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One of his hands lifted from my waist to cup my face, and I flinched away from him, staring at his hands in horror. His hands were covered in blood, no matter how much he scrubbed them clean.
“You are mine,” he grunted, shifting my hands so that my nails released some pressure from the skin of his chest. The angry red indents drew my eyes in, and I momentarily regretted that I’d hurt him, but I found that I liked seeing my marks on his skin. I hated that he’d turned me into such a bloodthirsty woman that I wanted him to bleed.
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But he didn’t seem bothered by it either.
“I am not!” I yelled in his face.
“You are, just like I’m yours. No other woman will ever get near my cock, Sunshine. Only you.”
“You think I give the first shit about other women now?! You’re a murderer! The only thing I want to do with your cock is cut it off,” I growled at him, and his face twisted into a triumphant smirk for a moment.
Then his lips crashed down on mine, thrusting his tongue into my mouth to cut off my protest. I hesitated only a second before I bit it sharply, and he drew back with a grin as he reached up to touch his mouth. “Do not fucking touch me,” I warned him, wincing when the hand on my cheek moved to slide into my hair and grab a fistful.
Yanking my head back, he ran his teeth over the column of my throat. “I am done waiting. I’m going to take it all, Tesoro. And you’re going to give it to me,” he warned as he nipped at the delicate skin there. When his eyes met mine as his lips touched mine gently, they blazed like blue flames that I knew I would never escape.
He’d set me on fire and burn me alive.
I moaned when his teeth sank into my bottom lip, feeling like every nip of his teeth on me chipped away further at my defenses until he could meld his soul with mine. Like there would be no stopping him once he got what he wanted, like he really would take it all until I had nothing left. “Stop,” I hissed, the sound muffled without being able to move my bottom lip with the way his teeth held it like the beast he was.
“No,” he answered as he finally released my lip that felt swollen and bruised from his onslaught. “You don’t want me to stop. You don’t have to be ashamed of wanting me, of wanting all the things I’m going to do to you.”
I moaned again when his tongue stroked inside my mouth teasingly. The moment his pillow lips sealed over mine, I was done for. My arms abandoned the flesh of his chest, reaching up to wrap around his neck as his hand slid down to my ass and he lifted me into his arms. I squeaked into his mouth, making him groan into mine. The hand in my hair abandoned it, sliding down to my thighs and jerking my dress up as he pressed me into the wall.
I didn’t care about the way the bricks bit into the flesh of my back or the way my hair snagged on the ragged grooves. Not when his hand grabbed the strap of my panties and tore the fabric away from my pussy. His hand slid between my thighs, dragging a finger through my slit and sliding it inside me. At that first contact, the first touch of him against the most sensitive part of me, I didn’t know if he groaned louder than I moaned, but I could hear the glide of him through me. I was too wet and shame crept in.
It disappeared when he pulled his finger free from me, and his hand went to jerking down his sweatpants. The blunt head of his cock touched me, the cool bite of metal tickled my skin as he lined himself up and slid himself against me. Through me. His mouth never left mine, kissing me mindlessly in a tangle of his tongue that I knew he would mimic with his cock if I didn’t stop him.
I should have stopped him. Should have thought with my head and not the ridiculous need that he built in my center with every glide.
If I’d known how much it would hurt when he notched his head at my entrance and drove forward, I probably would have stopped him.
He split me open, taking me with hard pumps as he forced me to stretch around him. I cried into his mouth, and he pulled back to look down at me. “Too much,” I whimpered, and I shoved a hand between us to touch his stomach and get him to wait.
He just needed to wait. It had been too long.
With the way our bodies pressed together and the way he used his own to support my body weight, I couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see the blunt instrument he tried to shove inside me. He waited just a minute before his forehead pinched and he shoved forward in a hard drive that made me see stars. “Fuck!” I screamed.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured as he stilled. His hands kneaded the flesh of my ass while he waited for me to adjust. It was too full, too much. I both wanted him out and never wanted him to leave. Kissing the side of my throat, he rebuilt the heat inside of me until my hips moved against him of their own volition.
Only then did he move, drawing his hips away from me in a glide that felt like it lasted forever. When he slid back inside me, the metal of his piercing rubbed against the rear wall of my pussy and made me toss my head back on a gasp. His cock nudged the end of me, and then he withdrew again. I clung to him, wrapping my arms around his neck and holding on for my dear life. Being impaled on him felt too vulnerable, felt like I might fall to the floor and split myself in two. He seemed to sense my nervousness, so he hauled me away from the wall with a growl and made for the bed on the other side of the room. He kept me suspended in his arms, never sliding out of me as he crawled on his hands and knees to the center of the bed. As soon as he’d laid me out gently, he covered my body with his, shoved one of my knees up high and fucked me. Hard.
“Oh God,” I cried, and he silenced my pleas with his mouth on mine and his teeth sinking into my bottom lip.
I stretched an arm around him, digging my nails into the globe of his ass, and tugging him tighter to me. He growled, driving deeper and harder so that every thrust shoved him to the end of me with a sharp strike of pain that somehow felt addictive.
“Fucking shit,” he growled, his voice both menacing and somehow addictive. To watch him lose control, to know that I had that power over him, that was something I’d never had before.
It drove me higher and higher. Closer to the first orgasm I’d have since he trapped me in his house. Those massive hands of his tore my dress down the center, exposing my heaving breasts to his gaze. I’d never been more grateful for front clasp bras until the moment when he twisted the snap free and his finger grabbed onto my nipple. His eyes never left my face, never so much as glanced down at my breasts, as they blazed into mine.
“Tell me you’re mine,” he growled, and his fingertips glided down my stomach to touch my clit. His eyes followed the motion finally, abandoning my face to watch where he slid in and out of me with fierce snaps of his hips.
“Fuck you,” I whispered in defiance.
“I believe we’ve got that covered.” He shoved forward harshly, touching his finger to my clit as the head of him slammed into me. “Say it and you can come.”
“Ryker!” I cried, inching away from the relentless assault of him as he pounded through my sensitive flesh. His fingers at my clit tormented me, built me higher and higher until I felt frantic with the need to come. I hated him for his control, for the calm way he worked me over until I’d have promised him my soul for an orgasm. “Please,” I begged.
