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Franky swung around and hauled me into his chest with a painful grasp on my wrists. “Can’t you see I’m doing the right thing here?! Can’t you see how much this is killing me?!” The volume of his voice reached a fevered pitch, and in the midst of me trying to break free of his hold, my fist connected with his upper lip, slitting it wide open. Whatever sliver of restraint he’d managed to cling to, immediately evaporated.
I didn’t back away as he wiped his lip, staring at his bloody digits as his breathing accelerated. And I didn’t flinch when his blank gaze flicked to mine.
“Do your fucking worst,” I said resolutely.
Franky crashed into me, sending us barreling over the sofa back and onto the floor, wedged in by the coffee table. My shoulder collided with the sharp, wooden edge of it, and Franky shoved it out of our way. It screeched across the floorboards, knocking into an end table and pitching the porcelain lamp to the ground. Chunks of its shattered pieces skidded over to us as Franky forced his way between my thighs.
I could’ve made things easy for him, but he needed this.Weneeded this.
His rage grew as we tussled, pouring from his eye sockets like twin beams of light, and I’d knowingly stepped in the way of it.
Franky kissed me like he hated me, tasting of tears, blood, and scotch, and I struggled to get free of the attack as all three flavors watered my tongue.
He broke the kiss, his palm clamping around my throat as his gaze flitted around the living room in search of something. I bucked against him, but he just sank his hips deeper into me, lightly humping my erection.
“Get off of me,” I croaked, trying to peel his fingers off me. I followed his stare to the bottle of lube lying amongst the lamp’s wreckage. It must have fallen off the end table as well.
A war waged within his vibrating body. He needed to get the lube, but he didn’t want to risk me getting free. “Stay put,” he warned, but I flipped onto my front and scurried on all fours toward the stairs as soon as he’d hefted himself off of me.
I’d gotten half way up before he’d caught up to me, grabbing one leg of my sweats and tugging. My chest met the hard tread, and I held tight to the one above me as he attempted to drag me back down.
I kicked out, breaking free of his hold, and managed to crawl up a couple more steps before his hands were on me again. Franky dragged my pants down by the waistband, and I crawled right out of them, continuing up the landing as he tumbled backward, meeting the bottom step with a groan and a curse.
The air whooshed out of me as he grappled me from behind, using his strength to his advantage, sending me front first to the floor and then straddling me.
“Yield,” he gritted out, subduing me with an arm to the back of my neck as the sound of his zipper lowering rang out.
“That isn’t what you want, Franky,” I said, clenching my ass shut against the cool lube hitting it, forcing him to peel one cheek aside before fitting his crown inside of me. He wanted a fight, someone to rain pain down on, and I wanted to show him that that someone would always, willingly, be me.
I dug my fingers and toes into the floorboards, gaining an inch of forward momentum, causing his cockhead to slip from my opening.
“Damn it,” he spat as he repositioned his legs so they were between mine, then used his knees to push mine higher, situating me in a frogged position before fully seating his cock in my vulnerable hole.
“Fuck,” I moaned, smacking a palm against the wooden floor as he took off, thrusting faster than the lightning still jetting wildly across the sky.
Franky didn’t fuck me with caution, didn’t once stop to care about his size, about my limits, about whether or not I had any. He used and abused my hole, throwing his weight into me and driving us down the hallway without restraint.
The fucking wasn’t romantic. It was archaic, barbaric, graceless, and inconsiderate. All we were missing was the club needed to hit me over the head with and the cave for him to drag me into.
He was giving me a taste, an example, using this as a teachable moment for what he’d have to offer me moving forward. What he didn’t understand was that I’d take it, because I loved him enough to, becausesomethingwas a fuck ton better than nothing. “Let me have it, Franky. Give me your pain, your anger, your fight… I can take it.”
Franky pulled my head off the floor by my hair, my lower back arching enough to keep my cock from scraping against the hard surface as he delivered brutal thrust after thrust, deeper and deeper, propelling us down the long hall.
Franky was a carnivore who wouldn’t be satisfied until my bones were bare, until I paid for him falling in love with me to begin with.
“I love you, Franky,” I said, biting my lip to still the quivering. His groan sounded wounded, and I wondered if the wetness hitting my ear was sweat, blood, or more of the moisture I’d seen behind his eyes downstairs.
This felt like goodbye, like him saying this was all he could give me, and like me falling apart, never to be whole again.
Franky reared back, taking me with him and slinging his arms across my chest, crushing me against him as he shoved his dick in and out of me.
“Let me see you,” I said, edging toward orgasm. “I need to see you.”
He reluctantly let go of me, and I popped off his cock, turned to him, then lowered back onto his dick.
Franky tried to hide his face in my neck as we began to move again, but I fought to hold his gaze to me. “Touch me,” I cried, the jagged pieces of my heart stabbing at my breastbone. Franky blinked, the last of his unshed tears falling before he wrapped his fingers around my cock.
“I’ll be here,” I said, riding him hard. “I’ll be here waiting for you. You need a few days to think. I know that, but I’ll be here when you’re ready.” I slammed down on his cock one last time, my vision blurring as thick strings of cum spurted into the air like confetti, bathing his knuckles and lower abdomen white.
