I clench my jaw and try to focus on the cold, on the howling wind, on anything else.
It’s no use, though. My orgasm tears up from my belly, and I roar as my cum pulses into her, ropes and ropes of it after being dead for six months.
“Did you just come?” Chloe shrieks, jerking her hands away from me. I let her go. “What the fuck?”
I barely hear her, the way my pleasure reverberates up my spine. She hits me again, and I catch her wrist and glower down at her through my wet hair as she keeps squirming against me, fucking my softening cock.
It won’t be soft for long, though. I just revived, and I know exactly what will get me hard again.
I latch my teeth into her neck, probing my tongue at the cuts I made earlier until her blood flows out. Chloe shrieks and pants and ruts against me, and I moan around the salty tang of her blood.
“Fuck,” she whispers, her breath shuddery. “Fuck, I’m so close. I’m?—”
I rear back, dragging my cock out of her pussy in the process. Chloe screeches and slaps her hand down on her clit, but I grab her by the wrist and shake my head. She glares at me, and I can feel it, her anger and her lust and her confusion and her fear, all twining together.
Then I guide her hand to my dick, wrapping her fingers around my still-sensitive skin. She gives a little gasp; I’m already hardening up for her again.
“Jerk me off,” I sign, moving forward until I’m straddling her at the waist.
She does, squeezing my shaft hard in her fist like she wants to make me hurt. I buck into her hand, staring down at her the whole time.Don’t you dare fucking stop, she screamed at me right before I came. I don’t intend to.
Especially with that first orgasm out of the way. This next one, it’ll take much longer for me to build up to it.
“How are you hard again already?” she whispers, her palm making a wet thwapping sound around my dick.
I grin. “I’m a Hunter.”
Then I pull away from her so I can flip her over onto her hands and knees. I shove her head down, pressing into the cushion so her ass lifts up for me, revealing the wet, pink slit of her cunt and the pretty bud of her ass. I slide my fingers along her clit, making her shudder and quake. I bring my other hand down hard on her ass cheek, the sound cracking through the room.
“Fuck!” she shouts, lifting her head. I shove it back down into the sofa and slap her again, harder. Hard enough to leave the red imprint of my hand against her skin.
She moans into the pillows, tries to snake her hand down to her clit. I stop her. Spank her again, this time right on her pussy.
She howls. Her arousal and my cum drips down her thighs, gleaming in the firelight. It might be cold in her house, but her skin is damp with sweat. Flushed with heat.
I slide into her again, moaning as her desperate pussy clenches down on me. Then I thread my fingers through her hair and jerk her head back, bracing myself against her as I start to fuck her with slow, teasing strokes.
“Harder!” she screams.
I respond by yanking her back by the hair. She shrieks, and I taste the surge of her adrenaline. I pull her closer to me, closer enough that I can wrap my other hand around her throat. When she swallows, I can feel the movement against my palm.
Then I fuck her again, the way she wants. Hard, fast, brutal. I hold her in place by the neck, although I don’t squeeze the air out of her. Not today. I don’t want to tempt death.
Chloe moans, shoving herself back and forth on my cock until we lock into a frantic rhythm. I focus my attention on her quickly building orgasm, angling my cock so I know I’m striking the right place inside her.
“Fuck,” she pants, and I can feel the word against my hand, too. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I squeeze her a little tighter. Pull her hair a little harder.
“Fuuuuuck,” she whines. Her body quivers. Clenches.
And then she comes, all her muscles contracting down around my cock. Chloe screams, and I let her go so she can slump forward while I keep fucking her through her orgasm, my fingers digging hard into her hips. She pushes back on me, her muscles flexing in my hands.
Then she flips up her hair, twisting around to look at me through the tangle of her hair. Her eyes blaze, and I love it: her anger, her fury, her desire.
“You left me,” she snarls.
With one hand, I manage to sign, “I had to.”
