At some point he stopped, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It was short reprieve.

His hands were back

at her hips, flipping her around, positioning her body with her knees propped on the stool. It was a
precarious position, and her hands had to brace against the bar. The only thing holding her steady was
his grip over her hips.

He went hard, fast. Then slower, harder.

He came inside her this time, what seemed like copious amounts, first in her, then flowing down her
thighs. When he emptied himself, he backed away and she was on her own, balancing on the chair. She
wasn’t sure if she could or should attempt to move on her own or not.

“Stand up.”

She grimaced. If he thought she was waiting for permission, he was mistaken. She was afraid of falling,
not him. She stretched one leg out gingerly. It was awkward, and she felt unsteady. She finally managed
to right herself. Her back and neck ached, and she the amount of times she bounced her head off the
bar counter she wouldn’t be surprised if her brain needed unscrambled.

She wasn’t sure she could take Round 3 at the moment, or maybe she should, just to get it over with. Or
maybe he’d forgotten. What were the chances he’d forgotten? She took a quick, guarded glance at him.

No way he’d forgotten.

“Go get your shit.”

Maybe he had forgotten? Maybe he was letting her go.

Maybe she’s fired? Maybe she can just go?

He nodded, jerked his head at one of the security goons, who started to follow her towards the staff
breakrooms. She resisted the urge to move quicker and keep turning around. She knew she didn’t want
to be an enclosed space with the guy, but there was nothing for that. She kept taking slow breaths as
she moved down the row of lockers. And there was here, already helpfully open. She grabbed
everything and stuck it in her purse, keeping her eyes fully riveted to each movement. She was stalling
for…clarification, maybe?

Could she just leave now? She hazarded a quick side glance at the big man looming to her left.

Heedless of her discretion, he caught her eye.

It came out in a low, guttural growl. “Muévanse.”

Get moving.

She took a few hesitant steps forward, her hands shaking against her purse.

Okay. Okay, she’d keep going, but which way?

When they came to the first exit sign, she hesitated gain. She did, but Sr. Security did not. He pushed a
paw against her upper back, prodding her back the way they’d come.
Most of the employees had moved on, and of those that remained, none of them would meet her eyes.
He did though, briefly, before returning to his conversation with the floor. Then he turned to her, and he
smiled.

He smiled.

He’d kill her with that smile.

He held out his hand, his row of skulls.

“Ready to call it a day, you and me?”

She contemplated it. Why would he want to shake her hand? She took it though, and he pulled her
closer to him. Her low-heeled pumps couldn’t gain enough traction to resist. His free hand went across
her upper back.

Then they were walking back to the employee exit. Then out of it. Should she try to pull away? Should
she scream? Would either of those do any good?

He was letting her go, right? He was, he…

Her pussy was already oversensitized and it ached even more now, fear, dread…what was he doing?
Where was he taking her?

The short answer was: a sedan. A nice one, but anonymous. She’d always figured one of the flashy lime
green or orange things was his.

He opened the passenger side door for her. So polite.

She turned her head slightly. They weren’t alone. Security was still there. Big hands, body bodies. No use
running. She got in.

Where was he taking her? She didn’t ask.

They were approaching where the estates were. Private road. The view was stunning. Until a tsunami
hit, maybe. Somehow people that lived in masses of shiny steel and glass always seemed to dodge
disaster. Then, the further they got down the road, the older estates, the colonial era remnants. Wood,
tile, white stucco, stone.

That’s where they were going. Cascading stairs and balconies. Steel barred gate. More security. She got
a good look at them when pulled to a stop. Less scary-looking, but more professional. They were
professionals, she’d bet on it. Military-trained, not thugs.

The gate was opened, and they pulled in. It was stunning, no doubt, and that was looking at the house,
not the away from it, to the water.

When he opened the car door she followed him inside. Didn’t seem to be much point in doing
otherwise.

Her heels clicked across the kaleidoscopic handmade tile floor. She didn’t know what else to do but trail
after him. Another decorative gate, opening to the outside. She stopped there. A further, albeit smaller,
expanse of blue. A swimming pool within 50 feet of the beach.
He was disrobing. There as an imprint of a…gorgon? A Medusa? On his lower stomach. Green scaled,
dead eyes, spiraling snakes. His ideal mate, no doubt. It was a striking image.

Anything to avoid looking at his body. His frame had seemed a little bulky in his clothes, but once off she
saw it was all muscle. The barrel chest wasn’t mere genetics, or at least not solely. Weights. She’d bet on
it. And he was strong, she could tell. He could toss her around the room if he wanted.

The cock she’d seen up close. The ass she’d felt.

Still she watched his form naked cutting the water. Her scrutiny didn’t seem to rouse anything in him,
whether interest, arousal or self-consciousness. The devil was above such things.

When he exited, he wrung the water out of the waves of his hair with both hands, slicking it back. Then
he ducked under the poolside shower. Repeat. When he stopped the stream and stepped forward his
skin glistened from the water.

His eyes continued to watch her watching him. Not as lifeless as the gorgon, but just as disconcerting.
Reptilian. A cold intellect. Cold and still. She could see him, but he could see inside her. What she
wanted, desired.

“You’re a mess. You got my cum all over you.”

She didn’t react, or flush, nothing. She wouldn’t let him win.

“Can I wash?”

The side of his mouth twitched. “Nah. You’re gonna get dirtier.”

He wrapped a towel around his waist as he approached.

“Take off your clothes.”

She did so, reluctantly. Her hands barely shook, but not so much she couldn’t control it. She dropped
item after item at his feet.

He was before her now, running his eyes over her, top to bottom, pointedly. But he wouldn’t win.

“Not bad for an old broad.”

Her only visible reaction was a slow blinking of her eyes.

His gaze roved her more thoroughly, calculating, cataloguing. He saw everything.

“Why aren’t you working the front of the house?”

She’d thought her carefully chosen matron-ware would have driven off any interest from management
about that option.

“Too old.”

There was another of his little slaps on her cheek.

“Smart little bitch. How old are you?”

He’d already seen everything from her bank accounts to her ID. He’s was just trying to get in her head.

He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t win.

“You already know.”

The lopsided smile. Less dangerous, maybe.

“Wondering if you’re gonna lie.”

“Why should I? I’m 33.”

She was older than he was, she knew. His look and demeanor were boyish, but he was no boy. A man,
but still a young man. He was in his mid-20’s, most likely, maybe a year or two older, but no older than
that.

“You’re working the front.”

There it was. She thought she’d been so careful.

She nervously ran her tongue across her bottom lip. “I make a better bookkeeper.”

“Smart little bitch.”

She fingered the cross around her neck. “My name’s Erika.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

She did another slow blink.

“’Bitch’ is fungible. You’re all the same to me.”

An even slower blink.

“You don’t think so?”

She tried to disguise it, but her hands were shaking.

“I don’t give a fuck.”

The shark smile returned. He moved quickly, so quickly, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her
mouth to his. The swiftness and aggression of his kiss took her by surprise. She could hardly breathe
from the heat of it. She somehow managed to take in enough air to will herself to clamp down, catching
the barest hint of his lower lip between her teeth.

He immediately pulled away, reaching the back of his hand up to his mouth.

“You bit me.” It was half question, half observation. Then he smiled again, one more genuine.

“I got gradients of bitch. You wanna move up the gradient? You wanna be my bitch?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t gotta give you a choice.”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. She expected the worst, but he seemed to accept her refusal.

“You broken in yet? You used to taking it up the ass?”

Her heart raced, and it was too much. She was sure it would soon reach the limit and then just stop. Had
to. And that might be the best outcome for her right now.

“You want lube? I don’t gotta give you a choice on that either.”

She willed her heart to stop. It didn’t. It just beat faster.

Her response came out more as breath than a fully formed word. “Yes.”

He jerked his head to the left. “End of the hall. By the bed. Second drawer down.”

She nodded and started down the hallway on unsteady feet. She was afraid he would follow, listened for
his steps, but she heard nothing. Just his added, with a mean lilt of humor, “Hurry back.”