His hot, possessive gaze locked on my pussy as he slicks himself up with my wetness.
I experience one moment of doubt, feeling him down there.
That maybe I shouldn’t do this…
That maybe this is a bad idea.
Having no such doubts, he grabs my leg, hitches my knee up, and thrusts forward. His cock pushing inside me and stretching me open.
I suck in a hiss as I feel a pinch followed by a slight burning sensation.
He immediately stiffens and his head jerks up.
Eyes finding my eyes, his are surprised before they fill with dawning realization.
“Goddammit,” he says, his voice thick and strained as he starts to slide out of me. “I really am a fucking bastard.”
As if he can’t help himself, James groans and thrusts forward again, slamming back in.
So deep, he smashes against my clit.
Without the pinch of pain, I find myself jolting and gasping beneath him.
My hands grab at him as I groan, “I’m glad you’re finally accepting that, James.”
He stills and looks at me in surprise.
Out of nowhere I feel a pang of guilt.
Dammit.
I have nothing to feel guilty about. He really is a bastard for everything he’s done to me…
Covering up the guilt with anger, I sink my nails into his skin, finding the sensation entirely too pleasurable.
Then I glare at him. “Are you going to fuck me or just stare at me?”
Growling, his arms tense, the veins bulging from wrist to shoulder. He drops his chin and the look on his face cuts right through me as he slams forward, hard and deep.
“Is that what you want? Is that what you need?” he rasps as he pumps in and out of me. “You want me to fuck you? Fuck away all your pain?”
His question hitting a little too close to home, I break the little stare-off we’re having by glancing away.
Unfortunately, not looking at him doesn’t stop all the pleasure flowing through me.
Despite my anger and irritation, pressure builds inside my core and moans threaten to spill from my lips.
Reaching up, he grabs my chin and pulls my gaze back to him. “Answer me. Do you want me to fuck away your pain or not, baby?”
When I refuse to answer him and try to jerk my face away, his fingers dig into my skin.
Laughing a ragged laugh, he says, “Look at this bastard as he fucks you, Sophia.”
His breath as fast and harsh as his thrusts, his dark eyes bore into my eyes. “Look at him as he gives you what you need.”
Glaring up at him, I try to fight the pleasure I was so eager to take from him just minutes ago. Willing my body to turn off. Willing my anger to help me overcome it.
But each smash against my clit reawakens that desperate, throbbing need to fill the emptiness.
Until my hips rise up on their own, hungrily meeting the slap of his.
Focusing solely on getting what I want out of this, out of him, I start to claw at his back as my pussy clenches and squeezes hungrily around his thick shaft.
Warm, almost electric, pleasure buzzing through me again.
“Fucking hell,” he groans over the little moans that start to slip past my lips. “You like that, huh? You like it when this bastard hits that little clit?”
Pulling my knee up higher, he pushes forward. Rolling his hips and thrusting even deeper, he grinds hard against me.
Unlike the slamming, there’s no room to catch my breath. There’s just constant pressure and sensation.
And there’s something downright… primal about the way he fucks me. Grunting and growling as he throws everything into trying to push me over the edge.
He’s so feral with the exertion on his face and the sweat glistening on his skin, my heart skips a beat at the sight of it.
The knowledge that this act… No, that I have made him like this is my undoing.
Both loving and hating what he’s doing to me, I sink my nails into his skin and explode around his thickness.
The walls of my pussy pulse and milk every ounce of pleasure I can get out of him.
A breath later, he’s cursing. Every swear word known to man spilling from his mouth as he swells up inside me.
For a few glorious minutes, we’re on the same plane of existence. Trapped together in soul-crushing bliss.
Then it’s over as quickly as it started.
Coming back down from the high, I become aware of his weight bearing down on me.
It’s both comforting and alarming at the same.
Then I become aware of my nails still digging into his back.
He jerks as I pull them away.
But otherwise he’s still. Almost too still.
Head dropped forward, I can’t see his face as he pants, catching his breath.
Laying beneath him, without a word from him, I have the unsettling thought that maybe I did something wrong…
That now we’ve done this, he’s going to walk away again.