Recipe For a Ruthless Delinquent

Chapter 32 Lust vs Revenge

As we walked down the street, she rubbed against me, her nipples pressing through the thin fabric of her dress. I wrapped my right arm around her waist, pulling her hips flush against mine while my hand occasionally slipped down to squeeze her butt.

Damn, damn. The difference was night and day. This was total premium meat—nothing like that ugly whore I’d lost my virginity to not long ago.

But as we continued, I noticed the surroundings beginning to change. We were getting closer to the red-light district, and for a moment, the realization sobered me from my lust.

I paid closer attention this time. Just as before, street girls lined the sidewalk, openly offering their services beneath the harsh lights and glowing business signs. But this girl—this sexy thing guiding me—didn’t flinch at any of it. She kept leading me forward, our bodies close as we walked.

Is she taking me to that Fantasy Love Hotel? So she really is connected to all of this?

To my surprise, we walked right past it and arrived at another familiar place—the massive establishment further down the street. Even from the sidewalk, the deafening clatter of metal balls and the blaring electronic music from the pachinko machines poured out into the night.

I glanced toward the corner. A couple of prostitutes stood there, just like last time. The same spot where that fatso had gone to drop off his whore.

I kept my expression neutral, refusing to let any hesitation show. My hand stayed on her the whole time, groping and squeezing even though I still didn’t know her name.

She pulled me inside.

The main floor was packed with gamblers hunched over rows of blinking machines. Poker tables filled the open spaces in between, while girls in skimpy outfits circulated with trays of drinks. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught one of them—practically naked—dancing on a tabletop while a group of men raised their glasses, cheering and leering.

I scanned the room for secondary exits and visible cameras, but couldn’t spot either. Above us, the high ceiling opened up to a second-floor balcony, where several hanging lamps cast a smoky glow over the gambling tables.

I turned to my partner. “This place is too crowded. Let’s find somewhere private.”

My hand slid up under her cleavage and caught her nipple between my fingers.

She reacted instantly, eyes glowing as she looked at me.

“We’re almost there,” she said, voice low. “This place has really good rooms. They have everything. All the equipment. All the toys.” She licked her lips slowly.

Shit. She had me. Either this was a trap, or she was actually thirsty for cock.

I couldn’t just walk out. Besides, if this wasn't a trap, I knew a chance like this—getting her alone for an interrogation—wouldn't come again. At least, not for an average-faced nobody like me.

We reached a set of wide stairs and started climbing. Halfway up, I spotted a guy descending toward us. Black suit. Tall. Built like a wall, with a rough, scarred face. As he closed the distance, I reacted on instinct—I pulled the girl flush against me and buried my face in her cleavage, breathing in her sweet, heavy scent while using her body to shield my profile from his line of sight.

She giggled. “Hey… you really are impatient.”

I dragged my tongue across her skin while watching the suit from the corner of my eye until he passed us.

Once the coast was clear, I lifted my head and we kept moving up the steps.

"Let's go," she purred.

Fuck. All her expressions once she got in the mood were so lovely.

We reached the top of the stairs. An elevator waited at the end of the hall. She pressed the button, the doors opened, and we stepped inside. She hit the fourth floor, and as the doors closed, I checked the ceiling again—no cameras.

I turned her around and pulled her against me from behind, keeping my back to the rear wall. If anyone was waiting when the doors opened, her body would block their view of mine. My tongue traced her ear while I ground my erection against her big, round ass.

I dared to go further.

My hand slid down the front of her mini skirt, slipping past the hem until my fingers found the textured lace of her panties. For a second, my mind went entirely blank—all I could think about was the sheer reality of finally touching a woman however I wanted. I could feel her wetness soaking through the thin material, dampening my fingers even before I slipped them beneath the fabric to find her slick and warm. She squirmed against me, a soft chuckle escaping her lips before dissolving into a low, breathless moan.

It felt completely surreal.

The elevator door suddenly opened.

We stepped into the hallway. I scanned for windows—there were a couple, but they were barred. No way out through them.

We turned the corner. I kept scrutinizing everything, taking it all in. Weirdly, there was nobody else here. It was quiet. Too quiet.

Up ahead stood a large set of double doors, reinforced and far more elaborate than the others. It looked like the master suite—or the entrance to someplace important. We walked right past it. For a second, I caught her glancing at it before she turned back to me.

“We’re almost there,” she said, face flushed, voice breathy. “Let’s go far and beyond. Show me what a real man you are. I’m up for some rough shit.”

We reached the next door. She opened it, pulled me inside, and closed it behind us.

The moment the door clicked shut and she turned toward the nightstand, I silently slid my construction knife from my pocket. My eyes swept the room in a rapid scan, hunting for any sign of movement—a hidden door, an ambush, or anyone waiting in the shadows.

Nothing. It was just a plush, high-end suite outfitted with every luxury amenity—a massive king-sized bed, a bubbling jacuzzi, and a shower enclosed behind clear, transparent glass. But right above the center of the floor, a network of heavy leather straps hung from the ceiling, dangling over the carpet like a trap.

Before she turned back, I slipped the knife into my pocket again.

She beckoned me with a curl of her finger. I lunged, driving her back onto the bed with momentum to spare.

“The hungry little thing wants something heavy, huh?” I rasped, pinning her arms roughly to her sides. “I don’t think you’re actually up for it.”

She laughed out loud, leaning into the restraint. “Oh, that’s good. I want to scream. Let’s make it a loud show.” She gestured with her chin toward the nightstand. “There are vibrators, beads, whips... everything you need.”

I dipped my head immediately, pulling the cleavage of her dress aside to expose her heavy breasts, latching onto her flesh with a desperate hunger. My restraint was hanging by a thread; I was a second away from completely exploding.

Calm the fuck down, my mind warned. I’m not here for this. But the taste of her skin and the heat of her body were rapidly wiping away every single reason I had to hold back.

She moaned hard—maybe too loud—but it only ignited me more.

Until another voice and heavy thumps from the wall snapped my attention sideways. Muffled sounds of flesh slapping. “Ah… ah… ah… ah…”

My eyes shot wide. I looked down at the woman under me. Her eyes were already open, staring straight at the wall.

She stood up abruptly and hugged me tight, kissing me hard on the lips. “Let’s beat them, honey,” she breathed against my mouth. In one smooth motion, she let her dress slide to the floor, showcasing a heavy, hourglass figure, before kicking her underwear aside.

My control was almost gone. But the muffled sounds bleeding through the wall from the next room snapped my focus back into place. I glared at the wall, a cold anger replacing the heat in my chest, making my hands tremble slightly. My eyes tracked up to the leather suspension straps hanging from the ceiling. My mind clicked.

I grabbed her around the waist and lifted her off her feet.

“What—?” She squeaked in surprise, her voice caught between shock and thrill as I hoisted her toward the rig.

I didn't waste a second, binding her wrists and ankles into the cuffs. I hauled on the primary belts, pulling the straps tight and forcing her into a suspended M-shape, her limbs spread wide as she floated a few inches off the floor. For a second, she just stared down at me, genuinely stunned. Then her expression melted into something enchanted and eager.

I wasn’t smiling.

I reached for the padded black blindfold hanging from the frame and slipped it over her eyes, plunging her into total darkness. Then I stepped in close, my voice dropping to a low, dead whisper close to her ear:

“Now tell me who’s in the room next door.”

She jerked against the leather restraints, the playful mood evaporating in a heartbeat. “What? I—I don’t know! Don’t worry about those assholes. Let’s just keep going.”

I didn't buy her excuse for a second, but even if she was telling the truth, the lust was taking over. The heat of the moment had me gripping my hard cock, ready to surrender and bury myself inside her. She was already soaked, practically begging for it. I closed the distance, inching forward until I rubbed against the slick, reddish lips of her pussy. I was a heartbeat away from plunging inside when the moaning bled through the wall again.

My entire body locked up. I froze.

“More… more…”

The voice belonged to a girl—weak, breathless, and unmistakable.

My mind instantly jumped to the darkest conclusion. What if it was really them on the other side of that wall?

What the fuck are you doing? Don't fall for this.

“Honey, don’t keep me waiting!” she cried out, her voice loud and desperate as she strained against the rig. “Fuck me!”

I moved fast, grabbing the final piece of gear dangling from the suspension frame: a leather ball gag. Without wasting a heartbeat, I pressed the ball between her teeth and cinched the strap tightly behind her head. Now she hung there blind, bound, and entirely silenced, reduced to nothing but heavy breathing and muffled hums.

I turned to leave, but she immediately began writhing and thrashing against the suspension rig, making the straps creak and groan. She wasn’t going to stay quiet enough.

I remembered her invitation from earlier. Stepping over to the nightstand, I yanked open the drawer and pulled out a long and heavy vibrator. I walked back over, pressed it against her slick heat, and slid it deep inside her without hesitation.

She arched her spine hard against the straps, a strangled “Mmmgh—mmf!” vibrating through the gag as a thin trail of saliva escaped the corner of her mouth.

I clicked the device onto its highest setting. Her entire frame shuddered as she dissolved into the sensation, completely abandoning her struggle to escape the rig.

With her fully occupied, I turned my back and slipped out the door, ready to introduce myself to whoever was next door.