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When he has stripped me bare, his mouth opens and that wicked, monstrous tongue unfurls around me, wraps about me, finds the little erogenous zones on my neck, right beneath my ear, and then flicks away to tease at the underside of my nipple, then once again down my stomach to brush ever so lightly against my clit. He is playing my body with his tongue, tasting me, teasing me. The feeling is powerful and yet soft.
He makes me come three times before he pushes that monster cock inside me, slowly this time, drawing out the act of penetration, making me feel every strange inch. I lie beneath him, submissive to his dominant desire, absolutely wrapped up in my own sexual need.
Justice is fucking good in bed. He knows when to go slow and when to go hard. He knows how to make a soft little flick of his tongue against my clit so I can take another inch of that fucking huge cock. I am whimpering to myself, feeling that borderline sensation between pleasure and pain. Being with him hurts, but it hurts good.
“You’re mine,” he says, stopping with his cock deep inside me. “This mating means something to me. It is my claim over you. I have drunk the nectar of your need. I have filled you with my seed. You are not a passing fancy. I want you as my mate.”
“I…” I don’t get a chance to respond because he has started to thrust, and every surging stroke of his cock deep inside me chases the thoughts and linguistic capabilities that once accompanied them right out of my head. He is fucking my brains out, using that tongue of his not only to tease my clit, but soaking it in the juices between us. He makes me so fucking wet, something he seems to be doing by design.
He pulls his cock free and turns me over, all four hands gripping me firmly as he lifts my ass up toward him and he proceeds to lick and drink my arousal from the lips of my pussy. I am like a sexual flower to him, a source of sustenance.
“I never know whether to spank you, fuck you, or feed on you,” he purrs against my sex. His tongue has coiled up inside his mouth again and his lips are on my pussy. He uses the coil inside me, penetrating my body, soaking himself in my juices.
“Just fuck me. I’m a good girl,” I moan, desperate for that thick cock to return once more.
“You are no such thing,” he says, slapping my ass. “You make me want to thrash you every time I talk to you, with your sass and your arrogance. You deserve to be put over my knee and spanked long and hard, but I cannot resist this…”
He lowers me back down to his cock and thrusts it up inside me, filling my dripping sex in one dominant thrust. “This cunt of mine,” he growls in my ear. “This tight human hole that I have claimed for my own. You will give it to me when I desire it. You will bare your flesh for me, and I will use you as I see fit.”
Every one of those words is accompanied by a slow, pumping thrust. One of his hands has moved around to cup my pussy from the front. He holds me there and has me grind my clit against his powerful hand as his cock stretches me over and over.
Justice’s lovemaking is powerful and dominant. He makes no apologies for it. He makes me feel soft and tender and cared for in the most carnal of ways. He wants me to come. He spanks my pussy lightly, dick deep inside me.
“Show me another one of those pretty little orgasms,” he growls, tapping my pussy and my clit at the same time. “Don’t make me spank this sweet little cunt too hard. You don’t want to be too sore, do you?”
I am arched against him, my cunt gripping his cock as he spank-fucks me to a twisted orgasm, firm fingers rubbing and slapping my pussy until I start to gasp and squeal from the sensation. Orgasms, plural, are rolling through me, but one, two, three, they are not enough. He spanks my pussy like I am his naughty girl who deserve to have her pussy punished and filled.
“Fuck,” he growls, uttering a rare curse as my inner walls grip him tighter and tighter, and finally he cannot resist the call of my writhing cunt on his cock. He pulls me down firmly on his dick and comes inside me in hard thrusting spurts.
He pulls free from me and lets it spill from me, my stretched pussy relinquishing all that cum in a hot flow over my aching, stinging, sore sex.
“This is going to hurt in the morning,” I mumble.
“Good,” he purrs back. “I like you sore and submissive.”
I’d tell him to fuck off, but I’m too sleepy, at least at first.
* * *
Sometime in the middle of the night, I find myself lying in his arms on his bed roll, feeling like a terrible detective. Somewhere out there, a furiously betrayed murderer is once more preying on the world at large, and I am hiding in bed with a man — or something close enough to a man — because I want pleasure and safety. When the hell did I start to want either of those things?
We’ve left Rage to rampage through the city unchecked. I have to hope that he has not done any damage to an innocent citizen.
“What are you doing?” He reaches around my hip and cups my pussy, as if reminding me there will be pain if I give him trouble.
“What now? The FBI will be taking over the case any day now, and…”
“Stop,” he says, his voice deep and resonant.
“Stop?”
“It doesn’t matter what happens out there. We are trying, but we cannot do what cannot be done.”
That feels like a tautology, but okay.
“I need to keep you safe,” he says simply, patting my aching pussy. “The rest of the city can take care of itself for one night. Get some rest. You’re exhausted.”
He is not wrong. The adrenaline from being used as bait has metabolized into other things, pleasure among them. I have had orgasms ripped from me in healing tsunamis. Now I want nothing more than to lie my head against the powerful thorax of the mothman who has claimed me, close my eyes, and get some sleep.
