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Fantasy and reality war with each other, and then Corvin is there with his hands on my face and his eyes searching mine.
“They’re just for me, Shiloh,” he whispers, and it’s a shock to my system hearing my name from his mouth. “You can watch me delete them when we’re done. Unless you need to stop?”
Stop.
Right, I can stop.
I shake my head because even with how awful I feel right now, I know that’s not what I want. I wet my lips, take in a deep breath, and relax into the motion of his thumbs rubbing circles over my cheeks.
“Can we...” My voice cracks, so I clear my throat. “Can we go a little faster?”
Soft lips brush my own. “Of course, sweetheart. Forget about the video. Just think about my cock, alright?”
I moan when his tongue flicks inside, and then I moan louder, bringing my arms around his neck as I realize he still has my taste on his tongue.
I physically feel the shift when Corvin pulls us back into the scene. He grabs my hands in a fist and squeezes tight, slamming them to the roof of the car at the same time he reaches between us and gives my dick a painful squeeze.
“I need to be inside you,” he growls in my ear, and the line between him and the stranger talking is a blurry mess.
He yanks me to my feet and manhandles me around until he can shove me face first to the hood, and my head is too busy spinning from the sound of a zipper and rustling clothes to pull away.
It’s impossible to miss how hard he is when he taps his dick against my ass cheeks before sliding it between my legs. A slow glide between my thighs.
A paper rips behind me, and the dick disappears. A cap clicks. Deafening silence.
His hand slides up my back, wrapping around my neck and pinning me down. “I’m going to fuck you,” he breathes into my ear. “It’s going to hurt. Tell me you want it.”
My throat burns as I swallow the build up of saliva. My chest squeezes tight around my raging heart.
“No,” I croak, and the heavy hand on my ass is expected but I’m still unprepared for how much it hurts. “Stop it!” There’s tears in my eyes and my throat is hoarse, but that doesn’t dissuade him from hitting me again.
Sitting is going to be agony tomorrow.
“Say it, and maybe I’ll go easy on you.”
A cold rush of air fills my lungs. A reminder.
One word and I can end this.
Don’t stop, I think, but what comes out of my mouth is, “Fuck you.”
He pours something cold and slimy down my asscrack, coats his fingers in it, and follows the trail past my asshole to my front hole. His fingers work the lube all around the entrance, and then the fingers are gone, replaced with a bulbous, latex-covered cockhead.
The head notches at my hole and holds a steady pressure. Not quite pushing inside, but impossible not to know the intent.
The man leans over and undoes the messy knot my tank makes around my wrists, tosses it aside and yanks my arms behind my back. There’s more rustling, then something thin and silk-like wraps around my wrists in a much more secure knot.
The tie.
He pulls on the knot to test the strength, and then hoists me up until my back hits his chest. A hand comes around my throat and squeezes—not restricting airflow but affirming dominance.
“I can’t wait to hear you scream, sweetheart.”
With one snap of his hips, his cock thrusts inside me, and an anguished cry tears from my throat.
My first thought is that it burns.
The second is that I never realized I could be stretched that wide.
