I try to think back; I don’t remember her telling me to stop. This wasn’t rape, but it wasn’t good. Even if she wasn’t a virgin, it wasn’t good.
I hurt her, and I didn’t care.
But I won’t apologize for what I did.
She needed to be punished, and this was the punishment she chose.
My cock still rests inside her. And I can feel her muscles tightening gently around me. Her pussy is so tight; I don’t know how she’s tolerating me still buried between her muscles.
I try a different route. “You win.”
She blinks rapidly, trying to expel the tears from her eyes, since she can’t use her hands currently tied above her head.
“You win. I surrender. You were right; I feel disgusting. I shouldn’t, but I do. This was two consensual adults having sex, but I still feel gross, wrong, sick. It’s too easy to compare myself to what my father did.”
“What did your father do?”
I hesitate, “Zeke didn’t tell you?”
“No, I just guessed. If the myths were true about Black, your father must have been one evil guy. I’m sure he tried to pass that along to you. And I see your daily struggle to manage both sides of yourself. The good and the bad.”
“There is no good.”
She doesn’t respond, but I know that was part of her gaining power here, to make me feel like I’m only evil. Only the bad part of myself controls my actions. It gives her more power if she can predict if she’s dealing with the good or bad version of me.
“What happened?” she asks.
I shake my head. She hasn’t earned that story. She doesn’t get to know why my father was the evilest bastard ever to walk this earth.
She sighs, and her eyes glance down to my cock still inside her. I’m not as hard as I was before, but fucking her once wasn’t enough. Her tightness keeps me hard the entire time; I just need to persuade her to try another round. One where I ensure she comes and it feels good.
Because now that I’ve had her, I don’t ever want to stop. She’s the most responsive woman I’ve ever been with. I’ve never felt a cunt grab hold of me like hers did. And the screams that leave her throat make me possessive and mad. I want her—all of her. The spitfire, the beauty, the fearlessness. Not once was she afraid, no matter the pain I put her through. She took everything.
And as much as she can try to convince me that I’ve ruined her, other than the tears, she doesn’t look hurt. She has a glow about her, which again, might be the tears, but I don’t think so. She’s radiant, her cheeks have pinked, and her eyes read more confidence and determination in them than I’ve ever seen.
This changed her.
For worse.
For better.
And I want to know why. Only then will I decide what to do next. Make amends by fucking her, or release her and return to being enemies.
“Tell me what happened on that yacht,” I command.
She frowns. “Untie me and get your cock out of me first.”
“No.”
She glares. “Enzo, untie me. My story is too vulnerable for me to tell when I have no control.”
“I think this is the exact position you need to tell me in.”
We return stares, neither of us giving in. We are both stubborn, but she forgets that right now, I have all the power. Because she’s the one tied to my bed.
“You hurt me; the least you could do is untie me.”
“We both hurt each other. I might be the latest person to start the war, but I’m offering an olive branch as soon as I find out the truth.”