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He shouts the question as he slams into me again.
“Yes.” A choked scream rips out of me. “Yes, I’m a whore.”
He fucks me like a man crazed, crashing his mouth back down on mine as he gives me short, quick strokes. My pussy hurts, my clit is too sensitive for the punishment he’s giving it, my thighs ache from him being too large between them, and yet I don’t want relief. All I want is more. He yanks on my thighs, bringingmy body into his again and again, and there it is. My orgasm, so close my body is pulsing with the need for it.
“Oh God, please,” I plead, breaking our kiss.
I need to. I need to breathe, because it feels entirely like I can’t get enough air. Can’t get enough of anything, because the only thing I truly need is for him to fuck me faster, harder, for him to grind against me and take me over this God damn edge I’m on. For him to send me flying over. I don’t even give a fuck how far I fall. As long as I fall.
“No, you need to beg me,” he grunts. “Beg your fucking monster, your sick fuck. Beg or you won’t get it.”
“Fuck me,” I scream out. “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Please.”
The last word comes out a broken, desperate cry.
“Yes,” he groans, hands moving from my thighs to my ass, slamming me into him, then he drives into me, as deep as he can go, grinding against my clit. He bites my neck, hard, painfully enough for me to fall apart. My eyes close while a long, ragged sigh leaves me as I finally get the bliss I’ve been awaiting since the moment I found him in my room. Since the moment he put his hands on me. Since he spoke his first filthy word to me.
Just as I’m coming back down, finally opening my eyes, even if they feel like they weigh far too much right now, he slides out of me. My thighs fall listless to the bed when he moves from between them. My body feels like all energy has left, but it appears it doesn’t need it anyway. Not as he jerks his cock in quick strokes over me.
His eyes devour my body, naked and laid out before him as his hand pumps, chest heaving, grunts filling the room until a sigh leaves him. His mouth drops open with it, but then my eyes lower to my stomach as his cum squirts on it. Stream afterstream of it falls onto my belly, pooling in my belly button, dripping down the sides with the movements of my heavy breaths. He stops pumping with a groan, and then he’s leaning over me, using the tip of his cock to smear his cum all over my stomach, going back for more to smear it on my breasts, my nipples, my collarbone. He gets more to bring to my lips. He moves his cock from side to side, coating my lips in his cum.
“Lick,” he commands me.
I lick without a thought, savoring the taste of him. I lick every drop of his cum off my lips, and then look up to find him watching me, teeth biting down on his bottom lip.
“If I untie you, are you gonna be a good girl and go to sleep with my cum all over you?” he asks.
Hell yeah, I will. But I shake my head instead. “You’re crazy.”
“Crazy enough to come back and make sure you haven’t washed my cum off. Don’t make me have to do that, because if I do…” He leans down, running his nose along my jaw until he’s at my ear. “I’ll punish you in ways you can’t imagine for daring to disobey me.” He backs up enough for me to see his smirk. “But then again, maybe you want that like you’ve wanted everything I did to you tonight.”
“Just go,” I say, turning away from him. “You got what you came for.”
Not a single part of me wants him to leave. I’m hoping he does just the opposite of what I say and continues fucking me all night. My body doesn’t feel like it can take it, but I don’t care.
“We both got what we needed, didn’t we, my sweet little whore?”
He licks along my cheek and then he’s moving away from me. I watch him get dressed at the foot of my bed, hating every part of him that his clothes begin to hide from me. The only thing hedoesn’t put back on is his ski mask. He tucks that into his hoodie pocket and then reaches into his pants pocket. I hear a snap as his hand reemerges, and my eyes widen as he comes toward me with a pocket-knife in his hand.
He tugs on the rope tied around my right wrist. His eyes are on me though as he cuts through it. Then he leans over, cutting the other rope before bending down so we’re eye-to-eye.
“Don’t wash it off,” he tells me a final time.
Then he’s walking toward my bedroom door, opening it and closing it behind him. I don’t move. It doesn’t quite feel right to yet. I take a deep breath. How is it that he makes me feel like I can’t even breathe in his presence, and that I never even seem to realize that until he’s gone? Once I feel like my heart isn’t thundering anymore, I rub my wrists, trying to relieve the pain and rawness from them.
Then I sit up, the feeling of Jackson’s cum on my skin hitting me anew. But the thought of going to the bathroom and washing it off doesn’t even cross my mind. Not when I can have the hope of Jackson coming back to check if I left it there. No, I take my tattered tank top off and get under the sheets, although I can feel sleep is a long ways off. It’s why I’m awake when my phone vibrates on the nightstand. I rush to reach over and get it.
Jackson:Are you still all sticky?
Me:You know I am.
Jackson:You better be.
Me:Or what?
Jackson:Don’t start a game you can’t finish, Charlotte.
Me:Oh, but I love games so much.
