Page 69 of Contention

Hands grab her, pulling her upwards roughly. “Was that a rejection?” He asks cruelly. “Poor form, little girl.”

She’s hoisted back onto the soft sheets, weakly wrestling with his much larger form. All struggle is futile. How could she have ever imagined that she could fight this man? His hands grip her wrists with bruising strength and Kara can feel the jarring sensation of bones grinding against one another.

Well, he did say she should ‘try’ to fight him. He already knows that she’s no physical match, the way his eyes glitter with dark lust.

Heresy and sin, violence and arousal. Things that should never mix together somehow have become the air they both breathe here in this room. “Don’t touch me, you ass,” Kara manages to grit out, exerting all of her strength into trying to get him off her body. Her muscles strain, tiring out. “No means no, haven’t you heard?”

He laughs, low and dangerous. Like a razorblade across a wrist. Violent. Bloody. “No, it doesn’t.”

Then, his hand covers her mouth harshly, pressing her head down into the bed. Her thong comes away with a simple yank. He doesn’t bother with her bra; he just forces it downward, exposing her breasts, letting them pop out over the top provocatively. His darkened eyes are a physical touch as he gazes at them, like a starving man.

He's hungry for her, ready to eat her alive.

Kara feels consumed, ravished. Like she’s straight out of one of those bodice ripper books. Like a damsel in distress, being shown sexual desire for the first time, complete with an awful, arrogant man and his need to claim her. Except, she’s not really a damsel in distress, but everything else fits.

Calais is staring between her legs in a way that has Kara flushing, breathing hard against the hand on her mouth. There’s a dark hunger in his gaze as he looks at her exposed slit, causing her to squirm, aching for some sort of friction to end this agony between her thighs.

He’s gazing at her like she’s an object for his perusal. Something for his enjoyment and nothing more. She’s athing.

She wants to be consumed; she wants him to want her so bad that he can’t control himself.

He’s got his hand covering her mouth as she flirts with the act of either cursing him out or moaning in pleasure as he brushes his fingers over her, stroking her open with surety, pinning her down with his weight. The heaviness of his body on hers is delicious, hunger coiling in her belly. He lowers his heated mouth to her breast, sucking on her nipple. His tongue dances across her sensitive bud and the sensation causes her back to arch off the bed.

“Take what I give you,” he says against her flesh crudely, all tongue and saliva, fingers still filling her.

She gasps into the palm over her mouth as he licks and nips at the tip of her sensitive nipple, hearing the squelch of her pussy on his fingers as he presses hard against that special place inside of her, causing Kara to see stars. His thumb dances over her clit, not giving her enough friction.

God, she’s going to die in his bed. He’s smirking against her breast, as if he knows how well he’s playing with her.

He plays her like an instrument. One moment, he’s all violence. The next, he’s lustful sin.

“Bastard,” she hisses into his hand, pressing her tongue to his flesh, tasting salt and skin. Lost to need, she continues lapping at his palm with the flat of her tongue, the way she would with his cock. The animalistic sound he makes in his throat can be felt at her breast and every nerve in Kara’s body tingles.

“You filthy cunt,” he rasps at her in the low tone that makes her wet. He runs his tongue roughly across her tits, pulling his hand from her mouth to grab at them, palming them the way a man would in a bar, aggressive. Taking, dominating. “You like having your tits sucked, huh? Does that get you off?”

Kara doesn’t know how to respond, her face burning. To admit her pleasure at his hands would feel like failing. Instead, she arches her back and presses the side of her face into the sheets, refusing to look at him. The act presses her chest upward, presenting to him wordlessly.

An offering.

Shame fills Kara.

Pulling his fingers from inside of her, Calais grabs her face roughly, forcing her to look at him once more. Kara can smell herself on his fingers, musky and heady. His fingers press into her cheeks cruelly as he hisses, “Slut. It’s like you’re asking for it.”

Oh, yes. That’s thepoint.

She likes when he talks like this to her, cruel, depreciating. It shouldn’t turn her on, yet it does. She shouldn’t want to hear him call her names, likeslutandwhore, and yet…

There’s the telltale sound of a belt unbuckling, like thunder, loud and striking. The zipper, crawling open. Calais is still clothed, this authority figure that has her at his mercy. It arouses Kara even more, seeing the way he pulls his cock out, refusing to disrobe.

She’s bared before him. He’s baring only what is necessary to control her.

He rises up over her, kneeling over her chest, his erection slapping crudely between the mounds of her breasts. He rubs himself over her, degrading her with his words and actions. The look in his eyes is excited, aroused, the purple head of his cock dripping onto her flesh in a steady pace.

I know something about you,Kara thinks darkly as she eyes the thick, turgid flesh.You like demeaning women. You get off on that, Nicky boy. What a bad man you’ve turned out to be…

She wants to see him come apart.

He’s never cum for her before.Not that she can recall.

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