Page 92 of Kill Me

“Oh no, what a shame, you caught me.”

He throws me over his shoulder—thank fuck this man is a strong giant—and carries me to the bedroom. Jackpot.

He throws me onto the bed. “On your back, now.” Fuck. I love it when he gets bossy. “Yes, sir.” I chew on my bottom lip as his eyes flame at my response. He has a crisp white T-shirt on and grey tracksuit bottoms that would be baggy on anyone else, but with thighs the size of his, they’re perfectly tight in every area.

He pulls his T-shirt over his head in the sexy way that men do it. That all-in-one action you see in the movies, but wonder if it’s that smooth in real life. His dick is hardening beneath the material in real time, and it’s just increasing my hunger for him. I go to move. “Uh, uh, uh. I said on your back. I’m in charge.”

“Kinky.” I smirk at him.

“Baby, you have no fucking idea.” He sheds the rest of his clothes and stalks towards me.

“Head off the bed, mouth open.” Oh shit.

“Wait.” I panic. “What if I bite you? What if I’m terrible?”

“I like a bit of biting. I’ll talk you through it, but I want your mouth stuffed full of my dick, baby.” If I wasn’t wet before those words, I am now. The urge to play with myself so I can come quicker runs rampant in my head. “Don’t you even think about touching yourself without my permission.” I groan.

“If you want to stop, tap my thigh three times. Understand? Get into position.” I nod, doing as I’m told, my head hanging off the corner of the bed, and he stands over me. Before I know what I’m doing, my tongue is on his balls, and I’m licking and sucking. “Fuck!” I pull a hand up and gather up the precum leaking from the tip of him. Taking my mouth off of his balls, I suck the substance off my fingers. He stares down at me, his eyes lava.

I grab hold of his shaft and stroke up and down like he’s taught me to do, adjusting my grip until I hear the gasp that tells me it’s perfect. Stroke after stroke, he gets harder and harder, until he’s rubbing against my lips, begging for permission to enter. I open my mouth wide, and he eases himself in. He’s so wide my teeth can’t help but rub against the side of him, and he has to compose himself for a minute.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good I want to come down your throat already. I need you to suck my cock, please, baby.”

I do as he asks. I’m sucking, and he’s moving; the angle we’re at feels good. He gets so close to my gag reflex that I feel like I’m going to throw up all over him, but even that is apparently a good thing as my throat tightens its hold on his dick. I play with his balls with my other hand. Squeezing and twisting, adjusting the pressure and listening to the sounds that indicate he’s enjoying what I’m doing.

My fingers graze against the skin just behind his balls, and I feel him tense. I press down, and his whole body quivers. He leans over me and buries his face in my pussy at the same time as I’m sucking his dick.

How the fuck do people do this position by choice? How am I supposed to concentrate on what I’m doing when his mouth feels like—

I scream around his cock, the vibrations causing him to moan, and in turn feeling his on my clit. His tongue dances inside of me as his fingers circle my clit. One finger, two, three, getting faster with each rotation. Within minutes, my orgasm crashes through me, and my mouth suctions onto his dick, my hand increasing the speed of the strokes as I suck on the tip.

My clit is sensitive as he continues to run his fingers over it, my legs locking around his hands in an attempt to stop him from continuing. It’s of no use as his fingers find their way inside of me, and he curls them into my G-spot, rubbing them over it again and again until he coaxes another orgasm from me.

He pulls himself back up and pins my hands to the bed. I internally panic for a second before remembering where I am and who I’m with. He pauses. “Do you need me to stop?” I shake my head as best I can. “Okay, baby, hold onto my thighs, tight.” I grab hold, and he fucks my mouth, hard. The sounds that are coming out of me I have no words to describe. His cock is covered in drool from my gagging, but it just spurs him on even more. Tears escape from my eyes, and I’m addicted to this feeling.

His come spills into my mouth. I heave. I hold it in my mouth for a second. “If you want to spit, I won’t be offended.” I shake my head and swallow. Fuck, that was a lot. He passes me a glass of water and sits me up. “I just didn’t expect there to be so much.” I laugh. “Was it okay?” I ask, slightly hesitant for the answer.

“Little Magpie, you sucked my cock like you needed it to breathe. You were perfect.” His praise goes straight to my pussy, my nipples pebbling from the sensation. He notices. He lowers his voice to a growl. “I’m going to fuck that pussy until you beg me to stop.”

“Never,” I reply.

I spoke too soon. He did indeed fuck me until I begged him to stop because my legs couldn’t hold me up anymore. He said it was no big deal, led me on my back, wrapped my legs around his neck, asked me if I wanted to carry on, and then fucked me until I came so hard I blacked out.

I woke up to him cleaning me up with a warm washcloth, covering me with the covers, and calling for Ted before climbing in behind me like our routine had become. He’d even started putting the TV on for me while I was sleeping, knowing that the silence at night-time was too scary for me if I woke up suddenly and it was dark.

Marry him, you fucking idiot.

Chapter Fifty

Quinn - Present Day

Day 4 of therapy

I toss and turn as whimpers escape me. My brain is on a loop. New information is funnelling into it like a jumbled puzzle with pieces missing, and it’s down to my mind to unjumble it. I fucking hate jigsaw puzzles.

Quinn - Age 21 - 7 years ago

A foot connects with my ribs, and the crack echoes through my ears. Breath eludes me. If I were aware of my surroundings, I would say the foot was encased in steel toecaps. Every breath feels like splinters lodged into my lungs.