Page 63 of Corrupted Heart

His finger curls deep into me, making my eyes roll back and my feet curl and claw at the dirty ground. Then he slides his hand away with one last hard spank on my upturned ass.

He moves in front of me, sinking to his knees. His hand tangles in my hair, lifting my head and locking his eyes with mine.

Holy fuck.

He’s still wearing the mask, but he’s shirtless now, the hard grooves and veins of his arms and torso standing out sharply in the gloomy darkness and the veiled light coming through the broken windows. His tattoo ink dances like black magic on his tanned skin. His massive chest bulges when he moves, and the thick, corded muscles of his veined forearms ripple as he grabs a fistful of my hair.

Kratos drops his other hand to his unbuckled, unzipped black jeans. He reaches inside, and I moan quietly, my gaze riveted on his movements as he starts to stroke himself in his pants.

“Are you going to be a fucking good girl for me?”

Sweet Jesus.

I whimper, nodding. My thighs clamp together, squeezing in an embarrassingly needy way as the throb between my legs screams for more.

Kratos raises his other hand, letting the dim light glimmer on the big hunting knife in his hand.

“Let’s fucking hope so.”

Without warning, he shoves his jeans and boxers down together. Suddenly, his cock springs free, slapping heavily against his abs before bobbing right in front of my face.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I understand that porn amplifies sexuality. Everyone moans a little louder than they would in real life. Every position is orgasmic. Every blemish and fault airbrushed away or fixed with makeup.

Every ass is perfectly sculpted. Every breast perfectly round and perky. And every cock huge and throbbing.

But I can say without a second’s hesitation that not a single dick I’ve ever seen in any porn online comes even close to what I’m looking at right now.

It’s not just Kratos’ height or muscles that are huge. I’m staring at what has to be the biggest cock on the fucking planet.

Not a dick. Not a penis.

“Cock” is literally the only word you could use to describe the fat, swollen, almost monstrously huge appendage that he wraps his hand around and begins to stroke, right in front of me.

How the fuck is that going to fit inside me.

Just as I’m thinking that, his fist tightens in my hair. He growls deeply, pulling my face close to his cock as his mask tilts to the side. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat.

“Oh, I’m not going to fuck you.”

I shiver.

“Not yet. And not because I’m worried about breaking you in half, either,” he rasps darkly. “But because you haven’t earned it yet.”

My breath comes haltingly as he pulls me closer, stroking his massive cock inches from my face.

“So open your fucking mouth,” he growls. “And show me how a good little slut earns it.”

He barely waits for my mouth to open. The thick, swollen head of his cock smears precum over my lips, making me gasp quietly before they part. Roughly, gripping my hair, he sinks himself between my lips, pushing his head over my tongue as I swallow back a moan.

“Bad sluts who torch my car don’t get fucked, babygirl,” Kratos hisses. “They get treated like cheap whores.”

Everything about this should be ringing alarm bells in my brain. The fact that he brought me here against my will. That he just chased me through the dark with a fucking knife before pinning me to the ground on my hands and knees and forcing his cock into my mouth.

All of it should be a huge red flag.

But it’s not. Not to someone broken and flawed and demented like me. It’s not that this isn’t scary or a little too much. It is one hundred percent those things.

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