Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80102 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“You sick bitch,” the client growls, the sickening sound of his hands working his own cock filling the room. “I bet you fucking like it. You like getting fucked like the whore you are, don’t you?”
Our eyes are locked. She’s not willing to let me look away, to imagine that this is consensual. I have no way to tell her that I wouldn’t even if I could. We’ll both have to suffer. I refuse to let her do it alone.
I can’t believe I let myself think she was a willing participant in all of this. She’s as much a prisoner as I am.
But then she lifts her legs, knees pressing into my sides in a way that doesn’t exactly translate as wanting me to stop. I shake my head, thinking that I’m allowing my mind to create scenarios that make what I’m doing okay. It doesn’t matter that I’m hitting her right in that spot that will make her come. She still doesn’t want this, and I need to never forget that.
I release her throat, gripping her breast when the command echoes through the room. I do the same, obeying, when the client mentions spreading her so wide her legs must ache.
“Please stop,” she begs, her words accompanying the warning clench her pussy gives me.
I wanted this. I wanted to make her come, but now it feels like the most sick and sadistic consolation prize I could ever offer someone.
I back off, shifting my hips to reposition my cock.
“Don’t,” she snaps, and I can’t tell if she means for me to make her come or if she’s fucking begging me not to.
I lift my eyes from where we’re joined to hers, and the slightest nod of her head answers the question, her mouth dropping open when I press forward into that same spot. She squeezes her eyes closed, no doubt fighting that very same urge I tried to fight when she was on top of me.
I can’t count how many times I’ve pulled a trigger, how many times I’ve used a blade to get my point across. I’ve used my hands to choke the life out of someone. Never hesitated to stomp my boot into someone’s face, but I’ve never used my cock as the weapon it’s being used as today.
“Take it bitch.”
The voice makes my hips shudder, the pure ire in the man’s voice making my skin crawl. I have no doubt the man has hurt many women in his life. I bet he feels more powerful now, being able to command someone else to do it, than he ever has.
“Please stop,” she begs, her words drowning in the sobs she can’t seem to control.
I know she really wants me to stop. She doesn’t want to feel what she does. This isn’t going to end with her coming and thanking me for making it happen. I know she’s not in physical pain. The slippery wetness from the lube she used has transformed into the thick slickness of genuine arousal, and I know all about the hate she feels for herself because of it.
I’m suffering the same, teetering on the edge of self-loathing, for just how fucking amazing her body feels as I slam into her over and over. I hate knowing that Pirro was right. That fucking her hard will make her come. I hate that the man probably knows from firsthand experience. It makes me want to slit his fucking throat more now than ever.
As if a switch has been flipped, she settles, her sobs too quiet to hear over my own heavy breathing. Her chest is still heaving, tears are still rolling down her face, but I’ve just witnessed the moment she has given up, and I hate her a little for it. She’s supposed to keep fighting. She’s not supposed to let them witness breaking her.
When she turns her head to the side, I’m moving before the client can even spit disapproval for her looking away.
I clamp her jaw, forcing her eyes in my direction. She pleads without words, but I just can’t give her what she’s asking. I don’t think she knows what the outcome for both of us would be if I listened to her and stopped. Maybe she knows exactly what would happen, and that’s exactly why she has surrendered to her fate.
“I’ll slit your fucking throat if you don’t watch.”
The threat, even knowing that the client is probably hundreds if not thousands of miles away, makes me grip the back of her neck, angling her head so she can see me pistoning inside of her.
“Gonna fill this fucking pussy with my cum.”
Her neck is angled so she can watch us, but she lifts her eyes to mine. I’ll live in the guilt at the way it ignites a spark inside of me, at the way it makes my balls tighten.