I’m dazed. I’m confused. I’m covered in cum and piss, and I have no idea what’s going on. And worse, I feel fucking fantastic. I’m moaning and rocking and riding the waves of the feeling, wanting to thrust myself back onto his fingers, but instead, his cock is now nudging at my entrance.
“Did my dirty little whore just cover herself in cum?” He grunts out as he slowly, and with what must be painful restraint, thrusts inside of me, making me moan embarrassingly loud as he fills me to the hilt.
“Squirting for me with just my fingers? What a good girl”, he praises me, and I can’t help but be confused.
Does he mean I squirted my cum out? He can’t possibly be pleased I’ve relieved myself all over him? I'm kneeling in the mess I've created on the bed. It’s covered my calves and is puddled behind my knees.
I whimper. At this moment, it's all I can do.
I don’t have time to continue to reflect, because he begins fucking me with such force, I think my teeth would chatter if there weren’t a belt between them.
On and on, he fucks. Over and over, until I’ve come twice more on his thick shaft. Just when I think he’s spent, he shoves me onto my back and hikes one of my legs over his shoulder, entering me again with a punishing thrust.
“Let me taste you”, he barely grunts out, as if I have any control over it at all, as he continues fucking into me with such hatred I can’t comprehend him wanting anything else from me at all.
My thighs quake again, and I cry out, scared to come once more. I’m a drooling, crying mess from the pleasure. His fingers come up to the belt and removes it from my face, and I spit the panties out.
Without letting a second pass- his lips crash down on mine as he reaches up with both hands and wraps them around mythroat. Nailing me into the bed with such force that our teeth gnash against each other.
I moan into his mouth, and Hayden uses it as an opportunity to shove his tongue between my lips. Tasting him has my pussy quivering around him again, and with one minute of his tongue fucking me, I’m clamping down around him and coming again.
Just as I think he’ll let up, he comes with a roar, as both his hands continue to tighten around my throat.
“That’s it, darling,” he moans, fucking his dick into me as he comes, continuing deep and frequent thrusts to shove his cum deeper and deeper inside of me. “Take all of my cum like my good little whore.”
I want to tell him I’m not his whore, but the room is fading. Spots are dancing in my vision, and the darkness I was fighting is grabbing hold of me quicker than I can hold out.
As he continues to fuck his cum into me, I feel some of it trickle down my legs and mix with my own.
Chapter sixteen
Martine Lilian Herron
Iwake up sore.
Not the kind of sore that makes me regret it, no. It’s the kind that reminds me I gave myself over completely. My body hums with it. Between my legs, across my chest, down my spine. Every place he touched feels branded.
My mouth is dry, and my head is hazy from the pill. I don’t bother questioning myself. I swallowed it because I wanted to feel weightless, and I did.
I shift under the sheets, wincing slightly at the soreness in my muscles and between my legs. There’s a sticky mess on my upper thighs that automatically makes me clench my legs together without thought.
A disappointed rock settles in my gut when I see his side of the bed is cold and empty again.
The room is quiet, and it’s difficult to ignore the tightness in my chest from waking up alone. I crave the way he pieces me together after breaking me down. The desire to curl up in his arms and cry is weighing my lungs down, making it difficult to breathe.
There are no gentle knocks at the door, no distant clinking of silverware, no rustling of fresh linens. No demands from a brooding kidnapper turned husband.
I pull his robe off the armchair and wrap it around me, craving him on my skin. It’s oversized cotton, heavy, and warm with the scent of him. I move slowly, barefoot, wading through the aftermath of last night. Each step down the stairs pulls at a muscle I didn’t know existed.
When I reach the landing, I hear quiet movements in the kitchen and the sound of the espresso machine.
I follow the noise and am met with an unexpected sight that freezes me in place.
Hayden is alone in the kitchen, without a staff member in sight.
No shirt. Just black pajama pants and bare feet. His back is to me, tall and lean and absurdly relaxed, like this is normal. Like he belongs in a kitchen, making…coffee?
The scene before me is jarring. I’ve really only been with Hayden in a few places within the Estate that aren’t the dining room or atop his bed. This is territory I don’t understand, and I hate that my heart warms when I see him like this.
