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"Good," he rasped, his eyes rolling back from the sheer force of the pleasure. "That means you'll remember it. You'll remember me owning every part of you."
He'd never imagined Ianora's ass could be tighter than her virgin pussy, butdamn, if he'd been wrong. Every part of her was magnificent. Worthy of worship.
Ianora quickly succumbed to pleasure once more, her body moving on its own accord to match his thrusts. He pounded her until she was moaning and crying out in pleasure despite herself—Castor’s orgasm built inside him, hot and twisted from being held back for so long.
He grabbed a fistful of Ianora's hair, yanking her back into him. She squeezed tighter around his cock, crying out as he burst. Fire raged inside him, pouring out of his cock and into her. He shouted Ianora's name as he came into her, spurting in tune with his dying thrusts.
Finally, he relaxed his grip on her hair, easing his cock out of her ass. The little hole was puckered and swollen from being thoroughly fucked, and he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride from finally having claimed all parts of her.
With an exhausted sigh, he collapsed next to her. Her dark grey eyes stared down at him, smoky with hazy lust, the leftovers of their lovemaking.
Just looking at her like that, seated on the other side of her orgasm, from riding out all the pleasure and pain he'd given her—whether righteous or not—made him realize the truth all over again.
"I love you," he murmured and leaned in for a kiss.
Instead of finding her lips, her hand flew out and smacked his cheek. For a second, all he felt was the ringing heat of her palm against his face, but the strike woke him from that lusty haze, seeing her anger for what it was.
"How dare you? You love to hurt me. You love to see me in pain. That's not love."
She tried to push herself away from him, but he caught her wrists and pulled her back. "No, listen to me. I'm sorry, all right? I didn't mean to hurt you, I just—"
"Just what?" she demanded, jerking her wrists out of his grip. "Just got carried away? Just couldn't help yourself? That's not an excuse, Castor. You always hurt me."
"You liked it. And anyway, I don't," he denied. "I made love to you last time. Sweetly—"
"I don't mean just during sex! You hurt me in here." She pressed her hands to her heart. "How can you say you love me if you're always ripping me to shreds? I thought we were past this. I hoped so. How dare you think I could ever want another man the way I want you?"
He stared at her, dumbfounded. She really did want him. She really did love him. And here he was, accusing her of wanting someone else. Of fucking someone else to get to him.
Here he was, fuckingthisup. Again.
"I just—I can't help it."
"Can't help it?" she echoed incredulously. "You can't help but be a sadist? You can't help but enjoy hurting me?"
"It's not like that," he protested.
"Then what is it like?" she demanded. "Tell me, because I really want to know."
He looked away from her, swallowing hard. He could feel the truth bubbling up inside him, threatening to spill over and drown them both. But he had to say it. He had to make her understand.
"It's like...it's like I need to hurt you," he finally choked out. "It's like I can't help myself. I see you in pain and..., and I get this sick pleasure from it. It feels justified for all the pain you've caused me. It drives me fucking crazy, how you treated me, and how I feel like I finally have a way to pay it all back."
Her eyes widened in shock and disgust, but to his surprise, she didn't draw away further. She sat there, shaking, as if she was waging a war inside herself for whether to stay or go.
But that was what confused him the most.
He'd admitted to something sick and disturbing. And instead of running away, she looked like she wanted to tell him a dirty secret of her own.
"What is it?" he prompted. "Please, say something."
She grasped his hands in hers, squeezing. "There is no excuse for treating me this way," she bit out. And then, she looked away. "But maybe there is. I've been meaning to tell you something for a long time."
Chapter 17 - Ianora
She couldn't look at him, but she knew she couldn't blame all of this on him. Because, in a way, Castor had been right: another man had been on her mind when she and Castor snuck out of the party together.
Ianora had been thinking about Johnathan.
