Page 24 of Locke

“I haven’t fucked you yet.”

“Yeah, yet, you sick fuck!”

“I didn’t think when you fucked my mouth with those sinful lips that it was against your will.”

“Well, it was, asshole.”

He threw the panties aside and undid his belt buckle. She immediately went quiet, panting now into the earth as he withdrew his rock-hard cock and laid it right there over her perfect ass. It looked fucking enormous, his length extending from the curve of her curvy ass and ending at the bottom of her back.

She was utterly stunned.

Because this reality felt so far away.

And it was always far away in storybooks.

Men like him were stopped at the nick of fucking time by some cunt white knight.

But Blackwater was the belly of the beast. Locke knew firsthand there was no such thing as being rescued. That pulling out your cock and taking your fuck without mercy was a real and sordid thing. But not unfamiliar. Not to him anyway.

“This feel real yet?” he asked her tightly. “You realize how close I am to your tight hole? I bet it’ll feel like heaven to tear into. What do you think?”

“I think you’re the devil,” she said in a tiny voice.

“If I’m the devil then what are you?” he queried. “The angel that fell from the sky?”

Her voice cracked. “Does it matter what I am?”

“Yes. I want to know who the temptress beneath me is. What made you fly so low?”

She shook her head, quietly uttering, “My wings never worked.”

Good. That meant she’d never fly.

He ran the head of his cock along her ass, up and then down. He could feel the precum, the tightening in his balls. It physically hurt to feel this good. A wave of nausea rocked him with the sensation, a familiar shadow of an emotion he had learned to tame long ago.

There would be no disgust tonight, he told myself.

Her body rocked beneath him, pure fear and he didn’t know, but the way she banged her forehead against the earth, he’d say she didn’t like the other emotion running through her.

She was at war with herself. Brain vs. Body. A dangerous fight if the wrong half lost.

Locke moved up her body, her shoulders trapped between his knees now as he brought his cock down to her face, rubbing the head along her cheek. She jerked her face away, grunting angrily at him, but he didn’t move. He waited for her to put down her defences, to stop playing pretend and let her urges dictate the next move.

Locke wondered if she was depraved as he was.

If this little minx would turn her head just once to look at the giant cock merely a lick away.

She shook her head and breathed into the earth. Deep inhales, harsh exhales.

Body vs. Brain.

A timeless war.

Then she turned her head to him, her lips a breath away from his cock. Those deep breaths weakened, and there her hips went again, jutting up and then down like she wanted to fuck the earth with her pussy ground against it.

“Let go,” he urged tightly.

Her tongue darted out like a curious cat, lapping once at his cock. Hypersensitive, a tremor of pleasure shot through him, and his body tensed.

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