Mewling under me,
Moaning my name,
Taking my cock so perfectly.
I knew it had to stop. I made the decision to end this thing six years ago because I didn’t want to see her hurt, because I didn’t want her to be another victim of the thing in my blood. But when she was finally in front of me, dark panties and a protective arm the only thing to separate me from everything I needed, that truth had never been further away. She wanted me to stop. She wanted me to leave, but I wasn’t sure I knew how to do that anymore. My fingers looped around her waistband, and not even her gentle protests would pull me away. It was only when I slid them down her thighs that I finally paused.
When I saw how wet she was,everythingpaused.
She was close enough to fucking taste; I’d drank her desperation long before that. When the only thing I could smell was her, I wouldn’t let myself breathe. When the only thing I could hear were her fevered apologies, I couldn’t see either. The sight was just another way to torture me. Her soaked panties, her glistening lips, her gentle pleas were all designed to live in the back of my head forever. They only reminded me of things I couldn’t have, and as my hands ran along her thighs, I tried to remind myself that I couldn’t have her without breaking her. I couldn’t taste her without devouring her. I couldn’t bring out anything more than her fear.
Bridget deserved more than that, didn’t she?
The anger came first. Then, the disgust. A fierce jerk tore the fucking things right off her body, and as I stepped upright, whatever gentleness I had managed was gone. That part of me, I decided, was dead. For Bridget’s safety, it had to be. I didn’t let myself soften when my fingers dug into her upper arm, when her cries echoed through the room. I started the shower with the hopes that she’d end this. A long soak was the only way to wash away the memories of who we used to be. Her cries of protest would slow me, but I didn’t stop until her foot braced itself on the edge of the tub.
It was only then that I really saw the damage I had done.
“You’re hurting me.”
“What the fuck do I care?”
The question, a familiar bite, had a way of softening her. When I tried to tug her again, her leg stiffened. It was only when I noticed her foot still braced so defiantly on the tub that I felt this thing truly react. A snarl was the last thing I heard before I felt her chin between my fingers, before her painful sob filled the space in my chest. Once she was back where she belonged, once I was snarling over her with her pussy so warm against my cock, I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear anything ever again.
“Don’t push me, Bridget.” His hiss stiffened her and for the first time, I realized the pounding of her fists against my chest. “Don’t fucking push me again.”
“Don’t push you?” Her golden eyes travelled my face, but the only thing I could really notice was the way her breasts pushed against me as she panted. “I’m not trying to push you, Michael.”
She’s lying.
The bruises would be with her for weeks. Anger tightened my grip on her waist, and as I held her chin firmly in place, this thing demanded blood. Her excitement, her moans, weren’t twisted fantasies anymore, and as our eyes locked, this thing demanded I show her the mess she’d created. There was no warning as my hand dipped lower, no warmth as my fingers ran along her slit or my thumb brushed her clit. Her hands were on me, her cry living in my head, but as my fingers slammed into her, we both knew that a plea wouldn’t be enough to stop me.
We both knew I wasn’t capable of the kindness she craved.
“Don’t fucking lie to me.” When my thumb brushed over her clit, my fingers curling to stroke tender flesh, she almost cried out. She was too sensitive to have only been playing with herself today. She’d been needing me for days, for weeks, foryears. As my fingers curled again, as her body curled into mine, stiff lips pressed against her temples. “Don’t fucking push me,” I hissed. “Don’t walk around here with that sweet little pussy out when you know what will happen.”
My body reacted before her lips even parted. Hearing her fight me would only bring that awful pain, and the beast reacted through the haze. My fingers curled again, and her moan brought another hiss of pleasure. I could already feel her tightening around me. I could already feel her needing my cock. Her fists balled against my chest, and when the words wouldn’t come, Bridget nestled her face into the crook of my neck.
“How many times did you touch yourself when I was gone?”
“I didn’t.”
She’s lying.
The heat roared through my body before I could stop it. My fingers wrapped around her throat before she could cry out for help. When she wanted to look away, I held her in place. It was only when our eyes locked that I could truly see it all wash over her. The injured bird was jumping between the sickening fear and the disgusting need, the hunger I gave her and the desire to live. She was begging for me to take her, to release her, to turn her into something twisted.
“Then why are you so fucking wet?”
“Please don’t—”
“Say it.” When she didn’t respond, my blood howled for something more. A firm pinch of her clit brought a grunt of pain, a moan of pleasure. The fog thickened when I envisioned how perfect she would look with my handprint tattooed on her ass.
She needs to be punished.
“How many times did you think of me with your fingers in this pretty little pussy?”
She wouldn’t say it. She couldn’t bring herself to admit it, but as our eyes locked, I didn’t think it mattered. When my fingers started to slowly work their way in and out of her tight tunnel, I knew the truth. She’d been touching herself all fucking day. Every time I was out of the god damn room her hands had journeyed down her body. Though, I didn’t need her gaze to tell me that. I didn’t need her tightness, her dampness to tell me that. I knew because I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off my cock either.
“I bet that fuck boy knows all about me, doesn’t he?” When she froze, I couldn’t help but grin. It just made things all that much sweeter when I brushed over her clit, when I made her moan again. “Have you told him how hard I can make you cum?” Her eyes glazed with another brush over her g-spot, and I let my lips fall to her temple. “Have you told him who you belong to?”