His Debt. My Body.

Chapter Seven: He's

Lisa's Pov:

How am I suppose to beg him!!! Oh God just make me vanish here

"Am waiting miss Lisa". he said as he kissed my G-spot.

"s**t! f**k me Raymond..." I said totally hating this feeling.

"I didn't hear you miss". he said still doing magic on my c**t.

"f**k me Raymond!!" I let out the craving and tender shout taking his d**k and showed kept it opposite my pu**y as the pink cap touched it.

He removed my hand and smiled " that's my girl" he said and started diving inside me slowly, half of it entered and I gasped. Who on earth would have this size of d**k.

He was steady and calm slowly dived in and out and I was moaning loudly sucking his n****e and he let out a moan for the first time.

Before I knew it he was all into me thrusting back and forth with one of my legs around his waist and the other on his shoulder. He was getting bigger and I am very tight right now.

He turned me and I knelt on the bed as he went for a doggy style, he spanked my a** and came for my dangling b**bs from the back and started squeezing it lightly.

"Harder Ray.... uhhhh uhmmmm.. oh yeah... f**k me harder. I said wanting him more.

He turned me and we went for missionary journey again but this time my two legs are on his shoulder. He was faster this time and I could feel his balls falling against my skin and rising again.

He kissed me and I reciprocated, and remove my mouth I feed him my b**bs and he sucked like a baby still maintaining his movement down there.

He turned me and I sat on him jumping up and down and made sure that my boobs dangled on his face, he grabbed them and and sucked the hell out of them I moaned loudly and cummed.

He made me lie on the bed and took charge he went in and out for few minutes and then cummed inside me, he started licking my pu**y and kissed me to make me have the taste of myself.

I was very shy at this moment I hate this man but this happened with my approval damn!. At this point tears rolled down my cheeks, and I didn't even know why, exactly it just did.

I didn’t remember when my legs gave out.

One moment I was standing, wrapped in sheets that didn’t feel like mine, and the next my body felt unbearably heavy—like every emotion I’d been holding back had finally settled into my bones.

Raymond noticed.

He always did.

Without a word, he stepped forward and lifted me into his arms. There was no hesitation, no struggle. I should have protested. I should have pushed him away. Instead, I let my head fall lightly against his shoulder, too drained to fight anymore.

I hated myself a little for that.

His room blurred as he carried me into the adjoining bathroom. The space was just as imposing as the bedroom—marble floors, dim lights, mirrors that reflected a version of me I barely recognized. Pale. Quiet. Spent.

He set me down gently on the edge of the tub.

“Sit,” he said.

Not cruel. Not soft. Just firm.

I obeyed.

He turned on the water, testing the temperature with his hand before adjusting it slightly cooler. The sound of running water filled the room, steady and grounding. When he turned back to me, his expression was unreadable.

“This isn’t about control,” he said quietly, as if answering a question I hadn’t asked. “It’s about care.”

I let out a short, humorless laugh. “You have a strange way of showing it.”

“I don’t show things,” he replied. “I do them.”

He helped me into the tub, his movements precise, respectful. He didn’t rush. Didn’t linger where he shouldn’t. That restraint confused me more than anything else. When the warm water touched my skin, my body reacted before my mind did, a soft breath escaping me as tension finally began to loosen.

I closed my eyes.

His hands moved carefully, washing away what the night had left behind—sweat, tears I hadn’t realized had fallen, the weight of too many thoughts. I stayed silent, afraid that if I spoke, something fragile would break.

At one point, my forehead rested briefly against his chest as he steadied me.

It meant nothing.

And yet, it felt like too much.

When he was done, he wrapped me in a towel and carried me back to the bedroom. I didn’t argue this time. Exhaustion had won. He laid me down on the bed, pulling the covers over me with deliberate care.

“You’re safe tonight,” he said.

I turned my head toward him, eyes half-closed. “Just tonight?”

“For now,” he answered.

He lay down beside me—not touching, not holding. There was a careful distance between us, like a line neither of us was willing to cross again so soon. The bed dipped slightly under his weight, the warmth of his presence unmistakable.

I stared at the ceiling, my thoughts slow and tangled.

“We still don’t like each other,” I murmured.

A pause.

“No,” he said. “We don’t.”

“That didn’t change anything.”

Another pause—longer this time.

“No,” he repeated. “It didn’t.”

Sleep crept in quietly, stealing my consciousness before I could argue with myself any further. The last thing I registered was the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me—controlled, distant, real.

When morning came, I knew things would be complicated.

But for a few stolen hours in the dark, we slept.

Not as lovers.

Not as enemies.