Jasper lifts me, and automatically, I wrap my legs around his waist. He sits me on the table, and begins to undress me,his movements hungry, a starved psychopath, and I hear clothes tear. I revel in it, this desire that he feels for me, and I start to yank at his clothes as well, unwilling to contain myself.
I unveil his muscled body, covered in black and grey traditional tattoos. I’ve never seen a canvas this beautiful.
He spreads my bare legs, my destroyed pants lying on the floor in a sad heap, my thighs coated in my own arousal, and I feel my cheeks flush from embarrassment. Seeing my glistening skin, Jasper loses all control, ripping my black lace panties apart.
“I would ask again for one final time if you’re sure, but I can no longer restrain myself, nor do I want to,” he growls.
With his fingers, he spreads my folds and starts to pump inside me, not easing me in with one finger, but immediately two. I feel myself clamp down on him, and his touch alone almost makes me orgasm on the spot. My core is completely drenched. It’s been too long since I’ve felt a man’s touch, but I have never craved it as much as I do at this very moment.
“So wet for me,” he murmurs approvingly as he teasingly slides his fingers through my entrance, eliciting a moan from me. With his thumb, he lazily circles my clit, and I breathe raggedly, the sensation too intense. Without warning, he stops, and I stare at him, puzzled.
“Don’t fucking move, Darling,” he says with a raspy voice. My heart beats against my ribcage with an urgency compared to a hare being chased by a bird of prey.
“I love seeing you exposed like this. All for me.”
His gaze dips to my dripping cunt, and my throat constricts. I try to swallow down the saliva that formed in my mouth, but I seem to have lost any sense of reality.
He unzips his pants, releasing his throbbing erection. My eyes widen at the size of his cock, but he doesn’t allow me anytime to get away, as he grabs my legs and pulls me towards him, my ass sliding over the table toward his erect member.
The tip of his penis probes against my soaking entrance, and he pushes himself in. I feel the walls of my vagina stretch while it sucks him in, eagerly. A stinging sensation courses through me, and I yelp softly. He places his thumb back on my most sensitive spot and begins to circle it once more, easing the pain. Slowly, he pulls out, only to thrust back in. I can tell from his trembling form that he’s doing his utmost to ease me in, instead of fucking me like a madman.
Sensing his need to release his true self, I whisper, “Take me.”
His darkened eyes flick to mine.
“Careful, Clara,” he growls—his voice low— as he keeps moving his cock slowly into me, not wanting to hurt me. Suddenly, I am overcome with need. I want him to stretch me, to hurt me, to widen my pussy in ways I didn’t know possible.
“Fuck me. Fuck me how you really want to, Jasper. Show me that you own me,” I say, louder now, more confident.
I tilt my chin, challenging him. I want to surrender to him, for him to make my body submit.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” he barks.
He lets go of my calves and instead buries his fingers deep into the flesh of my hips. Jasper kisses me hard, wild, biting my lower lip, and begins to thrust. The sound of skin slapping together fills the kitchen, as his pace continues to increase. I moan loudly at the welcome invasion of my body, my core tightening with each thrust, and I dig my heels into his backside.
“I want more,” he snarls, pulling his cock out and flipping me on my stomach. He pulls my ass up, his fingers bruising the skin on my hips, as he violently pushes his wet cock back inside my drenched core. I feel my cunt stretching further as he thrusts harder and deeper, reaching even deeper than I ever imaginedpossible. Jasper fists my hair with one hand as his large girth penetrates me over and over in a relentless rhythm. I cry out his name as an orgasm begins to build again.
Letting go of my hip, his other hand on the back of my head—holding me in place firmly—his hand lands firmly on my ass cheek, the pain burning through my body, and tears well in my eyes. Again, he spanks me, and I hiss at the sensation. He keeps hitting my ass while he pumps into me roughly, and I scream loudly as I orgasm. Waves of pain and pleasure make me delirious as I ride it out, every part of my body tingling. I hear him grunt, and he lets go of my head, burying his fingers back into my hips as he thrusts into my pussy, almost as if he’s trying to break through me. Jasper reaches his own peak, and with a loud groan, he shoots his hot load deep inside me.
He covers my body with his, breathing heavily.
“I know you’re on birth control, but I am still going to breed you. Every orifice of your body will ooze with my cum.”
I feel his finger massaging my clit, using his cum as lube, and the thought of Jasper filling me with his seed until the end of time, makes me cry out again. The orgasm slams through my body with fervor. I pant loudly, as our bodies melt together, both of us covered in a sheen of sweat.
The heaviness of his form pressed into mine comforts me, and I don’t even feel the table underneath me. He’s like a weighted blanket, covering me.
Chapter Four
My legs are still weak from our multiple fuck sessions during the night, and I feel an ache in muscles I didn’t even realize I had. It feels as if I sold my soul last night, a bargain made, that allows no unbinding. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamt of—an unbreakable devotion. Tonight, we will finalize our union as I’ll offer him the last part of me; that he hasn’t had yet, a part of my body I’ve never given to anyone before.
I tuck my legs underneath me, ignoring the dull ache that comes with the movement. My personal items surround me, but it almost feels as if they've always been here, belonging and blending in. I open another moving box, folding the cardboard flaps to the side, and the scent of books drifts through the air. One wall of the living room features a built-in bookcase, the wood smooth and dark, which borders on black. The top edgeis adorned with a carved baroque design. Although it’s newly designed, it’s reminiscent of an antique cabinet, which was what Jasper aimed for, when he had it created. Several shelves are empty; the space he made just for my books. Writers and categories organize his books, but mine will be organized by theme and what I love. I dig up my books and start to sort them. Horror, Dark Romance, Vampires, Disturbing, Historical, the list goes on.
When I finally feel satisfied with the outcome of my shelves, especially my vampire section—mostly dark romance stories, aside from some Anne Rice novels—I move on to the next box. It contains my most prized possessions—oddities, taxidermy, and mostly religious antiques. Carefully, I start unpacking glass domes and furry creatures. I gently peel off the bubble wrapping, and I cut the painter's tape that holds everything together. I handle them as if they were broken glass and cautiously place each item on the coffee table, one by one. A fox, a black swan (which is heavier than I remember), a weasel, a badger, a large raven—I unwrap them all with a loving smile, relieved they survived the long journey in one piece.
One of the tall glass domes contains a branch I took from the forest near my old home, covered in fall-colored butterflies. It was a project I spent several days on—the first entomology piece I ever made. For each butterfly I had prepared, I injected boiling water into them, because I didn't have the patience to rehydrate their bodies the regular way, but the pinning part I did with funeral-like patience. Every time I glance at it, a sense of pride washes over me. The gypsophila I placed on the bottom crumbles here and there; the dried little flowers remind me of snowflakes.
I pick it up and place it on the wooden mantelpiece, the beam thick and darkened at the bottom, where soot stained the structure. The glass dome complements the stacked antiqueBibles; of various languages, a pair of human skulls, some ornate frames showcasing Victorian death photography—some of children and women at peace—and the two brass candelabras that adorn the fireplace. It’s as if the butterflies belong there, blending seamlessly, just like all my other things. Ever since I arrived here, my sense of melancholy has slowly disappeared.
