As the lone figure approaches, I’m able to make out his facial features.
“I’ve been calling you!” Art shouts.
“I was at Anneli’s and forgot my cell in the car.”
“What kind of fool do you take me for? You were out fucking another man!”
“That’s not true. I was at Anneli’s. Call and ask her if you don’t believe me!” I yell.
“I can’t trust her word. You whores stick together!” he roars.
Art grasps my shoulders and shakes me violently. I bite down on his chin. He retaliates by digging sharp nails into my neck and hauling me to his car. I’m thrown into the back seat, but he doesn’t climb in behind me. Instead he gets on his knees on the ground and rips my shoes from my feet.
“What are you doing?” I kick out at him.
“I’m going to smell your pussy, and if it smells like sex, I swear to God I’ll beat the living shit out of you.” He yanks my jeans down my legs and throws them to the ground.
“I told you where I was.”
He punches my leg. “Stop fucking kicking me!”
“Ouch!”
Next, my panties are torn from my body and my legs forced apart. He buries his face between my legs and inhales deeply.
“The loveliest aroma I’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling,” he growls before sliding his tongue over my clit.
“Art,” I moan, closing my thighs over his head as he laps at my pussy.
He gorges on my cunt, the ferocity of his feasting obliterating my cognitive abilities. I whimper in frustration when he lifts his head.
“Should I let you come?”
“Yes.”
“But you’ve been a bad girl.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You better make sure your cell phone stays by your side because if this happens again, you won’t be able to sit for a fucking month.”
“I understand. Please…” I beg.
His warm mouth latches onto my clit, and I come within minutes. Once the shudders subside, he crawls up my body, peering into my eyes while he slowly sinks his dick inside my saturated cunt. My passion-filled moans are swallowed by his kisses. I wrap my legs around him and cross my ankles at his lower back as he bulldozes through my center, showing me no mercy. My pending orgasm ebbs, then flows, until it breaks free. Art’s gyrating hips increase the magnitude of my climax tenfold, creating a perfect storm of ecstasy.
“Oh fuck,” he grunts, attaining his end.
We hold on to each other, basking in the afterglow of completion.
“Remember what I said,” he says between breaths. “I will hurt you if you don’t listen.”
“You hurt me even when I do.”
“I can’t help it.”
“I know.”
Can love between a man and woman be too strong? Maybe a love like this is destined to end in tragedy.
