31. Lola #3
He grabs both my hips. I drop my hands to the wood, braced. I tremble, my whole is body burning. He fucks harder, holding nothing back. Each time he bottoms out, I feel my cunt clench so hard I nearly black out.
He fingers my clit, fast, hard, just to fuck with me. Almost enough, then he stops. My body bucks, desperate. He laughs.
He drags it out, taunting me. “Want to come, don’t you?” His words are hate. “You want to cream all over my dick. Not tonight. You don’t get that until I say.”
I force myself not to beg. He fucks me deeper. His grip is cruel, fingers digging into my flesh. He uses me. Over and over. Sweat breaks out all over my neck and chest. My knees buckle, but he doesn’t stop.
He slaps my ass. “Take it. Fucking take it.”
I bite my lip to muffle the noise, but it still comes out broken. Every thrust. Every endless, thick inch. He wants to break me, make me beg, but I won’t give in.
He leans in. “You ever let another man touch you? You’d never walk again. I’d ruin you. You hear me?”
I nod, silent. He fucks me so hard the wall shakes. He drives his cock deep. My pussy pulses shame and heat, clinging, desperate. He holds me by the hips, spreads me wide, pounds in from behind. The slap of skin on skin is filthy, echoing in the dark, drowning out the storm outside.
He’s relentless. Short, brutal thrusts. Every slam sets my tits swinging, my jaw scraping the glass. He grunts, the skull mask leering down on me. “You feel that? How deep I am? How fucking wet you get when I break you?”
I whimper. Wetness drips down my thighs, pooling on the floor. I can’t hide it.
His hand slides down, finds my throat, squeezes. I choke, my vision sparking. His cock thrusts harder. “You like this. You need it. You need my cock splitting you open, don’t you?”
“Yes.” The word is a gasp. Nothing but need. I hate myself for it.
He drags his fingers between my legs, finds my clit. Rubs circles again, rough, fast, cruel. My body bucks. He growls, “You come without permission, I’ll leave you here, dripping for me. Begging.”
I shake, tears tracking down my cheeks. I’m so close I could scream. My cunt milks him, muscles fluttering, desperate for release. He pulls back, lets his cock slide almost out, then slams back in. My whole body jolts.
“Say it, Bambi. Say you’re mine.”
“I’m yours.”
He spanks me. The sound cracks the air. My pussy clenches so hard I nearly come. “Louder.”
“I’m yours. Please, Brody, I’m yours.”
He groans, hips snapping faster, cock punching deep inside.
I sob, fingers clawing at the glass. My knees threaten to fold. He doesn’t let me. His hands are everywhere—fisting my hair, squeezing my throat, smashing my hips back to meet every thrust.
He drops his hand to my clit. Circles. Pinches. I scream.
“Beg for it, Bambi. Beg to come.”
“Please.” I’m shaking, tears and spit everywhere. “Please let me come. I need it. Please, Brody.”
He growls, deep and filthy, “You want to cream on my cock? Show me. Fucking show me.”
He keeps rubbing my clit, brutal, never letting up.
My body convulses. Pleasure explodes. My pussy clamps down, pulsing, choking his dick.
I scream, sob, shake so hard I nearly collapse.
He doesn’t stop. He fucks me through it, dragging every last spasm out of me until I’m nothing but wet, ruined heat.
“Good girl.” He snarls it, pride and cruelty tangled. “That’s it. Milk my cock. You’re so fucking desperate for it.”
He pulls out and shoves back in, faster now, wild.
He grips my hip, yanks me upright, presses my back to his chest. Fisting my tits, he pinches and rolls my nipples between his fingers.
“You think about anyone else when you touch yourself? You ever pretend it’s someone else fucking you like this, Lola? ”
“No. Only you. Only ever you.”
He groans, savage, fucking me harder, losing control. His hips slam. I hear him pant, heat burning my neck through the mask.
“I’m going to fill you.” His voice is a graveled promise. “You want it? Want my cum inside?”
“Yes. Please. I need it.”
His cock swells inside me. He slams deep, holds, trembles. He comes, spilling hot, flooding my cunt. I feel it leaking out already. He keeps me pinned, one hand on my throat, one palm smashed over my tits, forcing me to feel everything.
We stay like that, shaking, ruined, breathless.
When he lets go, my legs buckle. I slide to the floor. He stands over me, mask gleaming white in the dark. His cock is still hard, shining with my wetness and his cum. He strokes himself, daring me to move.
I look up at him.
He laughs coldly. “Remember this, Bambi. Remember who owns you. Remember who you beg for in the dark.”
I nod. I can’t speak.
Brody crouches, grabs my jaw, forces my mouth open. Smears his thumb over my lips, inside, making me taste us both. He stands, fixes his jeans, mask never lifting. I am left on my knees, cum dripping down my thighs, empty, used, and desperate to be filled again.
The storm pounds outside. The whole world shakes.
Inside, it’s just him and me. Just the dark. Just his hands and his hate and the twisted, filthy need that owns us both.