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Fuck knows.
I hit her some more, and she moved with me, rocking those hips as she gasped. The endorphins flooded her—I could sense it. Gasps turned to moans, taking it. Wanting it.
She wanted it. Elaine Constantine wanted me to hurt her.
I forced her thighs apart and curled my fingers around to her pussy. Her clit was a toy in my grip. I twisted. It hurt to a whole different tune.
I wondered what it felt like.
I wondered what her ass felt like, already reddening in a beautiful shade.
“I know you like it,” I told her. “I know you’re a fucked-up little bitch who loves being fucked up.”
I turned her to face me, giving her no warning before I slapped her tits hard enough to make her bite her lip and whimper. I loved the way they pinked.
“The men who played with you, did they teach you to be a true little masochist?”
She didn’t answer, just stared.
“I asked you a question, Elaine,” I hissed, then slapped her tits some more. “The men who played with you, did they teach you to be a true masochist?”
“I’m not talking about it,” she whispered. “I don’t tell my secrets.”
Her disobedience got her some rough twists of her tits, so rough she cried out.
Under normal circumstances I’d have taken what I wanted and hurt her until she spat those secrets right out at me, but there was a strange desire in me. Something I hadn’t felt before.
I didn’t want her spitting them out at me when I was beating her so bad she couldn’t resist me. I wanted her whispering in the darkness with tears streaming down her cheeks, broken right down to the soul. I wanted her whispering her secrets like a good girl because she wanted to. Right to the core of her. Because she wanted to whisper them to me.
My brain was fucking me up, and I knew it. Sirens drown sailors for a fucking reason.
“You’ll pay for your denial,” I growled, and I meant it.
She knew it. She arched her back, presenting those perfect tits for more punishment.
She got it. Twists and slaps that had her eyes closed tight, struggling not to buckle and cry. Her struggling worked. She was a resilient little bitch.
I guess she’d learnt to be. I guess they taught her to be. The thought of men teaching her to be a resilient little bitch both enraged me and excited me in one, and always had done . . . only now the balance was shifting. Slowly, it was shifting. The rage was rising like venom behind my eyes and snuffing the excitement right out of me.
“Please, Lucian, will you just fuck me?” she asked. “Please, just fuck me.”
I forced her onto her knees so hard she cried out.
“I’ll fuck your impudent little mouth until you’re sick all over my cock,” I snarled. “I’ll fuck your throat until you’re nothing but a gasping little wreck on the floor.”
The little bitch opened wide for me.11ElaineI’ve never had much praise for being a good girl. My father was the best at it, but he was rarely around for me. My mother was tough and cold, always focusing on the naughty and not the well done. My sisters were better behaved than me and got the rewards, and I was the black sheep, always getting the frowns and the scowls.
I blamed myself for all the dirty attention I got from people in my world. Naughty girl they used to tell me, take your punishment. Maybe even from a young age, I believed them. Maybe they knew I would. Maybe, maybe, maybe. None of that mattered anymore.
I guess that’s why I got the bloom of pride inside me at seeing Lucian Morelli so impressed with my mouth around his cock. He might hate me, but he didn’t hate the way I flicked my tongue so perfectly up and down the length of him. His curses under his breath were anything but full of rage, and his fingers in my hair were desperate and not full of spite. Yes, I was proud. I was proud of being such a good girl at sucking dick.
My tits were still hurting, but there was a tenderness about them that lit me up all the way through my body. My ass was still smarting, but that didn’t make a difference to how good my clit was feeling as I stared up at the monster and how much he was enjoying my throat.
I should hate every single vein in his body, retching at the Morelli name as much as I was retching with his thrusts. But I wasn’t hating. I was tingling so hard I couldn’t stop it.
“Take it,” he growled, and I knew exactly what he wanted.
I opened my mouth nice and wide and stared up at him like an obedient little slut. Only this time he didn’t give me his come in my mouth. He wrenched my head back and spurted his load over my pinked-up tits, splattering them in a thick creamy fountain. He looked for long moments before casting me down onto my back.
