For a moment, a split second of rational thought had me wondering how he could be so rough, so strong, when he was so beaten, and then he nipped at my clit, and I couldn’t think of anything else at all except how good it felt.
My third orgasm tore a wild, groaning cry from me. I whimpered his name, over and over, undone by it all.
He didn’t stop fucking me with his mouth. Not until I rolled my head and slapped my hand weakly on the floor, too drained to do more. “Lucas,” I panted. “I can’t…no more…”
He removed his mouth from my pussy and captured my inner thigh with his lips, sucking hard on the flesh there.
I cried out, arching once more, stunned at how I could still experience pleasure after such a mind-shattering orgasm. But I did. Lots of pleasure. As he branded my thigh with his mouth, I moaned and whimpered his name.
“Lucas…oh God, Lucas…”
He lifted his head from my thigh, blew a fine stream of air on my bruised flesh and then crawled up my body. Covered it with his.
His thick, hard cock nudged at my pussy lips. Parted them.
My breath caught in my throat. I froze beneath him, clinging to his shoulders, my thighs hugging his legs, our groins completely aligned.
I knew what was going to happen next.
I knew it was wrong.
I knew I had to stop him.
I knew all these things.
Knowing, however, meant nothing at that point in time.
All that my brain, my body, my heart hung on, was the exquisite sensation of his cock inching into my sex. His flesh penetrating mine.
“They will never hurt you, Ronnie,” he growled, his face bare inches from mine, his fingers tangling in my hair, his cock parting my folds more. “I will kill them before they—”
His eyes unfocussed. Just like that, his eyes lost all clarity. The lucidity vanished from his stare and, with a sharp groan, the rigidity left his body and he slumped on top of me.
Motionless.
Chapter 2
It took me longer than it should to wriggle out from beneath him. I was worried. No, more than worried. I was scared.
Scared he had life-threatening internal injuries that were surely killing him.
Scared of the raw desire for him crashing through me like a tsunami.
Scared of what he’d said before he’d fallen unconscious. Who will never hurt me? Why would he think someone wanted to hurt me?
It was too much to handle.
Finally free of his limp weight, I snatched up the phone and called 911. I had no other choice. I had to do what I thought was best, and what
I thought was best right at that very second in time was keeping him alive.
Dispatch answered on the fifth ring—yes, I counted them. It was a way to try to make myself calm down and not panic that I may be doing the wrong thing.
I asked for an ambulance, gave my address and told them to hurry, all without taking my stare off Lucas where he lay motionless on the floor.
When I was asked what was the nature of the emergency, I answered as honestly as I could. “My neighbor has been beaten up. He’s unconscious on my bedroom floor and his injuries are really bad.”
When I was asked for his name, I didn’t give it. Instead, I urged them to hurry.