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“So.. angry.” She gasps, her breath coming in pants despite the fact I’m not squeezing hard enough to choke off her air supply.
“You like me angry?” I snarl, slipping a finger into the waistband of her shorts and sliding it around, pulling the fabric off of her, testing it. She opens her mouth to give me an answer, but I don’t let her say whatever it is. I move my other hand off her neck, slipping my fingers through the loops of her pants and jerking them off of her in a single motion. I’m not delicate. The fabric chafes against her skin as I rip them over her knees, tossing them out of my way.
Her black bikini doesn’t betray how wet I’m willing to bet she is, but I don’t need it to. All it takes is a tug on one string, then the other, and she’s exposed to me. Even as she tries to press her thighs together, I see that she’s glistening. My little vixen gets off on the anger, and that’s fine with me because I’m so frustrated with her that my choices are only to fuck her within an inch of her life or kill her.
This way is a lot more fun.
“You look a little wet.” I tell her, relishing the scarlet that blooms immediately on her cheeks, spreading across her chest, just above those gorgeous tits she’s hiding from me. I remedy that by gripping the neckline in my hands and tearing. She gasps in shock as it shreds down the middle, and then I cover her body with mine and tug on the knot behind her top, too.
When she spills out of the top, I think my cock is going to burst through my pants, but I force myself to wait as I climb on top of her, taking her wrist in one hand and threading the strings of her own bikini around them, securing her to the headboard with her arms raised, immobilized. The rise and fall of her chest betrays the brave face she’s trying to put on.
“Scared?” I taunt.
“No.” Her answer is immediate… too quick. I laugh, unbuckling my belt and wrenching it free in a single motion.
“I think you’re lying.” I croon, watching her chest rise a little faster as I crawl up her body, surveying every inch of what is displayed before me. The mostly healed cut on her chest is the only betrayal that not even two weeks ago, she was stolen from me and sold off like secondhand art. I hate that fucking scar, so I flip my eyes to hers.
I’m right in front of her, close enough to reach out and take what I want.
“Do you want me to be scared?” She challenges. Her bright eyes betray a hint of what she’s denying, but mostly they burn with anger and desire.
Yes.
And no.
I want her to run from me and never look back. I want her to have the good sense to realize that I won’t give her anything… all I can do is take. And I will take more than she should give. I will ruin her. But I’m scared too, of how much I want to ruin her. I’ve never been one to hurt people for fun, but I am so addicted to our toxic game of push and pull, so addicted to her, that I feel myself pushing boundaries I never even realized I set.
This isn’t me.
“I want you to have the sense not to help those who would hurt you. You fucking gave him your blood. And he would have taken every drop of yours if his daddy hadn’t had his own plans for you.”
“You like talking about him when your cock is pressing into my stomach?” She asks, her breath hitching as if she can’t believe she asked that. As if I needed another reminder that she’s woefully unprepared for the world she’s found herself in. She can’t even say dirty words without blushing, and I fucking love it.
“No.” I tell her honestly. “Not at all.”
“So, you should probably stop.” She hedges, her voice breathy. “Talking about him, I mean.”
I can’t help myself. I laugh, happy to oblige her. Our conversation is far from over, but right now, I have a more pressing issue at hand.
She treats my laugh like praise, glowing a little as it washes over her. I stand, ripping my shirt over my head and letting it fall to the ground. My pants come next, and my boxers along with them, so that when my cock springs free, she shifts a little in anticipation… or fear. “What do you want?” I ask, watching her eyes rake over me, still a little flushed, her lips parted like she needs just a little extra room to breathe.
“I want you.” Her throat bobs as she contemplates what else she has to say. And then she seems to think better of whatever thoughts are in her head, because she shakes her head. “I mean, I want you to fuck me.”
And who am I to deny her? I spread myself over her again, chuckling as she squirms under me even though her eyes don’t leave mine. She wants this, she’s asking for it, her body is practically begging. I swipe the pad of my thumb along her slit, testing my theory. She’s so wet, so silky smooth, that I groan in anticipation of how it’s going to feel when I push my cock into her. I’m going to go slow, making her desperate for every inch of me. I want her to burn for me.
“You sound so cute using bad words like you’re not the most innocent person I’ve ever met.” I slip a single finger inside her and swirl, enjoying the feel of her warm walls enveloping me, not too quick to pump it in and out of her.
“I’m not that innocent,” she snaps.
I decide to test that claim, slipping my coated thumb from her and gliding lower, pressing firmly on her asshole. I watch her face as I do it, see the way her eyes widen, her lips part like she’s thinking of telling me to stop, and a breath rolls through her, escaping as a moan. I also feel her tense under me, every part of her rigid. Even if she thinks she’s willing to try this, her body is afraid. She is innocent, no matter how much she tries to claim the opposite. “You’ve never been touched here,” I say, my words whispering over her full, pink lips.
It's not a question, but she answers anyway. “No…” Her breath hitches when the pressure increases, waiting to see if I take it further. “But I want to.”
My cock throbs at that admission, an ache that demands soothing. “You want to be touched here?” I ask, rolling my thumb in a slow circle that gently kneads the muscle. “I’m already touching you here.”
“I—” She looks frustrated, her eyes closing as she cants her head back. I’m not sure if she’s searching for patience or the words to finish that thought. “I want more. I want you… inside me.”
I didn’t expect that, but I love the way her cheeks burn. Her skin is so hot under mine, heated with the blood rushing through her veins, the heart that’s hammering beneath me. But her wetness has already dried on my finger, and now the friction of skin on skin is making that request a little hard to come by. “Are you sure?”
