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My heart aches and my thighs clench.
I think I’m broken. Because right now, I’m having thoughts I shouldn’t, under any circumstances, entertain for this man.
Thoughts that will end in my ruin.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Lia?” His voice is raspy, full of unhinged darkness and lust. They seem to go hand in hand for him. Like he can’t feel any pleasure if it’s not as deranged as his screwed-up head.
I’m not like him. I tell myself that I’m normal.I’m fucking vanilla. And yet, I don’t shake my head. I know I should; I should tell him to screw off, that I never want him to fuck me.
But I don’t.
I’m still trapped by the sight of him jerking himself off. How his muscles and tattoos contract with the motion. How his eyes gleam and flicker from gray to a darker color. I want to know if his expression will stay the same while he’s inside me.
I need to know if I’ll have an effect on him like I did while he punished me, and if that effect will be more violent.
So I open my legs wider in a form of invitation, one I know I will regret come morning. But I’m already here, and I have nowhere to go. He made it clear since the beginning that he’d eventually fuck me, so what’s the point in delaying the inevitable?
“You want me to ram into that tight cunt of yours until you scream?”
I want to look away, because I’m almost sure he can read the embarrassment from my burning cheeks, but I force myself to continue staring at him.
“You will let me fuck you raw, won’t you? You’ll let me stuff you with my cum like a good wife.”
I’m not your wife.
I want to scream, but I don’t, because that will definitely ruin the moment, and my pussy is clenching for another release.
This is so fucked up. I’m practically begging the man who welted my ass with his belt to fuck me right after he brought me to orgasm.
“Release your lip,” he orders, his fisting movements getting faster.
I shake my head once.
Still gripping his cock, Adrian loops the belt around my throat and lifts me up so I’m suspended mid-air with my hands bound to the bedpost behind me.
I expected the position to be uncomfortable, but it’s surprisingly not.
“Open your mouth.”
I don’t, shaking my head once. Adrian grips my tank top and rips it down the middle. I gasp as he yanks the bra up, exposing my breasts. I want to turn away so that I don’t have to witness him staring at them. They’re small and I’ve always thought they were the most unflattering part about me.
Adrian, however, keeps studying them as if they’re pieces of art from a museum. My teeth loosen a little from my lip at the look in his eyes.
Holy shit.
I know he thinks he’s looking at his wife, and not me, but how lucky can a woman be to have a man look at her that way? Like he’ll destroy the world as long as she stays safe?
My nipples peak under his scrutiny, hardening to the point they ache, and then something hot covers them.
His cum.
It paints my breasts and drips down my stomach and to my throbbing pussy.
I almost cry with disappointment at realizing he did this so he wouldn’t have to fuck me.
As if my thoughts are written all over my face, Adrian wipes the blood from the corner of my lip. “If you carry on with this behavior, you’ll never get my cock, Lenochka.”
I close my eyes to keep from crying in frustration, both at myself and him. Why the hell am I so disappointed that he didn’t fuck me?
