“You’re going to have me committed before the end of the month,” Dexter mutters under his breath before he zooms down a side street so fast my head knocks into the window from the brash movement. “Come here.” Before I can obey him like I always will, he yanks me across the stitched leather seating, then pulls me onto his lap so my torso faces the steering wheel and my backside is nestled against his penis. “Hands on the steering wheel. Eyes on the road. If you take them off for a second, we’re dead. Understand?”
When I nod, he flattens his foot on the gas pedal. My heart rate accelerates as fast as our speed when we zip down the narrowed back road at a pace way too fast to be safe, yet nothing but excitement bursts through me. Dexter’s hands are no longer on the steering wheel. One is on my breast, and the other is creeping toward the area I covered with a pair of panties simply to soak up the little droplets of blood still trickling from both my vagina and the cut Dexter placed high in my thigh.
“I’d fuck you now while we race to hell…” He squeezes my breast firm enough for a squeak to pop from my lips when I snap my eyes to his. Only once I return them to the road does he go back to fondling them with only the littlest bit of pain. “But you’re too swollen to take me now, so I’m going to toy with your clit for a little bit and bite your neck. Then, once you’re drenched from multiple orgasms, I’ll stuff my cock inside yourealdeep. Will you like that, Megan? Do you want my cock inside you again?”
His hot breaths hit my neck when I rapidly bob my head. I’ve already been sentenced to hell, so I may as well have a good time until Satan arrives to collect me.
“Good. Now open your legs a little wider.”
As the needle on the speedometer edges toward the red zone, Dexter slithers his hand up my thigh. After scrubbing his thumb over the cut he inflicted earlier near the edge of my panties, he slips past the damp material then gently strokes his fingers over my labia.
“Eyes on the road,” he grinds out when they almost flutter shut in response to him slipping two of his fingers inside me. It felt too good not to respond, and the voices in my head were shouting too loud for my brain to follow any other prompt but theirs.
As trees whizz by at the speed of light, we bob and weave over numerous water-filled potholes, and Dexter pumps his fingers in and out of me in rhythm to the swaying movements of our borrowed ride. I want to say at a pace that drives me crazy, but since we already know I’m well past sane, I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.
As his thumb circles my clit, Dexter growls against my neck, “I want a mess on my pants. If there isn’t a mess, I’m going to hurt you until there is one. Do you understand me, Megan? I want a fucking mess.”
The slickness coating his hand soon overtakes the sloshy ground flicking up under the tires as we race into the blackened night. There’s as much wetness oozing from my vagina now as there was when Dexter had his head buried between my legs, but from the scent alone, I know no blood is intermingled with the wetness. It is all from the excitement cresting in the lower half of my stomach.
It feels dangerous.
Deranged.
Very much like Dexter.
It is so blinding, as the shake of my thighs reaches my lips, I loosen my grip on the steering wheel then sink deeper into Dexter’s body. I like being cocooned by him, but even more than that, I’m desperate to feel the rush of euphoria wash over me again, and I’m willing to die to achieve it.
What doesn’t kill me will only make me stronger. My mother taught me that, and my father ensured I understood what it meant before I was close to becoming a woman.
When Dexter drags some of the wetness from my vagina to my clit, my nipples harden as a shiver runs up my spine. I’m shaking all over and on the verge of falling off more than a cliff. My insanity isn’t in question. My sanity is.
As screams I’d give anything to release roll up my throat in silent roars, I fully let go of the steering wheel then surrender to the madness pulling me under.
“Yesss,” Dexter hisses into my ear before he sinks his teeth into my neck.
His bite returns my voice. No words come out, but the grunts and moans seeping from my lips can’t be denied. They’re as loud as the fireworks sparking before my eyes, and as rough as the callous on Dexter’s tongue when he licks up the droplets of blood his bite forced to leak from my skin.
I’m so overwhelmed by the sensation roaring through me not even the voices in my head can be heard. There’s no one but Dexter and me and his multiple pleas for me to turn the fucking steering wheel.
“Now,Megan!” he roars. “Turn the fucking steering wheel now!”
As I yank on the steering wheel to skid us around a bend in the road, Dexter hits my clit with three quick flicks. I shatter like glass on a concrete floor. A tsunami of tingles envelops me as the wave in my belly breaks. As we careen toward a large tree, I grunt and groan like I’m in the midst of being resurrected, but not once do I brace for impact.
My body is too consumed shaking through the most revitalizing experience it’s ever faced to worry about our imminent collision.
Unfortunately for me, I’ve only shook through half of the shudders making me squeal like a banshee by the time our sail off the road finds a mark.
When we hit the tree with enough force to launch me out of Dexter’s lap, blood gurgles in my throat, and the obvious crack of my ribcage whistles through my clenched teeth. I’d be out the windshield and sailing over the muddy grounds if Dexter’s grip on my waist wasn’t firm enough to mark. He holds me in place when the truck’s excessive speed is brought to an immediate halt by a massive tree trunk.
Our heads rock forward before they whiplash back with the same level of aggression.
Then despite the giggles roaring up my throat, everything goes black.
By the time I wake, the sky is once again dark, I’m sleeping on a makeshift bed on the floor, and the unusual scent of chlorine is filtering in the air.
As I slowly flutter open my eyes, I take a second whiff.
Or is it…
