Page 69 of Depraved

Slipping his arms under my back, gripping my shoulders with his hands, he forced me down while he pushed so deep inside me it hurt. But the pleasure was still lingering, and I didn’t care about the pain anymore. The rush was too strong, and I no longer cared about anything but him and allowing him to consume me.

He groaned out loud, a guttural moan ripping from his throat as he came inside me. I could feel the thickness of his cock, the way it jerked as he climaxed. More proof that he had just staked his claim, marked me like no other man had before. It was in that moment I realized no matter what happened from here on out, I belonged to him now. A powerful man like him would never let go of something he owned so wholeheartedly. That something being me.

A few more seconds, and the frenzy of our fuckery started to dissipate. It was a high I couldn’t explain. There were no words to describe something that felt so euphoric, leaving me breathless and utterly spent. Every muscle in my body went from tight and taut to lax and limp. There was no other way to see it than he literally took everything from me. There was nothing left, my energy completely depleted.

With heavily hooded eyes, he looked down at me before he slowly pulled out. I winced, and it felt raw and achy between my legs. Now that the pleasure had subsided, the pain started to take its place.

Granite bucked to the side then looked down to where our bodies were one mere seconds ago. “Look, ballerina girl.” I lifted off the pillow and stared down at his wet, glistening cock, smears of crimson coating his length. “I told you the next time you kissed me, I wouldn’t walk away without making you bleed. And now,” he nestled back on top of me, brushing hair from my face with his fingers, “your virgin blood just sealed your fate. No man will ever have the pleasure of fucking you, ballerina girl. Only me. It will always only be me.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

GRANITE

Finally claiming her, knowing I was the first to explore that tight little pussy of hers, gave me a sense of satisfaction that could not be put into words. Did I care that I had to play dirty in order to get her to succumb? No.

No one knew my ballerina as well as I did, and all she needed was a little nudge to finally realize this was what she wanted as well. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t have come undone under my touch so easily. Pleasure was plastered on her face with every drop of sweat that beaded on her skin. And the way her walls throbbed around my dick as she orgasmed, it was all the proof I fucking needed. All those nights of watching her from afar, thinking about her, desiring her, longing to make her mine, it all came down to this fucking moment. The moment when my entire world shifted, and she became the biggest part of it.

Bemused and vivid, her sapphire blue eyes showed me her inner struggle, how her mind tried to convince her body not to find pleasure in my touch. It had to have been torture for her, fighting something that couldn’t be changed. And her being mine wasn’t something she could change, no matter how hard she tried. I wasn’t a man who believed in fate, but she was the closest I came to believing that maybe we didn’t have control over our own lives after all.

I looked down at her body beneath me. Her tits weren’t even close to the size of the palm of my hand, but her nipples were the most beautiful rosy pink. Delicate and fucking perfect. Pale white skin barely touched by sunlight was coated with a sheen of sweat—flawless, picturesque. Mine.

“You okay?”

Her slight nod made it obvious the war was still raging inside that pretty head of hers. She still wasn’t convinced this was right. That what we had just done was meant to happen. Well, I just had to convince her.

Getting off her, leaving this bed, wasn’t something I wanted to do. I was a selfish prick, and I wanted to fuck her again. And again. And again. She was mine. I owned her. But part of owning her was taking care of her.

Reluctantly, I got up and noticed the way she watched me. The wheels in her head were turning in every direction. She had to be confused as fuck right now, this being her first time and probably not what she expected it to be. Every girl dreamed of her first time being in a room scattered with rose petals, a fucking angel choir singing in the background while Prince Charming slowly and tenderly made love to her like she was a goddamn porcelain doll who could break.

Not me. I was no fucking Prince Charming. And this wasn’t a fairy tale. She needed to learn right off the bat that the world she came from and the world she was currently in could not be compared. In this world, nothing was what anyone expected. Learning the concept of “adapt or die” was something we needed to grasp early on in our lives. She needed to do the same, as this was her new world now.

I opened the closet doors which led to the mini bathroom, grabbed a towel, and placed it in the sink while running some hot water.

When I sat back down on the mattress, she sniffed, tears softly rolling down her cheeks. My sad, pretty ballerina.

I untied her legs, rubbing around her ankles where the ropes left their marks. “Turn on your side.”

Without hesitating, she did as she was told, turning her back to me. I’d never done this before, never taken care of a woman after sex, cleaning her. But she wasn’t just any woman. “Lift your leg.”

She did, and I softly placed the towel between her legs, gently cleaning her, careful not to hurt her further. “You’ll be sore for a while. But your body will get used to it…to me.”

“You plan on having sex with me again?”

“What kind of question is that?”

She glanced at me over her shoulder. “Isn’t that what you guys do? See women as conquests, and after you’ve had them, you toss them away?”

I pulled the towel from between her legs and grabbed her hip, forcing her on her back, and pinning her arms above her head.

“Listen to me very carefully.” I made sure she looked me in the eye. “If you think this was just a onetime fuck, think again. I’ve waited too fucking long for you, and now that I have you, not even the devil himself can take you from me.” I let go of one hand, softly tracing a finger around the contour of her face. “I plan on fucking you every day for the rest of my goddamn life. What don’t you understand when I say I own you?”

“You’ll grow tired of me.”

“Not a chance.”

“I’m not like the other girls. I’m not beautiful. I don’t have big breasts or a firm, round ass.”

“Stop.”