Page 3 of Keeper

I should be careful, I know that. If I’m too good, he won’t let me go. The less he enjoys me, the less he’ll want to keep me. “And? What will you do for me?”

“Only one way to find out, little keeper. Flute’s not gonna play itself.”

Imagine that, the bastard has a terrible sense of humor. But the question is... who’s bastard is he? They’re abundant in our world. Men aren’t loyal, women don’t care. Nearly every major player in Creed’s circle has a bastard or five.

So he’s a bastard and I’m a pawn, and he’s asking me to blow him next to the dead body of the man I was given to for good behavior.

Screw it.

“Flute, huh?” I repeat, smirking slightly as I take a couple of slow steps forward, hips swinging just enough to catch his attention. “Does that mean it’s long and skinny? I took you for a thick man. Thick, veiny, and begging for a tight little throat to sink inside.”

“Mmm,” he grunts, legs adjusting a little wider. “Again... only one way to find out. Make me share my secrets.”

I don’t want his secrets. I want my freedom.

Maybe they’re the same thing.

Sinking slowly to my knees, I run my fingertips up his black jeans to his kneecaps. If he wants to pretend I’m his, I can do that. I have a knack for making monsters feel loved. “Did you miss me, baby?” I ask, bottom lip slipping between my teeth as I rub his thighs, settling closer. “You had a long day at work, huh?”

“So long,” he plays along, biting his lip as I get to watch him squirm slightly. “Missed that beautiful mouth all day. Show me it. Open wide for me.”

Almost all men have a thing for teeth, I swear. I think the Keepers taught me that day one. I flash him a blinding smile, then slide my tongue out so he can get a clear look.

His gloved hand flies out to grip my face, making me gasp, but the way he looks at me and leans in has me feeling things I don’t want to admit to even myself. His fingers dig into my skin as I keep eye contact with a murderer, and for a moment, I think he might kiss me. “Such a perfect tongue. You one of those girls that get wet from sucking cock?”

The Keepers trained me to get wet from anything, so I nod with a shy little smile as I reach up to unzip his pants. “Do you want me to prove it, baby?”

“Absolutely,” he replies, his grip loosening slowly until the contact stops all together. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Times like these, I dig deep. Back to high school before I ever heard of St. Andrew’s, before I became a professional whore. I think back to Jimmy, his wide eyes, easy smile, and the way he loved me. I don’t miss him, not really. But I sure as hell miss the way he made me feel.

I let that fill my chest as I glance up to meet his eyes, holding him there as I free him. I can tell just by touch that he’s exactly as thick as I teased, and every vein stands out against my palm as I stroke him once, twice.

“You were gone too long,” I whisper, picturing that easy smile I haven’t seen in years. “I don’t know what to do when you’re gone.”

Leaning in, I kiss the tip of his cock and lick up his shaft, getting him nice and wet as he releases a hiss. “I know, baby. I always hate not being next to you. This right here is my favorite view. One of these days we’re gonna run away together.”

He reaches out to pet my face in a way that takes me by surprise... a way that makes me believe him.

How ironic that I’m doing this right now so I don’t have to be with him.

With my tongue on his cock, I lean in to kiss it again, then slide up to suck him in fully. He’s so hard in my mouth I let myself fall into it when he moans, the body behind me and everything else fading away as I show him exactly how much I want to be free of all of this. Only when I let myself glance up and meet his breathtaking blue eyes, I get the vibe freedom isn’t on the table anymore, if it ever was. He looks like he wants to lock me up in a cage and keep me forever.

That’s not what I signed up for, but I’m helpless now. There’s a reason I was so good for the Keepers. I love this shit. Having this much power, this much control? Feeling a man come apart under me? I fucking love it, and the rush it sends straight to my cunt proves it.

Slipping one hand down, I play with my clit as I deepthroat him, forgetting the consequences. It doesn’t matter what happens after. The Provost decides my fate, his little pawn, but I decide how I react to it. And right now? I’m doing something I love.

“There’s my little keeper. Fuck, girl, you take me like a champ.”

His fist tightens in my hair, holding me back just enough that I have to struggle to keep him all the way in. But this is where I shine, the fight. Proving that choking myself on their cock is preferable to breathing, to being comfortable. The harder he pulls, the faster I rub my clit, the harder I fuck my own throat. My free hand curls around his balls and one tight squeeze has his left leg shaking. “Goddamn, Sullivan. There’s no way he’d appreciate this.”

Who, Jake? The dead body behind us? Oh, he appreciated it. Most days, he couldn’t stop shaking until he had my mouth around him. He appreciated it. And now he’s dead, and I’m blowing the man who murdered him in front of me.

I can’t speak to defend him, not that I would if I could, so I deepthroat until I’m struggling to breathe through my nose and pull back.

Stroking him quickly, I meet his eyes as he wipes the drool from my chin. “I need your cum, baby. I forgot what it tastes like. Will you give it to me?”

Something akin to desperation flashes across his face as he nods, but it’s gone the second he grabs my hair again and shoves me back down on his cock. “Suck me so good,” he groans. “Take it like the good little whore you are.”

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