Page 40 of Run

“I can’t H. I can’t…” She squeals out, her legs shaking, her ass jiggling with each slap of my hips into her.

Her hands flex into fists and open again, moving her wrists in my grasp, and the sensation of her trying to break free, to control her climax throws me over the edge. My cock twitches in her channel, preparing for what’s to come.

“Such a good fucking girl.” I praise her, using the words that I know will force her orgasm out of her. “Cum with me princess. Do it now.”

The scream that erupts from her mouth can only be rivaled by the jerking of my dick as we cum together. She bucks and flails as much as she can, and I tighten my hold on her hair, keeping her already bloodied cheek from the glass that wants to shred her.

I dump wave after wave of the tsunami of my orgasm into her, filling her to capacity, until globs of the creamy white cum drip out of her onto my bare feet.

~~~

“This is so beautiful.” Lily whispers as she walks through my library, her fingertips gently tracing along the spines of the books on the mahogany shelves.

“Besides the kitchen, it’s my favorite room of the house. I thought you would like it too.”

“I love it.” She sighs, pulling out an original copy of one of Faulkner’s first works, looking at the cover with awe.

I watch her from across the room, giving her the space she needs to feel comfortable in her surroundings. If I’m going to try and allow her to have free roam of the house, I need her to actually like it here, so that the idea of her trying to escape and getting eaten by the dogs is less of a concern.

“Who’s your favorite author?”

“I don’t think I have one, but I’m sure I can find something here, I mean you have thousands of books.” She answers, walking around the room eyeing up not only the books, but the fireplace that crackles with the burning logs in it, and the soft, overstuffed reading chairs that flank it.

“I don’t have many of those smut books you like. I can get some for you though if you want.”

“I don’t think I need them right now.” She chuckles, sitting down on one of the chairs, relaxing into it with a breathy sigh that moves her chest so beautifully.

“No?”

“No. I mean I’m living in one right now. Kidnapped by a sexy stranger, held captive in his lush house, being fed amazing food, and fucked like I have only ever dreamed about.”

“That’s a good way to look at this. I’m proud of you princess.”

The monster in me wants to go to her, pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and take her back to my bedroom to fuck her again. Something inside me stops me. She looks tired, her grey eyes hooded with exhaustion over the bandage on her cheek. I find myself wanting instead to gently lift her and take her to my room, but not for that. Can I sleep next to a woman? Can I trust her? Would she trust me?

Only one way to find out.

Chapter Twenty-Two

She’s crying again, her wails piercing my ears as father drags her through the house by her long hair, her legs kicking frantically behind her, her dress torn into limp rags.

“Stop! Stop!” I scream, trying to block the sounds of her fear and pain with my hands as I chase behind them. “Please father, don’t.”

She’s never done anything to deserve the abuse he puts her through. She’s the best mother ever, with her kind eyes, soft-spoken words, and her gentle healing touch. She suffers at his brutal hands daily, and as he pulls her across the carpet, burning her back with the friction, I for once, at eight years old try to fight back for her. I can’t take it anymore; I can’t stand aside or hide from it. She needs me.

“And what do you think you’re going to do?” Father yells, slapping me across the face hard as I grab at his arms, trying to get him to let her go, digging my nails into the leather sleeve of his riding jacket.

“Please father, no.” I wail, ignoring the searing pain in my cheek as I let him go and grab at mother, trying to pull her away from him.

I’m too little, and too weak to get her from his grasp, so I hold onto her for dear life, making him pull me along with them,my little feet tripping over themselves, threatening to fail me like hers fail her.

We go through the den, and into the kitchen, her favorite place that still smells like the delicious chocolate chip muffins she baked me for breakfast. I don’t want him to hurt her here. I don’t want mother to fear her place of solace. It’s the only place she has where her pretty eyes still smile.

“Father, don’t.”

Throwing her to the marble floor, he grabs me instead, lifting me by my hair until my feet dangle under me, not touching the ground.

“You’re just as useless as her. A weak, pathetic excuse for a child.” He spits in my face, his eyes burning like an untamed fire with the rage behind them.

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