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She’s just a vessel. A Bishop. Something to fuck. To use. A means to an end.
But those aren’t the thoughts I’m thinking as I hold her tight and thrust into her.
“What… I…” she stutters.
My next thrust cuts off her words and her hands come to my shoulders, gripping tight to me.
“You’re getting wet, Isabelle,” I tell her with a smirk and another hard thrust that makes her head bounce on her neck. “Don’t tell me you like my dick inside you.” Another thrust, and her breath catches. I lean her back, using the stone to hold her upright and fist a handful of hair with my free hand. I tug her head back and watch as I fuck her. I listen to her pants as her eyes go darker and her cheeks flush with blood. Her mouth is open, lips glistening as her pussy tightens around my cock, gripping it, dripping around it.
“You have to… Stop…” she gasps, words cut off as she takes my thrusts.
“Say my name. Say it when you come.”
“I hate you,” she tries as her eyes close, and I feel her squeeze around me.
“Say it!”
Her eyelids fly open. She’s coming and fuck, I’m getting harder watching her.
“I hate you, Jericho St. James,” she tells me as her head drops back into my hand which isn’t a fist anymore. When her pussy next squeezes my dick and she cries out, I come. I come so fucking hard that for a minute all I see are her eyes, her open mouth, her face. The rest of the world is a blur as I release, empty inside her, an ecstasy I can’t remember ever feeling before this. Before her.
And when it’s done, when it’s over, her legs dangle, arms barely holding on to me as I step back, carrying her with me. When I pull out of her, I feel the gush of come spill down her thighs. Her feet touch the ground, but her knees buckle, and I have to hold her up.
We stay like this for a minute just looking at each other. Each watching the other.
Enemies.
Lovers.
But that word, it draws my rage to a sharp, dangerous point.
No. Not lovers. Never lovers. It is a betrayal to my own name to ever think of her as lover.
I push her to her knees. She drops easily enough. I grip a handful of hair and she whines but hasn’t the strength to pull me off.
“Clean me,” I tell her.
She just looks up at me and I tighten my hold on her.
“With your mouth. Clean my dick while my come runs out of your pussy and onto your ancestors grave.”
She closes her mouth, pushes against my thighs.
I bend closer to her, force her head back. “Do it or I’ll bend you over and show you what a lashing from my belt feels like. It’s what I should have done the other night. Clearly I’ve been too easy on you.”
She blinks, wipes the back of her hand across her eyes.
“Do it, Isabelle.”
“I hate you.”
“I could give a fuck.” I grin as I straighten. “You bite and I’ll whip your ass. Am I clear?”
“Fuck you.”
“Am I fucking clear?”
“Yes!”
