33. Bastian #3
She gasps when I shift to unzip my pants and free my cock, a ragged little sound that threatens to have me coming in my fucking hand. Then her eyes are closed again, like she can will me away with the power of her mind.
“Open your eyes, girl. Look at the cock I’m about to shove inside your tight, bloody little slit.” I stroke it just for her, and her eyes flick to my hand, her chest rising and falling in quick, sharp breaths.
Her trembling thighs drag together instinctively when I try to sink between them, but she doesn’t have the strength to close them.
Nor the desire.
That flush on her cheeks isn’t just shame. It’s arousal. Need.
“I don’t ask for permission. Not now, not ever. Best you get used to it, girl.” I press forward, slow, deliberate, and the moment my cock breaches her wet, bloody entrance it feels like desecration and devotion all at once.
She cries out, not all pain, not all pleasure, her pussy clamping down on me like it doesn’t know the difference. Her nails rake slowly at the sheets, her head weakly turns away, but her thighs relax open.
Traitorous, desperate, welcoming.
Wrong, so wrong, and I can’t stop. I never wanted to. She belongs to me now—branded, stained, owned.
Kai submitted.
Haven succumbs.
And in her final surrender I claim the ownership of a god.
“I’ll fuck the no out of you until the only words you know are harder, Sir.”
I drive into her ruthlessly deep, relishing the pained whimpers and mewls she makes under me.
All the patience I held crumbles, leaving only brutality behind.
She takes me, all of me, is torn open for it because she has no choice, just as I had no choice but to drive down here, break in, climb the stairs, and take what’s mine.
Her chest heaves beneath me, her hands flutter to push and then fall away. But we both know resisting now is utterly pointless. The sight of her nails clawing at the sheets only makes me grind in deeper.
There’s no gentleness left, no worship dressed as mercy.
Just corruption and ruin.
Just the brute violence of claiming what no one else ever should.
When tears leak out behind her shivering lashes, I’m there to lick them from her skin, whispering, “I love making you cry, pretty girl,” against her mouth.
The taste of her salty tears makes it impossible to hold back. I come with a deep-seated growl that’s possessive and furious, my thick shaft churning that seed into a thick, pink cream when it mixes with her blood.
Thighs that had been spreading open for me suddenly snap against my waist. Weak, but still trying to keep me in place.
I lean back, grabbing her throat as I slam into her pussy, keeping my cock buried deep inside.
“Please…” she mumbles through slack lips.
But I stay buried, unmoving, taunting her. “Now you’re begging me to let you come? Make up your mind, girl.”
I tighten my grip on her neck, watching her face flush, her lips part, her eyes widen in fear.
Then, and only then, do I grind the heel of my free hand over her clit, pushing her over the edge with a relentless pressure. Her eyes flicker, lips trembling as she fights, fights—and breaks.
The ragged sounds she makes as she comes brands itself in my mind.
I drop my head, my fingers sinking into her hair as the room spins around me. Drunk on the heat, on the pain she can’t hide, on the wet clutch that seals around me like it already knows I’ll never fucking leave.
“That’s my girl,” I murmur against her throat.
I stay inside her, relishing her wetness and her warmth. But her silence is the loudest thing I’ve ever heard.
The room feels hushed, holy, wrong.
Haven won’t be the same again.
Kai will never be the same.
I’ve dragged them both over a line they can’t ever cross again.
She will remember how she unwillingly came undone.
And I will remember the way she fought, her skin flushed with shame while her body dragged us both deeper into the dark.
This is the truth.
This is what I’m built for.
Not tenderness. Not love.
Ruin.
I grab the edge of her pastel quilt and drag it closer, wiping it over her wet, bloodstained pussy.
Ruining the fabric, just like I ruined her.
“You’re damaged goods now, sweet girl. Broken, branded, fucking mine.”
I slide my free hand up her limp torso to her throat, wrapping fingers around the delicate column. Not crushing, but just enough pressure to feel her pulse stutter and flutter weakly against my palm while her body arches in a helpless spasm.
She’s so small, so breakable, that faint choke drawing a mewled gasp from her lips, her shivers turning frantic as if begging for air and more all at once.
I lean over her, caging her in, unable to move, unwilling to. It’s enough for now just to feel her clutch me as though her body itself refuses to let me go.
Not obedience. Not submission.
Succumbing.
And it’s enough, for now.
“My sweet, perfect girl,” I rasp against her lips before kissing her as brutally as I just fucked her.
Her body lies limp beneath me, but her lips move against mine—desperate, urgent…eager.
I smile as she kisses me back, my cock already hardening again inside her bleeding hole.
I don’t have a choice but to fuck her again.
…Neither does she.