And in that beat where nothing happened, something shifted. Fate was playing a silly game with us.
Her smile was wicked when she realized, and she didn’t turn away from me as she reached across her body and took the gun from me. I let it go, willing and shocked. Three for three.
“Shit!” I shouted as I came, writhing and slamming my way through it, filling her ass with my cum, pushing it all as deep as it would go as she cried out and grasped me, not pointing the gun as I rode through one of the most intense orgasms of my life.
I collapsed on her after, and, shit, she wrapped her arms around me and stroked my hair. Cupped myhead as I breathed into her shoulder, my cock softening inside her.
“We could just stay like this,” she whispered. “Stay like this forever.”
Twenty-Nine
Penny
Adrian didn’t speak; he just laid on me, his cock stretching my ass out, my body twisted up underneath him. His cock softened with every passing minute, but remained buried in me, crushing both inside and out. I ached where he’d driven into me over and over, but it was the good kind, where I wanted more, where my body was used and abused in the best way.
He’d come so hard his entire face had contorted, his muscles turning into an elastic band about to snap, and now he was jelly, soft and warm. It was a stunning sight, one worth staying alive for.
Like this, I could just pretend we were still in the prison, where, shockingly, things had been easier, less toxic.Boundaries clear and limits only tested, not crossed.
I played with the gun in my grasp, not sure of how many bullets it contained, while I waited for him to revive. But we were three down.
As soon as he remembered how to be an alive human, we would be right back at this game.
“Adrian,” I sighed, running my fingers through his sweaty hair. “It’s my turn, and killing you while you’re crushing me won’t end well for me either.”
He laughed, actually laughed, and lifted himself up, working those thick arm muscles to hover above me. There was… tenderness there, I think. Didn’t know what that looked like from a man. Not when it was real. I doubted this was real either.
The softness I thought I’d seen from him in the prison was a lie; this was nothing like it. For a moment, I think I saw the real him, what this could be if we’d met in normal circumstances. It was wrong, weird. It made him sick too, and that affection blinkered away as he realized the same as me – that we were drifting too far from what we had to be.
Post-orgasm clarity struck him, and he sat up, not letting my legs fall to the bed yet. Fuck, my thighs ached, my ass throbbed. He stared at where he’dfucked me, my body all puffy and abused, and looked so damn satisfied with himself.
With slow movements, I pointed the gun at him. He tipped his head to the side, so dark and wicked, so many thoughts behind those pretty, moody eyes, and lowered himself down, ignoring the point of death as he slipped down the bed.
Without taking his eyes off me, he swiped his tongue through my spent hole. “I want you to die with my cum on your tongue,” he told me, sucking, probing deep inside me, pushing and searching. It was soothing, delicious, caused shivers over my skin.
He groaned when there was a gush when I pushed and his cum flooded out of me. Fuck, it felt good, soothing. His eyes rolled as he ate me, swirling that violent tongue of his inside my ass, searching for all of himself he could.
When he sat up, I fired the gun. Nothing. A click. His nostrils flared, and he looked at the tip of the barrel for one angry second before coming back to me. With his mouth full, he let my legs drop, at fucking last, and pressed his nose to mine.
I knew what he wanted. I opened my mouth. Our lips brushed as he opened his too and spat his cum onto my tongue. All of it, every heady drop, into my waiting mouth. It coated my teeth, my throat, but I didn’t swallow.
I understood this man now: his kinks, what made him burn with desire. “Kiss me, Darling,” I murmured, trying not to choke.
His nostrils flared again, but a second later, he slammed his mouth to mine, kissing me so hard our teeth bashed together and our noses smashed, cartilage grinding. I cried out, grabbed him, let him consume me as we passed his cum back and forth between us until it was all gone, until only spit and aching, awful desire remained.
His tongue warred with mine, his hand flying to my jaw to hold me still. I let him devour, digest, wipe me away and replace me with who he wished I was.
And when my body relaxed, and his wrapped around me, I grabbed the gun and pointed it at his head, firing just once, once more, into his temple.
He froze. His lips on mine but unmoving. His eyes opened, narrowed, and moving slow, like a damnpanther, he unwrapped himself from me and sat up on his haunches.
“You’re a dirty cheater,” he accused, taking the weapon from me.
That was number five. How many were left? They were all for me, I was sure.
But he only stared at me, pointing the gun at my heart. He leaned on it, leaving a deep indentation in my chest, making it feel like it was going to cave in with the pressure.
I didn’t squirm, didn’t fight him, even when my chest wanted to squeeze and I had the urge to splutter and kick him off.
