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“Fuck you.”
“You don’t mind if I fuck you first, do you?”
He pushes inside me, ripping a moan from deep within my chest. He can’t thrust all the way out and back in, not in this position. Instead, he fucks me deep, with small movements.
“Stop,” I whimper. “This is fucked. You’re fucked. I hate you.”
But I’m the one who presses my knife against him and rolls my hips. I’m the one who searches for friction against his pubis for my clit to get some drunken satisfaction.
Instead of answering, he uses his left hand to rip the kitchen knife out of his shoulder. He doesn’t even make a noise. Throwing it to the side, he then puts a hand at my hip.
“I think you’ve had enough fun for today.”
He flips us around before I can even take my next breath. Before I know it, the knife is at my throat, his hand still around mine. The fact that I should have killed him is a reality hitting me right in the gut.
He now has plenty of space to thrust into me like a madman. His movements pin me to the floor, stopping me from taking a proper breath. His violence pulls guttural noises out of me, cuts my breathing, turns me beastly.
I can’t even scream. I can’t fight, I’m too taken by his intensity.
The insults I want to throw his way are cut off by the pleasure spearing into me. Instead of fighting back, my head falls against the floor. With the knife digging into my throat, I feel the thickness of blood sliding around my neck. Worse, his shoulder wound is dripping onto me, the drops soaking his shirt slowly trickling onto my chest. Using his free hand, he spreads his own blood against me, painting me with the pain I caused him.
“What angered you, Kayla? That I marked you?”
He grunts, forcing his hard dick against my cervix and making me lose control. A shriek escapes me, pain and euphoria mixing. “Did you want to show me you’re still your own person? Did you want to show you could still fight back?”
I can’t answer, my lungs are too tight. They’re crushed by the pleasure leaving my lower stomach and consuming my body. It locks my muscles, making me incapable of defending myself.
“Keep fighting. Keep showing me how strong you are. It feeds the fire I have to destroy you.” Pulling back, he leaves only his tip at my entrance. “Every time, I’ll show you who you belong to.” He thrusts back in. “I’ll show you there’s nothing you can do. You can’t escape.”
He brings his bloody hand to my face, roughly pressing his thumb against my lips and pushing it inside my mouth. The coppery taste of his blood makes me gag, and yet I tighten around him, and I feel more delight taking over my senses and dizzying my mind.
“You’re marrying me tomorrow, and it’ll only get worse from then on. I’ll use you. I’ll destroy everything you are, and you’ll be nothing but my docile little wife.”
I try to shake my head, but his grip on my face hardens. His face twists into a sick smile, the demon he truly is showing.
“And do you know what a good little wife does, Kayla?”
I whimper when I feel the gunpowder lighting up. There’s nothing to stop it now.
“She comes on her husband’s dick.”
A scream tears from my lips, ripping me apart when my orgasm shatters me whole. He lowers himself, pulling the knife away, and licks the wound at my throat. It’s not fatal. Of course not. It hurts just enough to remind me of my place. To show me the consequences of fighting back.
His thrusts accelerate, and when he comes inside me, fear washes away my momentary high. I pray to God my contraceptive shot doesn’t let me down. Because nothing would be worse at this point than something else attaching me to Nate.
I close my eyes as he gets off me, stupidly thinking this is over. That’s until I feel him kneel between my open thighs, his fingers at my entrance. Like the insane man he is, he’s pushing his leaking cum back inside.
“I wonder what you’d look like pregnant.”
My eyes fly open. “I’m on the shot.”
He tilts his head to the side. “These things run out.”
“I don’t want kids.”
I don’t tell him the truth. I don’t show anything. If he knew the truth, everything would spiral. Worse than it already is. I can’t even imagine it.
“Did you know twins run in my family?”
