31
She shuffles backward on her knees away from me.
I close in, my Chelsea boots thud on the concrete floor.
Her backside kisses the stonework. She has nowhere to go.
Her stray, shackled wrist reaches for my clothes again.
I slap her hard across the face. No one touches me.
Ever. My scars are unsightly, and I refuse to be seen as a brittle shell who's weak.
I control the situation. I set the pace.
My cock grows even harder in the confines of my jeans.
Edging myself wasn't my intention, but here we are.
The slap echoes through the room. She sinks into the concrete, bracing herself with her hands.
The metal of her shackles clink. I know I've pushed her hard in the last twenty-four hours, but I don't give a damn.
This is the only way. In a sense, I'm protecting her.
She should be thanking me, on her knees, with my cock in her mouth.
What a great idea in fact.
“Open,” I demand, unrepentant.
Her blue pools gaze up at me, and it shakes my core.
Her jaw instantly widens without a fight.
I almost wish she would, if only so I could punish her.
I want her tears, her sorrow, her destruction.
She could use a sharp hand on her backside.
I could spank her until she begs me to stop.
Even then I wouldn't. Not until her ass has blisters.
I pull myself back to now, concentrating on her pink tongue.
I decide to fuck with her a bit. “You hungry, sweetheart?”
I ask, stroking my cock lazily through my jeans.
Her eyes follow my shifty movements. She hasn't eaten, I know she's salivating.
I bend to the side and unwrap a piece of chocolate from the pile of snacks I left for her.
Her eyes knit in confusion. She snaps her jaw shut and reaches for the chocolate. I hold it just out of her reach.
“Nah, I'll feed you. Close your eyes and open wide.”
She looks at me as if I'm insane, blinking a few times before closing her eyes. Oh, if only you knew the depth of my depravity. I take a bite of the chocolate, letting it melt in my mouth. When she does, I baby bird the chocolate into her waiting orifice.
Her eyes fly open. She lets it pool on her tongue for a moment before she swallows it, all while holding eye contact. The way she stares into my soul is unnerving. I grind my molars as my cock kicks forward in my jeans. God fucking damnit.
If she's going to be such a seductress, I might as well use it to my advantage, because I obviously can't stay the hell away from this challenging siren. She pushes me in ways I'm not used to. I love when she obeys, but I love it more when she fights me.
Any other bitch I fuck while they're passed out or better yet, not coherent at all. Something about the way she fights me has me sober. This is the second time I've played with her sober.
“Open your mouth.”
My jeans are still undone, hung low on my hips.
I tug my still hard cock free, needing to cum.
I paint her lips and tongue with pre-cum with the left-over remnants of her cunt juices.
I want her body drenched in my scent. Marked for dissolution.
It's fucked up, but I give zero shits. Her eyes are hollow, and I want to blow my load right then and there.
I shove my dick between her open lips. She welcomes it like a trained whore.
Her mouth is warm and inviting. Fuck gentle.
I know she can take it. I jam it so far back it slams into her throat.
She makes a gag noise and pushes at my brawny thighs.
Good luck, Nightshade. I don't skip leg day.
Once she realizes I'm not letting up, she tongues the underside of my length, giving into temptation.
I throw my head back and choke out a deep snarl.
“Fucccccck,” I curse. This may very well be the best Goddamn blow job of my life.
My balls ache with the need to pump every last drop down her pretty little throat.
I can't remember the last time a bitch had me so consumed with the need to come.
I make the mistake of looking down into her sapphire pools, and I'm fucking done.
I roar through my release, snapping my hips forward so she takes it all.
Rope after rope of my hot cum pumps down her esophagus.
I watch the way her throat swallows and clicks with each pulse of my cock. It's erotic as hell.
“Mmm, that's my girl,” I praise her. I'm not into that shit, but she did a hell of a job, so I make an exception. When I pop her free from my cock, she's panting. Her body trembles. I put my cock away. I stroke her cheek with my knuckle. Her fear feeds my frenzied mania.
“Please, let me out,” she bows her head down. She's defeated. No spitfire? A fucking shame.
I stroke her cheek reverently. Chilled to the bone and utterly appetizing. She's real fucking lucky they heat this motherfucker or she'd be royally screwed.
“Nah, I'm a selfish fuck if you've not gathered. I'm protecting you from bigger monsters than me.”
I'm full of shit and I know it. Really, I just want her to myself.
She feeds my frenzied desires. It's not the safest option.
I know I'm playing with fire and I'm likely going to get burnt.
It's easier to fuck her without attachment.
I should drug her, numb myself and leave it at that.
I shouldn't give a shit if she's passed around.
It's the sick compulsion to break her myself that drove me to this level of cynicism.
Vesper and Zain will be grilling me about her whereabouts.
Of course my impulsive ass made no plan.
I think with my dick too much, I'm told.
Her eyes fall shut; her matted hair clings to her tear-stricken cheeks.
Such a beautiful disaster. I tilt my head, dissecting her.
Someone broke her. Long before me. I'm just the one delivering the final blow.
A strange sensation tugs at my insides, but I ignore it.
I crouch. Her puffy eyes offer no hint of her past.
Like me, she locks that shit up tight. I'll uncover her secrets, and when I do, I'll make her drown in her past until she flounders.