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“Do you like it?” I whisper, looking up at him, and he nods. I don’t want to tell him it was forced, that Javier made me do it, that he beat me because I tried to refuse. If this can make it into something good—so much the better.
“I like your pussy any way I can have it,” Niall murmurs, his voice roughening again, his accent thicker than before as his desire grows. “But like this, bare and pink and wet for me—” He traces his finger up the seam of my folds, sliding it over the wet skin, and I moan, opening my thighs even more.
“I want you,” I whisper. “I don’t care if I’m sore, if it hurts a little. Please, Niall.”
He pushes his fingers between my folds, sliding them inside of me, and I clench around him instantly. He groans, his cock lurching, so stiff that it’s nearly pressed to his belly. “I don’t know if I could stop,” he admits, thrusting his fingers deeper, his thumb finding my clit, and every bit of pent-up desire inside of me explodes at that moment.
“Niall!” I cry out his name, my entire body shuddering as I grab at the blanket, gripping it in my fists as I buck and writhe on the bed, clenching around his fingers, grinding onto his hand as I come hard, wanting as much of him inside of me as I can have. “Oh god, Niall—”
“Fuck, lass, I need you now.” He jerks his fingers out of me, holding my thighs open with one hand as he leans over me, my pussy still clenching and fluttering from my orgasm as he pushes the head inside. “Oh fuck, that’s so fucking good—fuck, you’re so tight.”
The feeling of him pushing himself inside me almost desperately, shoving his cock inch by inch into my spasming pussy, sets off another orgasm. I cry out, arching under him, the pain in my stiff and sore body only heightening my awareness of the pleasure spiraling through me. I want to wrap my legs around him, pull him deeper, closer, but I don’t want to hurt him. Instead, I lie there, splayed out and helpless under the onslaught of his cock, taking every inch as Niall throws his head back in pleasure and groans.
“Oh god, Isabella, I’m not going to last—”
Tears well in my eyes as I hear him say my name, my real name, for the first time in bed. His hands clench in the pillows on either side of my head, his hips thrusting erratically against me as he bends down, his forehead pressed against mine, his black hair falling over his face.
“I touched myself thinking about you, Isabella,” he groans, his lips very close to mine. “I tried not to. I was so fucking pissed at you, but I stroked my fucking cock anyway, imagining this. Me, so deep in your pussy that I think I could stay there forever, filling you up, making you mine. My fucking pussy,” Niall growls, thrusting again, so deep and hard that I can feel him in my very core, and then his mouth is crushed against mine, hard.
I feel it when he comes, his cock swollen and throbbing, the heat of his cum spurting into me as he groans against my mouth, shuddering. His back arches, hands clawed in the pillows, his moans a mixture of pain and pleasure as his abused body tightens and spasms, the need to fuck me stronger than the pain of his injuries. Niall thrusts again, his cock as deep inside of me as he can go, his mouth claiming mine as he presses himself against me, as close as two people can possibly be. I can feel myself tightening around him, his orgasm bringing on an echo of my own. I close my eyes against the tears that threaten to fall as I feel the weight of his body pressing the topaz gemstone against my chest, biting the skin there as he rocks inside of me once more.
“Fuck,” he groans as he slides out of me, my body shuddering and tightening as if to keep him there, and he rolls onto his back. I can see a hint of blood on the bandages where the effort of it reopened some of his cuts, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
I want to reach for him, to hold him, to feel his arms go around me. “Every night we were together,” I whisper softly, the words filling the air between us, “I wanted to stay with you instead of leaving. I’m sorry that when it finally happened, it was like this.”
Niall doesn’t say anything. When I look over at him, I see his eyes are closed, and I realize he must have already fallen asleep, exhausted from the day and the sex. I lay there, feeling the warmth of his cum on my thighs, the pleasant soreness between them, and close my eyes too. The bed is so small that I can feel him pressed against my side, his arm brushing mine, his hip brushing mine, his calf. I’ve never laid in bed with a man before like this, never fallen asleep next to someone. It feels like an intimacy deeper than what we just did, even. I fight back the tears as I lay there in the darkness, wishing that it didn’t seem as if there was an ocean of space between us despite the fact that we were touching.
Sleep doesn’t come as easily for me, but eventually, it does. And for the first time in weeks, I don’t dream.
