Page 11 of His Hellcat

“So fucking beautiful, Kitten.” The tone of his voice and look on his face tell me those aren’t just empty words; he actually thinks I’m beautiful. My throat feels tight with emotion, but I brush it away and choose to focus on this moment.

The blunt tip of his cock rocks against my pussy and I gasp as it slides over my clit, then he’s notched himself at my entrance. I feel so empty and desperate for him. I wrap my legs around his waist, trying to pull him into me, but he doesn’t budge.

“Slow,” he says, brushing a kiss to my lips. “I won’t hurt you.”

The look on his face is almost pained from denying us both the deep plunge we crave. As he slowly pushes inside me, I’m grateful for his determination. I gasp at the fullness, every inch stretching me further than I’ve ever been stretched before.

“Oh God,” I can’t help crying out. I knew he was big, but holy shit. The stretch burns so good and I want more. I don’t realize I’ve been incoherently saying these things aloud until Hutch speaks, his voice a rough growl.

“You’re so tight. I’m going to fuck this hot, little pussy so good.”

I throw my head back against the mattress in ecstasy when he’s finally buried deep. My every nerve-ending is on pleasure overload and I nearly come undone from being stuffed full of him. His lips descend on mine as he slowly pulls out—one inch, two. Every inch makes me desperate.

Wild for him, our kiss turns feral. My nails score down his shoulders as I dig my heels into his ass to try and control him. To keep him locked inside me. He won’t be controlled though.

I rock my hips and squeeze the single fat inch of his cock he left inside me, but he’s not to be rushed. His lips continue to work mine until he’s controlling every swipe of my tongue, every brush of my lips, everything. He controls everything and I’m going mad with need.

“Please, please,” I beg. I’m not above begging at this point. “So empty. Please.”

Instead of giving me what I want most, he lowers his lips to my neck, kissing and sucking his way to my breasts. He licks and nibbles at my nipples until they are painfully hard and just as desperate for his attention. My hips continue to move of their own accord, but I barely gain any friction because Hutch has me perfectly pinned.

“I could suck on these nipples all day. So pretty, all red and swollen.” His tongue keeps working them over drawing mindless gasps and moans from my throat. “Mmm… Yes, I could just eat at these sensitive tips until you come.” He sucks one deep, the force of the suction draws a fiery line of pleasure straight to my clit. It’s entirely possible I could come like this.

Without warning he slams his hips into mine, burying his cock into my pussy. I scream as an orgasm crashes over me, my vision blurs and my body seizes up.

Holy fuck.

Hutch pulls back then slams home again and again, riding me hard. Every thrust builds me to another peak. Until I’m not sure if I’m having multiple orgasms or one never-ending release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Hutch punctuates each thrust. “God, Kitten. Your cunt is milking me so good. Not going to last.”

Hell, I’m not going to last at this rate. He’s killing me with pleasure. Brain cells are exploding. I can’t get enough oxygen and my heart might stop, yet he’s worried about not being able to last? Meanwhile, I haven’t stopped coming since he started moving.

Digging my heels into his ass, I slam my hips up to his, egging him on; showing him how gone I am for him. How much I want him. “Fuck me. Come for me,” I demand.

He loses his rhythm as he chases his own orgasm. Thrusting deep, he explodes inside my pussy. I can feel every jerk of his cock as he fills me, his release hot on my thighs as he fills me to overflowing. I cling to him, unwilling to lose the closeness of the moment. Needing that connection more powerfully than I’ve ever needed anything in my life.

Instead of pulling away, he rests his forehead to mine as our bodies slowly calm from sensation overload. Long minutes pass as we lay just like that. His cock still buried deep, my legs wrapped around his hips, my arms clinging to his shoulders. With a shuddering breath, he pulls away, breaking the spell of the moment. An empty ache is left behind as he goes. When he wordlessly leaves the room hot tears fill my eyes.

Doubts creep in. How could I be so stupid? I know what he said about wanting me and that I was his, but guys like Hutch don’t go for girls like me. And here I just handed myself over to him on a silver platter. Once again, I’m the girl that gets used and tossed aside. Just as I move to find my clothes—desperate to get dressed and get the hell out of there—Hutch walks back into the room.

I look up into pitying eyes and decide,fuck that noise. I’ll fucking walk to town. I’ll go home, find a place to stay and start over. It’s not the first time and won’t be the last.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.” His tone is full of regret. It’s a kick in the teeth. I tried to leave. I tried to end this whole thing before it even started and still he kept me here. He can have the pity party, keep his regret and choke on it. I was honest in my desire. I gave myself wholly to him despite my fears. He calmed them and said the magic words,you're mine.He set me free with those words and he chained me down with his apology.

I don’t even acknowledge him. I brush past him and to my room. In less than a minute, I’ve got myself dressed, hair in a messy pile on my head, and an old pair of flip flops on my feet. Without a word I walk out the door and down the driveway.

I came here to escape, to lick my wounds and heal, instead I’m walking away with more wounds than I started with. I’m not sure that I’ll ever be the same again.

Naïve as it may be, I thought there was a connection between us. Less than twenty-four hours and I’d grown attached to a perfect stranger. No, that’s not true, I was already half in love with the man who saved my twin countless times. The stories I’d been told about how Hutch took care of my other half gave me a good deal of hero-worship.

That’s all this was—some misdirected feelings of attraction because of what Hutch represents.

I’m almost to the end of the drive when I hear the screen door slam shut and heavy-booted feet stomping across the porch. I don’t give in to my desire to turn around. I keep my pace steady even though I can hear his longer stride eating up the distance between us. One second I’m on my way to town with anger and hurt churning in my gut, and the next I’m thrown over Hutch’s shoulder.

“What the fuck!” I screech. “Put me down, you…you…you jerk!” I flail, kicking out my legs and beating my fists against his back.

His arm bands across my thighs, pinning me in place and making my movements completely ineffective. He may have me physically restrained, but my mouth still works. I don’t stop screaming the whole way back to the house. I curse him up one side and down the other. The only response I get in return is a masculine chuckle.

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