He grinned, my bodily fluids dripping down his chin and neck and catching the overhead light in a way that had him looking like a vampire. But it wasn’t blood he was sucking down; it was pussy juice.
“You weren’t thinking that a few seconds ago,” he countered.
“That was exactly what I was thinking, actually.”
“That I was an asshole while you were squirming all over my tongue?”
“Yup.” I smacked my lips together and crossed my arms over my chest. It was the only form of defiance I had at my disposal, considering I wasn’t wearing any underwear.
“You know you’re fucked in the head, right?” He laughed and tossed his chin towards the ceiling, the sound bouncing around us like a piece of metal in a pinball machine.
When he was finally done with his theatrics, he glanced back down at me with that same smug grin on his face. Cocking one eyebrow the moment he realized I wasn’t planning on arguing with him.
I mean, he was right. I was fucked in the head. But I never said I wasn’t and now he was the one squirming. The bulge in his pants trying to poke through his zipper as he attempted to readjust himself against the sheets. He couldn’t do more than flap his legs from side to side though, and I had a feeling that didn’t really alleviate hisgrowingproblem.
I leaned forward, climbing between his legs and flicking the bulge with the tip of my finger. Then I rolled off the bed, swiped up my underwear from where I’d slingshotted them onto thefloor and made a beeline for the bathroom while tugging them up around my waist.
I didn’t make it more than a few steps before Casper was behind me. A cuff dangling from each arm and a crazed look on his face as he spun me around and backed me up against the side of the tub. If he pushed any harder, I’d be landing inside it. Ass-first.
He didn’t push. Instead, he kept my spine arched. One hand splayed out across my lower back, holding me upright, and the other gripped around the shower curtain rod. His feet spread wide and his dick poking against my stomach through his pants when he leaned forward.
“What do you want, Casper?” I hissed. Even though I already knew the answer.
“Mouth, pussy, ass—choose a hole, babe, before I choose one for you,” he grunted.
But he didn’t wait for me to answer. He was already flipping me around to face the shower wall, my hands braced against the tile to keep myself from falling forward as he ripped my underwear at the seams and let the fabric flutter to the ground.
I heard his pants hit the floor next, followed by the sound of him spitting on his hand and lubing himself up.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CASPER
The more she screamed, cried, cursed my name, and tried to get away… the harder I went. The more I stretched her asshole out. The deeper I forced my dick to go. Ensuring she would have trouble sitting down for weeks. The sting a constant reminder of the person who put it there.
Sure, being nice wasnice. But it only got a guy so far. Nice was safe. Nice was forgettable. Fucking someone within an inch of their life wasn’t. It did what nice couldn’t. It showed cause and effect.
The docs called it conditioning. Repaying bad behavior with worse behavior. Till the patients couldn’t stomach the thought of anything but total compliance.
I didn’t want that from Bellatrix. I didn’t want total compliance but I was demanding a little goddamn respect. And not to be used up and tossed out like a loose Fleshlight.
I also couldn’t let her think I’d gone soft. I couldn’t let her think she had something she could hold over on me.
There was give and take in this relationship. And I’d given her a lot over the last thirty odd minutes and now I was taking.
I ignored the blood covering my dick—I couldn’t be sure if it was hers or mine or a mix of both. I’d been going harder than I usually would, with a lot less lubrication. The blood was good for that at least. And the brown stuff I couldn’t be sure was shit or clots was good for that too.
I ignored the squeaking of the shower tiles as her hands slid back and forth against them, her bandaged finger making my lips quirk up at one side. I ignored the rubbing of skin-to-skin contact and how many layers I was losing. And I ignored her nails digging into my flesh wherever they could make contact. The pounding of her fists and the kicking of her feet.
But her little whimpers? The squeaks she was trying to hold in? Those I hyperfocused on. They were the only things that mattered. The only thing that told me she was right here with me. In this moment. Feeling it all.
I wrapped my arm around the front of her, holding her back closer to my chest. Bending her forward and thrusting faster. My fingers making their way to her clit and rubbing circles that had her pressing up on her tiptoes. The fight disappearing for a split second before she remembered she hated me again. Even if her body didn’t.
It hurt. I knew it did. That was the whole point. I wanted it to hurt. Even at the risk of breaking my dick off at the base. But the pain also felt good. I could tell she liked it. She needed it as much as I chased it. That feeling of knowing you’re alive because it hurts too much not to be.
I didn’t know what that was like. But I could guess. And it sounded euphoric. Like the sweetest candy. The best high. The strongest orgasm.
She started shaking, and at first, I thought the orgasm had hit her extra hard. It wasn’t that different from the shaking she was doing when she was coming all over my face. But then I realized it wasn’t that. She was crying. The fight was really gone this time,replaced by submission. Her cheek pressed up against the tile, her eyes staring out at nothing, and the tears dripping into the tub after losing the battle with her fluttering lashes.
