“You gonna cum for me? Milk my cock? Huh?” I grunted, pummelling her pussy red raw.
When she didn't answer, I gripped her throat.
“Yes,” she screamed as I tightened my fingers.
Her cunt lost control. She fucking came spectacularly, squirting all over me, soaking us both until her spasms made me lose control. I remembered the end game and slammed myself deep inside her pussy. I roared like a beast as my cock twitched inside her spewing my seed as close to her womb as I could. I fill her up with so much cum that I felt it spill out of her.
I chuckled before kissing her neck, feeling the pulsating blood in her veins. My fangs lengthened, but I kept my greed at bay, gently rocking my cock inside her and stuffing my cum as high as I could while her soft mewls tickled my ear.
She was perfect.
???
I stood back to admire my handiwork. She had dried cum caked on her face, and tits, with a pool of it dripping out of her abused pussy. I scooped the excess up with my fingers and clenched her jaw until her lips parted. I watched it drip into her mouth while some landed on her lips. I wanted her to taste me when she woke up.
It would only take a few months before I was back, but if I craved her pussy I could always mesmerise her.
It was a win-win situation.
Chapter 4
Ivy
He was gone. No phone number, no written note. He just fucked me black and blue before vanishing like a nightmare. It was a one-night stand. I tried to stomp to the bathroom. My pussy shrieked in protest, my thighs quivering like I'd run a marathon.
I looked at the horror show in the mirror, shocked at the marks on my body. The thick belt mark around my neck, cum coated face and dark fingerprints on my breasts, arms, hips and thighs.
I groaned when I thought of my bed. It couldn't be salvaged. How much bodily fluid could one man produce? Some of it was mine, but I would never discuss that. The mattress was a crime scene. Stained, reeking of sex and something darkly sweet. No amount of Febreze could salvage that. I'd have to burn it.
I stepped into the shower, wondering if I would ever feel like a human again after my sordid night. Each time I moved, I ached and got a flashback from the best sex I’d ever had in my life. I had to let it go. He would have left me his number if he wanted to see me again. I didn't even know his surname.
???
The police came knocking a few weeks later.
My ex was missing.
I kept my answers short. No, I hadn’t seen him. Yes, I’d moved on. No, I didn’t have a key to his place anymore. However, the officers exchanged a look that made my skin crawl. Like I’d already been tried and convicted in their heads.
Guilty until proven innocent.
I shut the door, leaned against it, and exhaled. That’s when it hit me—the weirdest fucking thought of how Nicholas would’ve known how to handle them.
I shook it off. He’d left bruises on my hips, bite marks on my thighs, and zero fucking contact info. Classic one-night-stand etiquette.
Then my brain dropped the real bomb.
Morning-after pill.
Oh.
Shit.
I yanked out my phone, counting weeks on unsteady fingers. Six weeks. Six whole fucking weeks since that night. No nausea, no sore boobs—just my dumbass, too busy ‘distracting myself’ to notice.
Fucking Sadie and her pep talks.
I screamed into my couch pillow until my throat burned.
