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He buried his cock deeper and deeper inside me, fucking me harder the louder I moaned while staring into my eyes. I knew he wanted me to understand this was his way of staking a final claim. He wanted me to feel his possession, and I did. I felt him, everywhere. Not just between my legs.
His solid body dwarfed mine, every time his muscles flexed I felt them beneath my fingertips, breathing him in with every little gasp. His stare reached a private space inside me I never let anyone into.
“Fuck, princess,” he suddenly growled, planting himself impossibly deeper and wrapping a hand around my throat.
The mattress began to creek beneath us. Sweat-slicked skin smacked against sweat-slicked skin.
I called his name trying to run from the brutal way he was pounding into me, the intensity and fullness were too much.
His grip grew tighter around my neck. It felt like he was truly trying to rip me apart. Pain was a close companion to pleasure, both fighting for precedent.
The metal bar began hitting a sweet spot, and suddenly I was working with him, gripping him tighter to keep hitting that same place inside me. My pussy flooded with arousal, drenching his cock so thoroughly a squelching sound filled the air with every thrust he made.
“Remember what I told you last night?” he questioned, his grip tightened more, restricting my airflow.
I croaked out a reply that was undecipherable. I was climbing rapidly, unrecognizable sounds pouring from my chest.
“I can feel it. I can feel you. Come for me, princess. Come all over my dick,” he rasped in a guttural tone.
As if his words were the permission I needed, the climax hit strong, he dug his fingers into my throat and captured my continuous moans in his mouth as I shattered apart around him, dragging my nails down his back.
Specs of white invaded my vision as he continued to drill me into the mattress, not letting my throat go until his release was over.
When his dick swelled, he didn’t pull out; he emptied himself inside me with a satisfied curse and rough, even thrusts.
We stayed joined together, him barely out a breath, watching me struggle to catch mine as he slowly removed his hand from my throat.
When he pulled out, I glanced between us, seeing my juices and blood all over his cock. My eyes met his; I licked my lips and swallowed.
He ran a gentle finger up and down my swollen slit, pushing me into another small orbit of pleasure that had me shuddering beneath him as a primal look washed over his face.
My demise stared back at me from within his napalm eyes.
TRES
Traditus
Amant similes diabolis
Chapter Sixteen
Sedecim
I pulled my shorts on with a wince.
Adding my tank top and boots was more of the same.
It was naïve of me to think once was going to be enough. When we started the sun was pushing away the gloom in the sky, now it was setting again.
He alternated between fucking me with his cock or his tongue, breaking long enough to feed me and let me take a quick nap.
I felt as if I’d been hit by a truck. My body looked as if it’d been tossed into a meat grinder. There was an imprint of a hand on my throat that I tried to cover by pulling my hair over my shoulders.
My lips were still puffy. Bruising was beneath the denim of my shorts, also in the shape of a hand. I was concerned my pussy was too swollen; my labia looked like two fat pillows.
Zane showed back up again as I was brushing out my hair, clean and freshly dressed.
“No,” I croaked, my voice hoarse and raw.
