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I scream and writhe as he moves closer, his big hands coming up on the bed, hovering over top of me as he hovers over me, his full, soft lips taking one of my nipples inside his mouth and then his body lines up with me, the thick, mushroom-shaped head of his huge cock slowly entering me, splitting me in two.
“So full. So damn full,” I groan and then he’s slamming into me over and over again, the pressure and pain washing over me until I’m breathless with hunger, struggling to stay upright in the bed as his big body grinds into me and pushes me up and down his shaft. My juices trickle down my thighs and then I feel him jerk and my vision goes black, tunnel vision only locked on his hard, cold face as he rips me apart and then heaves once, twice and his thick, heavy length jerks and spatters the inside of my spasming walls with his thick, creamy release.
I scream, “Victor!” and jerk awake, flushed, panting and barely cognizant that he’s not here. It’s all a dream.
When I finally realize that it was just a dream and that I just came with absolutely no stimulation, just a vivid dream about him taking me, I want to pound on the bed and scream out my frustrations.
I want to run along the hall and beg him to take me and claim me wholly. That I want to make that damn dream a reality more than I’ve ever wanted anything in this lifetime.
But I also know that I can’t do that. If I do, I give that man so much power over me, I will never escape. I will be his sexual puppet, dancing on the strings as he keeps me locked up and dancing to his tune just to feel him inside me., just once more.
I cannot do that to myself. I don’t know this man and what I do know is so vividly like my father that it scares the hell out of me that I might be seconds away from falling for a man who is cold and callous, a man who cannot love anyone the way my mother loved me. The way she loved my father.
When I look back, their love was a one-way street although I thought that he missed her and that’s why he acted the way he did with me. I just don’t know if that’s the case anymore. I don’t think he loves anyone but himself and having the world treat him with kid gloves because he can’t ever look at another woman like he did her? It’s a fallacy. It was never real. Just a clever ruse by a cold man to keep sympathies with him while he treated his own child like a burden that he couldn’t bear looking at.
I take my glasses off and set them on the little end table but I don’t shut off the light. I can’t do that. I’m terrified of the dark. To me, it’s like all of the world has vanished, leaving me in an endless vacuum where no one can reach me, can save me.
But if I keep the light on, then there’s always a little bit of the world around me, even when I fall asleep. I’m not alone in a dark hole anymore.
I’m safe. For now.
CHAPTER8
Victor
It’s been two weeks of pure hell waiting for her to give in, watching her from the two-way mirror that I put on the ceiling of the room where I hold her captive.
She doesn’t know that I see her sleep. I watch her stormy eyes close and I watch her writhing and begging for me in her sleep. She wants me, she just doesn’t want to want me and that’s not good enough. I want to storm into that room every night and fuck her until she finally acknowledges what I knew as soon as I saw her.
She’s mine.
But I refuse to blunt the pure hunger of our love with simple desire. I love the damn frustrating woman. And I want her to come to me willingly, with open arms.
I refuse to accept any less.
Although watching her come apart every night is like its own special torture. I’m so damn hard that my dick doesn’t even go down when I drag my hand across my aching length until I come all over myself like a school boy.
It’s not enough. It will never be enough until I have her under me, over me, around me, begging me to take her.
Her cheeks are flushed in sleep and she’s writhing around in the bed again, her sheets tangling around her curvy body until she’s trapped in them.
Her little hand goes down to her pussy and I want to roar at her that she’s not allowed to touch it. She’s not allowed to give herself relief when I can’t come in her.
Tonight feels different though. There’s a new depth of reckless desire to her moans that has my body rigid. I have to curl my hands into fists to keep from pounding on that door and then pushing my way through until she’s in front of me and I can sink into her, bury my aching cock so deep inside her silky depths that she’ll never get away from me.
Her eyes open on a hissed sigh and she whimpers. “Victor,” in such a pained, desperate voice that I can’t hardly hold myself together.
“Touch yourself, little one.” I growl it under my breath, sure that she can’t hear me.
But like the good little girl she is, she sighs and her wide gaze lifts to that mirror like she can feel my gaze. I’m a creeper. I’m glued to the floor of the room above hers, my body practically plastered to that floor as I watch her underneath me.
It’s sick. It’s fucking demented and I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve come grinding into the floor, watching her twisting and writhing under me, calling out for me in her sleep.
The only time she calls out for me.
Until now. Now she’s staring right at that ceiling that she can see through it, see me lying there, staring at her and wanting her to pleasure herself.
And her hand reaches down and plucks at her juicy folds, slipping through them until I swear I can hear the squelching sounds in the silent room.
