Page 21 of Say It Slowly

She whimpers, and I know I’m too big for her. But she’ll accommodate me. She always does. She stretches, and molds, and conforms tome. I give, and she accepts. That’s how this shit works.

Dipping my head, I take her nipple between my teeth and bite down hard before moving up, and biting the shit out of her breast, and throat. I’m not lying when I say I want to devour her. I can’t get enough of this girl.

When I lift my head to look down at her, her head is tilted back, mouth open, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say the paingives her pleasure. The look on her face just does it for me, and I fuckingbreak.

A sort of insanity comes over me, and I drive into her so deep, so hard, she screams out, half pleasure, half pain. But I don’t ease up. I can’t. I’m completely lost inside her, and I drive into her as deep as I possibly can.

But something has shifted inside her, too. Gone is the fear in her eyes, and in its place is something else. Something hungry and curious.

My hands grip her ass, holding her up, squeezing the raw, bruised, pillowy flesh as I pound into her like I’ve lost my fucking mind. Maybe I have. She moans loudly, and my cock hardens even more as I drive into her with such force, her large tits bounce, her beaded nipples brushing against my bare chest.

And then she sinks her teeth into me, latching onto my shoulder. The pain is immediate, and I grab her by the jaw, pulling her mouth off me. “Goddamn. You’re fucking feral,” I hiss.

Her eyes close briefly as her blunt fingernails dig into my shoulder, and I’m absolutely sure she’s broken the skin. That pain feeds something inside me.

An ugly, violent need claws at me from the inside, and I shift my hand to the back of her neck, and pull her throat forward, so I can latch onto it. I bite hard, relishing her little whimper of pain. The metallic taste of blood—her blood—coats my tongue, and I’m driven to new heights of pleasure.

“Oh, my God,” she pants, like she’s trying to catch her breath, but can’t. “I’m going to…”

Her words die off as I lengthen my strokes, pulling out, almost entirely, before plunging back into her tight, greedy cunt.

“That’s it. Come for me, Lux. Come with me inside you.”

She moans, and her brows pinch together, her entire body contracting, and then…release. The second she lets go, herhead tilts back against the mattress, and her cunt squeezes me, strangling my cock until I’m on the very brink.

I wrench myself away from her, fisting my cock, my hot cum hitting the pillow. As I empty myself, her legs fall apart, and she rolls over.

Fuck, I was so damn close to coming inside her. It took every ounce of my control to pull out of her body.

This never happens. I’ve never been so lost inside a girl that I’ve forgotten a condom. Never. And now it’s happened with Luxtwice.

I nearly lost control, again, and that freaks me the fuck out.

This girl is messing with my head.

I’m consumed by her.

And as much as I need to own her, if I’m not careful, it won’t be long before she ends up owningme.

CHAPTER TEN

Lux

I’m crawlingup into a sitting position, my ass sore as the echoes of my orgasm are still radiating through my body.

I watch as Roman empties himself, one hand curled around his shaft, the other pressed against the wall behind the bed, supporting himself. His teeth are clenched, and a tic starts pulsing in his jaw.

When he’s done, he looks up at me. I’m not sure what to say, or do, so I don’t move at all. But what I see reflected back to me is anger. Hatred, even. He looks disgusted. Byme.

Shame fills me, twisting my stomach. I don’t really give a fuck what he thinks, except that it seems to mirror my own dark thoughts about myself. When Roman initially started this, I’d recoiled from the violence, overtaken by panic, barely able to breathe, but…I don’t know, at some point, the pain had contorted into something that felt…incredible.And the fact that I got pleasure from something so twisted makes me feel physically ill.

It must sicken him, too, because even now, he has his back turned to me as he pulls his clothes back on. He appears deep in thought, not talking to me, not looking at me, which just compounds my shame by a thousand percent.

He’s disgusted with me. Hell,I’mdisgusted with myself. Silver lining, at least we’re on the same page about something.

Once his clothes are back on, he starts pacing. Then out of nowhere, he screams “fuck!” at the top of his lungs, and slams his closed fist against the wall in front of him. There’s a loudcrack, and for a second, I’m afraid he may have broken his hand. But when he pulls his hand away, I see an indent in the wall, and a crack that snakes up to the ceiling.

Holy shit.

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