Chapter 32 #2
"Please fuck my face," I beg, the words falling from my lips without shame or hesitation. "Fuck me so hard, Donny."
I relax as Donny shoves his cock back in, surrendering my body to his control. In and out of my throat, he does just as I've begged---each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little more desperate than the last.
My darling sunshine boy with the shadows in his eyes.
I look up even as he holds me there, gagging on his cock, tears streaming from my eyes, mascara no doubt running down my cheeks in black rivulets. His eyes are so dark as he looks down at the picture I make impaled by him, pupils blown wide with desire, with fury, with need.
And then he's dragging me off his cock and taking me down to the floor, the cold hardwood a shock against my back as he yanks my leggings down just far enough to expose me.
He doesn't even bother taking off my underwear. He just shoves them to the side far enough so he can get his cock inside my cunt, the fabric biting into my flesh as he penetrates me in one brutal thrust.
I groan with satisfaction as he fucks me, the fullness of him, the heat of him, the anger of him all combining to create a perfect storm of sensation. My nails claw at his back, leaving marks through his shirt that I hope will linger for days, evidence of this moment branded on his skin.
He tears my shirt open down the middle, buttons popping and skittering across the floor like tiny frightened animals. Then he slaps my breast, the flat of his palm making sharp contact with the sensitive flesh. First one, then the other, the sting blooming into heat that settles deep in my core.
I clench on him even as I glare up at him. Because he's not looking me in the eye as he fucks me. And Donny always looks me in the eye so I know exactly who he's fucking. It's one of his rules---his insistence on connection even in our most animalistic moments.
"Look at me," I demand, voice hoarse from his cock.
When he doesn't, I get furious. Yes, I want to be his fuck toy, but only when he knows exactly who I am to him. I'm Mads. His Mads. The dark half of his broken bride, the shadow to Anna's light, the chaos to her order. He doesn't get to pretend he's fucking someone else when he's inside me.
When he keeps his gaze averted as he continues roughly fucking me deep, hands now on my hips as he takes his pleasure, the fury takes me over, red and hot and all-consuming.
"Look at me!" I yell, and when he still doesn't, I slap him, the crack of my palm against his cheek echoing in the kitchen.
That gets his attention. So I slap him again.
Or try to. He grabs my right wrist and slams it to the plush rug by my head with enough force to make the bones creak, eyes so dark the irises are completely eclipsed by his pupils.
"Don't. Push. Me," he barely gets out through gritted teeth, each word bitten off and spit out.
"Or what?" I hiss, arching beneath him, pressing my breasts against his chest. "Do your worst. You want to punish me for all my lies?
" I lift up from where he's got me pressed down with his weight and his cock, using my core strength to get close enough to his ear to whisper, "You don't even know the half of it.
There's so much we haven't told you, Donny.
If you knew the truth, it would make you crazy. "
His eyes go wide, and I grin, a feral baring of teeth.
There he is.
There's the monster that's been hiding all this time. The one that lives inside him, the one that matches my own, the one that knows I'm right. That knows I'm lying. That knows I'm dangerous.
His free hand comes to my throat, fingers curling around the delicate column.
I fling my head back to bare it to him, offering my most vulnerable part. "Take my breath again, Donny. You never fuck me as dark as we both know you want to. Why are you holding back?" I wrap my legs around his back and try to flip him, leveraging my weight against his.
I want to push all his triggers. And nothing triggers Donny like trying to take his control away. Why am I doing this? I'm being a bitch but I still push. Harder. Crueler. I have to. I have to! I'm the strong one!
"Come on," I shout, my voice edged with desperation now. "I know there's so much rage in you. And there should be, you fucking dog whore!"
His hand comes to my throat then, and I feel the precious squeeze taking my air. The pressure builds, cutting off my breath, my vision starting to tunnel as the oxygen depletes.
Yes.
Finally.
He squeezes. Tighter and tighter as his thrusts come even rougher, the wet sounds of our bodies meeting fill the kitchen, obscene and perfect.
I laugh, getting so high as the dots begin to dance, constellations of dark stars appearing at the edges of my vision. My lungs burn, my heart pounds, my cunt throbs around him.
His hand releases at the very last moment, air rushing back into my lungs in a gasping torrent. I come so hard I feel his shudder when my pussy clenches and spasms on his cock, milking him, gripping him, begging him to follow me over the edge.
I think he'll come with me.
But I'm wrong.
What I've awoken isn't ready to be put back to sleep yet.
Donny pulls out of me, leaving me empty and aching, and then he's flipping me over so I'm on my knees, my face shoved into the plush carpet.
I inhale the scent of the fibers---clean, with the faintest hint of the jasmine air freshener Anna insists on---as I feel his body looming over me from behind, kicking my legs apart.
There's little preamble as he feeds his cock into my ass, the breach sudden and intense, my body initially resistant to the invasion. The pain is immediate, sharp and bright, a flash of lightning that travels from my tailbone to the top of my spine.
Then his hand comes back to my throat as he leans over my body. He covers me with the warmth of his chest even as his hot fingers squeeze again at my throat, cutting off my air, my reality narrowing to just this---just us, just pain, just pleasure.
"This is how you always wanted it, isn't it?" His voice is a hoarse, punishing whisper against the shell of my ear. "You're the part of her that wants to push me as near as you can get to him? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
But as he asks it, he thrusts hard up into my ass. It hurts. It hurts a lot. He's only lubed with my excessive pussy juices, the friction a vicious burn.
I scream from the pain. Just how I know he wants it.
He loves the pain.
He loves hearing it, and we both glory in the moment, both of us lost in the dark dance we've been circling around since the day we met. This is what we've always been, beneath the veneer of normalcy, beneath the pretense of healing, beneath the lies we tell each other and ourselves.
I deserve the pain, and feeling it in my body lets me...
Feel.
For these brief moments in my entire fucked up life, I can feel.
The world rushes in, every sensation sharp and clear and real---the burn of him inside me, the crush of his hand on my throat, the abrasion of the carpet against my knees and breasts, the sweat dripping between us where our bodies meet.
My life has been one raw nerve. Except the connections to my brain got severed somewhere along the way.
Horrific things stopped equating to pain.
I could watch a man bleed out in front of me and feel nothing but mild curiosity.
I could hold a knife to a child's throat and feel nothing but the cold calculation of leverage.
But in these brief, precious moments, Donny gives me the gift of reconnecting to my body in his ruthless, safe, crushing grip. He brings me back to myself, back to humanity, back to the land of the living.
His thumb massages my pulse point lovingly before he begins to squeeze and take my air again, the counterpoint of gentleness, making the violence all the more stark and meaningful.
I give in to all he has to give me.
With sex this intense, there's no other choice. It's like a car crash. You have to go loose to survive it.
Donny's never taken it this far, and it was cruel and selfish of me to push him here.
To make him reveal the parts of himself he keeps hidden, the parts he hates and fears.
To make him act out the violent fantasies that plague his dreams, the ones he wakes from, sweating and shaking and disgusted with himself.
But I can't regret it, even as stars dance in front of my eyes again. Even as my lungs scream for air. Even as the pain threatens to tear me apart.
Donny palms my cunt in a brutal grip, shoving all four fingers in and out as he takes my ass and strangles me, every hole filled. Every part of me claimed. Every inch of me possessed.
I come as stars dance in my vision, and I lift off to the ether, entire body spasming like I've just been shot through with a live wire of electricity. My consciousness fragments, splitting apart and reassembling, death and rebirth in the span of a heartbeat.
"I fucking hate you!" Domhnall screams as he slides the hand that was at my neck down to crush my breast, the words tearing from his throat.
He fucks my ass even harder while my body continues spasming, bright light pouring through me. I feel him slam his hips against my buttocks and the hot spray of his cum deep inside me, marking me, claiming me, ruining me.
We both collapse to the floor, bodies still connected, both breathing hard like we've just run a marathon. I relish in the cathartic release of endorphins, floating in the aftermath, my mind blissfully empty for once, no thoughts, no schemes, no fears.
But apparently Donny doesn't feel the same way.
Because moments later, he's crawling away from me and grasping the edge of the couch to get to his feet. His legs tremble, his breath comes in ragged pants, but his eyes---his eyes are the worst. They're empty. Hollow. Like I've carved something vital out of him.