Chapter 19 #2
The rope bites into my throat as Knox gives another tug, harder this time. The pull steals my breath, but not my entire air supply. No black spots edge into my vision.
No dizzy haze pulling me under. My lungs seize, and my skin prickles.
He isn’t choking me; he’s controlling me. Keeping me in the present moment, wide awake. With him.
And I am here. I can’t run from him, from his hand cracking against my ass, the squeeze that follows.
The pain he delivers doesn’t make me recoil or hate him. It’s not the bad kind. Can’t be, when it transforms, turning into pleasure so overwhelming I can hardly breathe.
“So needy.” He pushes his cock just an inch inside me, and I whimper.
Despite how good it feels, the pressure is brutal. I’ve never been stretched like this. Never been filled in a way that feels so violent and yet so right.
My throat tightens, the urge to beg, to cry out, it’s swelling there. But since I’m drowning in need, no sound comes out.
“Bad girl. Too quiet.” As a punishment, this cruel man pulls out of me. “I thought you wanted it.”
“I do!” My thighs clench on air. “Please.”
“You don’t. But don’t worry, I’ll make you.” Crack, and goddammit, my ass hurts worse this time. “You will”—the head of his cock parts my lips again, and I let out a relieved sob—“want me.”
He growls and then drives into me in one brutal thrust. My body jerks, the air torn from my lungs in a ragged cry.
The spankings, the gagging, none of it comes close to this.
This blinding, tearing stretch almost swallows my thoughts whole.
“Get out!” My sobs break around the gag, raw and helpless. “Knox. Get out.”
No answer. He just lingers there, buried to the hilt. His grip on my hip is an iron shackle, holding me impaled.
Daring me to fight him.
In a desperate attempt to escape this pain, I put one hand forward. The next. The rope tightens around my neck, but my urge to get away is stronger than my will to breathe.
“Fuck, Trouble, hold that sweet little pussy right where it is.” Yanking me back by my hip, he impales me on him again.
I whimper while he hums, pretending I hate it as he grinds his hips without pulling out of me.
Lies. Knox knows how much I want him, leaning forward, shoving himself deeper while palming my pussy.
He’s being less gentle now, his cock branding me from the inside, a merciless savage that claims his ownership of me.
The only thing that isn’t harsh about him is how he holds the rope. It’s slack enough to keep me breathing, tight enough to remind me who owns me.
“Please.” I’m dying. I’m so full of him.
He snaps at my plea, bucking instead of rocking gently into me. Railing me through the sting, the pain, the tearing that follows.
His balls slap against my pussy with each ruthless thrust. Then, his middle finger presses against my clit and rubs. He’s mimicking the movement of his tongue from when he went down on me.
“See what it’s like to be mine? Feels good, don’t it?” He fucks me like a man possessed. Like he can’t get deep enough. There’s no rhythm to it, just desire. “Letting me have you. Letting me find what makes you wet.”
The only sane thing about him is the way he worships me, thrust after thrust. I feel his adoration as vividly as I feel his cock beating my pussy.
“You have such a perfect, tight cunt. Fuck, you’re milking me.”
His raw, unfiltered dirty talk sends white-hot light throughout my body. An orgasm coils in my belly.
The sounds coming out of me aren’t mine. They’re feral, shameless, getting louder the harder he pounds me.
My fingers flex on the old cement. On the floor that’s seen death and cruelty.
Now it bears witness to my desperation. My tears. My shame.
My craving.
“I’m close. Knox.”
He understands my need, my murmured plea, moving his finger faster on my clit. Flicking it on the sensitive area like he did with his tongue.
As he pleasures me, he tightens the rope around my throat, dragging me to the edge. I’m almost there, squeezing him, sobbing for him.
“That’s fucking it.” Right before I unravel, he removes his finger, grabbing my hip and ramming deeper and harder into me. “Need you to come, Skylar.”
I’m so lost to the pleasure, the pain, the insanity of it all that I almost pass out when I climax. My orgasm sends a shock through me, one so intense that I feel it from my head down to my toes.
Knox becomes my everything. The man who decides when and how much I breathe. The one bruising my hips. Who bruises my sensitive walls.
My womb, he’s branding it as his too.
He’s branding me.
I moan, clenching and unclenching around him. That’s all my body is capable of doing. My limbs are weak, and my soul is floating somewhere high, high, high.
“God. Fuck. Oh, fuck, Skylar.” His moan sounds wounded. Angry.
More pounding. More fuck and goddammit, you’re so good.
“Need…” When he doesn’t complete the sentence, I dare to turn my head and look at him.
I lose my breath at what I see in my periphery. The adoration on his face. The darkness and lust.
“Need you to come again.” His eyes flare. The corded veins on his arms come alive. “Need you to do that again, to milk me.”
We shouldn’t make sense. I shouldn’t be crying the first time I have sex. Shouldn’t be gagged and treated like this.
But here, in this place, with Knox, all these shoulds are thrown out the window. His pleasure and mine—our fucking hearts—that’s all that matters.
“Knox. Knox.” That’s the most I’m able to say instead of make me come or I need you.
“I’ll help you with this.” He understands me anyway. Knox pulls on the rope, and it’s almost unbearable now, the lack of oxygen. Unbearable and so, so sweet. “You like it, the way I own you. The control I have over you.”
My reply is my head falling forward between my arms. A moan rumbles past my lips.
Another tug, the harshest yet.
Can’t get any air in. Can’t breathe, can’t, can’t…
Just when I think I’m going to faint, Knox lets go.
A burst of fresh air gets sucked into my lungs. Filling them. Sending my body into the best, most painful orgasm.
My eyes are the widest they’ve ever been. My mouth falls open on a silent scream.
My pussy isn’t squeezing Knox. It’s like I’m pulling him in, demanding that he come inside me.
“Yes, that’s my girl. Take my seed, Skylar. Take my babies. I—Fuuuck.” His heat spreads inside me as his visceral groan reaches into my chest.
Pride swells within me, twisted and hot. I gave him this. I gave him myself.
“Good. Girl. Good”—our bodies slap together—“fucking”—he slams into me two more times, emptying himself—“girl.”
When he’s done, he lowers himself, folding me into him while holding both of us up.
His thigh muscles barely shake. His heart beats steadily.
Filled with his cum, wrapped in his embrace, I belong.
I hope he never lets me go.