His hot stare is centered on my pussy, and he lifts his gaze, trailing it all the way up the length of my body. It’s obvious what he is thinking and what he wants.
“Do you need me to gag you, or are you going to shut your mouth?” His mood seems to be getting fouler, and I don’t know how to handle him when he’s like this. This isn’t about control. There is something deeper here, something heartbreaking. Today isn’t about controlling me and getting me to comply. Today is about hurting me and taking whatever he can get.
“Quinton, you said you wouldn’t hurt me.” I try to reason with him, but he shakes his head almost angrily. Pressing me against the bed with his still mostly clothed body, the head of his cock brushes against my entrance. I’m not wet enough for him, and I’m afraid he’s just going to enter me without thinking, so I place my hands on his shoulders and give him a push.
The rageful expression he gives me turns me to ash, and he moves forward, his cock pressing into my entrance. Panic grips me by the throat, and pain spears my lower abdomen. I can’t anticipate what will happen next.
Of all the times Quinton has taken from me, it’s never felt like this. Even in those instances when he was in control, I still felt some form of power. I still felt that I was on the same level as him.
“You promised me one hour and said I could have whatever I wanted and do whatever I wanted. Are you going back on that promise? Because if you do, I’ll take mine back too. I’ll be in the library every day, and I won’t stand in Matteo’s way. Maybe I’ll give him back the key card, and he can come to your room instead of me. Is that what you want?” The anger in his voice makes me pause. He’s piss and vinegar, and I don’t have it in me to fight back against him today.
I twist my head to the side to hide the tears building in my eyes, and I whisper, “No.” The word comes out so soft I’m afraid he can’t even hear me. “I just… I can’t do this tonight. Please, Quinton, please.”
As soon as I turn to face him, the tears fall, the wet drops slide down my cheeks in unison. I hate allowing him to see me this broken, but maybe that’s what he needs. Maybe knowing his toy is broken will stop him from continuing forward tonight.
His beautiful lips curl with disgust, and he pulls away, running a hand through his silky black hair. I can see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Feel his pain, and I wonder what happened today to make him this way?
He turns away from me and slams his fist into the brick wall beside the bed. The wall doesn’t give, and Quinton pulls his hand away with a grimace. I sit up, ready to come to his aid, but choose not to when he turns on me.
With a snarl, he grabs me by the arm and pushes me down to my knees on the floor. The sudden movement makes me dizzy.
“This will be the one and only time I let you tap out. Don’t ever ask me to stop again because I won’t. Now suck my cock like you mean it. Prove to me that your mouth is better than your virgin pussy, or I’ll change my mind and fuck you anyway.”
All I can do is gulp.
I wet my lips, and Quinton spears his fingers through my hair. Pain lances across my scalp as he pulls me forward, holding me in place while he brings his cock to my lips.
He gives me no time to prepare and slips between my lips, a ragged sigh filling the air as his cock hits the back of my throat, and I gag. I breathe through my nose and try to prepare myself for his next thrust. He pulls out and pushes back in again.
“Look at me while I fuck your throat. I want to see the tears as they slip down your cheeks.” His grip on my hair tightens, and I do as he instructs, looking up at him through my lashes. I hate that I grow wet at the look of possession in his eyes.
He doesn’t own me, not even a little bit, but this side of me wants him to. Holding me in place, he thrusts his hips forward, fucking my mouth and throat. Saliva dribbles out the side of my mouth with his quick movements, and my eyes water, the salty tears sliding down my cheeks without permission.
With pleasure in his eyes, he watches them, smiling like the devil while he continues using me as a source for his own demented satisfaction.
Just like in the hallway when he first forced me to do this, his focus is on me, and I can’t look away, not even while knowing he is using me and that I mean nothing to him.
“Fuck, you look so gorgeous with my cock stuffed in your mouth. Maybe I’ll do this more often since it seems your mouth is what gets you into the most trouble.”
Anything I might say would be muffled, so I don’t bother responding. Quinton smirks and pinches one of my nipples between his fingers. There is a tinge of pain, followed by pleasure that zings straight to my core. I’m ashamed to admit that I want him, even in those instances when I say I don’t. Deep down, there is a twisted part of me that only he brings out, that wants him.
“Just like that. Take me deep…” He presses all the way into the back of my throat and holds himself there, and for a second, I can’t breathe. Panic starts to bubble to the surface of my mind right as he pulls back, and I inhale oxygen deep into my lungs as he pulls out.
He does this over and over again, his own pleasure rising up until he’s close to coming. Without warning, he pulls himself from my mouth and fists his cock in his hand. All I can do is watch, saliva dribbling down my chin and my heart racing. I don’t care how I look right now. My only focus is watching Quinton reach the finish line.
“Watch me…” He grits the words through his teeth. I don’t dare look away, and with a roar, he explodes. Hot ropes of cum land on my breasts, and a soft gasp escapes my lips at the contact. Quinton continues coming, stroking himself until he grows soft.
When he pulls away and sags against the wall, I push off the floor and walk into the bathroom to clean myself up. I grab a washcloth, wet it, and wipe myself down.
Then I clean my face and return to the bedroom to find Quinton stripped down to his boxers, lying on my bed. He can’t seriously think he is going to have a sleepover.
I scurry across the room and grab a pair of panties and a shirt.
“I think you should leave,” I say once I’m dressed.
The way he’s lying on my bed, like he was meant to be there, makes me feel strange.
“I’m not done with you yet, so I’m not really sure why you put clothes on. It’s not like you’ll be needing them for what we’re going to do.”