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“You belong to me,” I growled against her mouth, her sobs mixing with moans against my lips. “This is mine. You are mine. I’m never letting go. You’ll never get away. I’ll never. Fucking. Ever. Let you go.”
Adrenaline was coursing through my veins, making me unable to stop, even when I knew I was hurting her, my cock stretching her beyond her limits and making her squeal in pain and pleasure combined.
“Master,” she breathed. “Please… please more, don’t stop. Keep going. Keep hurting me, keep loving me, I need it, I need you. Please.”
“Say it,” I grunted. “Fucking tell me.”
I grabbed a handful of her perky little tits and she hissed when my fingers flicked her nipples into hard, trembling points. She didn’t dare make a move to stop me though, knowing better than anyone that her body wouldn’t have let her anyway. Not when I could bring her this kind of pleasure, not when I could give her what she’d been looking for her entire life.
“I…” Her voice was raw. Ragged. “I’m yours.”
“What’s mine?” I demanded, my cock punishing her pussy with swift thrusts that reached deep inside of her. “What’s mine, Harlow? Tell me which part of you is mine.”
“All of me.” She swallowed, her eyes finding mine and clinging desperately. “All yours.”
“Is this mine?” I squeezed her breast hard, knowing I’d leave bruises. I made sure to hurt her because I lived for the mix of shock and lust on her face when she realized she loved it. “Are these my tits?”
“Yours,” she whispered. “Your tits, Master.”
“And this pussy,” I went on, stopping my thrust and keeping my tip just barely inside her, threatening to slip it out and sending her wild. “Who does this pussy belong to?”
“You know already,” she rasped, and I laughed in her face, pulling out.
She went fucking mental on me, her hands flying out and scratching, forcing me back, pulling me against her, thrusting those hips at me, making it impossible to resist her fucking cunt. I sank back in, and she fell back with a sigh of relief, seconds later melting into needy moans as I fucked her, crashing against her cervix with the tip of my cock and knowing there was no way I could go deeper.
“Your pussy,” she whispered helplessly like I’d finally fucking defeated her.
“Yeah?” My voice was gentle, kind. “My pussy? My little fuckhole? You want me to make it feel better? Fucking soothe that tight little cunt?”
“Yeah,” she begged. “Please Master, make it better, just don’t stop yet.”
On an impulse I pulled out of her, my head going between her legs and sucking the sweet honey out of her pussy. She tasted divine, like everything I’d been waiting for, even more delicate and special than what I remembered from the playroom. I was a fucking goner. Addicted to her, to the juice she made, the sounds falling from her lips, the way she hated me so fucking much and yet knew with absolute certainty that I was the only man for her, that it was meant to be.
“I will,” I promised her. “Harlow, look at me.”
She opened those gorgeous eyes wide, staring into mine. So many things I wanted to say to her. So many soothing, sweet, loving little things I could have said to make her feel better. And yet I searched between them, walking down the field of flowers and picking the only rose, its thorns prickly and harsh, its beauty cruel. My words were meant to hurt her and hurt they did.
“I’m never letting you leave,” I said softly. “I’m never letting you go. You won’t dance again. You won’t see your parents again. I’m not letting go. I’m not letting you free. Do you understand?”
My heart pounded and my cock throbbed beside her, and I knew I’d fucked up, but I’d had to tell her what I felt, had to make her understand that she was the one thing I couldn’t give up. My one mistake, my one fucking vice. Of all my sins, the nastiest, most unforgivable one – keeping her caged, fucking trapped, making her my captive. She would never be a free woman. If she was going to get away from me, she would have to escape. She could try, of course. But unless I knew I was doing her irreparable damage, unless I realized this wasn’t what she fucking needed, I would keep my rose. Keep her blooming for me forever.
She stared at me, eyes wide and wondering. She knew I was telling the truth, that I’d be unable to let go of her, no matter what happened. Someone would have to rip her out my arms to stop me holding her, and I would’ve liked to meet the man who’d try.
“Say you understand,” I prompted her. “Say you want me to keep you.”
