I was brutalized, punished, degraded and used, and I truly don’t think I’ve ever come more times, or harder.
Not sure what that says about me.
Just the same, after we were finally through, and panting and gasping on the floor, and after Vaughn brought me to the shower where he tenderly cleaned me off, fucked me like an animal and then cleaned me offagain, it’s here that he brought me to sleep.
The guest room.
He, of course, slept in his own room.
C’est la vie.
“Morning,” he says darkly, a twinge of amusement in his tone and glinting in the corners of his eyes.
“Morning,” I mumble, blinking away sleep. Heat creeps up my neck and into my cheeks when I see him looking at me hungrily.
“What?” I smile.
“It’s amusing.”
I frown. “Amusing?”
“When you get self-conscious and try and hide yourself like this,” he growls, nodding his chin at the covers. He leans closer,letting his lips brush my ear. “As if I’mnotvividly remembering all the ways I claimed every inch of you last night.”
Before I can say a thing, he grabs the duvet out of my hands, tugging it down to expose my breasts.
“Hey!” I blurt, trying to claw the covers back.
Spoiler: I don’t succeed.
My lip slips between my teeth, my face throbbing as Vaughn’s piercing gaze sweeps over me. I shiver as his eyes trace over my skin—the bruised slopes of my breasts, my swollen, aching nipples, the fingermarks on my ribs and hips. He tugs the covers completely away and I shift, gasping quietly when he grabs one of my legs and forces them apart, his eyes sizzling over me and my wounds.
“Stop,” I mumble shyly.
“What,” he growls.
I shiver, looking down. “I look like an assault victim, thanks to you.”
A smirk creeps over his jaw. “You bruise easily.”
“Oh, isthatthe problem?” I snort.
“Didn’t really seem like a problem last night when you were begging me to go harder while your cunt came all over my cock. You said—and I quote—” I gasp sharply as he leans closer and his hand pushes between my thighs to cup my bare pussy. “Fuck me like you hate me.”
My eyes bulge. “Idid not?—”
A broken, needy whimper tears from my throat as he drags a thick finger between my slick lips. Then he pinches my clit, and the whimper turns into a guttural moan as my hands grab his forearm tightly.
He swirls the tip of his finger over my throbbing clit before he gently pulls his hand away.
“Yeah, you did,” he murmurs in my ear.
He sits back, a smug, shit-eating grin on his face as I just stare at him.
“I have to go deal with something. But there’s coffee.”
He nods at a steaming mug on the bedside table.
“Oat milk. Three sugars,” he adds.
