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“Oz, your dick is in me,” I gasp, panic lacing my voice.
Lifting his upper half off me, he supports his weight on his hands, his dick still filling my core. “What the fuck is going on, Etta?” he demands.
Fear-laced disbelief consumes me, and I cover my mouth with my palm, trying and failing to keep all of my panic inside of me. “We…” My throat goes dry, and my words evaporate. I can’t speak, but I feel the tears that fill my eyes threatening to spill free. I can’t believe we just did that. I can’t believe his dick is still inside of me. I can’t believe any of this is even happening.
My internal diatribe becomes erratic, my thoughts swirling so quickly that I can barely make sense of them as I stare up into my tormentor’s eyes. “What did we just do?” I manage to croak out as a single tear falls from my eyes, rolling hotly down my cheek.
“Why are you freaking out?” he asks with an amused smirk spread wickedly over his full lips. Holding his weight off me with one arm, he grabs my thigh with the other, lifting it so he can roll his hips, the wet sound of our combined arousal filling the tension-filled air.
“You came inside of me,” I whimper. “We didn’t use a condom, and I’m not on birth control.” My words are so weak and pathetic that I want to cringe at the sound of my own voice, but right now I can’t be any braver. Too much has happened and so much has changed that I simply don’t have anything left to imbue my words with any more strength.
“Fuck, that’s fucking perfect, you’re fucking perfect,” he praises, his eyes heating with an emotion that I don’t recognize.
“I don’t understand,” I rasp, tears filling my eyes. “How is any of this perfect?” I want to yell and shout and snarl, but instead, I simply sound broken and weak.
“Knowing I could have just gotten you pregnant is what’s fucking perfect,” he purrs, his voice dropping an octave to a seductive purr that vibrates through me, finally settling between my thighs.
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head, like I can unhear what he just said.
“I want you full of my baby,” he growls. Pushing his hand between us, he flattens his palm over my stomach as a possessive animalistic sound falls from his lips, both arousing and scaring me to my core.
“No,” I whisper again.
“Yes, Little One,” he says, narrowing his eyes and punctuating his intent with a grind of his hips.
My ability to speak dissolves as terrified emotion fills my throat. I don’t understand what’s happening right now. Is this a game? But the wetness between my thighs as he slowly grinds his semi-hard cock in and out of my sore pussy confirms that we weren’t careful and that my body is full of his release right now.
I’ve never had unprotected sex because pregnancy isn’t something to mess about with. Risking a baby isn’t a joke, it’s not a game or something to be lackadaisical about. So why is he smirking, like this is all funny? Why does he look so proud of himself?
I don’t know what he sees in my eyes or hears in the silence, but his lips dip into a scowl and his eyes darken to a lethal black that has me shuddering in response.
“You don’t want my baby, Little One?” he snarls, rolling his hips and grinding his hardening dick deeper into my soaked core.
My lips part, but no sound comes out. I don’t protest, I don’t tell him how cruel this all is or how crazy he truly must be to believe this is okay. Instead, I let him keep fucking me, the sounds of my wetness filling the air.
“Listen to that, Etta. That’s the wet, full sound your cunt makes after I fuck you and fill you with my cum because you begged me to do it. You’re mine, and I just branded you with my dick and hopefully my baby. What we just shared was fucking perfect, right up until you opened your mouth.”
“Oscar, we barely know each other, and what we do know is solely based on who we were fifteen years ago, when you were a monster and I was your victim.” I gasp, the first tear spilling from my eye.
“I was an angry, messed-up teenager,” he protests.
“You were an angry, messed-up teenager who made my life a living nightmare.”
Rolling his eyes, he tuts derisively. “Don’t exaggerate, Etta. I’ll admit I was an asshole, but that was a long time ago. That has nothing to do with what’s happening between us now.”
More tears drip from my eyes, landing on my lips and coating my tongue in salty emotion. Forcing words past my arid throat, I shake my head. “Our past has everything to do with us now. I can’t do this. We can’t do this. Oh god. We shouldn’t have done this. It’s a mistake.” For once, some of the fear and anger I’m feeling comes through in my voice, but instead of making Oz second-guess whatever it is we’re doing right now, his gaze hardens into a familiar, cruel gleam.
“You weren’t so fucking worried about it when you were coming all over my fingers and cock,” he growls angrily.
My lips part and a broken half sob falls from my mouth.
Ignoring me, he cups one of my breasts, toying with my nipples as he rolls his hips, his hardening dick landing against the spot inside of me that makes my eyes roll back in pleasure.
“Oz, stop…” Trailing off, I lose my train of thought as he slowly grinds the head of his cock against my G-spot, making every rational thought in my head dissolve into a pile of lust-filled mush.
“Do you really want me to stop, Little One? Or do you want me to keep going? Say the word and I’ll stop. Say it, Etta, say no,” he taunts as he fucks me in short, sharp thrusts, not giving me a moment to breathe as a barrage of pleasure pulses inside of me, never quite fading before the next wave starts.
In the back of my mind, I know I should be telling him to stop, that I should be reminding both of us that this can’t happen, and why we shouldn’t be doing this. But the ability to speak has been stolen from me, and all that’s left in its place are the animalistic moans and whines that keep falling from my parted lips.
