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I gasp at the warmth of his mouth when it captures my nipple, moaning half in pain, half in pleasure, when he bites down on it.
I reach for him, wanting to run my hands through his dark hair, but he stops me, pinning my hands to my sides as his mouth travels over my body.
“Bend over the bed,” he snaps as he steps away. Before I can move, he shoves me in that direction, my hands outstretched to catch my weight.
The blanket is musty, but it only contributes to the depravity of tonight. I don’t want or need flowers and freshness. I don’t want a room full of light and soft words. He somehow knows exactly what I need as he kicks my legs apart, pressing against me a second later.
I wish for his mouth on me there, but he doesn’t comply. Instead, he swipes his cock up the seam of me, finding me slick with arousal.
“Fucking whore,” he grumbles as he notches himself at my entrance. “I could fucking hurt you and I have no doubt you’d beg for more.”
I moan, proving him right when he slams inside of me, not giving my body enough time to accommodate the stretch his body demands of it.
A fire-hot burn rushes through my body, the sting of his intrusion somehow too much and not enough at the same time.
He fists my hair, pulling my head toward him until my back is forced into a deep arch. It forces my chest out, my tits bouncing in a nearly painful way as he pulls back and slams forward again.
I’d question if he was feeling any pleasure from this, if it weren’t for the rumble coming deep from his chest when he finds the end of me. I’m second-guessing every choice I’ve made that led me here tonight when he shifts his hips. The tip of his cock brushes against that phantom part of me that, prior to now, has always been a mystery. My eyes are unseeing as I glare across the room, the darkness and the pleasure keeping me blind to anything on this plane of existence.
I clench my hands, tangling the bedspread between my fingers as my orgasm takes me by surprise. My body clenches around him, but he never slows.
“Dirty bitch,” he grunts, sounding just as shocked by my release as I am.
I’ve always had to work so hard to come, and I’ve only ever been capable of it while solo, never with a man before.
“Please,” I beg, wanting more and more.
His hips don’t falter. He doesn’t try to replicate whatever it was that he did before to make me come. This was never about my pleasure, after all.
He stills inside of me, grunting his own release as his cock throbs. A second later, he’s pulling out of me, the flash of the bathroom light filling the room before he closes the bathroom door.
I stand, frozen in the middle of the room for a long moment, trying to decide what to do next. The smart thing would be to gather my shit and leave, but I haven’t made a smart decision tonight, and honestly, there’s really no point in starting now.
I trip over one of my discarded shoes on the way to the bathroom and shove open the door rather than knocking.
He’s standing there, his eyes locked on the mirror when I enter, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
He doesn’t say a word as I slide past him and take a seat on the toilet.
Letting a man I don’t know fuck me is one thing. Getting a fucking UTI is another.
He doesn’t stick around, and the sight of his naked back and flexing ass as he leaves the room both thrills and irritates me.
I finish on the toilet, wincing when I wipe because he was rough as hell. I wash my hands, sort of liking the way my mascara is in streaks down my face. It’s evidence of a great night, and I don’t even attempt to clean my face.
In the limited light filtering into the room, I find my panties on the floor and tug them on. I could easily ask him to take me back to campus, but instead, I climb into the same bed he’s in, even though there’s two in the room.
I keep my back to him and fall asleep like I would any other night, despite the fact that he could be a fucking serial killer.
Chapter 4
Donavan
She sleeps for a handful of hours, but I never close my eyes for longer than a few seconds, despite the exhaustion seeping into my bones. I’d never allow myself to be so vulnerable in the presence of someone else.
I don’t bother opening my mouth when she wakes up, a groan of regret clogging her throat as she sits on the edge of the bed. She disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes before coming back out and using the light coming in from dawn approaching to gather her things.
