“This will hurt you,” I bark, little care as to whether it will or not, just letting her know it will as I pull my hand out of her and hitch her weight. She nods, her tongue tracing her bottom lip as she keeps my cock in her hand and guides it exactly where I want it to go. “And I don’t fucking care.”
Rather than gasp again, or show signs of fear, she takes me straight to the place I crave and then lifts her hands to grip the metal behind her. I gaze at the movement, hovering an inch inside her and trying to let whatever emotions are beginning to take hold come. The sense of urgency still ravishes my entire frame with perseverance and need, but there’s something more happening now as I watch determination firm her brow. Something about taking her out to dinner. About walking with her. About sharing a bed with her and waking up to her smile so I can replace it with groans and whimpers. And as I slowly push in a little more, the ache barely restraining itself as my fingers grip her ass, I realise I simply want to be with her. Joined. Irrevocably and permanently.
The weight of that thought alone drive’s my cock so far inside her she shrieks at its impact and tries to back away from it. I just watch on as her eyes widen and her body squirms against the grate behind her, mesmerized at the mere thought of love and trying to push in deeper. It enthuses my cock tenfold, sending a harmonic lilt to the battered fucking I thought I’d be giving her. It somehow pulls me in closer, making me crawl my hand up her back to prop her spine off the metal and support her against the pain. My ass rallies, the muscles in it tensing and unfurling, driving my cock forward again as I lower my head to her tits and let them mingle in my mouth. The moan that comes from her as I bite down on one nipple sends more quivers across my frame, beating shocks against my clothes and making me wish we were both naked. I want her fucking love. Crave it. I can feel the need for it emanating out of every damn pore as I keep sending my cock home and listen to her groans.
“Yes,” she hisses out, tensing as I ram the next drive in at her and crawl my mouth up to her throat. Fuck she tastes good. Sweat and sin, the slight mask of disinfectant still lingering between the sweet smell of come and florid juices as I bite in again. I can even sense her breathing alter as her back slams against the rails, the hitch in it as I dig my fingers in deeper almost like a call of primeval requirement. She mewls then, her body grasping onto me as she lets go of the rail behind her and grabs at my cheeks to pull my lips to hers. It becomes nothing but continued bellows of pain and as her nails scratch in to anchor her to me. Perhaps it gives me the ability to drive in harder with every next fuck, her offering of acceptance forcing me closer than I knew possible.
I couldn’t last any longer if I tried. The come begins shooting from me the moment her tongue drives into me, a sigh swirling our breaths together. She might as well be the one fucking me with it. It churns and probes at me, her lips slathered with saliva and her teeth mangling with my own. It’s hungry, animalistic. Fucking feral if truth be told as she groans into me and then breaks free to bawl out more screams. It causes my cock to rear into her with more fever, the come already channelling its way towards her cunt in a show of ownership. She just lets me increase the pace, her legs wrapping around my waist and her hands gripping onto my face so fiercely I feel her own explosion coming through them. She digs her nails deeper in as her heels tighten, making her thighs lock, and she finally stills at the same moment as my own come shoots from me and oozes out into her warm, willing cunt. It’s fucking heaven. Sent from fuck knows where and offering itself with nothing but brutal fucking need. I growl out with it through our mouths, entrenching the taste of my own blood as she bites into my tongue, and remembering the sound of her still wild tone as she sucks it into her.
Quiet takes over then, a sense of tranquil contemplation. For my part, I’m just content to keep slowly fucking into her, letting the sensation of coming in someone wash through my mind as my hips push against her. Her lips lave mine again, the trace of her tongue like a slither of acceptance for my act, burnishing me with thanks for the nature of it. I sigh, exalting in this new coupling and trying to simply savour the moment rather than chastise myself for it. The sum of our parts becoming one has been, still is, indescribable. Something to be honoured for a few moments, respected, certainly with regard to her exquisite nature and devilish perfection. Not many women take this. They can’t. Or don’t want to, but she does. My new little toy will be everything I need. But then clapping begins in the background, reminding me of Delaney’s involvement. It instantly makes me scowl as I continue licking my own tongue with hers, trying to dismiss the comment that will come. It’ll ruin our moment of clarity, my moment, denouncing its effects as something to be amused by or jeered at.
“See, not dead at all,” the guy says, his footsteps getting closer by the fucking second, a pair of heels following them. Alana’s head rears back weakly, breaking me of my hold on her mouth and violating our intimacy. It annoys me further, causing me to grab her closer. I’m simply not done with letting the feeling of her wrapped around me embed itself further. Now isn’t the time to contemplate matters like that, let alone discuss them. She doesn’t know what she’s done here, hasn’t felt the effect of it yet. Her body’s still warm, labouring under the misconception that it’s handled the battering she’s just taken. She needs bathing and soaking. The lacerations that are more than likely on her back need tending to and servicing. She’ll be bruised and raw for days, her cunt barely able to piss without it searing pain into her guts, and if she isn’t, I’ll damn well be making her feel more of what she’s just taken from me. Gladly.
“You should rest,” I say quietly, with one final quiet shove of my hips sending her into the rails. She groans beautifully, filling the air with violent undercurrents and dirty beginnings. The sound makes me smile into her neck and hoist her higher so I can walk with her still attached to me, hopefully joining us back together rather than letting Delaney interfere with our thoughts.
“Come one step closer, and I’ll break your fucking neck,” I snarl, keeping my back to the guy and starting to walk towards the suite. The chuckle in response isn’t as acceptable as it’s been prior to her, not that I can remember ever telling the guy to leave me alone before, but it grates my nerves, perhaps telling me something I can’t quite comprehend at present.
The walk to Delaney’s suite takes an eternity. Not because it’s far or because she’s heavy, simply because with every forward step I watch her in my arms and wonder what the fuck I’m doing. I also find myself trying to hold still when she groans again, somehow hoping to lessen the pain I’m causing by holding onto her back. Her eyes remain closed the entire way, making me notice the length of her lashes for the first time. They’re as long and lush as she is, showing more of her natural beauty now that the mascara had been wiped from them. And her mouth simply rests with a sense of exhaustion etched into its position, dragging my mind back to times when I’d slept with a woman and woken up to lips waiting to be ravished.
I smile at the image, grinding my teeth at the thought of more and yet knowing I should tell her this is finished. It isn’t until I walk through the old cloisters and arrive at Delaney’s doorway that I abandon any thought of not going forward with this. The bed beckons me, its new swathes of clerical whites draped around the four posts akin to that of a devil in disguise. It makes me snort quietly, entertained by Delaney’s sense of humour as I slowly move her towards it and lower her down. She groans again as my hands scrape across her skin, the sound making me both wince and smile as I roll her to her front.
I’ve seen the damage I’ve caused on skin before, know its effects punish effectively, but for some reason the sight of her raw flesh troubles me. The vision of it makes me frown, questioning realism for the first time since Eloise. She’d let me drive headlong into pleasure-seeking escape, urging me forward with every new dissolute liberation as she moaned out my name. I can still see her now, in this moment, lying just as Alana is now. Although, the blood was thicker as it spread over her
, unlike Alana’s barely weeping wounds.
“Blaine?” I smile as the tone of her drained voice penetrates my heart, reminding me of nights drenched in decadence, ones I don’t deserve a second chance at let alone more of. “It hurts.” Mmm. I told her it would.
“I’ll draw you a bath,” I reply, heading for the bathroom and sighing as I tuck my cock back into its confines. The steam starts to fill the small room up within seconds, heating the space and reminding me of fire play, and of wax, and of the screams associated with both.
“I don’t know how to write that.” I come out the bathroom and find her looking straight at me, a weary puzzlement on her face as she looks me over. “And I’ve never seen you naked.” I smile at her as she grins weakly, the sassy element of her face returning now that she’s resting. I suppose she hasn’t, and although what I should do is walk out the door once I’ve deposited her inside the bath, giving her a chance to realign her mind, I find myself pulling my jacket off and unbuckling my belt again. Unwise, possibly. Unsuitable, certainly. I don’t give a fuck. Suitability isn’t welcome here for now. It wasn’t ten minutes ago when I spilt my seed inside the first cunt I’ve had for a well over a year, and it isn’t now. “Your face seems softer now you’ve come.” I snort at her, amused by her ability to say exactly what she wants to constantly.
“Draining my cock deflates my frustration,” I reply, toeing my shoes off and stepping out of my trousers. It also drains the fuck out of me. I feel as exhausted as she looks, perhaps for the first time in months, years even. I feel like I could sleep for a week, preferably with her body adorning me and her mouth available should I choose to push my cock into it. She smiles again, her blue eyes sparkling as if she understands exactly where my mind is heading. It won’t take much more of her glancing her eyes over my body, licking her lips as she does, and neither of us will be getting any sleep at all. Something that, even in her fatigued state, I would quite happily venture into without care for the effect. But then she winces as she tries to move off the bed.
“Stay,” I snap, walking to get to her and lifting her before she falls. “You’ve got no idea what you just took yet.” I continue, hoisting her up into my arms again, and relishing the feel of her skin on me now that I’m naked.
“Pretty sure I do,” she says, her head lolling back over my arm while her body lounges in my hold.
I walk her towards the bath rather than reply or disagree, hoping that after a soak, some ointment, and a night’s sleep, she might still want to keep researching her book because now the thought of not having her here is annoying, weakening even. And fundamentally no, she doesn’t know anything at all. She knows nothing other than the fact that she enjoys being fucked by a monster, one who’ll ruin her if I get a chance to, regardless of the love that seems to be hovering in the air. By the time morning comes, and she feels the pain that will come with it, she might realise that, dissect it maybe. She might choose to leave and carry on with normality, relegating all this to a nightmare of experience, one that’s as insane as the night I murdered a woman. Which is probably the logical choice for her to make, regardless of how infuriated that thought makes me.
Chapter 16
Alana
D awn breaks somewhere in my mind long before I open my eyes. I feel it wakening before I’m ready to catch up with it. Thoughts start circulating, almost surreal as they curve their way into corners and mingle with screams. I don’t know what they are or what they mean. I’m barely able to make sense of the shifts in colour, or the bends suddenly haunting recesses and fractures. It’s like something splitting in me, making me shake my head at them as I try pushing something away. I’m scared, my hands thrashing in front of me, hoping to dislodge the pressure that’s coming at me from all directions. It’s everywhere, wrenching at my skin, trying to tear me apart and rip my insides out of me. I can’t breathe. I’m drowning again. I’m underwater and fighting for air, desperate for help.
Another scream sounds out somewhere, making me shift and buck against the weight all over me. It’s overwhelming, suffocating, and I can’t reach the shore. I can’t swim to it. I can see it not far away, behind the scream, waiting for me to get to it and pull myself back together, but I can’t reach. It’s all blues and greens, and the sand’s spraying at me, lashing my skin and causing more pain to erupt in my mind. It burns like fire, shredding what’s left of my rationale as it begins pushing inside my mouth, stifling my yells for help. And still I can’t breathe. I can’t get free. Someone’s grabbing at me and slashing, my bones crunching under the knife with every other yank and pull. My legs thrash out madly, trying to get it off me. Trying to break free. Just trying to find a route through all the sensations and…
“Alana, shhh.” I don’t know who that is. Who is that? “Shhhh.” Still my body thrashes, whipping itself around under whatever’s clamped on top of me. It’s smothering me, purposely. It won’t let go, won’t let me get away. “Wake up.” Wake up from what? “You’re dreaming.” Blaine?
The sound of his voice soothes me slightly as I prise at my lids, hoping that will get me to the shore. I instantly feel my stomach drop as something warm douses my insides with real sensations. The groan that leaves me makes me truly open my eyes, barely recognising where I am as another swipe of consciousness renders me incoherent with need. My legs are hooked over his shoulders before I’ve thought, grabbing him to me for a solid grounding as my mind still swirls endlessly. My hips rise, grinding themselves into his face for something to cling on to, something that’s real. And tears are coming. I can feel them. They’re winding their way through me, making me beg for something to end them before they erupt. I’m so confused. I don’t know what’s real and not real. I don’t know why I want to cry, why I’m scared, why the incessant screams keep raging in my head. It’s all so loud, so vivid. It’s brightly lit and scraping at my neck, stopping me from breathing.
“Please, Blaine.” It falls from my lips, almost like a prayer. I don’t even know what I’m asking for, much less how he’s going to give it. I can just feel him here. He’s dense and physical, a mountain of strength. One who can be my foundation, harnessing reality with his strong shoulders holding me off the bed, and his tongue lapping at me. It’s just… He’s just... Oh god.
The scrunch of the covers in my hands becomes painful as I claw at them, making me release them and look down at him as he carries on. His head’s buried there, his tongue constantly roaming in and out of me, the occasional bite forcing yet another groan to leave my lips. And then he lifts his head, just enough for me to see his eyes as he carries on. It’s too much. Watching his lips suck across me, seeing the way his eyes are dark and untamed with each draw of his teeth across my sensitive clit sends me spiralling upwards. The tremors start in me with only that vision. He’s truly the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and the connection here is like I’ve never felt. It’s more than strong; it’s blinding me, making me feel him rather than just watch on. He’s inside me. With only his tongue, he’s managing to take me higher than anyone ever has. And as his shoulders pitch me higher, his fingers suddenly scratching the forbidden area and probing for acceptance there, I do nothing more than close my eyes to let him do whatever he wants. It’s all him. He can fuck me, take me, climb me higher up this spiral and throw me to the wind if he chooses.
“Fuck me,” I breathe. It’s all I’ve got as he pushes a finger inside my backside and keeps on with his endless sucking. It builds a momentum I can’t begin to understand as I search my breath for help, grabbing the headboard for support against it. It’s all so different than ever before. He’s so different. His forcefulness might be everything I hate to admit to needing, but I do. I felt it last night when he hurt me, frightening me and yet making me beg for more of it. And I want that, too, now. I can feel that in the way I’m grating my own bruised back into the bed, hoping for the pain to intensify. I want it right now. I want to feel scared by him. I want unprepared, unrehearsed. I want to feel what I haven
’t before. Get lost in it. Have myself taken to this very point with no ability to stop him so I can fly and truly understand what he can do.
My hand reaches for him, scratching out to get his fingers and dragging them towards my breast, needing more of his weight on top of me, perhaps mimicking the dream I had. At the moment I want to be consumed. I need it. I want to be suffocated and drowned. That’s his position here. On top of me. On top. Above me so I can languish beneath him and stop thinking so much.
There’s a chuckled growl as he crawls over me, his eyes crinkling slightly as if he’s amused at my state of disarray, all the time his finger continuing to widen the hole he’s digging out.
“Ask me,” he says, his lips brushing the side of my jaw as he sinks his thumb into my pussy. Oh god, the feeling is so full, like I’m replete with only those two digits fingering me. And still I climb, the thrust of my own hips giving him the concord he’s asking for. He knows exactly what he’s doing, with little to no help from me. And ask him for what? For more? I just close my eyes again, letting my body own the moment, or letting him own it. I couldn’t care less. I’m so far past caring he could pull a whip out and I’d take it. I’d bend over, be shackled. I’d live in a cage as long as this sense of freedom was offered, relishing its empty vacuum of beauty and rolling in its degradation of self-opinion. “I want you to ask me this time, Alana. Beg.” I don’t want to open my eyes or tell him what to do. I don’t even want to talk. I just want to lie here and be used in any way he sees fit. I want him to take without any of my questions or consent. I want horizons and early morning storms. I want them crashing over my skin and pulling me into a place of safety and harmony, just like this is. Everyday.
Once Upon A Page 27
