“None of your business.”
I blow on her, making her shiver. “Tell me anyway.”
She sighs, but she’s too turned on to deny me. “One person.”
“Good stuff.” I hide my smile in her pussy, but the truth is, I want her to come on my cock, and I’m too impatient to wait. With one last pump, lick, and kiss, I take her by the hips and lift her back up into my arms. Each step to her small bed across the even smaller room feels like it takes twenty years. I attack her mouth, ravenous, needing to taste her so I know this is happening.
I’ve never been this impatient before, but with her, this is months. Months of thinking. Months of fantasizing. Months of obsessing. I want to break her open until she’s reborn on my cock. I want to mark the inside of her the way I did her tits.
The night I took her virginity, there was blood all over the condom and my fingers when I removed it, and thinking about that now, about how I wish it had been on my cock instead, makes me feral.
I set her down at the side of the bed and spin her around, one hand on her throat, my other going to her pussy. I bring her head back to my shoulder, and she flattens her spine against my chest. I can’t tell if that move is so she can feel this connection too or if she’s trying to hide her scars from me.
I kiss a trail up and down her neck, from her shoulder to the sensitive skin beneath her ear. Smelling her. Tasting her. Savoring this.
“I don’t have anything on me, but I don’t want to use anything regardless.”
Her breath hiccups in her chest.
“Am I going to get you pregnant if I do that?”
That thought shouldn’t make me harder than I already am, but the idea of forcing my seed into her and getting her pregnant isn’t an unpleasant one. My heart stops, and my lungs cave in. No. That won’t be with this girl. It can’t be.
“You won’t get me pregnant.”
I give her neck a firm squeeze and use my grip on it to bring her forward. Her hands meet the mattress, and a choked sound comes from her.
“No. I don’t?—”
I clench her neck tighter and kiss the scar on her left flank.
A wounded cry makes my chest seize, and I move on to the next. One by one, I kiss her scars.
“I don’t want your pity.”
My lips dip in, and I lick along the raised, firm line. “Good. Because in addition to not getting my mercy, you won’t get my pity either.”
With that, I tear my boxer briefs off and shove straight inside of her. Exactly how I did the first time. She cries out, her body tensing against me. And fuck me to hell, she’s just as tight. I’ve never fucked without a condom, and the pleasure, the feel of her, is unlike any other.
“So good,” I rasp. “You feel so good. Do you feel that? How perfectly I fit inside you?”
My hand stays on her throat, my other wrapping around her to hold her hip bone. I kiss her face, moving her jaw to find my lips. But she’s tense. Still. I smack her ass to get her to relax. When she finally does, I pull out and shove back in, reclasping her hip.
“No mercy.”
“No pity,” she replies.
I bite her bottom lip and pound into her, my pace relentless.
“Oh god!”
I squeeze her neck, pressing in on her carotids. “Who’s fucking you, Marcella? Tell me.”
“You are,” she manages, though her eyes are back in her head and her voice is muted.
“That’s right.” I pummel faster, my pelvis slapping against her ass and thighs. “Your prince. Fucking say it.”
“No.”
