Page 40 of Scary Suitor

“Come closer, pretty.” Cassio beckons an inked hand, carefully motioning to the place in front of him.

Or, more specifically, between his legs.

“Not going to hurt you,” he slurs, tongue thick with drunken haze. “You’re my good girl, aren’t you? Don’t make me have to scrape your knees.”

His threat forms thrilled quivers in my pussy, dripping juices to the panties and pulsing hotly for relief.

This is wrong; I don’t want him. He’s bad for me, a terrible stalker, and a heartless murderer. He is making my life a living hell, never bothering to ask me what I want, and only doing what he selfishly wishes.

Yet my conscience is begging for his rough hands.

“Okay,” he says, giving in. “I was trying to be patient. You like it when I’m nice, but you’re being difficult.”

I stumble back, shaking my head at his advances. The shirt flutters against my thighs as I hold the hem down, the air seemingly coming out of nowhere to flash my panties at him.

“I’ll make you cry,” he decides abruptly. “You deserve it, brat.”

His voice flares into a growl as he lunges toward me, long fingers narrowly missing my arms, escaping the fall into his insatiable desires. I trip over my clumsy feet, tumbling onto the silken bedding, but I quickly scramble up to crawl away.

Calloused fingers pinch my ankle, yanking me down and to the edge of the bed. My smaller hands push his rigid shoulders, and all my strength is no match for the unmovable force.

“I can have you tied up,” he quips, nosing my temple as his body leans down. “Or we can pretend I still have compassion.”

I writhe on the bed and glare through my lashes. He grins, manic green eyes searching for fear behind my scowl. My leg raises to kick him, but he snatches my wrists and drags me up the bed.

He murmurs praises while crushing my wrists together, my bones grinding against each other painfully as he slants his lips over mine. There is a faint trace of wine, smoke, and something indescribably addictive on his tongue.

“Please,” I whimper, twisting my arms. “Don’t tie me up.”

He hums, contemplating through an unimpressed stare.

“I won’t fight you,” I promise, wishing he can see the sincerity in my eyes.

I’m too scared of being completely helpless against him even though he’s stronger than me. Without restraints, he can still overpower me. But I want to put my anxious nerves at ease, knowing there is a slight chance I can stop him if he goes too far.

“One chance,” he quips, and he’s about as unhinged as a madman can sound. “That’s all you get.”

I nod hastily, sighing in relief as the pressure on my wrists dissipates. He doesn’t dwell on anything, busying himself with the hem of my shirt, which he drags over my head to reveal my white bra. My panties are exposed, too, and the wet patch spreads from his ravenous gaze.

He thrusts an arm under me, deft fingers unhooking the bra and flinging it away. He stares with rapt attention, my nipples hardening as an embarrassing whine stifles in my throat. Shoving his face between my breasts, he tweaks both nipples harshly and nuzzles them.

I whisper pleadingly, asking him to do something.

His tongue flicks the bud and sucks, playing the other mindlessly. Cassio squeezes one tit, the softness spilling from between his fingers as he carefully runs his teeth on the sore nipple.

He abandons them, kissing softly down my tense stomach with both hands groping every inch of skin. Big fingers knead my hips, and persistent lips kiss the waistband. Cassio also buries his face into the fabric.

He hooks two fingers on each side of the panties, matching the tiny pink bows on the hips, then drags the sticky underwear down. I close my legs as he lifts my hips by sheer force, practically tearing them off when he catches a peek of my slicked pussy.

A curse rests on his snarling lips. My cunt throbs lewdly, viscous drops dripping down my ass and staining the sheets.

I can imagine what he’s looking at; my pussy parting as thin strings of slick break from the quivering folds, puffy clit peeking out teasingly, and my tight little hole with no noticeable stretch.

I’m a virgin. No finger, not even an attempted one, has been inside me. I only play with my clit, something I’m familiar with, and because it feels good.

He takes a deep breath before circling a finger around the twitching hole. Juices coat the digit, pulling satisfied chuckles from his broken taunts. His lips close on my clit suddenly and hum at the taste, thrusting a thick finger inside as soon as I’m distracted.

Tears gloss over my eyes, my body squirms as pleasure dominates the unfamiliar penetration. Another finger stretches my pussy, but no pain can stop the husky moan from bouncing in my ears. The deft muscle swirling my clit is mean, and his teeth nibble on the sensitive bud to make me beg for pity.

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