The change in him is instantaneous.
He whirls me around, pushes me down over the table, and is shoving the skirt of my dress up to my waist and, as sick as it is, I want it.
So I keep pushing.
Because I’m nothing if not self-destructive. I’m like a time bomb waiting to go off. Have been for a long time. I wonder how I’ve kept it together for so long, actually.
He leans over me, and I feel him, his hardness, the only barrier between us the thin material of my panties and his pants.
“She was my tutor, actually,” he whispers, his hands in the waistband of my panties, pushing them down and off one foot as he kicks my legs apart. “Not my girlfriend. I was fifteen when I first fucked her.” I hear him undoing his jeans, and it takes all I have not to arch my back. To push back into him because I need this. I need this so fucking bad. And when he thrusts into my wet passage, I suck in a loud breath and scratch my fingernails into the polished wood of the table.
“And no, I didn’t want to kill him. I wanted him in that fucking chair.” He lays down over my back, licks the side of my face. His breathing is ragged too, his face wet with sweat. “And you know what else? You look just like her.”
I stop at that, process his slowly, purposefully spoken words. It’s hard, though, hard to think. But one glance at him tells me he’s processing too. Like he hadn’t intended to say that. But then he talks, and he’s just an asshole.
“But if you wanted to know, all you had to do was ask,” he whispers at my ear as he pulls out of me, draws back. When I try to straighten, he shoves me back down and takes both my wrists into his one hand, holding them at my lower back.
“You want it, don’t you?” he asks, slapping my ass. “Admit it.”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
“Fuck you.”
He slaps my ass again, three sharp spanks on my right cheek. “Look at me,” he repeats.
I do and I’m gritting my teeth. When I meet his eyes, he smiles wide and just as he does, he pushes his finger first into my pussy, then slides it up to my asshole.
“You want it.” It’s not a question. He sinks his finger into the tight passage, and it hurts, but fuck, it feels good too and he knows it. He can see it on my face.
“You think you can wound me with this pathetic crumb of information?” he asks as his thick cock stretches my pussy, sliding in once, twice before he pulls out, and I feel him trailing it up to my asshole. “Let me teach you about hurt.” And he pushes the head of his cock inside me without warning, making me cry out.
It fucking burns, and I can’t breathe for a minute. I’m fisting my hands, digging my nails into my own palms.
“How’s that for hurt, Em?” He pushes a little deeper. I whimper, and I hate myself for it. “You have a tight ass. You gonna be able to take all of me?” He pushes again.
“Please.”
“What’s that?”
“Please. It hurts.”
He leans down over me again. “I’m only about a third of the way in, Sunshine. You’ve got a long way to go. I’d try to relax if I were you.” He claims another inch, and a sound comes from inside my throat, a wail or sob. A wound.
“I’m sorry,” I cry out.
“No, you’re not.” He pulls out a little, affording me the smallest relief, the rest almost momentary because when he pushes in again, he takes more of me. “Not yet, at least.”
I gasp, my eyes bulging at the next inch.
“But remember how I told you I didn’t want to hurt you?” he asks, and I feel one hand snake around, fingers finding my clit. “Do you, Emilia?”
He’s rubbing my clit, and I know this sensation. Pain and pleasure. I mix them up, he’s mixing them up, and I’m arching back against him.
“Do you?”
I nod my head. This feels good. I don’t want him to stop.
“That’s it, relax. Good girl.” He draws out a little, pumping in and out, small movements as he claims more of me, and it hurts but it feels good, too, and I’m going to come soon. I squeeze my eyes shut, and I hear him behind me, hear him give me his permission—that bastard—and I obey. I come with his dick in my ass and his fingers rubbing my clit, and when I do, he pushes all the way inside me and it’s like I’m tumbling from orgasm to orgasm. My knees give out; I can’t stand on my own. I can hardly breathe, and that noise, that animal like wail, it’s me. It’s coming from me because he’s fucking me now, fucking me hard and deep, and when I hear him come, feel his release, feel him fill me up, I can’t hold on anymore. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. I can’t beg him to stop. Beg him to never stop. Stars dance before my eyes. I lay my head down, and all I can do is feel. Feel him inside me. Feel him possess me. Hurt me. Own me. Feel myself being owned by him.