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And it’s not what I want. Not these feelings, not the complications, not the trapped between two warring, dark gods.
I take his cock, fist it, and I rub it against my entrance. And then I sink down, taking him all the way. I bounce on him, biting at his throat, pulling at his hair.
Gripping me tight, working me harder on him, he kisses and bites back, and we’re in a frenzy of angry, violent animalistic need.
Hendrick tosses me off him. “Slut.” He pushes me so I’m spread before him, legs wide and he pulls me to the edge of the sofa, and he hammers into me as he kneels. “Whore.”
An orgasm hits me, and he grunts, pounding me through it, stroking and pulling and working my clit with his fingers. He dips into his mouth to have them more wet, so he can slide as he touches me.
“Yes…”
“My Cat. My whore. My. Beautiful. Cunt.” He punctuates the last words with a balls-deep thrust.
“No.” I mean yes, not blue, because for me that word still holds. Our eyes meet, and after what Jac said, there’s just the slightest hesitation. But I don’t wait, I shift my hips up, opening more to him, all I can do in this position. “I saidno, not any otherword, no. No. No. No.”
He lets out a shuddering sigh and pushes his cock slowly into me, and I take his arms, pulling him, trying to make him pound me. “That no, Hendrick.” I try and buck up, but I can’t. He’s buried deep, just making slow shallow thrusts, and I’m fraying.
But I want to fly apart.
“No.”
He groans. Slams deep.
“Fuck, Cat. Fucking slut. Take my cock. Take my cum.” He pounds into me again, savage, brutal all the good hurting, the good pleasure and I moan.
“Stop, no.” I look at him. “Stop…” And I tip my hips a little more.
His eyes aren’t cold now. They’re pure dark fire. Delight and lust and primal desire.
“Fuck you.” He shifts, and his cock strokes hard on my G-spot with each deep thrust.
His cock is a sublime pleasure I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of. It doesn’t matter if it’s a brutal fuck; an elegant, depraved Hendrick game or something slow and kink-filled…it’s like he’s made for me.
I love the feel, the taste, the way he hits every single place that needs it. He knows how to move just right to prolong pleasure without tipping the scale. He knows how to heat me up hard and fast, and I think I could kill for the promise of the full body insane orgasms he gives.
He’s…I’m not sure I have all the words.
He pounds harder, and my head falls back, a groan sliding out as my insides start to pulse and pleasure soaks me down, overwhelming me.
I come hard and violent, the kind of spasms where the way I tighten on his cock has him swearing. He pushes right in, as deep as he can go and twitches, spurting his hot cum in me.
“Oh…oh my God. Oh, fuck, yes. Yes, yes. Fuck. Hendrick!”
I shudder and shake again, and when I come down, there are no kisses or softness or the sweet touches from him I yearn for. He pulls out and dresses and flops next to me.
It takes me a moment to pull my legs together, pull down the slip, but Hendrick shifts, winds an arm around me, pulling me on his lap, holding me. And we sit there.
My heart’s pounding, and I gather courage. “A-At least talk to me.”
“Nothing to say, sweet, beautiful Magdalena.”
There’s so much to say. About everything.
“You don’t exist in a vacuum. Just…give me something. What about your past?”
He doesn’t answer at first, letting silence settle between us. “What you see is what you get. I came through it. I was always rich. According to the world, my mother died when I was ten, but she left us. Left me.”
There’s a lot to unpack there. “Meaning?”
