Page 51 of Look What You Made Me Do

Her head is tilted back, her mouth open in a silent scream as I pound into her, my pelvic bone slamming against her clit. Her tits bounce and I grab one, squeezing, pinching her nipple between my thumb and forefinger. She sucks in a quick breath, and I know she likes it. That spike of pain. I know, because I crave the same thing.

Releasing her breast, I thread my fingers through her hair, grabbing a fistful, so I can pull her head back farther, her neck arching into the pillow beneath her head.

My heart is racing, and all I can focus on is the feel of her body beneath mine, pliant and desperate. With my free hand, I reach between us and swipe my thumb over her clit. She cries out, bucking her hips, but her movements are restricted by my body.

I’m not kind. I assault her clit, working in circles as I continue to pound into her pussy, slamming in as far as I possibly can before pulling back out, then lurching forward again.

After only a few seconds, I can feel the telltale signs of her orgasm mounting—her pussy clenches tighter, trying to suck me in and keep me there. Her body starts to tense and her heels hook into my lower back.

It takes every ounce of control I have, but I remove my hand from her face and ease my cock out of her body. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do in my fucking life, but I can’t let her come yet—because once I come, God knows when I’ll get to have her again. Shit is already getting too murky and complicated between us.

When I pull out of her, she deflates, whimpering. But she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t protest or get angry. She just lays there, panting, like she’s trying to gather her strength.

“Let me see your face,” she says between each harsh breath.

“Shut the fuck up,” I bite out, sliding my hands under her ass to pull her towards me. My cock is like stone, painfully tight, and all I can think about is filling her with my cum.

Not yet.

Instead, I pull my mask up and bury my face in her wet cunt. But I’m not gentle. I suck and nip, twirl my tongue around the tight bundle of nerves, then take it between my teeth and bite down. She pulls against her restraints, and I revel in the sounds of her tormented cries. It’s a beautiful melody. Those anguished moans sing to a part of my soul that’s damaged and broken. It’s a part of me I think Wyn recognizes in herself.

I’ve fucked so many girls, I couldn’t even guess at a number. But the first time I tasted Wyn—fuck, I was lost. That was over a year ago, and I haven’t stopped thinking about her since. Mildcuriosity grew into an obsession, which then festered into a full-blown addiction.

Now I can’t even go one fucking day without thinking about her.

I shove my face as far into her pussy as I can, my tongue reaching deep inside her soft channel, lapping her up. I could do this every day for the next hundred years and still want more.

She moans loudly, her thighs clenching around my head, and I can feel her climax building again. I abruptly pull away, moving off the bed. I have to physically distance myself from her or I know I’ll rip her to shreds.

I’m so keyed up, my cock and balls feel like fucking boulders between my thighs. I feel lightheaded and my vision is starting to go hazy.

All I can see isher.

With a groan, she pulls against her restraints again, clenching her thighs tight. I know she wants to come. I’ve taken her to the brink twice, then pulled away both times. I know it’s cruel, but I live to be cruel to her.

I take a few heavy breaths to steady my rioting heart, tilting my head back to stare up at the ceiling. As I listen to her whimpers and moans of protest, anger knots in my chest. This control she has over me is insane. It’s a dark, infinite abyss of desire, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll always be a slave to this feeling she gives me.

She’s lying still now, her hands balled into fists, her thighs still clenched tight—like that could keep me away. If I want her, I take her. I’m standing over her and I reach down to fist my cock, stroking. Slowly at first, but as I stare at her delicate face, my rhythm quickens, my strokes becoming more violent.

She may be blindfolded, but she can hear my clenched palm slapping against my thigh, and her nostrils flare. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but in the end, her pinktongue darts out to lick her bottom lip—and that’s what does it. That’s what sends me over the edge. I cum so damn hard, it erupts from the head of my cock like a goddamn geyser directly onto her chest.

Wyn sucks in a sharp breath as my hot cum coats those pretty little tits. When it’s over, I take a step back and study her. The orgasm was weak and nothing compared to being inside her pussy—but that would have rewarded her, and I can’t have that. Not when she still thinks she’s the one in control here.

I study her face as I wipe up and slip back into my clothes. She’s not moving, she’s just lying there, hands hanging limply above her head, her chest rising and falling with each breath.

I pull my mask back over my face, then I walk over to her. “Keep your blindfold on until I leave,” I say gruffly, untying her hands. I lean down and brush my mouth across her parted lips. “And don’t clean yourself off,” I whisper. “You’ll wear my cum all day tomorrow like a badge of honor, my sweet little whore. Do you understand?”

She nods once, silently. But I wonder, will she do as she’s told, or will she defy me yet again? My bet is on the latter, but maybe that’s just hopeful thinking on my part, because defiance means punishment, and I live to see the fear in her eyes…

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Wyn

I’m beyond pissed.

The perverted fuck took me to the brinktwiceand denied me release both times. Then he had the audacity to finish himself on my chest. And now I have to wear it for a full day? Or what…face punishment?

If I’m being honest, I wish he would have just finished me, instead of pulling out. My entire body feels like it’s on fire, my clit burning with the intense need for release.

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