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He lifts his head off me, and I see my juices soaking through his beard before he wipes his face with his hand. He moves over me, cloaking me in his shadow and his splendid, naked form. I can’t breathe. “What did I tell you about doing that?” he grunts.
“Doing what?” I gasp, needing him to punish me as I writhe against the couch and slide my hand down toward my centre, touching myself.
He growls and rips my hand away as I cry out, “No. That’s mine.”
“That’s it,” I moan. “Squeeze me harder, slap me, choke me, hurt me,” I whine, thrashing about beneath his hold.
“What?” he growls, and my eyes open to regard his darkened, narrowed gaze.
“Please,” I whisper, pleading with my eyes, sobbing as I lift my head to kiss him, but he has me pinned against the couch by my arms, holding himself out of my reach.
“Don’t ask for what you can’t handle,” he warns, his jaw hardened.
“I can handle it,” I gasp, licking the air like an imbecile. I’ve never wanted to be hurt so badly in my entire life, and I don’t know what’s come over me. He growls, gripping my neck and crashing his lips against mine. Desperately, I cling to his back, dizzied by my scent on his face. “Harder,” I whisper against his lips.
“You filthy wench,” he groans against my lips before settling himself between my legs.
I sob. “Yes.” The word is strangled against my breath, and I open my mouth for more air.
“Is this what you want?” he asks.
“Yes, please. Harder,” I groan as the room blurs.
He swears and releases me. “Any harder, and you’ll be dead,” he says.
Coughing and swallowing against the tightness and the air rushing back into my throat, I smile at him. “I don’t mind passing out,” I confess.
His eyes widen, and he bites his lip before lowering his mouth to my ear. His calloused hand moves up my chest, and I vibrate in anticipation. When he wraps it around my neck, I sigh.
“You’re one surprising whore, aren’t you?” he asks. “My whore,” he whispers, biting hard on my earlobe until I yelp. He swipes his long, hard cock over my entrance, panting. “You want pain?”
“Yes,” I gasp as my cunt quivers.
Adam tightens his grip on my throat and groans, before slamming the length of his thick cock inside me in one fell swoop. The room breaks apart in shimmering stars as I scream. He must have ripped my hole apart, but I can’t help moving against him, hating him for holding himself still.
“How was that?” he asks, raking his teeth against my chin. “Too much pain for you?” he teases.
Heat floods the depth of my belly, and I tighten around him as tears burn through me. In a sudden shift, I can see what can easily be mistaken as regret and even concern in his eyes as he loosens his hold on my neck.
“No, no, don’t stop,” I plead.
“You’re okay?” he blanches.
Confusion and a new ache engulf me as I stroke my hands across his chest. He tightens beneath my hand and attempts a scowl, but there’s no hiding the emotion he displayed a few moments ago. “I’m okay,” I whisper. “I promise you; I can take it. Punish me with all the anger you have pent up within you. Take it out on me.”
“But I-I don’t understand,” he says.
I shake my head. “Neither do I, but I know I need it badly.” Shaking, I move my hips against his cock, still inside me, soothing the pain and swimming in the pleasure. “You feel so good,” I groan as my eyes roll back.
He groans, before pulling out of me and flipping me on my knees. Over the couch, my eyes meet with some onlookers, and my insides take a dip as I learn something else about myself. He slaps my arse, hard, and it echoes off the paintings on the wall. A moan rumbles from the depths of my throat, and I arch my back for more. He kisses the inflamed spot, licking it and biting it before easing away and slapping me even harder, so I scream.
He swears behind me, burying his face into my folds and stroking my throbbing clit. My hips rock against the air, and the woman outside the door flushes as she fights the urge to look.
“Ohhh,” I moan louder, resting my cheek against the head of the couch while my undulating hips grind out of control. His tongue is hot within me, and I hug the back of the furniture, singing his name as I approach a tumbling climax. Just as the pressure hits my folds and presses into my quivering clit, he switches positions, chasing the climax away. I whine.
“Mmmm,” he groans, replacing his tongue with his fingers.
My eyes fly open, and a loud gasp escapes me as my trembling breath erupts in sobs. “Please. Yes. Yes. More. Please, I need to… I need more.”
