Ain't Your Bitch (Interracial Urban Erotica)

by Asia Marquis

  I hear him chuckle and set it back into my dresser, pressing my panties back over it. A shiver courses through my body, making my teeth chatter. I slap my hand to my mouth, hoping to cover the sound.

  The shadowy man turns toward my closet, and though his eyes are dark I can see he's curious. “Hmm,” he says, taking a step toward me. I shut my eyes tight, so that I can only hear him as he moves closer. The hand around my mouth is shaking. Tears are coursing down my face.

  The door explodes open, and cold hands grab my upper arm, pulling me up. I'm thrown onto my bed, my head hitting the wooden headboard and sending a shock of pain through me. I screech in pain and fear, trying to scramble off the bed and get away from my assailant.

  He straddles me, grabbing my arms and forcing them over my head. He lets go of one, knowing that he can hold me down without it, as he reaches into his back pocket. It's deep, and I watch with fear in my eyes as he pulls out long, thin rope.

  My arm slashes above me in an attempt to slap him, but I don't even come close. The man drops the rope on my bed and slaps my face in response. “Don't try to hurt me, bitch.” His voice is deep, rough. I gulp down some saliva and choke out a sob as my cheek throbs with pain.

  Holding me down with his body, he uses the rope to bind my hands. He ties it tight, with a strange kind of knot that I can't pull loose from. The binds don't hurt, but they are tight. Pulling the rope above me, he ties it to the corner of my headboard.

  Now that I'm bound, he relieves some of the pressure of his body on mine. As he sits up, I can feel his manhood bulging from his loose black pants. “No, please...” I cry. “Please don't do this.”

  Another swift slap comes down on my face, and I squeal in pain. “I'll do what I fuckin' want, bitch,” the man says. His hand slips into his back pocket again, and pulls out some kind of object. Through my tearful eyes, it's blurry, so I can't tell what it is until he presses a button on the side and a blade pops up from the handle. “God, no!” I scream, kicking my legs from beneath him. It's no use, he's too heavy.

  He brings the blade down to my neck, lightly tracing my black skin. “Don't you make any sudden movements,” he says, almost with cruel laughter in his voice. I shiver beneath him as the knife traces down from my neck, to my collar bone, to my chest. Grabbing the sheer fabric of my nightgown, the man takes the blade and cuts a deep gash in it.

  The fabric lays open, revealing my breasts to the intruder. I struggle again to get free, pulling against the rope and shaking my head. The blade dances around my right breast, moving in a spiral closer and closer to my nipple. It scrapes lightly on my areola, sending pain through my body. As the tip of the blade hits my nipple, though, my body betrays me. It feels good.

  Shame twists at my stomach and forces more tears to stream down the sides of my face. The man does the same thing, teasing my breast with his knife, to the other breast before lifting himself off of me. He kneels next to me on the bed, grabs the rest of the fabric and slices it clean through. Now the only thing covering me is my panties.

  His knife moves down my stomach now, passing next to my navel and to my panties. It traces down my pelvis and stops just above my slit. He grabs my panties and cuts one leg off my panties, and does the same to the other side before pulling the fabric out from under me and throwing it to the floor.

  He sets the knife down on my bedside table now, but stays next to me. His hands are covered with leather gloves, which is why they were so cold when he grabbed me. The fabric feels good against my dark skin as his fingers lightly tickle my hip bone, slowly moving down. He pulls my legs apart before firmly rubbing the palm of his hand on my cunt, only on the outside. The man presses his hand against me, just using barely enough pressure for me to feel it in my clit. I shudder.

  “Please, just stop,” I cry, more quietly now. I'm not even sure I mean the words now. His touch feels so good as he dips his middle finger into my slit and rubs against my sensitive nub. My body is calming down, and my breathing is slowing as he continues to play with my clitoris. His other hand roughly rubs my breasts. It feels good, really good. Even though I'm ashamed, I can't help but let out a moan of pleasure.

  He chuckles again before removing both of his gloves and sticking a finger into my hole. The sudden intrusion shocks me into spreading my legs further, giving him better access to my pussy. I'm not crying anymore. A warmth is coursing through my body as I begin to truly enjoy this sex being forced upon me. I should be ashamed, but I just can't be. I want his prick in me.

  I think of my husband and almost feel that shame return, but then a second finger presses into me and hits my g spot. I arch my back in response. The man leans over, and his mouth sucks in my nipple as he continues to finger me slowly. In and out, his fingers explore my depths, massaging my insides and sending wave after wave of pleasure through me. As his speed picks up, he starts to lick my nipples with the pad of his tongue.

  The roughness of his tongue feels good against my sienna skin, and I moan again. I don't feel as bad this time for enjoying it. He responds by picking up his speed again, plunging his fingers in and out of my depth faster. He alternates between licking and biting my nipple, which sends shock waves through my whole body. It feels unexpectedly good to have my nipples bitten. I've never let my husband do that.

  His mouth attaches to the side of my breast now, biting hard and making me gasp. And then he begins to suck on it, hard, leaving me a hickey, a mark that he's been there. He starts to tease my other nipple with the tip of his tongue as his thumb presses against my clitoris. He fingers me and massages my clit at the same time, pushing me closer and closer to orgasm.

  As he slips another finger into me, I know it won't be much longer now. One of my hands grips at the rope holding me, and I spread my legs to let his fingers prod deeper and harder into me. My pussy makes slurping noises as he fucks me with his hand, the lewd sound turning me on. I know I'm soaking wet down there now, and as I feel my excitement build, I know it's going to be a huge orgasm. Juices are soaking his hand and my bedsheets below us. My tension builds, and builds, until finally I feel my clitoris begin to pulsate and my brown eyes clench close. I scream, loud, as my pussy pulsates around his fingers and my thighs twitch. The orgasm removes any inhibitions or fears I had about this situation.

  When he removes his fingers, I'm even disappointed and let out a little whimper. “Oh, did the whore like that?” The man asks, rubbing his palm against my mound again. “Then you'll love this.”

  He crawls further up onto the bed, kneeling between my legs. I can't see him too well, but I hear the fly of his pants unzip and the sound of him pulling them down. Then he leans his body over me, his hand falling onto the mattress next to me to help him keep balance. His other hand guides his cock to my slit, where he presses it and rubs it up and down. My juices slick him up, making his cock slippery. His skin is so warm, and even though I can't see it, as I feel the head of his prick press against my entrance, I know he's huge.

  I squirm a bit, anxiety taking hold of me again. “Stop moving, slut.” I have no choice but to listen to the man, I don't want to be hurt. I pull up my knees a bit and spread my legs, trying to relax as his cock slowly presses into me.

  “Hnng,” I grunt, the pain a bit too much for me. The man gets impatient, and pulls back his hips a bit. I barely have enough time to brace myself as he forces his prick deep into my pussy. He's only about halfway into me, and all I can feel is pain. Tears well up in my dark eyes again.

  He begins to move his hips back and force to get himself deeper. The pain slowly starts to go away with each thrust, and soon I'm enjoying this as much as I was enjoying being fingered. His thick cock moves in and out of me, the sound of our fucking echoing off the walls. He grunts and I moan. His cock twitches, my pussy squeezes him.

  A drop of his sweat falls on me. I struggle against my bonds, this time because I wish I had some leverage. His prick feels so good inside of me. My body is hot, and my pussy is sopping wet. Each thrust makes me
coo and moan.

  I wrap my legs around my assailant, pulling him deeper into me. His pace is slow at first, but then he starts to fuck me faster. With each thrust, he grunts. The sound turns me on so much more than I would have thought. It's like an animalistic snarl, full of primal lust. He thrusts into me; I buck my hips up in response. His cock grazes lightly against my cervix each time he gets as deep as he can.

  The sound of his balls slapping against my ass makes me laugh a little. But as I feel my second orgasm building up, my eyes start to roll back into my head and my eyelids squeeze shut. My toes curl, and my I see fireworks.

  But the man isn't done yet. Once I stop twitching, he picks me up and flips me over. Now my face is in the mattress and my ass is in the air. A slap comes down on my ass cheek before he enters me again, from behind this time. The change in position makes it more exciting. I'm being used for this man's pleasure, and I'm loving every second of it. I wonder if he'll cum in me, and decide that's exactly what I want.

  He reaches below me and tweaks my clit as he fucks me. I moan and squeal, moving my ass in time with his thrusts. I wonder if he'll let me cum again before he does, but no. He slows down, taking his time, his cock moving ever so slowly in and out of my quim. I shudder and quiver and start to beg. “Please, please fuck me harder. Fuck me faster! Fuck me!”

  He slaps my ass again, grabbing my hips hard. His nails bite into my skin, so deep that it hurts. I wince and whimper as he slaps my ass one more time before his hips press hard into me. His thrusts become erratic and quick, and I can tell he's close to orgasm. I can feel my own orgasm building up as well, and as my toes curl, I feel his cock shoot hot streams of cum into my womb. Shit, that feels good. The hot, sticky cum coats my insides as his cock keeps pumping into me, hitting my g spot each time. I shudder and quiver, about to explode.

  I gasp as his hot cum forces my third orgasm to rip through my body. I scream, louder than I expected to, and lose control of my body. He keeps pumping into me until he's finally spent, and then he helps me onto my back and lays next to me.

  For a moment, we just lay there, breathing heavily as we come down from our orgasm. Finally, he turns to me. “Should I untie you now?” He seems happy but a bit unsure of himself now.

  I realize my hands have been feeling numb, like they're asleep, for a while. I nod. “Yes, please.”

  His hands reach up and untie the rope. I pull my hands down and flex them to bring the blood rushing back into my fingers. My wrists are sore, but I expected they would be. The man takes one of them and massages it, which hurts at first but as the pins and needles fade and my hands wake up, it starts to feel better.

  Once they regain full motion, I turn onto my side and hug the man who just fucked me. We cuddle for a few moments, and he brushes my natural hair out of my eyes. I nuzzle under his chin, listening to his heart beat as our breathing slows. Our hearts start to beat in time. “You liked that, right?” He asks

  I look up at him and smile. “Of course I did. I asked you for this.” I push myself up to kiss my husband hard on the lips, smiling the whole time. “It's exactly what I wanted. You did great.”

  Though he looks unsure, he smiles back, and we cuddle for a long time before we fall asleep.

  Blood Lust

  A Vampire Paranormal Romance

  Wren Winter

  1

  Sarah Lincoln was coming home from a long day at work, so she didn't notice the men who were approaching her until they were already too close for her to do anything about what happened next.

  They were shambling slowly, like they were tired from a long workout, or had been drinking, which wasn't all that strange because she took a back alley from the train station and it wasn't unusual to find people who didn't want to get the cops called on them for public drunkenness.

  What was unusual was the way they grabbed her, almost in unison. They weren't fast, even as their hands balled up her jacket and started to shove against the wall. She might have been able to outrun them. But their grip was too tight, and as she looked past she could see two more coming up.

  A voice shouted in the darkness. "Get back!" The shambling things didn't get back, though. They didn't even look as if they'd heard whoever it was. Then they started to lean into her, their hot, disgusting breath on her neck.

  Sarah didn't question what the two men who ran up were doing. It was obvious from the outset that they'd come to rescue her. When she saw a flash of steel, though, a shock went up her spine. Jesus Christ, was that a knife?

  His arm wrapped around the ghoul's neck and pulled back. She didn't have to see his hand to know that he'd just driven the knife in to the hilt. Whatever the things that were threatening her were, she knew, they weren't human.

  They looked human, wore clothes. She'd mistaken them for men, but something about the way they moved, about the way that their eyes seemed not to focus, set them apart from any human that Sarah had ever known.

  "Are you hurt?"

  It took a long moment for the question to register in Sarah's mind, like he'd spoken a foreign language she had learned in high school. She was too afraid, and too caught up in her panic.

  What brought her out, helped her regain her control, wasn't the soothing way that he asked, wasn't the violent dispatch of the monstrous creatures that had attacked her, nor the way that the second man continued on to dispatch the other two as easily as they had the first.

  It was his eyes. They were tired eyes, the sort of eyes of most of the regulars at the library. The deep blue color, almost unnaturally blue. The sort of blue eyes that she only saw on film stars. The way he looked at her was strange, until she registered what she was seeing.

  Desire.

  She hadn't seen the look on many men's faces, not since high school when she'd known boys who would look at any girl like that. Sarah's breath came out shaky and she played back the last moments in her head, finally heard the question he asked.

  "I don't think so," she answered.

  Was that the right thing to say? She didn't feel any pain, but she wasn't sure that she felt anything at all. That was until his hands moved and touched her skin. Then she knew that she could feel, that she was intensely sensitive.

  His skin burned against hers, lighting a fire inside her. Sarah couldn't help but lean into that touch, to want to feel more of it. She had thought that she didn't feel anything for men. As if it was never going to happen for her. The fact that she was never going to want to try sex again was something she'd accepted a long time ago.

  But now she wasn't so sure.

  "Are you sure? Not a scratch, nothing?"

  It was the second man's voice, low and powerful. Sarah felt her knees go weak. The intensity of his gaze her made her stomach do a flip. He studied her neck with his eyes, his hands making a quick path up and down her clothing like a police officer doing a pat-down.

  He spoke more to his partner than to her. "I think we got here just in time."

  "Are you going to be alright?" The first one, with his powerfully blue eyes, looked at her, ignoring the comment of his friend.

  "You saved my life," Sarah cried, the weight of what had happened finally dawning on her. It was too much for her to think about all at once. How was she going to be alright? What the hell had attacked her? How was any of this possible?

  "Do you need us to walk you home? We need to talk."

  Sarah couldn't speak. It was all too much. She nodded her head and tried to gulp down a breath.

  The second man, the man whose intensity had overwhelmed her so completely, turned the moment her head started to move. He stalked ahead, and she watched the way that his hips moved as he walked. Even in heavy autumn clothing he looked she could see the way that he moved, could see how naturally and how comfortably every step was.

  He looked as if he were more in tune with his body than she would ever be, Sarah thought. The way that he slunk up to corners, peered around them, his body tensed up like a snake coiling to strike. The easy mov
ement from left to right of his head, never surprised. She and his partner took up the rear, his arm around her shoulders.

  She didn't even know their names, she realized, as they turned and finally came out near the front door of her apartment. She walked past the doorman, never thinking about how the three of them might look to an outsider. She wasn't thinking about much of anything except getting back to her apartment. Where it was safe.

  As soon as she got back, all of this would be a bad dream. All of it, she hoped, except for these two.

  Sarah's mind barely registered when they got into her apartment and laid her down on the sofa. The dark-haired one paced back and forth, something clearly upsetting him. The one with blue eyes, on the other hand, after all his interest in whether or not she was alright, seemed ready to go immediately.

  "Introductions," said the dark-haired, intense man after a long moment of thought. "My name is Isaiah, this is my partner, Jason. Do you know what just happened to you?"

  "Those men, they tried to attack me. I could've been… or worse."

  "Those weren't men," Jason corrected immediately. "And not just because 'real men don't attack women.'" He seemed to silently laugh at his own crude joke.

  "Those were ghouls. The soul of a vampire—"

  "Wait, what?" Sarah sat up. "Vampire? You're pulling my leg. Is someone going to pop out with a camera? Did Lana put you up to this?"

  "It's not a joke, miss Lincoln. I'm afraid it's very serious. You were attacked by the servants of a vampire tonight, who intended to bring you, sedated, to his lair, where he would then brutally murder you for his own pleasure and drink your blood"

  "That's very dramatic," she said, still half-teasing. It sounded like he was serious, but what Isaiah said was insane. Eventually, she knew, shed figure out what the real game was and then she'd understand whether or not he was serious. Until then, she just had to humor him.