His thumb circled my entrance, teasing.
“I wasn’t.” Maybe he would have believed my attempt at disinterest if desperation hadn’t leaked into my voice, or if I had tried to at least mark the need twisting into my face.
“That’s not the answer I was hoping to hear,” he chuckled low, leaning over me, his hand disappearing from my pussy only to cup my heaving breast.
“Oh, god.” His warm palm kneaded my breast, his finger toying with my nipple, massaging it roughly.
My breath stuttered when he dragged the dripping tip of his cock against my entrance.
“How badly do you want this?” His tone was raspy, thick with lust as he stroked me with his length.
“I–”
“I’ll give you want you need,” he murmured, pressing his hot lips against my lower back. “I always do. But you have to tell me how bad you want me first.” He pressed his throbbing head just half an inch into my hole, pulling out and drawing a whimper of protest from me.
“Fuck.” I ground my hips, seeking, needy, unable to pretend that he hadn’t lit a fire inside me.
I wasn’t fighting anymore.
I didn’t even remember what fighting felt like when his hot mouth kissed along my spine like that, leaving marks on my skin with his teeth.
“How desperately do you want my cock back inside you, Elizabeth?”
“I–please.” I trembled, the corners of my eyes burning with the unbearable ache.
My mouth opened but the impending moan got tangled in my throat as he slid into my opening, pushing through my tight wall, hitting a spot that drove me absolutely insane.
I cried out, back arching, fingers clawing at the sheet as he pulled out tortuously slowly only to slam back in, the bed groaning beneath us.
“See how your pussy always welcomes me?” His pace quickened, each thrust a claim, a brutal devotion. “That’sbecause it’s meant for me.” He grabbed my hip, perfecting the angle before he drove impossibly deeper. “You’ll fight with everything you got but guess what? It won’t change the part where you are mine.”
My vision blurred, pleasure mounting into something dangerous, something consuming.
He pounded into me with a hunger that bordered on obsession, that made my body sing with the violence of it.
“This perfect pussy is mine, do you hear me?” he whispered gruffly, a promise laced with possession. “At the early hours of the morning, in the busy days of the afternoon, deep into the many dead of every fucking night. It’s always going to be mine. Only my cock gets to fuck and own every inch of your needy cunt.”
“Z-zaghan,” I choked, my body unraveling, the pleasure cresting into something unbearable with every intentional thrust.
I hated every moment of this. But I didn’t want him to stop. I hated surrendering but I liked how he was so big and how perfectly he fitted inside me. I liked how he pushed through my wall, hitting places no man had ever hit before.
What was wrong with me? What kind of thoughts were in my head just now? What was becoming of me? Where was my moral?
What about Callan? Why was I calling his name without conviction instead of Callan?
“… so you better listen ‘cause I won’t say this again.” His dark voice and a hard thrust pulled me from my daze.
“If you ever think, and I mean think of letting another man stick his fucking dick inside this pussy, be ready to see his chopped-up body delivered to you in a box.” He leaned over and grabbed my hair, yanking my head backward. “If any man looks at you with lust, breathe wrong in your direction, he will not seeanother day.” His cock pulsed inside me, and I clenched around him, panting, as he pressed a deceptively soft kiss on my neck.
“And that boyfriend of yours,” he murmured, and my heart skipped, my head shaking to drive away whatever thought he was having before it took root. “If I ever.” He dragged his word, his nail digging into my hip, cock still buried inside me to the hilt. “If I ever smell his scent on you, even if it’s because of his old shirt you found in your laundry, I’ll break all his bones, bleed him dry and fuck you raw and hard while covered in his blood.”
Slowly, he pulled out and slammed back into me again, wrenching a cry from my throat.
“I swear to god, Elizabeth.” His voice was a warning, a dark promise. “I’m not bluffing. I’ll kill him.”
Maybe I should be afraid. Maybe I should cry, bolt. But something about the way he said it, the sheer depravity of his promise, made me envision it–the sight of him, drenched in another man’s blood, mounting me, whispering filth against my ear.
That thought unravelled me, sent me plummeting over the edge. And with a shattered gasp, I came hard, my release gushing, drenching his twitching cock.
