His eyes flash, and suddenly, he’s crawling across the bed. I scramble backward but don’t get far before my back hits the headboard. In a breath, he’s on top of me, one hand on either side of my head. Crowding me, reminding me he’s much bigger and stronger than I.
The stench of whiskey is so strong I can hardly breathe. How much has he had to drink? A lot considering it looks like he can’t even focus on me, his head tipping from one side to the other while he squints.
“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to?” he growls. He might be a sip or two away from blacking out, but this is still a dangerous man. His nostrils flare as he lifts his lip, baring his gritted teeth. “Do you know how easy it would be for me to break you? I’ve taken apart men two, three times your size without hardly a scratch or a bruise on me. You saw how I was that last night at my brother’s. All the blood. What do you think I’ll look like after I take you apart?”
I hear his words. I feel his anger, so intense it’s almost a tangible thing. Like there are three of us in the room now.
So why am I not terrified? Apprehensive, cautious? Sure. I’d be stupid if I wasn’t. But stupidly, I’m not as afraid as I should be. He only wishes he could do to me what he just described. I’m not exactly sure why, but the desire is there. He can’t bring himself to do it. That’s the problem, at least from his perspective.
Perhaps that’s why I’m able to speak without my voice trembling. Why I can look him in the eye without flinching back the way I know he wants me to. That’s why he’s here. To remind himself how powerful he is even when he doesn’t feel that way.
“Who do you really want to take apart?”
He tilts his head back a little, his brows drawing together, his eyes narrowing. He pulls back his right fist and punches the wall so close to my head that I’m certain he’s going to hit me. I flinch, drawing my shoulders up and tucking my chin against my chest. I remind myself that violence is all he knows and his only form of coping.
“Who the fuck do you think? Why else would I come here?”
I shouldn’t push him, it’s like provoking a bear and not expecting to get attacked, but I can’t help myself.
“Then do it. Let your anger out on me. Use me. Hurt me. If that’s what it takes to make you feel better.”
“Is that an invitation?” He reaches for the blanket, pulling it off me with one harsh tug. He doesn’t let me answer before giving his next command. “Take your shirt off.”
Even in his drunken state, it doesn’t take him long to free himself from his own clothes. With curious eyes, I watch him stroke his fat, throbbing cock. Thick veins run along his shaft like a roadmap leading to the precum glistening at the swollen head.
I’m so enthralled by the view that I yelp in surprise when Lucas grabs my cotton panties and rips them off me in one swift move.
“Spread your legs,” he orders, and I follow his command without thought.
Cool air washes over my heated core, making me realize that I’m wet for him despite how he is treating me… maybe he has me so twisted that I’m welcoming it now. Or maybe I’ve always been fucked up.
“Should I fuck your cunt or your ass?”
“No!” My legs try to close on their own, but Lucas is faster, prying them open. “Please, not anal.”
“You told me to let my anger out on you… to use you. And right now, I want to use your tight little asshole. Are you going to fight me? Because that would make it even better.”
“You’re sick.”
“You’re just now figured that out?” He presses me into the mattress using his body, keeping my legs spread for him. He grabs my wrists with one hand and pulls them over my head, holding them there like an iron shackle.
Real fear makes its way up my spine, settling into my bones. I try my best not to show him how scared I am, but I can’t control how my body shudders and my bottom lip trembles.
“Mhh, I can smell the fear coming off you. It’s so fucking sweet and makes my cock even harder.” He slides his free hand between us, running his fingers through my folds, and gathering my wetness, bringing it down to my asshole. Without warning, he shoves his finger inside, making me clamp up on reflex.
“Please,” I whimper, but Lucas is not taking mercy. He finger fucks my asshole until I have nothing left but to relax and let him in.
“You know this is my favorite part. Knowing I’m hurting you while I feel nothing but pleasure.”
I’m starting to get that.
“You have no idea how good it felt to fuck you in that cell, to take from you without giving, to know how sore I left you. Were you reminded of me every time you moved after?”
He suddenly pulls his finger out, leaving me empty for one second before I feel the thick head of his cock sliding through my wetness. I clamp up again, preparing myself for the pain about to come, but instead of my ass, he pushes inside my pussy.
I wasn’t prepared for the intrusion, but I’m wet enough for him to slide all the way in without any major pain. A moan falls from my lips, followed by a whimper as he does exactly what he promised—what I suggested. He uses me for his pleasure, fucking me without a care for what I feel.
The worst part is that some depraved part of me enjoys this. He might be sick, but I’m not much better because as he is fucking me, my orgasm builds. Higher and higher with each forceful thrust. I’m so wet that the sloppy sounds my pussy makes are almost embarrassing.