Page 16 of CurVy Baby

“Dress off now, Pup. On your back. Pussy open.”

“Rude bastard,” I grumble, but slide my dress over my head, unclip my bra and wriggle my knickers off.

“Look at you.” He stands, formidable and staunch, at the foot of the bed, analysing my naked body. “How many times did you let my brother come inside you? Hm?”

His words stoke my pulse. “Lots.” My lip quirks to the side, daring, matching the challenge. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Whore,”Donnie hisses, possessiveness wrapping around each letter. “Dirty.” He pulls something from his pocket. “Little.” He removes his shirt and throws it into the corner of the room. “Whore.”

I have no idea how I stop my heart from breaking my ribcage in two when he lunges at me, but I feebly scurry backwards.

He catches my ankles, and I scream.

Excited.

Terrified.

I am always both with Donnie.

“You’ll see whose whore you really are.” He drags me back towards him.

I swing at him, but he snags my flying wrists and pins them above my head. “I like it when you fight. Reminds me of the first time.” Quickly hovering over me, he forcefully coils my wrists with something stiff but smooth. Leather, I think.

He fastens the other tail to the headboard.

What the fuck is he thinking?

“Stop it!” I demand. “This is crazy.” I pull on the ties that bite softly at the skin on my wrists. “Donnie! Let me go.”

“You think I would just let you go be a whore with my brother and not need to fuck my claim into you?”

I balance on the cusp of insane arousal, naked, skin flushing for him, andterror.He could do anything, and I would be utterly helpless… The thought alone makes me moan and writhe on the mattress.

What the hell is actually wrong with me?

I know, dark romance. That’s what is wrong with me.

He crawls up further, stopping so the crotch of his jeans hovers over my head.Glaring down at me, he pulls out his monstrously large cock. Hard. Angry. Pumping.

He wipes the smooth, hot head along my cheeks and lips, then possesses my jaw, forcing his fingers into the dips beside my lips, prying my mouth open.

“The fuck-whore opens nice and wide,” he growls, reaching up and gripping the headboard with one fist and feeding his cock down my throat with the other.

My eyes pop open.

At first, I try to breathe around his cock.

He doesn’t wait for me.

He cups the back of my head and starts to fuck my mouth as if I don’t need air, as if I don’t have a tongue, or anatomy. His cock slides down my throat with each thrust, loosening the tight column for him, making a channel.

“Oh, the whore is doingsogood for me. Must have practised last night? Must be all loose from whoring.” Donnie stares down his lashes at me as tears rush in rivulets from my temples and pool in my ears. “That’s it. Cry for me, whore. Such a tight hole. I can feel your throat gagging, squeezing, but you’re nothing right now but somewhere to empty my cum. Understand? Oh…yes.”

He starts to fuck,reallyfuck. “Like that.”

Oh, God.This is a lot, even for what I have been through. He is out of his mind, feral with restrained possessiveness. I remember what to do, my mind catches up with my situation, and I inhale sharp, in and out of my nose. The air settles my heart a little.

Spreading his legs over me, he pumps in and out. “Is the whore breathing?”

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