IT HAD BEEN three months since he satisfied the urge. Viktor loved his girlfriend dearly, and he had been with her for nearly two years; but she had made it clear, the one time he’d attempted to bring it up, that she didn’t understand his needs, and thought he could manage without having them fulfilled. She was wrong.
So, he had been working on the girl in the coffee shop that he visited most mornings before he went into work. She seemed open to the idea of fooling around with Viktor, responding to his casual flirting and, later, his overt pick-up lines with blushes and grins, her hands furtively brushing against his own as she handed him his caffeinated beverages.
He felt a shallow but recurring guilt for cheating on Alicia. She just couldn’t be everything that he wanted. She was sweet, smart, gorgeous– but every time his large hands so much as tightened on her hips, ready to really fuck her, her voice broke on his ears, disappointing him once more. “Viktor, you’re hurting me…” Before his grip ever fully closed around her wrists, she looked up at him in confusion, and he knew that he’d never be able to dominate her the way he really needed to. He needed to hurt her, make her tremble and cry out, make her beg without realizing exactly what it was she was begging for– but she had to want it. And when he’d explained, in his careful English, that the only way he wanted to own her and abuse her was in a bedroom fashion, she’d looked up at him through her thick blond lashes. “Are you joking, Vik? I really hope this is a joke. Because that’s just really… really… I don’t think I could do that. Ever.”
He’d told her, “I just wanted to see how far you would go for me,” but he had never really recovered from that blow.
The first time they’d slept together, she had been near tears– she was small and delicate, as was her cunt. Viktor, the big Romanian immigrant, was six foot seven (the measurements were so odd in this country), broad-shouldered, hard-muscled, and possessed of a truly magnificent cock. He hadn’t known exactly how large it was until he’d brought it to America with him, where it seemed to be much appreciated– except by Alicia. When he carefully pushed into her tight little pussy, she stretched near the point of tearing flesh, and bled a little. She hadn’t gotten off that time, and he’d had to fight for it. The next few times had hardly been any better. While she eventually adjusted to the size of his cock, she couldn’t even handle him fucking her hard.
Cassie, on the other hand, was different. She was short, but built sturdier than his girlfriend, a little thick-waisted– not that he minded. He liked it when she wore tank tops to work, so that he could see the subtle definition of her shoulder muscles, and the way that flowed so smoothly into the curve of her generous tits. He liked staring at her well-rounded ass when she reached up over her head. And most importantly, he liked the way she’d blushed and changed the subject a few months back when he asked how she’d gotten those bruises around her wrists. “Those look vicious,” he had observed, raising his brow at her as his thumb brushed across her tender, damaged flesh.
She had jerked her wrists away– but only after lingering a second too long, her pretty face stained crimson. “Not as vicious as your bed head,” she’d replied before turning to her next customer. Generally, he’d have argued– he was artfully tousled– but the way her hazel eyes hadn’t been able to hold his as she said it just made him smile and shake his head.
Thinking about it on his way to the coffee shop made Viktor’s dick twitch in his pants, raising lazily to half-mast. He spent a moment in the car carefully adjusting himself so that his semi-hard on wouldn’t be seen before going in, ordering his triple shot of espresso and his Italian soda from her. Then he settled down into one of the comfortable chairs by a large window and cracked open a book, taking advantage of this facade of everyday activity to keep an eye on her. The confident way she moved, the way her glossed red lips folded around her thumb when she accidentally burned it; this was a woman worthy of his attentions.
About twenty minutes later, when Viktor still hadn’t gone to work, Cassie stomped her way over to his table and waited, her arms crossed under her breasts, pushing them up to prominence. Damn, they were nice, he thought abstractly as he eyed their full rounded shape. He wondered what they would feel like under his hands… “Well?” she demanded, shifting his attention up to her face, her dark red curly hair falling around her shoulders.
“Well what?” he answered idly, fingering the corner of his book.
“Don’t you have to go to work today?” Her nipples were hard; he could see them through the outline of her thin shirt.
“No.” He looked up at her, the only expression on his face patience and vague amusement. “I had this day scheduled off weeks ago.”
Cassie tilted her head to the side, confused. “Then why are you here? I mean, instead of in bed, like I would be.”
Ah– now she did that to herself. His eyes traveled down her body, her legs– that was a pair of thighs worth being between. He smiled as he looked back up at her face, which was steadily getting redder with his scrutiny. “Would you?” he drawled. “I’ve actually come to ask you what you’re doing at the end of your shift.”
She blinked, confused, before she smiled. “Why do you ask?”
Viktor could stand it no longer. He wanted to touch that smooth skin of hers. One of his hands darted out, grabbed her wrist, and jerked her close. “Not for a date.” Thoroughly enjoying her half-suppressed yelp of surprise, he took her hand and pressed it down against his cock. It had grown steadily harder while he contemplated tying her hands behind her back, thoroughly reddening her ass, and fucking her into the mattress. “What do you think?”
“Viktor!” she hissed, trying to free herself from his grasp, blushing darkly. “I’m at work– people will see–”
“What time?” he asked, grinding his hips up into her hand. “Tell me what time, Cassie, and I’ll let you go.”
“Two o’clock!” She bit her lip, trying to pull herself away– except for her fingers, which seemed to be engaged in trying to figure out exactly how large the swell of his dick was in his pants. “Let me go!”
He released her wrist suddenly, and she stumbled a few steps back, her eyes cast to the ground. The skin where he’d held her was dark red and already darkening to a bruise. “I’ll pick you up,” he told her, and stood. He left with the intention of jacking off somewhere very soon, enjoying the way everyone stared at him as he walked out.