Lucy #2
His hips piston, the motion so relentless it feels like he’s determined to break me in half.
“You’re just a tight little hole for me to fuck, aren’t you?
” he pants. He releases my wrists so he can smack my tits, and I cry out.
“Yeah, you’re a dirty little slut. You love taking Kara’s boyfriend’s cock in that tight little pussy, don’t you? ”
His words are horrendous, but they create a shameful heat deep inside me that I can’t control. The part of me that’s scared is being overtaken by something raw and urgent and humiliating.
My platform boots dig into him as I lock my ankles, pulling him deeper. He responds by grabbing my hip with one hand, fingers digging into the flesh hard enough to bruise, and setting a pace that makes the world narrow to nothing but the place where we’re joined.
His thrusts are hard. Deep. Merciless. Each one shoves me further into the cushions, and I can hear it—the wet, obscene sound of his cock plunging into me, the slap of skin against skin.
My wings are crushed beneath my back, feathers bending in directions they shouldn’t, and the wire digging into my back. But I don’t care.
His hand moves from my hip to my hair, fisting a handful at the back of my skull. He yanks, and my head tips back, throat exposed. His mouth finds the curve of my neck—teeth first, then tongue, then a hard suck that I know will leave a mark.
“Derek—” His name breaks apart as he thrusts again. “Derek, please,” I cry, shameful tension building within me.
My head is spinning, and my body is doing things without my permission—my hips rolling to meet his, my inner walls clenching around him with every stroke, my breath coming in short, sharp bursts that match his pace.
His hand finds my thigh, hooking my leg higher over his arm.
The new angle opens me wider, and I gasp as he sinks even deeper.
I feel him everywhere. The head of his cock drags against my tight walls with every thrust, and the pressure is building—coiling low and tight, spreading heat through my limbs as he fucks me.
I grip the back of the couch, needing something to hang onto as he drives into me hard and fast.
“Oh my god, Derek.” My voice shakes. My thighs tremble.
“You’re going to feel me tomorrow.” He says it like a promise. His thumb finds my clit, presses down, and circles. “Every time you sit down. Every time you walk. You’re going to remember this.”
I’ll remember it for longer than that.
I’ll never forget what he did to me this Halloween night.
I hate him so much. I hate myself so much, too.
I come anyway.
An agonized cry slips out of me as I break apart, my pussy convulsing around his thick cock.
My back arches off the couch, my legs lock around him, and I clench around his cock so hard that he groans—a raw, guttural sound.
My nails dig into his shoulder with one hand, the back of the couch with the other, and I try to hold on as my pussy pulses around him, milking him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses as he slams into me, fucking me through it. “Oh, Christ, your perfect fucking pussy.” His rhythm slips, the drive of his hips becoming erratic, then he slams deep.
He pulls out abruptly, and I’m startled by the sudden emptiness.
His hand wraps around his shaft and he jerks himself in tight, quick strokes.
I watch him as he comes, the way his jaw clenches, the way his abs tighten.
His cum splatters against my costume and shoots across my tits.
It lands hot on my bare skin—thick and sticky, pearly streaks marking me as a toy he’s finished playing with.
I want to wipe it away, but my arm won’t move. I’m limp, boneless, wrung out and humiliated.
Not even taking time to recover, Derek lets go of my wrists and climbs off me. Before I’ve even caught my breath, I hear the click of his jeans as he zips up.
My heart sinks into my stomach.
My body feels cold, especially my tits—covered in his cum.
I feel like a sordid wreck, and I know I must look like one.
But I feel abandoned, too.
I’ve never had a guy discard me so immediately after coming before.
“That was fun,” he says, the words like a knife to my gut. He doesn’t bother looking at me as he pulls his hoodie back over his head on his way to the door.
But then he stops.
Glances back.
“I’m sure this goes without saying, but don’t tell Kara about this.”
Without another word, he leaves.
I sit there, stunned, unable to wrap my head around what just happened.
My brain is lagging, my stomach rocking as the reality of it settles around me.
I want to cry, but I’m scared that if I start, I won’t stop, so I force myself up and into the bathroom.
I strip the angel costume off, dropping it in a heap on the floor.
I stare into the mirror above the sink at what I’ve become, but I can’t quite look myself in the eyes.
My lips are swollen, smeared with lust and shame.
I run the faucet and scrub my face, but I’m such a mess. I need a shower.
The feathery wings lay on the tile floor, molted and broken, accompanied by the halo headband.
I pick up the ripped white dress and toss it in the trash.
The cum on my chest is starting to cool and dry.
I grab a wad of toilet paper and wipe myself clean, then keep wiping, again and again, until my skin is raw and streaked red.
In the shower, I stand under scalding water, scrubbing and scrubbing, hoping I can erase what happened if I just scrape hard enough.
But it never feels like enough. I can still feel him everywhere.
When I finally get out, it’s almost two in the morning. I towel off and pull on a sleep shirt. All I want to do is climb under the covers and forget tonight ever happened.
So I do.
Or, at least, I try.
If you want the rest of Derek and Lucy’s messy love story, you can find it in Owned by the Bully by Scarlet Grey.