50. Lola #2
“Look at you,” he breathes, voice hoarse. “So fucking wet. You missed this, didn’t you?”
“Shut up,” I gasp, grabbing his wrist, fucking myself on his fingers. “Just… just fuck me, Brody. I need it. I need you to break me.”
He pulls his fingers free and wipes them across my lips. “Open,” he commands.
I do, sucking his fingers into my mouth, tasting myself, never breaking eye contact. He yanks my hips to the edge of the bed, spreads my legs wide.
The sunlight is merciless, painting every bruise, every imperfection. I want him to see all of it. I want him to own it.
He shoves his sweatpants down, cock thick and hard and leaking. Just the sight makes my mouth water. He drags the swollen head through my cunt, smearing my wetness all over both of us.
“Say it,” he demands, voice guttural. “Say you want it.”
I lock eyes with him, defiant. “I want you to ruin me. I want you to fuck me until I can’t remember anything but your name.”
He thrusts in with one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch is burning, perfect. I cry out, nails digging into his back, dragging red lines down his skin. He thrusts hard, relentlessly, barely giving me time to adjust.
He leans down, mouth at my ear, breath hot and ragged. “You feel that? That’s all yours. Nobody else gets this. Nobody else ever will.”
He pounds into me, hips snapping against mine, the sound of flesh slapping echoing off the walls. He grabs my throat, squeezing just enough to make my vision blur at the edges, just enough to remind me I can still feel.
“You like this?” he snarls, his grip tightening. “You like when I’m the only one who can touch you?”
I choke on a moan, hips jerking up to meet his every thrust. “Yes. Don’t stop. Harder, Brody. I want it to hurt.”
His eyes flash. He lets go of my throat, grabs one thigh and shoves my leg up, folding me in half so he can drive even deeper. His cock slams into that perfect spot, again and again, until I’m sobbing, begging, ruined.
He bites my nipple, hard, then switches to the other, sucking and licking, teeth leaving red marks. I claw at his back, his ass, anywhere I can reach. I want to possess him, brand him, make sure he never forgets this.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice breaking on the word. “I want to see you cum on my cock.”
I reach down, fingers frantic on my clit, rubbing hard and fast. The pressure builds, white-hot and unbearable, my body burning with need. I feel his cock pulse inside me, the base lathered with my juices, his balls slapping my skin on every thrust.
He watches me, never looking away, eyes wild, pupils blown. “That’s it. Fuck, Lola. Squeeze me. Show me who you belong to.”
I shatter, legs kicking, back arching, cunt clenching around him in violent spasms. I gasp his name, tears streaking my cheeks, every nerve ending on fire.
He doesn’t stop. He fucks me through it, relentless, brutal, lifting my hips and slamming into me so hard I swear I could break in two. The pleasure is pain, the pain is pleasure. I can’t tell the difference anymore.
He pulls out suddenly, flips me over, drags me onto my knees. “Hands on the headboard. Don’t let go.”
I obey, too far gone to argue. He grabs my hips, yanks me back, and drives into me from behind. His cock feels even bigger in this position, hitting so deep I see stars. He spanks me, hard, once, twice, the sting making me cry out.
“Such a filthy fucking girl,” he growls, rutting into me like an animal. “You love being used, don’t you? You love being mine.”
“Yes, fuck, yes,” I sob, pushing back against him, wanting all of it, wanting more.
He fists my hair, yanks my head back so I have to arch for him, exposed and helpless, his other hand sneaking around to pinch my nipple, then my clit, never letting up.
I’m close again, too close, the heat building, my whole body shaking.
“You gonna cum for me again?” he pants, voice breaking. “You gonna make a mess all over my cock?”
“Please,” I beg, tears smearing salt down my face. “Please, Brody—don’t stop, don’t ever stop.”
He fucks me even harder, sweat flying, his breath hot on my neck. “You’re fucking perfect. So tight. So fucking perfect, Bambi.”
He thrusts once, twice, then slams deep and holds. I feel him pulse, cock twitching as he empties inside me, hot and thick, filling me up. I clench around him, milking every drop, crying out as another orgasm rips through me, leaving me limp, spent, trembling.
He collapses over me, both of us shaking, panting, clutching each other like drowning people. For a long time, there’s nothing but the sound of our breathing.
He kisses my shoulder, my neck, my jaw, soft now, desperate and aching. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry. I love you. I will spend my whole life making it up to you. My Bambi. My sunlight in the dark.”
I turn in his arms, bury my face in his chest, let the tears come. For once, I don’t try to hide. He holds me tight, tighter than anyone ever has, until I start to believe I might be real again.
The house feels different, haunted but lighter, like maybe the ghosts are finally letting go.
Brody kisses my forehead, his voice barely a whisper. “We’re still here, Bambi. Still alive.”
I start to believe we both might survive this after all.