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All I give a fuck about is the feel of her shaking in my arms, her tongue tentatively taking licks of mine, even when she can’t keep up with my pace and her whimpers grow in volume.
“Ugh…” She tries to pull back, her glasses fogging up. “Knox…d-do something.”
“Something?”
“Anything…” Her voice is breathy, low, and so aroused that I feel it through her chest where I’m pinching her taut, throbbing nipples.
“It’s not going to be anything, it’s going to be filthy and raw. I’ll take your cunt on the floor, and I’m going to fuck it rough, fuck it right, until all you can do is scream.”
“O-okay…” Her voice is barely a whisper, or maybe it’s a whimper, but it’s all the confirmation I need.
Releasing one of her nipples, I pluck off the glasses and throw them away. Her eyes, her fake brown eyes are drooped and barely open. But she’s looking at me. Like in the office earlier, she’s only looking at me. As if I’m the only one who exists in the world.
As if I’m the only one she can look at.
Part of me wants to reach out and bring out her actual eyes, the real ones that I have memorized deep in my soul. But the most logical part wins, the part that shouldn’t care which eyes are genuine. I don’t like them in the first place.
Eyes.
They’re the part of the face that hold the most contempt. They’re what T and I tried to escape and still couldn’t, not even after we ran away.
So I grab Anastasia by the hip and flip her onto her stomach. She gasps, the sound echoing in the small flat as her head lifts, probably to look at me, but I grab her by the nape and pin her to the ground. “Stay like that.”
Her harsh breathing is audible and I feel her stiffening beneath me, but soon after, she relaxes, her cheek resting on the floor.
As if my callous, violent treatment is normal and she accepts it.
As if…she trusts me.
Bloody hell.
Why the fuck would she trust me when I promised to hurt her? I sensed that she was a masochist that first night, but is this even still under that category?
Despite myself, though, a small nook inside me rejoices at that fact, at how she trusts me enough to let go when she’s not the type to.
When she’s clearly hiding so much shit and being a little liar.
My fingers latch onto her underwear, pulling them down, and she opens her legs, letting me settle between them as if I always belonged here. Between her fucking legs.
I throw the underwear away and my hand finds her soaking folds. “Hmm. So fucking wet. Did the promise of rough sex turn you on, beautiful?”
She doesn’t say anything, but I get my answer when her juices coat my fingers and drip between her thighs.
“Tell me you got on some sort of birth control today.”
“I’m on the shot.”
“Thank fuck.”
“You’re not…going to use a condom?” She tries to twist her head back, but I hold it forward.
“Now that I’ve felt your cunt bare, I’m not going back to using a barrier.”
I grab her wrists and lock them at the small of her back, then use them and my hold on her nape as leverage as I thrust into her tight heat in one ruthless go.
Fuck.
I came here with the promise of violence, revenge even, but the moment her walls clench around me, it’s like I’ve reached a different level of existence.
