Chapter 24
Lincoln
I am a monster. No, I’m a fucking animal. How the hell did I go from dressing her wound to . . . to finger-fucking her so
hard that her blood ran down my fingers and into my palm. I glance at my hand now, see the dried blood, and feel an intense
wave of guilt laced with animal desire. Unwelcome images of Leah, broken and bloodied, fill my head and I push them away.
This is entirely different. I would never intentionally hurt Imogen. And I would never take advantage of her. Although maybe
I just did. Because what just happened was one hundred kinds of wrong.
I pace up and down my room, cursing my own stupidity and my complete lack of control. It doesn’t matter that she wanted it.
It doesn’t matter how she moaned my fucking name, or that I made her come. It was immoral. She doesn’t know who I really am.
Doesn’t know how fucked-up this truly is.
Where is she now? I wonder. I sent her to bed and she probably obeyed me, taught to do so by the animals who raised her. Animals
just like me. Is she feeling any shame about what just happened? I hope not because she has no reason to. She’s probably feeling
confused though, after I used her like that and then sent her away.
One day she’ll understand it was for her own good.
My mind is filled with her. Sparkling green eyes and full pink lips. The taste of her lips. Her soft moans. The way her body
convulsed when she came for me. The rippling of her tight cunt around my fingers.
Christ! What if I hadn’t sent her away though. What if I’d carried on? Peeled her soft cotton panties down her long slender
legs and then spread her wide open for me. Tasted the sweet arousal from her pussy and then sunk myself inside her tight heat.
My cock is aching at the thought, desperate for some relief. I lie on the bed and unzip my pants, hurriedly freeing my length
from the confines of my boxers and squeezing the base of my shaft hard. I groan at the sweet relief it brings. It’s not sweet
enough though. Not as sweet as her.
I squeeze harder, imagining sinking my cock deep inside her tight virgin cunt. Fantasizing about the soft needy little noises
she’d make as I filled her up and claimed her for my own. I can almost feel the sting of her nails scratching my back as she’d
cling to me, torn between pain and pleasure. And I’d bring her so much pleasure. Playing with her needy little clit while
I fucked her. Making her come for me over and over. Tasting her skin. Sucking on the stiff peaks of her nipples. And then
I’d let my mouth move farther down her body, eating her own cum out of her sweet cunt before I came inside her.
I stroke my shaft, coating it in the precum already weeping from the crown. I imagine how she’d taste, my tongue buried in
her folds and her thighs wrapped around my head. Even the thought of her is all-consuming. I recall the feel of her tight
center squeezing around my finger and the intoxicating scent of her cum. The cum still coating my fingers.
This is so fucking wrong, but I’m going to hell anyway.
So I place my hand over my mouth and nose and inhale deeply, and I can almost taste her.
The sweet smell of her juices, tinged with the coppery tang of her blood.
My pure little angel. What I’d give to fuck her.
Defile her in all the filthy ways I’m dreaming of.
Sink my cock into all her tight pretty holes.
Watch as I stretch her wide open for me. Only ever for me.
I tug harder. Squeeze tighter. Jerk faster. Breathe deeper until she’s all I can taste and smell and feel.
Pleasure ignites inside me, white-hot searing euphoria burning in my veins. I quicken my pace. Dart out my tongue to taste
her on me. And I come with a blinding rush of adrenaline and euphoria, the kind of release that almost steals a soul from
a man’s body. Ribbons of white-hot cum streak over my hand and onto my T-shirt.
I pant for breath, eyes closed as images of her swirl around my head. Of her naked. On her knees. With my cock inside her.
Pliant and submissive. The one woman I shouldn’t have any such kind of thoughts for. The reason they say I’m a freak and a
monster is because I fucking am one.