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Same goes for me, I thought bitterly. Only difference was, I was going to fight the motherfucker to the ground. She couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. Same difference.
I rolled the condom on, feeling the familiar appreciative twitch of my cock. I stood on my knees, between her legs, then slapped and stroked my sheathed cock while fingering her. She moaned, watching me.
“I liked it when you bit my nipple hard,” she said. I ignored her, pulling my fingers out and coating her pussy with her arousal.
“You make me feel deranged with need,” she whimpered, just as I slapped her pussy for the first time. It made her body stutter and stir, and she let out a little yelp I stifled by shoving my wet fingers into her mouth.
“Shhh,” I said. “You said you like it. Show me how much.”
She sucked my fingers clean, and I cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer as I slid into her without warning. No different than any other woman I’d slept with before. Just the same, I convinced myself. Just the fucking same.
So fucking wet.
I thrust once, twice, three times, without asking whether it felt okay or any consideration, like I’d done with other women.
But hell if she felt like any other woman.
Edie moved underneath me, slow at the beginning, catching up with my pace. She grunted every time I entered her, scratching my back as I slid one of her calves against my shoulder and slammed deeper into her. She was tight and small, but the smile she gave showed me she enjoyed this agony the way I did.
Every time I felt this surge in my chest, I thrust harder, faster, more violently, trying to shake off the feeling that accompanied my tingling balls and tight muscles. She, in return, scratched harder, drawing blood from me, screaming my name into a pillow she flung over her face.
I rode her.
But she rode me, too.
“I’m close, I’m close, I’m close,” she chanted, and this was my cue to flip her onto her stomach, enter her from behind, and press her head against the pillow.
“I want to hurt you,” I said, because that’s what I always said, because that’s what I always felt. But I didn’t feel it now. I was on autopilot. Like people say they’re hungry at noon sharp just to get the fuck out of the office and take their lunch break.
“Then do,” she moaned into the pillow, completely pliable, and she fucking came, clutching my dick and shuddering like she was having a seizure. “Hurt me, Trent. I love your wrath on my skin.”
I wrapped her long hair around my fist and pulled hard, making her arch her back when she was on all fours. Her ass was round and white against her obvious tan lines. I slapped it.
At first cautiously, getting the feel of it, and when she moaned and clenched around me, barely making it possible for me to slide out and then back in, I slapped harder.
But I wasn’t feeling it. The need to inflict pain on her.
“Harder,” she groaned.
I slapped her ass harder, and the thwack! hung in the air. A red mark formed around her right cheek. I loved it. I hated that I loved it. What the fuck was wrong with me?
“Harder,” she yelped.
And I did, hating that my dick was so swollen and ready to explode to the pained sounds she was making. She confused me. I’d never felt guilty about the things I wanted. I did now.
“Harder.”
“No.”
“Trent.”
“No.”
“I need it.”
“You’ve had enough for one day, Edie. Your cum is all over my dick. I can eat you out if you want another orgasm.” Was I bargaining with her mid-fuck? That was a first. And a last. This chick wasn’t running the show, no matter how hard I wanted her tight pink pussy to milk my cock.
“If you won’t, Bane will.” I heard the smile in her voice but couldn’t see it. Fuck it. She’d asked for it.
Thwack!
We came together like a storm. Her grip on my cock tightened as my thrusts became erratic, jerking before I found my release. I swear I came enough to fill up a bucket in that condom. Shit, it felt good.
I pulled out immediately, rolling off of her and sauntering to the bathroom to dispose of the condom. I didn’t look back to see her when I washed the cum from my dick, watching it shrinking tiredly above the sink. I let her have my back, knowing if she caught my expression through the bathroom mirror, she’d flash a victory grin.
I made a note to never take the flash drive from my safe.
She was starting to feel a lot like an addiction. Couple more fucks like this, and I didn’t trust my fucked-up self not to hand it over willingly.
I WAS SIX WHEN I first realized there was something seriously wrong with my father. Way before the whole thing with Theo happened. It was a rare fall afternoon when Jordan had come home on time and my mother was “cooking” dinner in the kitchen. Or that’s what she’d called downing a bottle of wine while staring at the circling plate in the microwave warming up our meal.
