Page 140 of Brutal Game

“Um,” I said.

Setting me down, he cupped my face with his right hand, kissing me.

Pulling away, he said, “Whenever I’m in here, I think of you. Standing up to me, calling me out on my shit. The first time I felt your tight throat—” he winked, “Or got a taste of that apples and honey pussy of yours. Even when I thought I hated you, it haunted me. Now, the memory of treating you so badly haunts me.”

I nuzzled into his hand, not speaking.

“I want to make new memories of us in here, so when I’m getting ready for a game, I can see me worshipping you instead of torturing you. Let me worship you, princess.”

“Yes,” I said.

He closed his eyes. “You have no idea how good the word ‘yes’ sounds coming from your lips.”

He kneeled down, sliding off my sneakers and unbuttoning my jeans before pulling them down, followed by my underwear.

Then his lips were on my pussy, and he was kissing—soft, gentle kisses that felt so good, I melted against the wall next to his cubby. He licked, sucked, played, winding me tighter and tighter.

“Love this pussy,” he said, looking up at me, his mouth covered in my wetness. “Love you.”

And then he was back at it, working me, playing with me, guiding me slowly and tenderly into one sweet climax after another.

“Enough!” I cried out.

“One more, little fury,” he said. “For me.”

His mouth was on me again. I didn’t say no to him. Couldn’t. Not when it felt so good, not when he was trying to heal our past with our present like this, with his tongue drawing circles around my too-sensitive clit, licking his love into me.

I came again, sagging and sliding down the wall.

Jack rose, catching me, lifting me into his arms and balancing me with one arm while he unzipped his own jeans with the other.

He pushed into me, slow, steady thrust after slow, steady thrust, hitting me in the perfect spot as he watched me.

“I love you,” he said.

“I love you back,” I told him, and he was kissing me again, his lips as gentle with my mouth as they’d been with my pussy. I tasted myself on him, and sharing that intimacy, that love, broke something open inside of me.

“Fuck me harder,” I whispered into his ear, biting him.

He caught my hair in his fist and pulled. “Yeah, princess? You want it rough?”

He’d asked me that, too, the first time. But this time, it wasn’t taunting, it was giving.

“As rough as you can give it to me,” I told him.

“Grab the wall behind you, don’t you dare fucking move your hands,” he growled, a switch flipped.

And then he was powering into me, again and again, hard and fast, bouncing me endlessly on his cock.

“That feel good, princess? Does my thick cock feel good in that tight little cunt?”

“So good,” I moaned.

“I’m going to get so deep inside you, you’ll feel me fordays. Fill your pussy up so when I carry you to our home, I’m spilling out of your cunt. Hell, maybe this time I will make you lick it up off the ground.”

With a cry, I came again, clenching around his cock.

Something in him snapped and he drove into me so hard, it hurt. I welcomed the pain. Welcomed the madness. Because even though Jack fucked me violently, like he hated me, he stared at me like I was something precious and priceless, something deserving of worship, like I was a gift he’d never expected but wasn’t giving back.

---