to her, waiting for her to speak. "I never knew....." She started. He stroked her cheek gently as they lay there. "You never knew what?" "I never knew it could be like that." Despite the darkness of her skin, he could tell she was blushing. He smirked. After all they had done, she was blushing. "Like what?" "I don't know...I don't really know the words to describe it. It wasn't what I expected." "What did you expect?" "Well, I didn't expect the entire second part." He laughed at the way she skirted around saying anything explicitly sexual. "You're beautiful." He sighed, touching her damp hair. She seemed a little embarrassed at the compliment, as he knew he would be. "You don't have to say that." "I'm aware." They were both quiet for a moment. "I'm not just saying that because we just had sex." "Had sex or fucked?" He felt the disbelief rising within him as soon as she finished her sentence. His nostrils flared slightly as he fought the urge to yell. Lifting her chin, he searched her face to see if that was what she really thought. It was. She hadn't said it to get a reaction out of him. It was a genuine question. "Dammit, Michelle. I did not fuck you. You could tell I was hesitant about doing anything and this is exactly why. I didn't want you to confuse my intentions. What the hell do I have to do to show this isn't just about your body?" "How was it not fucking when you said the things you said to me?"Her voice was level as though she was trying to calm him, but still held the same questioning tone as before. He was floored. She had to be joking. "When I told you to rub your clit for me? That was to bring you more pleasure. To show you how sexy you look, how beautiful you look when you're about to come. I wanted you to see what I see." He tried not to yell, but as he spoke, it seemed like he could help but allow the volume in his voice to rise. Was she serious? She completely missed the point of everything he wanted her to experience. "No. When you said I belong to you. Like an object, like-," She began. He practically bounded off the bed. "Michelle, what the hell are you talking about? That has nothing to do with objectifying you! You are mine. I meant what I said. But not as an object. Mine as in, that pussy is mine. The only one I want. And my dick is the only one that will ever touch that pussy. Mine as in I'm the only man that will ever touch you, console you, hold you at night. What is so difficult to understand about that? " He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. She was holding a pillow again, covering her body and clearly frightened. "I'm sorry." Came the soft peep from behind the pillow. He sighed and walked over to her. She wrapped her arms tighter around the pillow, knowing that he was coming to take it from her. " I'm not going to take it, Michelle." He sighed again and sat next to her, playing with her toes. They were painted neon pink. It suited her perfectly. "I just don't understand. It's hard to erase all the bad things I've heard about you. I can't fully comprehend the man I've heard so much about actually caring about someone, wanting to actually be with someone. Especially me. I'm nothing spectacular..." He opened his mouth to speak but she started again before he could get a word in. "And this situation seems like it's purely about sex. You take me in exchange for repayment of my parent's loan. I have no other marketable skills, just my body. Just...me. So what else am I supposed to think you want?" She sighed, resting her head on the pillow. If she only knew, he wished the same thing. "I'm sorry I yelled. And I will prove to you that my intentions are not exactly what they seem." "Okay." There was the slightest tinge of doubt in her reply. Not that he could blame her. It was a peculiar situation and he could see why she would feel the way she did. "Michelle..." he huffed, with nothing in particular to say. "If you were interested in me all this time, why didn't you just say it?" She was still hidden behind her pillow. He pulled it gently and she released it hesitantly. "I was tired of women who dated me for my money, and it would be a conflict of interest considering I had still had business dealing with your parents." It rolled easily off his tongue as though he already asked himself the question. "But I didn't even know who you were or what you looked like until yesterday." She countered. "One, I didn't know that and two, you would have found out. It's not very easy to hide who I am from people in my life for very long. My actions would have clued you in to what business I was in and I'm sure people in your circle know who I am." He pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her. "You thought that what you do would keep me getting to know you?" "I know it would. You have high standards." He interlaced their fingers as he spoke comparing their hands. "Some women would consider you quite a catch." She countered. "High moral standards. Under ordinary circumstances you would never spend your time with someone like me." "True." She conceded. "Ricardo. I think you will find out that I'm not nearly as great as you think I am." "I doubt it. I want you to be whoever it is you truly are. And I also know a lot more about you than you think." "Is that so?" she asked, flexing her fingers between his."Like what?" "You hate pretzels, your favorite author is Zora Neale Hurston, and you could have been an amazing singer had you parents cultivated your gift." She stiffened at the random blurbs of information. "How do you know...never mind. I don't think I even want to know." She sighed and crawled awkwardly out of his lap. "I hate feeling like I'm in the dark about everything. You know everything about me, and I know absolutely nothing about you. I hate being so vulnerable." "There are things that I don't know about you." "Like?" "Who you were keeping your pussy so smooth for?" She swallowed, embarrassed by his vulgar language. "I just like it like that." She whispered. "Really?" His face was inches from hers. "Yes. I feel cleaner and...I just like it." He guided her to her back and placed a hand on her pussy. She gasped softly and instinctively grabbed his hand. "So no one has been licking this pussy, fingering this pussy," He slid two fingers deep into her as he said it, "fucking this pussy, making you come?" "N-no." She responded shaking her head. Damn, she was dripping already. "Michelle, I think you are a bad, bad girl." She writhed against the bed as he turned his hand upwards to stroke her g spot. "The dirtier I talk, the wetter this pretty pussy gets. Is that just a coincidence?" She nodded her head ferverently in the affirmative. "Mmm, I don't think so. I think it turns you on to hear me talk about the nasty shit I want to do to you." She tried to look away, but he stopped her pressing his fingers into her cheek. Her back arched off the bed as he reached deeper inside her. "Tell me, how nasty can you get? Will this pussy squirt if I hit the right spot?" She swallowed, trying to pull his hand out of her, but he was so much stronger, and the urge to come was much stronger that her will to stop him. "Do you keep it so smooth because you like the way it feels when you caress it just before you finger yourself to an orgasm?" She struggled more against him, his words hitting uncomfortably close to home. "Let go. It's only pleasure. I will catch you." He breathed into her ear, pressing his body against hers. She came as soon as the words left his mouth. It was like she was exploding. Her body shook as the pleasure shot through her violently. "Beautiful." He whispered as her head tilted back and her lips parted in ecstasy. Her brow knit together and there was the slightest sheen of sweat on her forehead. He never enjoyed the sight of a woman coming as much as he did her. He just wanted to watch her body contort in orgasm after orgasm over and over again until she could take no more. "I feel like I have no control over my body when you do that." Michelle said between breaths. "Do what? Make you come?" "Yes." Rolling over, she put her back to him. "Is that why you fight it?" "Partially, yes." "That's how everyone feels when they have orgasms." "I've had orgasms and still felt in control." She said over her shoulder. "Well then, they weren't orgasms." She didn't have to turn around to know he was smirking down at her. "Are we going out or not?" She asked tartly. "No. I much rather make you come in every room of this house." She was getting shy again. He would break her from it eventually. He wanted to hear dirty explicit things spill from those full lips. To hear her tell him exactly how she wanted it as she thrust into her wetness. But he was a patient man. He would wait. And the waiting would make it that much better when he finally heard it from her.