Page 41 of Locke

“What’s your name?” he demanded.

“Little lion,” she retorted, her voice part-groan, part-pant.

He spun them around and carried her back to the bed. He threw her down like she was weightless, and exhaustedly, she crawled away once more. He watched her for a moment, admiring that round ass, those hypnotic hips, and then he leaned over and grabbed at her ankle, sliding her across the bed and back to him. The second he let go, she was at it again, crawling this time all the way to the edge and then over. He heard her body hit the ground in a thud.

“If it’s the ground you want,” he growled, cock hardening, balls tightening. “We can start there, little prey.”

And then he did just that.

Locke circled the bed and then dropped to the ground and crawled to her like a fucking dog. She was all tired limbs, swinging her arm out to stop him from advancing. He whacked her hands away and climbed over her, and this time, he was not going to watch her crawl away.

Time was up.

And he told her this.

He said it was over.

To give up.

And then he flipped her on her stomach and this time she did scream. Curse words and cries of help and she said so much shit, but never his fucking name.

Never Max.

Locke found he enjoyed her temper and the horrid shit she spewed from her lips. Calling him all kinds of shit like, “monster” and, “ogre” and then it all became a blur. His cock was going to burst. He might come just from her struggle alone. He trapped her so that she could not move, his chest pressed firmly against her back, his hand balled into her hair, and then his mouth was at her ear, telling her, “I’m not going to be easy, so either surrender, temptress, or tell me you still want this mad monster over you, fucking you with my big cock.”

But she wasn’t going to surrender, and she said so through gritted teeth, “Never.”

Oh, so this was what it felt like.

To force oneself upon another.

To demand pleasure from them.

Locke shook from the thrill of it.

And she huffed and fucking puffed, that rage transferring into him, into that little boy staring up at the light flooding from the opened doors of that hole.

He felt a bolt of pain shoot through his being. His soul devoured by that light. “I need this,” he groaned. “I need our darkness, lioness.”

And it wasn’t that he was justifying it to her, or anything. He was speaking to himself. Pleading for forgiveness because he was about to unleash that pain into this defenceless, defiant girl, and heavens above needed to save her from the demon clutching her to him like a lifeline.

She fought, kicking and grunting, huffing and cursing—

And then his cock broke through the drenched barriers of her pussy, entering her in one rough stroke.

*

There had never been a woman that got his heart pumping this hard before.

She took his cock with a hard yelp, her cries of pain merged with that of a long moan that set his skin alight with pleasure.

She was tight and warm, but he expected that.

What Locke hadn’t anticipated was how fucking right it felt. Like his cock had found its fucking home. Like here was the perfect pussy, and it was pulsing with every harsh thrust, milking him—fucking gripping him like it was thirsty for his come.

She must have felt it too.

Her arms spread out above them, her fingers digging into the carpet for dear life. She held on through the fast and hard movements, her body rocking back and forth, her cries of pain and pleasure deafening. It was all he heard, and what he smelled was their musk and their fluids and the shampoo on her hair, the same shampoo he used on himself.

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