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“Except I’m not yours,” I said in a wobbly voice, my legs going weak.
“That’s where I’m going to have to prove you wrong.”
“And how do you plan on doing that?” I asked.
He spun me around, my back to his semi-naked front, the enormous bulge of his arousal leaving me panting, my senses reeling. What was it about him that kept me unraveled until I was completely undone and exposed?
He clutched my ponytail with one hand and dragged my head back. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about grabbing hold of your hair like this while I fucked you?”
His words that were spoken so roughly, so intimately, made me instantly wet. I was verging on desperate when I croaked, “What’s stopping you? It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tugged my hair,” I reminded hoarsely.
He exhaled next to my ear, the air tickling inside my canal and making me moan. When he jerked my head back a little more, then slammed his opened mouth against the side of my throat, I almost orgasmed then and there.
That he was still kissing my throat and tugging at my hair until my scalp burned only enhanced my feral need to be taken by him.
He sucked my flesh, leaving me dangling off the edge of what was left of my sanity. I arched my throat, giving him better access even as he released my hair, his hands instead cupping my breasts that were restrained by nothing but the fabric of my dress.
He used his thumbs to roll my nipples, making them tighten and point like arrows. I sagged against him, too intoxicated by his mouth and hands, too weak even though I craved so much more.
It was only when he bent to lift my dress and expose my nakedness beneath, the air caressing my bared skin before he touched the seam of my pussy then peeled my folds apart, that I knew a climax was seconds away.
I jerked and gasped when he flicked my clit, then moaned as he pushed one finger deep inside me, rhythmically driving in and out of me until I was panting and writhing against his digit and just seconds away from shattering under his touch.
He withdrew his hand, his voice close to my ear. “Who do you belong to?”
I wanted to scream and stamp my feet. I wanted to force his hand back to where he’d been playing me like a fiddle. But none of that would do me any good. I’d tell him what he wanted to hear, though we’d both know it was a lie. “I belong to you,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Good answer.”
He pushed off his pants, bent me over, then aligned himself to my core before he plunged deep inside me. My breath wheezed out, my vision blurring. He was so damn big! Even when I was wet with invitation he barely fit. Then he began to pump in and out of me and pain soon morphed into pleasure.
He moved faster and faster, his hips pistoning as flesh slapped against flesh. He was a damn machine and I was putty being pounded by his forceful lovemaking. No. Not lovemaking. This was nothing more than fucking, a purely physical intensity that made me forget everything but a fundamental need to soar to the stars.
“I want you to come now,” he growled.
“Unlike you,” I gritted, “I’m not a machine that orgasms at will.”
“Then perhaps this will help,” he said. Unerringly finding my clit, he pinched the plump flesh then massaged hard.
I shrieked at the intense pleasure-pain, at the orgasm that soon after took away my breath as I exploded like a firecracker before I shuddered with little aftershocks
Holy fuck.
He grunted behind me, then thrust one last time before he emptied his seed inside me, bellowing like he’d claimed his prize. Perhaps he had. I’d come to him willingly, had even forgone underwear. My intent had been clear, a little too damn clear.
I straightened, all but forcing him to withdraw from me. He rubbed my hips, his touch tender and his voice guttural. “Did I hurt you?”
My dress dropped back into place as I turned to look at him. “Would it matter if you did?”
He stiffened, then bent and pulled on his pants. “Do you think I’d ask if it didn’t?”
“I’m not sure,” I said, lifting my chin. “We might have been intimate more than a few times, but you’re still a stranger to me.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “So ask me whatever you want to know about me.”
“All right, I will.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “When was your first kill?”
His lips flattened, his jawline hardening. “Out of all the questions that’s what you want to know?”
