25. Three
Chapter twenty-five
Three
Astoria
I've been so anxious to see and feel the sun again but my eyes can't even handle a second of it.
When I wake at the crack of dawn and he's still asleep by my side, I slowly walk up to the glass wall, and part the curtains, feeling as if I'm committing a crime. Several times I peek back to confirm I'm still safe to enjoy the amazing sight before me.
A whole part of the sky is black, waiting for the morning light to sweep in. While there are still stars twinkling in the dark, an explosion of colors expands in the light. Below me is an enormous grass field, a few scattered trees, and in the distance, a forest. Slowly, all traces of night disappear. The sun shines its brightest rays as if it were welcoming me back. My first true smile, since he took me, spreads on my lips. I can see.
"Astoria," his husky voice calls with disapproval. I stiffen, scared of what he'll do or say, but turn my head to see him. "Put your glasses on." Everything becomes grey when I obey him. "Come." He pats the bed several times as if he were calling a pet.
On the bed, he wraps his arms around my body and pulls me to him. If he only knew how sick and tired I am of this room. I tense at the feel of his nakedness, especially when he spreads soft kisses on my nape. He's like an oven, warming up all of my back.
When he stops, I notice my body is left craving more. I wince and close my eyes tight, hating myself. For two weeks he hasn't touched me with any sexual intention, yet here I am, craving it. I force myself to remember him raping me at my place, the spanking, stabbing, and whipping but my memory drags me in too deep, as if it were happening all over again. I shake my head. In trying to return to the present, a moan mixes into my heavy breathing, and I fist my hand not remembering it's under his.
His hold tightens around me, when I try to pull away. “Shh…" The sound grounds me. Does he know what just happened? Does he know it's because of him? "Do you want to join me for breakfast downstairs?” I never thought he'd let me leave this room.
He rolls out of bed after I nod and turn to face him, unable to hide the glee from my face. “That would be great. Can I have some clothes? Please? Maybe we… Can we go outside after?”I show too much of my happiness. Big mistake. Julian doesn't trust me being happy.
He stops picking up all the dinnerware we've accumulated and a scowl fills his expression, as if I’ve insulted him.Walking on eggshells, I explain, “I’m sorry. I honestly just want to be outside. I promise I won’t try anything.”
He doesn’t answer me. Shortly after, he removes my collar, then hands me a new short cotton nightgown. He extends his hand toward me and says, “Let’s go.”
Julian follows me through a hall, down a wooden stairway to the first floor. It’s an open living plan, so he can see where I am at all times. While he prepares breakfast, I slowly walk around, taking in how my captor–rapist decorates his home. There are bookshelves everywhere and opened medical books on the couch. So he wasn’t lying. I pick one of them up and read a little, not understanding anything.
“Why don’t you put some music on?” His voice startles me back to the present. He points his chin toward his record player. It’s music I don’t usually listen to, a lot of classical and jazz. I pick jazz. Mom says classical music is for funerals. Mom… I wonder how she’s doing? My heart physically aches. More than her, I wish I could talk to and hug Mindy. Will I ever see them again? I sigh… Even if I do, it will never be the same. I hope Mindy knows I never wanted this. The music fills the room with piano, cello, bass, and trombone. The first song is silly, cheering me up. The second song is slow, something I’d rather listen to on a rainy, cold day under some cozy sheets.
I have no idea where the door to the basement is. There’s no sign of it. The five locks on the front door stare back at me, sending a chill straight to my heart. I’m not sure how long I stare at them, but when my trance breaks and I turn my eyes to him. His expression dares me to try escaping.
“Breakfast is ready.”I'm walking on thin ice is what his words truly convey.
I nod, walk to the kitchen island, and sit on one of three stools. “ Cafe con leché .” The minute I see it, my mouth waters.
“Yeah. Isn’t that how you like it?”
I nod again, and when I take the first gulp, the strength of the coffee and the sweetness of the milk satisfy every craving I’ve ever had. It’s heaven. It’s exactly how Mom always made it for me–nothing like the coffee shop’s version. It’s as if he sprinkled magic into it.I open my eyes to find him sitting next to me, enjoying my reaction, sipping on his coffee as if he is keeping a secret from me. He’s proud of having made me feel this pleasure. For a minute, I hate that he has, but I need to enjoy something in my day despite him, so I ignore his cunning smile. “It’s perfect,” I praise.
He takes a bite of his omelet. It’s awkward because I don’t know when the nuclear bomb is going to detonate.“So. What’s the deal with your mother?” he asks.
“Deal?”
“Mm-hmm. She treats you like shit and you bow to her like a puppy who pissed all over the floor. And what happened to your father?”
I clear my throat, pick up the coffee cup, and realize my hands are shaking. He notices it too. After I take a gulp, I answer, “It’s complicated. And… a long story.” I fake a chuckle. “It’s always a long story, isn’t it?”
He shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not used to taking shit from the people around me in exchange for their affection.”
His words steal all my appetite. I slowly place my cup back on the table. Our gazes lock. Does he realize this is what I’m doing with him? Did he say that on purpose to hurt me? After I take a few forced bites of the omelet, he insists, “Tell me.”
I shrug. “Why do you even care–”
“Tell me.”
I stay quiet and stare straight ahead of me at the old white farm-styled kitchen cabinets.Julian can tell when I'm lying, especially when I'm nervous.
Julian sighs. “Okay… What did he do?”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
He knows… I can’t look at him. “It’s not… It’s not what he did. It’s… what I did.”
“What happened?” The rage in every one of his syllables freezes me with panic. I swallow deep.
Even though I hate this man with every cell in my body, I don't want to bear his judgement. Why do I care what he may think? I close my eyes, trying to figure out how I can avoid this subject but I'm no longer thinking straight. “What’s your favorite number between zero and ten?”
“Astoria, I asked you a question.” His voice is stern, on the verge of losing the little patience he always carries.
“I know. Just… humor me.”
“One.”
I nod and turn my gaze away from him to the marble pattern on the counter. “That makes sense. One is a loner but also a winner. It’s so competitive that it’s always there first. It always does what it wants. At first, the number two looks like nothing special, second place, first loser, but it’s the first number after one that’s even and it has so much potential. No matter what it’s multiplied by, it always produces an even number. Even when it’s multiplied by zero, it’s still an even number, all the way to infinity. It’s unbreakable, never alone."
"I fail to see how that answers my question."
I'm rambling because it hurts too much. I've never even allow myself to think about it. While shaking my head, I take a peek at him. His gaze is too stern so I shift mine to the counter again.
"No one ever likes three. Everybody forgets one is the first odd number and blames the unevenness on three. No one likes odd numbers but I think they’re very special. Odd numbers mean something was lost or gained, which implies change. Not only is three an odd number, but it’s also prime, nothing whole to give when divided.”
The pressure in my chest increases until it becomes so painful that I have to massage it with my hand. My throat closes, making it impossible to speak. I raise my eyes to meet his gaze. His eyebrows are scrounged up by my confusing rambling.He probably thinks I’ve lost my mind, but what did he expect; for me to be sane after all he's done to me? Truth is, I can’t blame my obsession with numbers on the darkness downstairs, they’ve always been there for me.
“I’m really trying to give you a good morning, Astoria.”
I sigh, squeeze my eyes, and tighten my hold on the cup 'til my fingers whiten. He doesn't know how painful this memory is to me, so painful that I can only explain it with numbers.
“We were three, and I was never happy again after we divided. After… if you looked at us from afar, it appeared we were two, but we weren’t. It was a lie. We were never two. We were really one and a fraction at best. She was one, always doing whatever she wanted, and I was a fraction. I was a part of her with minimal value… actually, I was nothing… to her. Less than zero because I only caused problems, I never solved any. No matter how much I tried. She was my everything…” I chuckle, wishing I could take this pain. “What else is a mother supposed to be, right?”
Julian’s expression is deadly serious."You were a kid. You weren't supposed to be solving anything."
It's the first time anyone has relieved me of the massive responsibility she put on my shoulders. It's true. I wouldn't ask a five year old to figure out where we are going to live after a divorce or how we'll pay the bills. A warm relief spreads through every cell of my mind as if he's freed me. My gaze meets his and then the pain boomerangs back. Why did she do that to me? The betrayal… I'm looking into my memory, at the little girl I used to be and wanting to apologize to her for believing it was my responsibility to solve every problem. Julian, my rapist, my kidnapper, my torturer has more empathy for that little girl than her own mother ever did. It's repulsive.
“She was even more of my everything when he left. I... never have a choice. As awful and disgusting as what happened was… I can’t help always hiding in the memories of when he was nice to me. He’s the only reason I have a clue what it’s like to be loved, but I don’t know if his love was ever real.” My voice breaks. “I can't talk about this.”
“What did he do to you?”
“Wait. You haven’t asked me which is my favorite number between zero and ten.” I fake a smile at Julian.
He sighs. The annoyance is blatant. “What’s your favorite number, Astoria?”
A nervous chuckle erupts out of me. “All of them.” I can’t stop the giggling. “Because they all have happy and sad stories. Even or odd, they’re at least whole. Did you know it took a long time for humans to come up with the concept of zero? Surprising isn’t it? But at the same time... it makes sense, because zero can too often mean nothing or no. Which… isn’t a lot of people’s favorite word.” Julian knows I’m talking about him and everything he’s done to me.
“But zero fixed so many mathematical problems just by meaning nothing. Even like that… it still had some value. Technically, it’s the first even number, but it allows number two to take that credit. It’s generous, like death. Everyone thinks death is the bad guy, but really, death frees us from this limiting world and body.”
Julian sighs again and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Pretty bird… What. Did. He. Do. To you?”
I stare at his face. There's no way I can trust him, not with this. “If you really want this to be a nice morning for me... then don’t force me to talk about this Julian. Can we–”
“Stop stalling, Astoria!”The scream makes me flinch.
I swallow, and hug myself in an attempt to stop my shaking, then close my eyes as I explain, “I still don’t… I’m still trying to figure it out. But every time I think I’ve almost got it, everything seems to demolish like a house of cards. It’s like in algebra when you’re trying to find what the value of ‘X’ is and you can’t find it.”
“Figure out what, Astoria? For God’s sake you’re making no sense.”
I disconnect from myself to ask, “How does a five-year-old seduce her own father?” It hurts so bad to spill the words that I cover my mouth, feeling violently nauseous, dirty, and grimacing.
“What?” he yells and stands, looking shocked. But I can tell Julian knew it already. He'd guessed it by the way I spoke and behaved. Isn't that why he always calls me a whore? Cause I''m that kind of girl. Always have been. Maybe he didn’t want to know it, like everyone else.I can't blame him cause it's the dirtiest thing one can do.
“What do you mean? Tell me exactly what happened.”
My thumbnail scratches at the arm of the cup despite its smoothness. “Mom used to always yell at me when I would wear dresses and skirts without shorts under. Was it that? Because if it was, then I’m so sorry. Was it that I hugged him too much? He always used to pull me to sit on his lap and I would lean my head on his chest, but I swear it was because I felt safe and warm. I-I loved him." I cover my mouth with both hands as fat tears slip out of my eyes then wipe them away. "I didn’t want him to do that to me. I didn't know I could make him… lose control. Not like that." I shake my head. "I stopped hugging him as soon as it started. Was it that Julian?”
Too many minutes of my fidgeting pass but Julian doesn’t say another word and his gaze weighs too heavily on me to ignore it. “Both my parents worked, but Daddy had the earlier shift, so he’d be the one to pick me up from school. As soon as we’d get home, he’d… bathe me…”
Slowly, I turn my eyes to Julian and when my gaze meets his, I snap it away. I take another gulp of the coffee, needing heaven to heat my soul. But I just feel more nauseous. My hands hug the cup and I lean my forehead on its side, feeling the warmth from the steam on my closed eyelids. Suddenly I can’t keep the words inside.
“One day she got home early. And… she caught me… touching myself while sitting on the edge of the tub because that’s what Dad… that’s he always asked of me. Every day, after showering, he’d tell me to touch myself and… I would. He'd always ask to… taste me.” Even though I haven’t really eaten, I want to vomit so badly. The pain wrinkles my forehead, and my tears fall onto my omelet.
“She threw him out of the house and told him to never contact us again or she’d call the police. But, after he left… she said I seduced him. That I liked it because otherwise… I would’ve told her. We had to move to the bad side of the city, with only one income and she never let me forget why. I wished she’d never found out. It’s only been recently that I’ve realized it was a good thing after all, because sooner or later he would have taken everything from me… like you.” Only when I’m done talking in a trance, remembering the roaches we lived with, do I realize I’m holding on to the coffee cup for dear life, my fingers changing from red to white.
“Your mom doesn’t deserve the oxygen she breathes.” My gaze snaps to him.
“In that case, neither do you.”Why am I defending her?
“Oh, I’m quite aware of the monster I am, Astoria. But at least I do not hide behind the mask of a savior. I paint myself, every fucking day, with a skull so that you don’t forget for a second, in whose presence you are."
I see the hunger to kill all over his body. “Please don’t kill her. Don’t kill anyone else. Please–I don’t need you to kill anyone–”
His fingers wipe my cheek and with a low calm voice, he asks, “Did she ever love you?”
What the fuck is he doing? “Stop. Don't you dare!”
“Did she ever tell you how beautiful you are?”
No, no, no. My tears keep falling and the hole in my chest widens, stealing my breath. I cover it with my palm.
“Or did she teach you that your beauty seduces men to do horrible things to you?”
I stand and take two steps away from him, but he follows me. He's blocking me, trapping me.“This is why you hide yourself behind Mindy? Behind layers of clothes that never show off your body?” He licks his lips and his hand cups my other cheek. “You are so fucking beautiful, Astoria, and it’s not your physical beauty that made me do all those things to you, that attracted me. It’s the hole she dug in you for years. She’s just as bad as your father. Your father is probably raping other little girls out there because she never reported him. How does that feel?”
“Stop!” I pull away, the sob quaking through me, but he cups my cheeks again, squeezing them.
“It wasn’t your fault. Have you ever met a sexy five-year-old? Was it your idea to touch yourself in front of your father? Your mother was just blaming you to avoid taking responsibility for her negligence. And who knows what other sick shit she had in her mind. How the fuck is a five-year-old supposed to know that her father is molesting her and that it’s wrong? She's the one who didn't create a safe enough environment for her daughter to trust her! She's the one that never loved you so you ran to your father for affection!" He pauses. "Admit it. You've been wanting her death as much as Jeremy's, as much as Emanuel's."
“Shut up!” His arms wrap around me. I try to push him away.
“You’re fucking gorgeous, Astoria. Every time I watched you dancing, letting your true self out, everyone else disappeared from the room. It was amazing. I couldn’t stay away, and I knew it would be easy to get you because I could see what your mom did to you. Do you understand? She made you an easy target. It’s not your beauty or your personality, it was her–”
“Stop it! My mom did the best she could, you fucking asshole!” I scream at the top of my lungs as I yank myself from him. The anger numbs the chest pain. A surge of energy and strength rushes through me. Surprisingly, Julian doesn’t knock me out for insulting him.
"I could never figure out why your journal had so many death wishes for Jeremy and Emanuel but none for her when she treated you so badly. But you do want me to kill her. Don't you, pretty bird?"
I should have lied. I shouldn't have trusted him with this at all. While shaking my head I defend her, trying to save her life. “She had zero evidence. It was her word against his! And what mother wants the world to know her child seduced her father? It’s always our fault isn’t it? It’s my fault, it’s my mom’s fault, it’s always on us! When all the lot of you have to do is Stop. Raping. Us! ” I pause to catch my breath, not sure I made sense at all, and wipe my tears without understanding why I’m so angry. Maybe it’s that deep inside I know none of that excuses how Mom treated me. I want to break something, I want to slash my skin. I need the pain inside to come out, but it’s infinite. “Fu–ck–!” I slap my hands on the counter, grab my cup, and slam it on the floor.That's not enough to flush out my rage so I throw my plate across the room, then his. Still not enough.
Everything crashes. There's spilled coffee everywhere, but Julian doesn’t even blink. He stands there, watching me devolve into a puddle. I fold into myself, kneeling on the wood speckled with ceramic pieces and coffee, trying to avoid facing the fact that my mother never loved me, and failing miserably.
He's right.
I've always day-dreamed her death and that Mindy's parents would adopt me.
Why is it so painful to realize that something this horrible was not my fault after all–that I was innocent? I wish I could hug the little girl I was, so desperate to feel warm in someone's arms and only having a monster to run to. I swallow deep when I finally understand that my rage is there because everyone who was responsible for me lied to me, shamed and blamed me so that they could weaken me and thereby, use me. I shake my head at the thought because I don’t want it to be true. It’s too painful, but it’s already there, naked, for me to have to endure and accept. Slivers of glass are cutting into my knees and I couldn’t give less of a shit.
I have no idea how long I stay there with Julian waiting and watching me. I don’t even know how many times he calls my name before I hear it.
“Astoria.” His voice, his tone are so calm that they caress my eardrum. The music in the background is another rainy day, slow jazz song but when I look out one of the windows, it’s bright outside. The only thing raining is me, through my eyes.
I meet his dark-as-a-black-holes eyes. “Let’s go outside for a walk.” He extends his hand to me. My eyes shift between his skull-painted face, and his fingers which are only an inch or two from me. The shock shakes me out of the dark world that was my childhood. His words are ones I never expected him to speak to me.
He cleans the wounds on my knees, and covers them with bandages. I discover I like it when he does that, take care of me, but more often than that, all Julian does, is control and torture me. "Put the glasses on." It's a demand from a tyrant, a monster who's every word I've learned to measure and fear.
The brightness blinds me as soon as I look out the opened front door, so I shut my eyes tight while wincing.
“Just open them slowly as you get used to it.” He pulls me, firm but also slowly, as if he were carrying me through something I had to do, not something I begged for. The gentleness rips my soul, demolishing the walls I’ve been protecting myself with. But I purposefully remind myself once again that he’s the monster that raped me and destroyed my life. The memory is the brick and cement I use to rebuild the wall again.
I could run to the forest… maybe I could escape. But the forest seems further away than this morning. It’s as if this was the last house on Earth. Nothing but grass surrounds the house, no neighbors.
The white porch is wide and wrapped around the house but dated and dirty. There are white rocking chairs, matching gray-painted wooden floors, and yellow flowers hanging from white wicker baskets. This must be a dream. It looks like an old farm house that needs a lot of work; the paint is chipped and fading, the wicker baskets are falling apart but it’s part of the charm for me. An old home. I wonder if love has ever lived here.
He guides me down the three thin steps to the grass, then holds both my forearms as he walks backward. I’m still not completely used to the light so I keep my eyes down.
It's like being reborn, experiencing everything for the first time again. There’s that rare smell I love that tells me it’s going to rain. It banishes all my bad thoughts and I giggle at him a little, drawing a smile out of him. The thick blades of grass tickle my feet. I take in the rich green of it and snap my eyes up to him while giggling again. I realize he is soaking my every reaction with awe. My laughter dissolves at the skull paint but a smile that I couldn’t possibly hide, stays. My eyes meet his and we are locked. His are the first to falter to my slightly opened lips. His gaze is so intense, as if he’d never hungered for anything other than to kiss me. It hardens my nipples right before the fear overwhelms me, my heart rushing.
“Julian–” It’s a whisper full of horror mixed with wanting.My insides ache for this man. How? Why?
He sinks down to me and takes my lips in his. It's a passionate, fast kiss. The aching spreads and intensifies. It's insufferable. No! I moan, and push, wanting to break away, but he doesn’t stop. His hold tightens and I melt into it, kissing him back. He cups my breast. I push at him with both hands, but he continues playing with my nipple. My whimpers grow louder as my pussy melts and aches too intensely. I stomp on his shoe and he releases me. I guess it’s surprising that I’m fighting him at all.
That’s when I bolt, running toward the forest with my eyes shedding tears at the stinging, the edges of my vision slowly becoming white. I know if I reach it, I’ll be safe. I’ll escape. The trees are probably just there to cover what’s happening in the property. My chest hurts. I widen my steps, trying to cover more ground, not caring that I feel like I’m going to die. I’m tired far too soon. I can hear his steps squishing the grass. Hearing it makes me panic. He's too close. I'm two yards away when I hear him scream, "Astoria stop!" The concern oozes but I don't believe him, I don't dare look back.
And just like that, he grabs my hair and pulls so hard I fall.I lose the sunglasses. The light stings me into squeezing my eyes tight.
“Ah–h! No!” I screech and pant not only from being caught but also from the pain of falling on my hip bone and elbow. “No! No! No!” I fight him on the grass, kicking, screaming, scratching, biting but he always manages to regain control. I think the only reason why he hasn’t pinned me down is because he is laughing too hard.
He can’t have me. “No–!” He can’t.
“Do you know what this means?” The laughter thunders. His body is on top of mine and his hand pins mine above me. He continues to laugh.
When his smiling eyes meet mine, the fear drowns me. It’s too much.
He’s going to throw me back to the basement!
It was all a trick. He knew what I would do. No! No! No! I hear myself gasping for air but it doesn’t reach my lungs. I want to say, I’m sorry, please don’t do it, don’t do it, but all that comes out of me are strange sounds. “Ick-ick, igg.”
The smile melts away from his face.It’s like the air has been sucked out of the planet but he’s fine. My lungs are screaming, my veins are throbbing, searching for oxygen. Where is it? I’m dying. I’m fucking dying. No! The balls of my feet drag against the dirt. Help me! His lips are moving but there’s no sound.
“Astoria!” he yells, trying to get my attention. I didn’t realize he’d let me go. My hands flatten on my burning chest. “Astoria, slow down. Just breathe, slowly.”
But I can’t. I shake my head, terrified, and blotches are filling my view, blocking even him. I’m going to die, here, with him; no one will ever know what happened to me. He’ll probably throw me in a ditch, then grab the next weak, stupid bitch he can find. My tears are continuous. I turn my eyes to the forest which is too near. I could’ve made it. If I would have run faster, I could’ve made it.
Just when I give up, Julian turns my face back to him. It's so him to not let me die the way I want. He pinches my nose and slams his lips on mine. What the fuck is he doing? I push against his chest. He breathes air into my mouth then lifts his face to check on me. I cough, gasping again but in a different way, a way that actually gets the air into my lungs. My body is limp, completely drained. I’m wheezing as my breathing slowly calms. My lungs are still in scorching pain, but at least they have what they need.
His forefinger and thumb squeeze one of my wrists and I see him counting.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to whisper. He studies me. The next tears leak out of me. “Please don’t put me down there again.”
His fingers squeeze my wrist, again, counting.
“Please, Julian. I’ll–I’ll do anything you want.” His eyes settle on mine when I finish the sentence. He pulls my legs apart and buries his face between them. My butt lifts as his tongue slides into my slit, then up between my pussy lips to my clit where it curls only for him to suck. I’m wet everywhere, sweating from whatever just happened–the humidity, the run, the kiss before, his demonic tongue, take your pick. I use all my energy to not react, to not make a sound, while staring at the forest. His fingers enter both my holes, his thumb into my ass, and three others into my pussy. He doesn’t take his time or do it gently. My back lifts from the grass as I wail but I can hear my juices. It feels too good. He groans, continuing to finger me as he crawls up, then pulls my mouth open and sticks the three fingers into my mouth.
"Taste how much you love having me suck your cunt."
I obey him. I'll do anything to not go back down there. He pulls down the strap of the babydoll nightgown and sucks on my breast. My mind, emotions, and body, are in shambles.
“Julian,” I cry, needing him to tell me he won't throw me down there. The physical pleasure fogs my mind, breaks down my wall of indifference. It feels too good, and I don’t want it to. When he stops fingering me, he unbuckles his belt, unbuttons his pants and rams his dick into my pussy. I wasn’t ready for the size of him. I slap his arm and scratch at his back, screaming and shaking while he groans and fucks me with short thrusts.
“So fucking tight, baby. God. I'm gonna come right away.”
My moans and whimpers mix with his groaning and our panting.
“Fuck! It’s been too long!” He sucks on my breast so hard, I scream. I widen my legs and enjoy his cock reaching deeper. In trying to not show my pleasure, I fist at the grass and mute myself.
"Pretty bird, your cunt is drenched for me." He takes my wrists, pinning them above me again, fucking me while staring at my face going through every emotion until I become his willing whore and need him to fuck me just as much as he needs to.
“I’m gonna come in that tight, little, delicious pussy of yours.”
My eyes snap wide open. I don’t want to get pregnant. It’s two weeks after my period and who knows if the birth control injection is still working. I shake my head. “Please don’t. Please.”
A smile fills his face. “You know I don’t waste my come, little bird. It’s either in your pussy or your ass.”
“In my mouth. Put it in my mouth, Julian. It’s been too long. Please.”The desperation bleeds through my words.
He chuckles at the plea. “I gave you a choice.” His thrusts hurry and I panic knowing he's near the end.
“In my ass. Please. Pleas–”
“Too late.”
I muffle my screams but the words burst out of me as the climax quickly approaches, “Oh–My–God. Oh-my-god-oh-my-god.” While my pussy quivers and his dick is just about to twitch, I pull away and manage to turn over, dragging myself away from him but he catches me right away and his dick slams into me. “No–!”The climax rolls through me. It's so much more intense when I'm on my belly.
“That’s it, pretty bird, milk me. See how your cunt wants my come?"
I moan at each contraction of my pussy. My eyes roll back while my body swims in a pool of pleasure but I wail, "Fuck! No!"
"That’s it. Fuck, you feel so good!”
“No–”
He pants, then grunts so hard as his cock spills into me, his fingers digging into my hips as his body trembles while ramming me.
“No,” I keep whispering, but he ignores me.
When he stops, he lowers his lips, his breath crashing into my ear. “Don’t worry, little bird. Our baby is going to be beautiful.”