49. Harlow #2
There’s a satisfied, glazed look in his eyes, like he knew I’d be wet enough to take him, but it makes me hotter that he wants me so much that he doesn’t care. It feels good to be out of control—to let Henry take over. His sharp teeth scrape down my neck, and my whole body clenches.
Henry grunts a curse.
There’s something about being able to control the pain in my body, to see the place it’s coming from, to feel it given with pleasure.
I’m not in control, but somehow choosing to surrender makes me feel powerful.
This is a thing I can choose to give away without risking losing something, or maybe it’s that I’m losing something I never wanted.
Henry growls into the curve of my neck as he picks up his pace. My skin is covered in goosebumps, my nipples so sensitive they ache. Pleasure rushes through my blood. It’s freeing to be wanted like this, to be taken without judgment.
With no warning, Henry spins and takes me to the ground. He pulls back for a moment and rips my white dress down the center, baring the green lace undergarments.
He pauses to take me in, his eyes passing slowly over the lace. He yanks the cups down and tweaks my nipples. I arch off the ground and groan, and his grin turns feral. Then he strikes, biting my right nipple.
My scream turns into a groan as he thrusts into me and sucks the nipple hard. He does the same thing to the left nipple, and I’m stunned with pleasure and pain and fear that I’m his now. I wait for something to happen—some sign that I’m not myself.
“I didn’t draw blood,” he says, pinching the sore flesh.
He pulls back and thrusts into me, his gaze fixed to where we’re joined. He does it again, harder, and I slide along the leafy ground, twigs and stones scraping the backs of my arms.
“You look so good taking me like this.”
I should be freezing in the cold night, but I’m burning up, lust coursing through my blood at the wild pleasure of being wanted like this.
A twig breaks somewhere to our left, and I turn to squint into the darkness.
Henry leans over me, pushing my left leg higher and sliding into me deeper. My pussy clenches so hard.
“That’s right,” he whispers in my ear. “Anyone is welcome to watch. Does that make you hot, Harlow? Someone watching me fuck you?”
I clench harder around him, and he growls into my collarbone.
“You’re mine now, and I’m never letting you go—but maybe I’ll let someone else use you for a bit when I’m done.”
The thought of Henry letting someone else fuck me—of him watching someone else use me—makes me so hot. I’m dripping down my thighs.
“Oh, you like that? Maybe I’ll let the lot of them take turns using you until I’m ready to fill you up again?”
I moan loudly.
“Not tonight, lovely. Tonight, you’re mine alone to use however I like.”
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but I like that idea.
I want to belong to someone—to be taken care of—and I don’t think I could take tenderness.
Perhaps that’s what always felt discordant in my relationship with Bea.
She was so gentle with me when I needed her to be as harsh and demanding as the rest of the world.
Henry can meet me where I am. His violence isn’t happening to me. It’s happening for me. He understands implicitly what I can take and what I can’t, and I am terrified of him—not because he’s a monster, but because he knows me.
I’m so close, every muscle in my body wound tighter than ever before. I feel like I’m going to break, but Henry doesn’t let up.
He groans into my neck. “Let go, lovely. You’re going to come and make it official. I want to claim you.”
I’ve been fighting it so hard because it’s what I do. I fight.
According to the story, when I come, he’ll bite me and then I’ll be his. The pleasure in my body is so intense, my vision is growing dotted. I’m right on the edge of a climax.
Henry’s teeth slice into my neck, the sharp sting stealing my breath.
His canines withdraw, and he closes his lips over the puncture and draws my blood into his mouth.
He shudders. The pain of the bite mixes with the strange tingling pleasure of being taken so completely, and I cry out as the orgasm washes over me.
He sucks harder on my neck, and pleasure races through my bloodstream, his hips pumping faster to draw out my release.
My legs shake so violently I can barely keep them locked around his hips, but he thrusts into me harder.
Wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, going on and on so long that my feet cramp and my body goes limp.
Henry groans, his hips jerking more erratically as he comes.
The two of us lie there, limbs tangled, hearts slowing. Warm blood trickles from the wound on my neck. Henry laps at it gently.
“Mine,” he growls, taking another long pull of my blood.
My pussy clenches again, and he shudders.
He chuckles into my neck. “Oh, was that not enough? Don’t worry. I’m not even close to being finished with you.”
I hate how smug he sounds. He licks up my neck and presses a kiss to the bite. The tingly feeling of his healing rushes over my skin, followed by the itch. He healed the bite.
“I only did it so I can get that same reaction when I bite you again,” he murmurs in my ear. “Maybe I’ll let some of the others bite you, too. Maybe I’ll make you fuck them.”
I clench around him again, and he chuckles. “Such a greedy little wife. But not tonight. Not while I’m claiming you. I’m going to fuck that idea right out of your head.” He draws back and grabs my chin so I meet his eyes. “No one can do for you what I can.”
I shouldn’t push. He looks barely sated, still half-crazed, but I can’t help myself.
I lick my lips and smile. “Only one way to find out.”
His jaw ticks, and I expect him to bite me again. But a slow grin spreads over his face.
A strange feeling hits me in the chest. At first, I don’t recognize it. It feels like tingling, but then it sinks lower, rushing through my blood. It’s an ache—a need.
He clicks his tongue in mock concern. “What’s the matter, lovely? Feeling the effects of being mine? Did I forget to mention that claiming can be a bit of an aphrodisiac? It will be more intense if I bite you again. ”
Suddenly, I’m ravenous for him. I need his touch everywhere. I need him to bite me all over. I need him to consume me. Lust courses through me, burning like a fever, and I arch into him.
I hate him so much, and also, I’m ready to get on my knees and beg for him to do anything he wants to me.
He draws out of me and I whimper at the emptiness. I want to cry, and also, I want to strangle him for making me so needy.
“Kneel like a good little wife,” he taunts.
My body is trembling, my limbs wrung out from running and fucking, but I force myself up to kneel before him in supplication with my tattered dress hanging from my arms.
“Beg.”
Even through the claiming haze, my defiance breaks through. “No.”
“Beg me to fuck your smart mouth or I’ll leave you aching and writhing in the dirt all night.”
“I know how to take care of myself,” I growl, sliding my hand between my legs to try to ease the ache.
“None of that unless I allow it. You’re mine and I decide when and how you get your pleasure.”
Lust rushes through me. I am so disgusted with myself and so turned on. I don’t know how he knows these dark things that I don’t even know about myself, but I have never been so aroused in my life.
“Take off those shreds of clothing and open your mouth.” His voice is low, commanding, and I rush to obey.
I slide the dress off so I’m naked before him.
“Good girl,” he chides. I hate how the affirmation sends a shiver of pleasure through my body. “Hands behind your back.”
I do as he says, and he cups my cheek and tilts my chin up. His other hand tugs on my hair. The pain is grounding, cutting through the lusty haze.
Suddenly, I feel eyes on me from all sides. I can only see shadows in the darkness, but I know they’re there, watching. That awareness sends a rush of wet heat between my thighs, and I shift, trying to get some friction.
“You’d let them watch your wife naked?” I challenge.
“They like to watch a claiming—to know how much of you I own. They like to watch you struggle when you know deep down you want to belong to me. They like to see a proud woman humbled by need.” He grins and strokes his still-hard cock. “And so do I. Now open your mouth.”
I obey, staring at his enormous cock.
“Take a breath.”
I take a breath, and then he thrusts his cock in deep. It’s almost too big—my jaw aches from being forced so wide. I fight the urge to gag, holding his gaze as my eyes water. He holds himself in my throat.
“Divine damn me, that feels good,” he groans.
He draws out, and I sputter, then he thrusts back in again.
He fucks my mouth mercilessly, like he did my pussy. His roughness just keeps making me hotter and hotter. My skin feels too tight. I need to please him as badly as I need to be touched. My breasts ache, nipples painfully hard.
He groans, deep and guttural, and I almost come just from the sound of his satisfaction.
He thrusts again and holds himself there. My eyes burn with tears, and the urge to pull away, to draw in breath, grows more intense by the second. My vision grows spotty, but I stay where I am. He tightens his grip in my hair as if afraid I’ll draw away, but I don’t want to.
Finally, he pulls out, and I sputter and gasp for air before he thrusts back in deep.
He repeats it again and again, taunting me with his control, with my desire to please him, with the insane lust coursing through my body.
He starts pumping faster and harder, his movements frenzied.
Both hands come to the back of my head. He thrusts in as deep as he can go and grunts as he spills down my throat.
I swallow as much as I can. He slowly pulls back, taking a few shallow pumps as he curses and pulls my hair harder. I am right on the edge of finishing with him, but I feel too painfully empty.