Each stroke is a masterpiece of torture. I’m grinding against him, my moans turning into raw, gutturalscreams as the pleasure builds in a slow, suffocating wave. His pace so measured that it keeps me right on the brink of a climax without ever letting me fall over the edge.
“Please, Peter… please fuck me harder! Just… I need to cum!”
“No,” he snarls, his eyes flashing with a dark, possessive light. “You don’t get to cum. You get to be fucked. You get to be used. You get to be mine. And mine doesn’t get release until I say so.”
He pulls out almost entirely, his cock glistening in the moonlight, and then grinds the head against my clit, refusing to go back in. I’m shaking, my body vibrating with a need so intense it’s almost violent.
“Beg for it, Wendy,” he mocks, his voice a low, filthy purr. “Beg the monster to finish you off.”
The rain isn’t refreshing; it’s a cold, stinging lash, turning the sweat on my skin into a freezing slurry as Peter pins me to the frigid metal.
Every slow, agonising slide of his cock feels like a hot iron branding my insides. He’s taking his goddamn time, savouring the way my breath hitches and my body fractures under the weight of him.
“You look so fucking broken, Wendy,” he purrs, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine. He pulls out until just the tip is hooked inside me, teasing the raw, weeping edges of my entrance. “So desperate. So pathetic. Where’s all that fire you had in the club? Where’s the girl who spit in my face?”
“Peter… please,” I sob, my head thrashing against the hood. The metal is biting into my spine, but I don’t care. I need the friction. I need the end. “I’m begging you… fuck… please just finish it. Harder. Give it to me harder.”
“I don’t think you’ve asked nicely enough,” he mocks. He grinds his hips in a slow, circular motion, his cock head dragging over my swollen clit, but he refuses to thrust. He’s holding me at the very edge of the cliff, watching me claw at the dirt.
I lose it. The last shred of my dignity dissolves into the mud beneath the car. I start to wail, a high, thin sound of pure, unadulterated need. My fingers, slick with rain and my own juices, claw at his tattooed chest, leaving red streaks over his heart.
“I’ll do anything! Fuck, Peter, please! I’m a mess… I’m your fucking mess! Just fuck me! Break me! I don’t care anymore!”
I’m sobbing now, actual tears mingling with the rain, my chest heaving in jagged, ugly gasps. I’m shaking so hard I can hear my teeth rattling. I’ve never been this small. I’ve never been this fucking nothing.
“Look at you,” he whispers, his voice dropping into a register of pure, dark filth. He leans down, his mouth inches from mine, and the smell of him—chokes me. “Snotting and crying like a little bitch on the hood of my car. You’re a fucking disgrace, Darling. Does it feel good? Being this pathetic for the man you hate?”
“Yes!” I scream, the word a jagged glass shard in my throat. “Yes, God, yes! Just… please… fuck me until I forget. Fuck me until there’s nothing left!”
“You want to forget?” he snarls, his grip on my throat tightening until I’m seeing spots. “Fine. Let’s make sure you can’t remember how to walk, let alone a name.”
He doesn’t go slow anymore.
Hejerks my hips up, his fingers digging into the flesh of my ass with bruising force, and slams into me with a violence that makes the car’s suspension groan. It’s a gut-punch of a thrust, deep and bottomless, hitting me so hard I feel the impact in my teeth.
“Is this what you wanted?” he growls, his pace becoming a frenzied, rhythmic slaughter. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each strike is a jagged, tearing sensation. “You wanted the monster? You fucking got him!”
I’m screaming, my voice cracking, my body being jerked back and forth against the cold hood. He’s not being careful. He’s being a butcher. He’s hitting my cervix over and over, a blunt-force trauma of pleasure and pain that has me seeing white.
“Fuck! Peter! Please!”
“Shut the fuck up and take it!” he roars, his own control finally fraying. He leans over me, his sweat dripping onto my face, his face contorted into a mask of pure, primal rage. “You’re mine! You’re my fucking Darling! I’m going to fill you so full of my spit and my cum that you’ll taste me for a week!”
He’s going faster now, a piston of tanned muscle and dark ink, his cock a hot, heavy blade cutting me open. I can feel the orgasm building—not a wave this time, but a goddamn landslide. It’s too much. It’s too big. My body starts to convulse, my legs locking around his waist as I feel the first spark of the explosion.
“No,” he gasps, his hand flying up to cover my mouth, stifling my scream. “Not yet. You don’t get to go until I’m ready to dump every drop of my hate into you.”
He thrusts even harder, his hips slamming against mine with a wet, sickening sound. I’m drowning in him.I’m dying. I’m a sobbing, shaking, pathetic wreck of a woman.
“Please,” I whimper into his palm, my eyes rolling back.
“Now,” he growls, his voice a feral bark. “Now, you fucking bitch! Cum for me!”
He thrusts one last time, pinning me to the metal, and the world simply ceases to exist.
The cold rain is replaced by the sudden, suffocating heat of the foyer, but I’m not walking. I’m being hauled.
Peter has his fingers fisted so deep in my hair that I can feel my scalp beginning to tear away from the bone. I’m a pathetic heap of wet silk and raw skin, my knees barking as he drags me across the cold marble floor. I’m sobbing, a high, broken sound that echoes off the high ceilings, but he doesn’t even look back. He treats me like a piece of trash he’s dragging to the bin.
