Elliot
“More?” he asks, fucking me viciously, fucking me like I never knew I wanted to be fucked.
The woods fill with the sound of our bodies slamming against each other, with his feral grunts and my moans. It’s a symphony of depravity.
A part of me hates him for doing this to me, for turning me against my wishes, for making me some kind of creature that chases a child with the intent of sucking that child dry of blood.
But the other part wants him with a desperation I’ve never felt before.
He stretches me wide with every plunge. I can feel every inch of his thick cock. It’s a mind-blowing experience, sex on another level. Euphoria. And I’m drunk on all the sensations running through me.
When he pulls out, I whimper, then moan as he shoves backin. The bark pinches and scratches against my cheek as he does so, but I don’t care. The pain only heightens the pleasure.
Like this, I’m his toy, his plaything, his possession to do what he wants and I can’t stop him.
I don’t want to stop him.
Another scream breaks free as he slams back into me, deep, and I manage to push out one word, teeth gritted. “Yes.”
As if to underline that, I lift my ass up as much as I can, and he takes the offer, picking up speed, violence, that hurts-so-good fuck I’m craving.
It’s like he’s trying to fuck the hatred out of me, and at the same time his regret for turning me, the pain of almost losing me.
I don’t know how I know this, but I do.
I’m drooling, my fingers gripping the tree for dear life, and a wave of intense pleasure spreads out, like I’m going to come. Or maybe black out.
“Fuck,” he breathes, “you can’t get enough.”
I push back into him, wanting him inside me, all of him. I want him opening me up, I want the glory, I want the pain. I want to feel in the way no one’s ever made me feel, and a small sob escapes me because I know I wanted him this desperately since before he changed me. I knew then no one in my life who’s ever looked at me, touched me, kissed me, can compete with Lucian.
“Don’t…stop.”
He slams balls-deep and holds it, grinding his cock inside me as he grabs a handful of my hair and leans over me, the heat of him burning my skin.
“I thought you hated me,” he says harshly.
“I do.” My word ends on a low moan as I try to move, try to make him start fucking me again.
“If you did, you wouldn’t be begging me to fuck you. But…”
This time he pulls back and thrusts in deep, then he holds it once more. A tease.
“Lucian!”
His hand in my hair tightens. “Fuck, you feel good, Monty. Tight, hotter than ever. And so slick I could ride you into a thousand sunsets.”
My body convulses at his words, and he starts to fuck me again, cock surging into me, big, thick, hard. He’s never been like this with me before. So rough, careless. And I’m on the brink, pleasure spreading as he slams into me one more time. He shudders and lets out a groan, his cock pulsating as his cum fills me.
But he’s left me right on the edge of my own orgasm. A quivering mess.
Then the bastard pulls out and lets me go.
I fall forward, sliding to the ground, and rush to pull up my leather pants with shaking fingers. When I turn, he’s putting that gorgeous dick away. It’s like being dipped in an ice bath.
Being unfulfilled has left me maddened. Infuriated. Shaking with need.
“You bastard,” I say. He knows what he did. He must. “I…I was so close.”
