Page 101 of Vicious

“I’m seriously going to regret this later,” I mutter. Mentally, physically… but does it really matter? This is here and now, and I do want it. I do want him.

I kiss him again, wordlessly lifting up in invitation for him.

He rubs his cock against my pussy, somehow hotter and harder than I remember him being. I grind back, teasing both of us. We keep kissing, too, so desperately that it’s barely more than our lips touching and our breaths mingling.

“Do it,” I whisper to him. “Fuck me.”

Chase lets out a long groan and slots up against me, guiding me to lower myself down onto him. His pace is excruciatingly slow, and it isn’t what I want at all.

I lower myself forcefully, moaning at the stretch and the way my cuts shift and burn, and how Chase grips me even tighter.

“Fuck, Ah-May,” Chase moans. “You’re so wet, so tight.”

“You’re—” I can’t even finish the thought. My hand goes to my cuts, though, and I should care that I feel blood trickling from the wounds. But if I imagine that Chase left them in the midst of ecstasy, it’s not nearly so bad. “I don’t think I can… I can fuck myself on you,” I admit. I want to be the one rising up and down, but it involves too much pressure on my stomach.

Chase nods, and with surprising dexterity, rolls us over so I’m on my back on the warm rock, and he’s poised over me. The movement dislodges his cock, and I whine about that, wrapping my legs around his waist and trying to pull him closer.

“I knew you were the one for me,” Chase murmurs, bending down to kiss my neck and my chest. He moves lower, tonguing my nipples and making me moan all over again. “From when I first laid eyes on you. The fire in your eyes, the way you toyed with your wound…”

I remember it so clearly: how my palm had been split open by the broken wine glass I’d cleaned up too hastily, how I’d poked and prodded at it.

How he’d backed me against the wall and kissed me after seeing it.

“Thank you for saving me. Twice,” I say through the lump in my throat. If he hadn’t purchased me from Pavone, I don’t know where I’d be right now. Nowhere good, that’s for sure, and it scares me to think about being cut to bits on an operating table in the middle of nowhere.

Chase laughs and moves lower, lapping at the blood on my stomach. “I’ve wanted you for almost a year now. I wasn’t going to let you slip out of my grasp. I…” His voice catches. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“So when’s our anniversary?” I joke feebly. “The day you cornered me, the day you bought me, or… today?” I touch his hair again, then whisper, “I need you inside of me, Chase.”

“Yeah.” Chase sits up enough so he can line himself up again. He pauses like that, the tip of his cock against my hole, and my chest tightens when I see the expression on his face.

He talks about owning me, about possessing me.

But the way he’s looking at me now says something completely different.

Wo ai ni.

Chase averts his gaze and thrusts inside me with enough force that I slide back on the rock.

It hurts, but it’s not a pain I want to end. Not yet. This is a pain I want more of, just like I want more than Chase. I wrap my arms around him the best I can.

It’s primal, animalistic, the way he thrusts into me. I cry out and moan, tightening my legs around him and trying to force him to go even faster. My torso bends enough to remind me of the cuts, but they only add to the pleasure of having him inside me.

My cunt aches, and I reach down to gingerly touch my clit. I can’t do it for long, just long enough to make me writhe and gasp. But it’s enough to push me closer to the edge. Not enough to shove me over it, but between the pain and the pleasure and the stretch, I’m so close.

A small eternity passes, of him fucking me and shoving me back with the sheer force of his thrusts, of the rocks digging into my back, of the cuts being stretched and opened even more—of the pleasure each time he hits that perfect place inside of me and makes me moan.

“I— Almost—” I pant, and I kiss him again, biting his lip savagely enough to taste blood on my tongue.

Chase growls and bites back. He scratches down my side, then shoves my hand aside so he can get at my clit himself. He rubs it without any finesse, rough and uneven, but that’s enough. I cry out and tighten around him, the pleasure slamming into me so fast that I get dizzy.

He speeds up too, and I can feel his heat flood me only seconds later.

I gasp and arch, upsetting my wounds even more, but I can’t bring myself to care. I close my eyes, tasting blood on my mouth, licking it clean. The climax and the relief, the pain and the adrenaline, all coalesce into a dreamlike feeling, and I can only lie there as he makes a few staccato thrusts of his hips before stopping, his cock still buried inside of me.

With my luck, the rescue party will find us just like this.

I can’t bring myself to care.

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