Yet, it's fucking incredible to witness, and should mankind find a way to preserve memories, I only hope I die alone so it can deteriorate in obscurity.Noliving being deserves to see something so extraordinary.
Not even me.
I soar straight back to the edge again, but this time I fight against it, wanting this to last just a little longer.
I peer up at him from beneath the bangs falling in my eyes, and the second our crazed stares collide, I lose myself to him again.
His upper lip pulls up into a scowl, seeming like he's barely controlling himself from tearing me apart with his teeth.
That just won't do—I need him to be in shambles, too.
I let out a vulgar moan. “Yes, yes, like that,” I encourage breathlessly against his lips, delight and awe saturating my tone. “Keep fucking me just like that, Kellan. You make my pussy feel so fucking good.”
He whimpers, his expression twisting with bliss, but I’m not finished ruining him.
I tug at my wrists still trapped in his hand, and when he releases them, they shoot straight into his hair.
I pull his head down into me and capture his lips in a salacious kiss that has us both trembling from the intensity. But just as his tongue curls with mine, I tear myself away with a groan. The orgasm is becoming almost impossible to hold off.
“You’re gonna make me come so hard all over your cock,” I mewl, my breath hitching when the pressure in my core deepens. He growls, and I ensure I have his full attention before I say, “And no one’s ever made me do that before.”
“Fuck!” he curses, his forehead dropping to my shoulder as he whispers helplessly, “Fuck you.”
I grin, though he instantly wipes it from my face when he reaches between us and pinches my clit again. The sound that bursts from my throat is between a yelp and a moan. For a few short seconds, I teeter somewhere between agony and pleasure, and then, I’m gone. I careen off the cliff with no safety net and crash-land, creating an explosion so catastrophic, I fear I’ve killed every living thing on this planet.
“Kellan!”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chants from above me, his voice cracking as he continues to stuff his cock inside me, despite how hard I contract around him.
The last thing I see is liquid sputtering out between us, pooling on the bench before it spills off the sides.
Then, the orgasm sweeps me away, forcing my soul out of its vessel. It’s a complete out-of-body experience, my consciousness floatingsomewhere above us while the pleasure rips my body to shreds.
At some point, Dread stills for several seconds, his head kicking back with a hoarse shout. Then, he drops his chin and senselessly grinds against me, groaning and panting, violently trembling as he rides it out. He’s coming inside me, filling me until it spills out around him. Yet, I’m only aware of how it feels, like my bones are cracking from the force of the orgasm.
I'm slow to return to my body, and when I do, there’s a brief moment of panic that I’m paralyzed. I no longer feel like a human being with muscles and bones, but a gelatinous blob with no motor function.
Dread pants above me, his head tipped, cheek beside mine. I glance down, almost in a daze as I take in his sculpted physique, muscles in places I didn’t know existed, his tattooed, olive skin. His hand is gripping the side of the bench at my waist, veins roping from his wrist up to his flexed bicep. Then, my gaze slides over my body, from the swells of my breasts down the planes of my wet stomach to the curved dip in my waist, only to flare out into wide hips, my legs spread even wider to accommodate his large form, and finally there, between my thighs, where we’re still connected.
A fine layer of perspiration coats our skin, where shadows and light collide, depicting a haunting story across the canvas of our bodies. If my eyes were cameras and I took a snapshot of this view, it’s a picture that would sell for millions. It’s art, a masterpiece created by two people amidst a war with one another.
My stomach clenches, once again in utter disbelief that the man above me—insideme—is Dread.
The man who's been tormenting me for so long just fucked the absolute life out of me, and I've no fucking clue what I'm supposed to do with that information.
He exhales a heavy breath and then hisses as he slips out of me, a cocktail of our releases spilling onto the bench. I close my eyes with a forlorn sigh—I’m really embarrassed about that, but I have literally no energy to do a single thing about it. I suppose it’s the least humiliating thing I’ve done in the past several minutes, let alone the past hour.
He sits up and backs away, and while a very tiny part of me mourns the loss, I focus all my energy on avoiding eye contact with him. I snap my legs shut the millisecond he’s cleared from between them, and then I quickly sit up, sliding to the very edge of the bench, facing opposite him.
The silence is heavy, and as each second passes, the urge to hide grows stronger until, even if I somehowwasparalyzed, it wouldn’t stop me from running out of here.
My legs are still violently shaking, and while I don’t trust my useless skeleton to hold me for a second, sheer willpower makes up for it. Without looking at him, I stand and speed walk to the pile of clothes waiting for me by the door. I’m unstable as fuck, and there’s cum splattered against my stomach, soaking between my thighs, and steadily trailing down them, but I tug my clothes on anyway without stumbling once, and that’s a win in my book.
Idesperatelyneed to shower tonight, preferably with bleach and a power washer.
By the time I’m finished, Docs laced and all, I stuff my hands in my pockets. I’m met with crumpled duct tape and the broken zip ties, remembering with a sinking feeling that he quite literally kidnapped me before stealing my phone and charger.
And I went and fucked him in return.
