“Use your hand,” I whisper, hardly believing myself. I never ask for what I want. It’s never worth it.
But Theo’s eyes blaze with hunger, and then he strikes my pussy hard with his palm. I groan and arch my back, spreadingmy legs wider and rocking my hips, and he keeps striking me, the soft smack of his skin against my wet cunt echoing through the room.
My orgasm hits fast, almost out of nowhere. I scream out, half in surprise and half in pleasure. It wasn’t just the pain but the threat of him, of all he could do to me, that got me soaking. I thrash against the couch, and Theo pins me down at the shoulder. He growls again, a sound far more animal than human, as he rubs his cock against me, plying my walls open
I pant, my vision dotted as the last waves of orgasm pulse through my body. Theo’s eyes burn into me.
Then he thrusts himself inside my cunt.
It hurts. It doesn’t matter that I’m drenched or even that I’m still coming a little. He’s so big, and he stabs me with his cock like he’s stabbing me with a knife, and it hurts.
But fuck me, I like it. I like how Theo’s eyes flutter closed, and his fingers tighten on my shoulder, digging into my skin, like a threat of more violence. I like how he moans wordlessly, how my pussy can barely stretch to accommodate him. I like how he buries himself inside my trembling body and then looks at me and bares his teeth, his breath fast and heavy, matching mine.
As he ruts into me, I reach up and cup his face, spreading my fingers over his cheek. I don’t know why; it just feels right, like he’s the beast and I’m the beauty who can soothe him. As soon as I touch him, his eyes widen, and he makes a rough, frightening sound in the back of his throat, and he fucks me harder.
I moan, sliding my hand up until my fingers are tangled in his hair, and drop my head back, baring my throat to him as I languish in the painful pleasure of his thrusts. He bows his head over me, kissing my face and then my neck, which makes me spark with a fear that pulses straight into my clit. It’s not long before his kisses turn to sharp, nipping bites that leave bright spots of pain all the way down to my breasts. When he drags oneof my nipples into his mouth again, my body clenches around his dick. Again. I’m going to come again.
“Don’t stop,” I pant, tugging on his hair. “Don’t fucking stop. I’m so close.”
He grunts into me, rolling into my pussy in a way that means his big, painful cock is sliding very not-painfully against my G-spot. My body shakes. I dig my fingers into his shoulder and hook my legs around his hips, dragging him down to me, holding him in place. Then his teeth clench around my nipple, and I howl and then I come, the hot pleasure pouring through my limbs as the pain in my breast explodes outward.
He releases me and buries his nose between my breasts and makes more of those throaty, desperate sounds as he keeps stroking me through my orgasm, like he’s trying to drag it out as long as possible. I’ve never felt anything like this before; this constant, rhythmic surging, as steady as the lake waves lapping against the shore, not even when I fuck myself. I’ve never come so hard that it hurts, like I’m doing now. But god, it’s the best kind of hurt, like the hurt of his cock and the hurt of his teeth.
His thrusts quicken, turning erratic, and his face is still buried between my tits so that his breath is warm and damp on my skin as he pants. I roll my eyes up to the ceiling, the exposed wooden beams crossing overhead. A loose veil of cobweb flaps back and forth, catching the lemony light of the sun, mesmerizing me as I come down from the burning intensity of my orgasm.
Suddenly, Theo roars, and I don’t care about spiderwebs. He tosses his head back, his hips shuddering against mine, and I know he came inside me. I don’t care.
I like it, even.
Theo breathes heavily, his chest pressed against mine, the fabric of his T-shirt damp with both of our sweat.
I don’t know what to say. Or do, for that matter. I honestly just want to stay like this, his cock softening inside me, his firm, heavy body crushing me into the couch. I think I would give anything to be crushed by him for real.
Eventually, though, Theo lifts his head until our eyes meet. They’re as pale and icy as ever. I think of the photograph of Theo Shorn in the newspaper. Of him, decades ago.
Penelope’s going to kill me when she finds out what I’ve done.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice shaky.
Theo tilts his head, studying me. Then he pulls back. Pulls out of me, his cock slapping wetly against the inside of my thigh.
“I thought you wanted to do that,” he says. There’s a long pause, his hands lifted but unmoving. Then: “I sensed it.”
My heart flutters. So he does feel it. My arousal. My desire.
“I did want it,” I whisper back, and it feels vaguely shameful to say it out loud.
Theo keeps gazing down at me, like I’m a puzzle he’s trying to take apart. He drops one hand to my cheek, brushing it with the back of his knuckle. I tilt my head into the touch. I wanted it. I wantedhim, and I still fucking do.
It’s the way he looks at me, I think. Men don’t look at me like that. All that Hunter’s intensity, directed right at me.
But Theo jumps off the couch, his eyes fixed on the door.
“What’s wrong?” I sit up, my heart pounding.
“Get dressed,” Theo signs. “Oliver’s here.”
A new panic slices through me. I scramble off the couch, grabbing my clothes as I can find them. Theo hurled them all over the room. My panties, of course, are little more than rags.
