AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’ve resisted the sight and sound of her wet cunt taking her finger, the breathy little moans, the heady scent of her cunt. But it’s her words that break me.
I slide my hand up her thigh, pluck her finger from her cunt, and roughly shove two thick fingers into her at once. She cries out, her slick walls clenching around my fingers and her hips lifting. The sight of her cunt stretched around my fingers nearly snaps my control. Wetness is leaking from my cock, and I can feel the tension building, so tight I can barely stop myself.
“Take it,” I growl, thrusting deep inside her. “And don’t cum.”
“What?” she gasps.
“You don’t get to cum,” I say, wrapping my other hand around her throat. “Understand?”
“I… I can’t,” she cries.
I slick my thumb back and forth across her clit, watching her face. Her eyelids flutter, her lips wet and parted as she pants for more. Queen Gloria herself, begging for the leper to wreck her cunt. I thrust harder, punishing her with pleasure as I stroke her clit and listen to her whimper, feel her hips jerking as they seek release.
“You did it yourself,” I snap. “You don’t get to do it for me.”
“Oh god, stop,” she cries. “I can’t help it.”
Her cunt begins to flutter around my fingers, wetness slicking over them, and she leans back on both hands and thrusts up against me. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life, the queen bitch of hell turning to a puddle in my hands, unable to stay in control, fucking herself onto my fingers helplessly.
“Don’t. Fucking. Cum.” I growl.
I release her neck and slap her cheek to stop her.
She cries out, her hips bucking faster, her walls clenching rhythmically on my fingers, slick heat coating them. I slap her other cheek, and she chokes out my name, moaning and flexing as she cums even harder. Throwing her head back, she rests on her hands and thrusts her hips up hard and high, until her body is almost flat, her knees wide and her cunt so close to eye level I can watch her clit throb as she cums.
I lean forward to taste her, but before I can, the smell of her invades me like a wave of memory, and my own climax erupts without warning, hot cum rushing into my jeans.
“Fuck,” I mutter, pulling back. She’s too lost in her own pleasure to notice, though. I get my breath while she keeps throbbing around my fingers, the pulses in her clit visible as the piercing trembles with each one.
My eyes are caught by a little scar inside her hipbone, and cold shivers replace the warm tingling at the base of my spine from the climax.
“What is this?” I ask, running the thumb of my free hand over it.
“What?” she asks, blinking at me with a dazed expression as she sinks back onto the console.
“This,” I say, remembering something the Dolces said in the hall when they were publicly casting her from her throne. Something about that scar not being what she said it was.
“I had a little operation when I was young,” she says, scooting off my fingers and pressing her knees closed, as if she’s embarrassed now, after I’ve seen it all.
“What operation?”
“A hernia,” she says, looking embarrassed and wrapping her arms around herself, like she wasn’t just splaying herself open and begging for me to look.
“How long have you had it?”
“I don’t know,” she says, avoiding my eyes and twisting around to reach for her clothes. I grab her knees and pull her back toward me.
“How long?”
“Since I was a kid,” she says. “What does it matter?”
I reach for her hip, remembering the feel of the long indentation under my thumb that night, the last night my life was still good. I don’t want to believe it could all be gone now, that it was all a lie. That the last time life was good was actually a year before that, before the Dolces came to Faulkner. I have never hated her more than I do right now.
I reach for the door, throwing it open. A blast of icy air fills the cab, and in the distance, I can hear sirens. Gloria shrinks back, but I lift her off the console and set her on the seat in front of the open door. “Get out of my truck.”
I see a flash of real hurt in her eyes, and my resolve flickers. I may be a sick bastard like the Dolces, but I don’t like hurting people. Not even Gloria Walton.
Her eyes are shiny when she turns away, and I reach out, wrapping my fingers around the back of her neck. “Wait.”
