29. Wolff #2
“I don’t want your cunt, AJ. It’s too fucking easy for you to come. You want to come? You’re going to come with my cock in your ass.”
I press the thick head of my cock against her tight asshole and push in. Her body fights me at first, clenching as she whines. I don’t stop. I keep the pressure steady, watching her stretch around me.
“Holy fuck. Look at this greedy little ass swallowing my cock.”
Fisting her hair, I shove her face harder into the mattress. My other hand grips her ass cheek, spreading her wider as I force another inch inside her.
She cries out, muffled against the pillow, her body shaking.
I pull back slightly, then slam in deeper, watching her ass ripple. The sight is fucking perfect—her tight hole stretched around my thick cock, taking me even though she’s sobbing. I shove my thumb in beside my length, stretching her more.
How much can she fucking take before she breaks?
A dark, vicious thrill runs through me. I want to see her limit. I need to push her until she finally says her safeword.
I lean over her, chest pressed to her back, and growl low in her ear. “My cock looks so fucking good stretching this tight little ass. You’re taking it like you were born for this.”
She whimpers, hips twitching back against me, even as she cries.
I pull out just enough to spit on her hole, then drive back in, pounding ruthlessly. She sobs louder, but she still doesn’t say it. I replace my thumb with two fingers, pumping them in and out alongside my cock, her skin pulled taut where she stretches around me.
“Fuck… Feel that? I’m going to ruin every hole you have until you’re gaping and useless.”
She screams into the pillow. Tears are soaking the sheets. Her legs are shaking so badly, they can barely hold her up.
She’s at her limit.
She has to say it.
“You know how to make me stop.” I ram into her harder as she falls apart beneath me. “Say it. Say the fucking word, AJ.”
She shakes her head against the pillow, more tears spilling down her cheeks, refusing to say it.
I pull out, watching her wrecked asshole for a second—red, stretched, leaking—before I drive back in with my cock and fingers together, making her scream.
Her legs give out completely. Her body goes limp under me.
I pin her down with my full weight, cock buried deep in her ass, and keep fucking her.
She still doesn’t say it.
And that fucks me up more than anything.
Her voice cracks into desperate, broken sobs, hands slapping weakly at the bed like she’s tapping out.
“Fuck—fuuuuck—” she cries.
“Say the fucking word, and I’ll stop. Tell me you want me to stop wrecking your tight little asshole.” I slam into her, bottoming out completely, grinding deep. “Say the fucking word, AJ.”
“No!” she screams, her whole body convulsing, but still, no safeword.
I let go of her hair, smearing my cum down her face, pressing her head harder into the mattress.
I know she’s past her breaking point. I should stop.
But I don’t.
I can’t tell if I’m pissed or just fucking exhausted. She can stop me any time. She knows how. I drive into her again and again, until her cries turn into something shattered.
“AJ! Say the fucking word!”
She says nothing.
Just sobs.
I yank my fingers free and grab her hips with both hands, slamming into her.
“God-fucking-damnit, AJ!”
“NO!”
“Say the fucking word!”
“I can’t! If I say it…you won’t fuck me anymore!”
Everything in me stills.
My hot, pumping blood turns to ice.
I pull out in the next second. Her asshole is red, swollen, gaping. I stare at it, chest heaving, cock still throbbing, my brain split between fury and disbelief.
I can’t stop seeing it. Can’t stop thinking about how I just—
She yanks herself out from underneath me.
“NO! I didn’t say it! I didn’t say the safeword! Keep fucking me!”
She scrambles toward me, eyes wild, cheeks red and tear stained.
I don’t move.
I just stare at her, body still wired, but my head is fucked.
“What…?” The word barely comes out. I stare at her, trying to make it make sense, but it doesn’t. None of it does. “Are you not saying the safeword…because you think I won’t fuck you if you do?”
She looks up at me. And for the first time, I can’t read her. Her gaze drops instead. To the bed. To what I did to her.
Something cold trickles down my spine.
The phone vibrates on the nightstand.
I don’t even look at it.
My hands drag through my hair, gripping hard enough to hurt, trying to anchor myself, but it’s not working. Images hit me—fast, violent.
Every time.
Every fucking time we’ve fucked. The way she went quiet. The way she looked at me.
“AJ. Answer the goddamn question.”
She doesn’t speak.
Doesn’t do anything.
The room closes in; it’s too fucking small. My chest feels like it’s caving in on itself.
“How many times… How many times have you not used it?”
Nothing.
Just tears and fucking silence.
I step back like I’ve been punched in the gut.
“You let me… You just let me keep going.” My hands don’t know what to do—fists clenching, unclenching; I need to break something, or I’m going to come out of my skin. “That’s not how this fucking works! You use it when you need it! That’s the whole fucking point!”
She flinches but doesn’t argue. Doesn’t say anything. Just stands before me, shaking and crying.
And that, somehow, that’s worse.
Way fucking worse.
My stomach roils, and I drag in a breath, but it doesn’t fill my lungs.
I don’t do that.
I’d never.
I don’t—
No.
Fuck no.
The phone rings again. I move before I even think, grabbing it off the nightstand with enough force the plastic case cracks.
“WHAT?!”
“You were followed.” Miranda’s voice cuts clean through.
Everything stops.
I bolt out of the room, the door slamming open as I hit the stairs, eyes scanning the monitors in the armory below—red lights flashing, armed figures moving in the dark outside.
Everything in me shifts back into place.
The mission. What we need. How we’re going to get the hell out of here.
I turn, rushing back toward the bedroom.
“Dylan!” Miranda shouts through the phone.
“AJ. Get dressed. Now.”
“Dylan, take the armored SUV in the garage. Use the emergency exit. And Dylan— Please be—”
I end the call.
“Move. Now.”