Raw (After Dark Taboo)
Chapter 1
I made it to the mouth of the alley behind my building before he took me.
The rain was a solid sheet now, hammering everything it touched, and turning the ground into a solid pool. My cheap umbrella barely kept the rain away. If I could just get under some covering, I could wait out the storm then haul ass to my building.
I couldn’t see five feet in front of me, but it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway. One minute I was running down the sidewalk and the next, a wet leather-gloved hand clamped over my mouth so hard my jaw creaked. The hand felt massive, big and masculine and wholly male.
An arm thicker than hell locked around my ribs, and I was lifted effortlessly off the ground and swung to the side.
My feet kicked uselessly in the air, heels scraping the brick of the building to my side as he dragged me deeper into the dark alley.
The wind caught my umbrella and whisked it away; the ribs snapping and breaking.
My back hit the unforgiving wall with a wet thud that drove every ounce of air from my lungs. For a second, the world was nothing but pain and rain and the smell of hot male skin under wet cotton. Then I saw him.
He moved to step in front of me. He was six-foot-seven, maybe more. Shoulders so wide the alley seemed to shrink around him. Black t-shirt under a black hoodie plastered to his chest, and every ridge and slab of muscle outlined like he’d been carved from obsidian.
Water streamed off the matte black skull mask, running in rivulets over the hollow cheeks, dripping from the lipless grin. Those empty eye sockets swallowed the streetlight whole.
I should have screamed.
Instead, the most pathetic, needy sound crawled out of me and vibrated against his palm, muffled, wet, desperate.
He leaned in until the cold plastic of the mask brushed my cheek.
I heard him inhale slow and deep, dragging the air from my throat into his lungs like he was tasting me.
His thighs were thick as my waist and solid muscle.
He shoved one between mine and pressed up. Hard, grinding it against my pussy.
The material scraped over my clit, and I jerked, thighs clamping around him on pure instinct.
I was drenched. And not just from the rain. My panties had been ruined the second I felt those footsteps behind me. Now, my sick desire clung to my pussy, my underwear soaked through with slick that had nothing to do with weather.
He pulled back an inch but kept his thigh right where it was. He tilted his head, studying me as if I were prey he’d finally cornered.
“Been watching you for weeks, little girl,” he rasped, voice wrapping around me and turning me on more.
His voice was deep, holding something demonic and velvet-rough.
“Every night you walk this street, I wonder if your cunt is dripping down your thighs. Wonder if you’re being watched and followed.
I bet you pray someone big and mean finally snaps and takes what’s his. ”
I shook my head, frantic, even as my hips rolled shamelessly against his thigh, chasing friction.
He laughed low and filthy and ground harder.
“Yeah, you’re a dirty little girl, aren’t you?
” The ridge of his quad dragged over my clit again, digging the seam of my jeans against the swollen bundle of nerves pulling a gasp from me.
He did it again until my knees buckled. Only his body pinning me to the alley wall kept me upright.
His hand left my mouth and fisted in my wet hair, yanking my head slightly back and to the side until my throat was bared. My scalp burned like fire, and the pain aroused me more. Tears mixed with the downpour instantly.
“Say it,” he snarled against my ear, breathing heavily through the mask. “Tell me you’ve been fingering this sloppy pussy every night dreaming of a stranger’s cock splitting you raw in the dark.”
I sobbed, shaking my head and squeezing my eyes shut, but the word tore out of me anyway, cracked and ruined. “Please…”
He tightened his hand in my hair. I opened my eyes to see him pushing the bottom of the mask up. I felt his teeth sinking deep breaking skin. Warm fluid trailed down my neck, and I knew my blood bloomed hot under his tongue. The pain arrowed straight to my clit like a lightning strike.
“Please don’t,” I gasped, but there was no real heat behind my words.
He licked the bite slowly as if he were savoring the copper tang he’d created. And bit again. Harder.
“Please don’t stop,” I whispered, hating myself for loving the shame that burned through me.
His guttural growl of approval vibrated against my throat. He spun me and pressed my chest into the brick. My cheek scraped rough mortar, breasts crushed painfully. I was helpless as he worked my jeans down to my ankles. Cold air kissed my thighs, and I grew hotter.
My panties, black lace, were ripped down to mid-thigh in one savage yank. The elastic snapped against my skin, stinging.
Rain lashed my bare ass sliding down over my exposed cunt. I heard his zipper and the wet slap of a massive cock being freed. Despite the onslaught of noise all around me, I heard the slick sound of his fist pumping over his dick. It was obscene. It was hot.
He slapped his cock on my ass, spreading pre-cum over my skin. I tried to brace, palms flat on the wall, but there was no preparation for what came next.
My voice was locked in my throat when his blunt, scalding crown nudged my entrance, and parted my folds. He drove forward, one merciless thrust that buried every inch in a single stroke.
I screamed and rose on my toes. The sound ricocheted off the brick, raw and animalistic. He was too big, too thick, the stretch a white-hot burn that blurred the line between agony and ecstasy.
My pussy walls fluttered wildly, trying to adjust to his immense size, trying to push him out and drag him in deeper at the same time.
He didn’t give me a second to breathe, just pulled back until only the head remained notched in my hole and slammed home again harder, balls slapping my clit with a wet, sloppy noise.
He fucked me like punishment. Like he worshiped me.
Each thrust punched the air from my lungs, drove my hips into the wall, scraped my nipples raw against wet fabric. His hand clamped over my mouth again, three thick fingers shoving between my teeth so I tasted leather and salt and rain. I bit down hard, but he only growled and fucked me harder.
The other hand dug bruises into my hip, fingers spanning almost my entire waist, holding me exactly where he wanted while he rutted like a beast. He made it so I couldn’t verbally protest, couldn’t tell him no or stop.
But the truth was… I didn’t know if I would have.
His cock dragged over every sensitive spot inside me until I was sobbing around his fingers, drooling, mascara no doubt running black rivers down my cheeks.
“Gonna breed this cunt,” he snarled, pace turning brutal, hips snapping so hard the impacts jolted up my spine.
“Pump you so full my cum it leaks out of you for days.” He grunted like an animal.
“Every step you take tomorrow, you’ll feel me dripping down your thighs and remember who owns this greedy little hole. ”
He pulled me away from the wall and bent me forward even more so that my back was all but parallel with the ground.
“Come for me. Squeeze that tiny cunt around my cock and milk me.”
His words detonated inside me. My orgasm hit like a freight train, violent, ripping through every nerve. My body clamped down in ruthless spasms, milking him like he demanded, trying to keep him buried forever.
He cursed, low and vicious, hips stuttering, and then shoved impossibly deep and held inside of me.
I felt the first jet of cum like a brand, hot and thick, flooding my insides. Pulse after pulse, he emptied himself into me, grinding slow and filthy, making sure every drop stayed deep. The sounds were sloppy, his seed sloshing out of where we were connected and making a mess.
My walls fluttered around him, greedy, drinking him down while I shuddered and sobbed and wailed into his palm.
This was wrong. This feels right.
When he finally pulled out, the sudden emptiness made me whine. A gush of cum followed, thick and obscene, pouring down my thighs in heavy rivulets, mixing with rain and my own slick.
I looked over my shoulder, his skull mask still on, making this entire encounter even more degrading.
He watched his cum drip for a long second then shoved three gloved fingers into me without warning, fucking his spend back inside, curling hard against my g-spot until my legs gave out and I came again, squirting around his hand, soaking his wrist.
Only then did he step back.
He zipped up slowly, deliberately, the sound loud in the sudden quiet. I braced my hands on the brick in front of me and used it to balance myself and straighten.
Before I knew what was happening—again—he spun me, pressed my back to the wall and the cold skull mask to my forehead almost tenderly.
“This isn’t over, babygirl,” he rasped, voice still distorted, still deadly. “Run home. Lock every door. Pretend you’re safe. I’ll be inside before you stop shaking.”
He released me, and my knees buckled. I slid down the wall into a puddle, panties a destroyed mess on the ground, pants around my ankles, his cum still leaking in slow pulses from my swollen cunt.
By the time I dragged myself upright, my teeth were chattering and he was gone, swallowed by the dark.
I was crying, and high all in the same breath. Finally, I stood, righting my jeans, and stumbled home, every step a messy reminder of what had just happened to me, every heartbeat echoing his promise.
Because I knew he wasn’t done.