Page 37 of Forget Me Twice

He shifts so that his other knee is between my legs, forcing my thighs apart. My neck is again bent back at an awkward angle, this time by the hand still covering my mouth.

With a hand now free to explore, he finds the hem of my skirt. “Thisfuckingskirt again,” he rasps. “If I lift this tiny, godforsaken thing, what am I going to find?”

I give an experimental tug of my wrists. Instead of gaining any leverage, the bones simply grind beneath the weight of his kneecap. My groan vibrates against his palm. He’s got me thoroughly and helplessly trapped.

And I’m loving every cursed second.

“Are you going to be wet and ready for me? Is that what I’ll find?” He flips the skirt up over my asscheeks, exposing my drenched panties to the air and sending a renewed wave of goosebumps racing over the back of my thighs.

He confirms with a swipe of two fingers. “Yes. Fuckingflooded.Such a juicy little whore for me.”

Before I can even think of protesting, he grabs a hold of the lace and tears them from my body with savage force. For a moment, I think he’s going to return his fingers to my undeniably slick pussy—instead I hear the jangle of his belt and the distinct sound of his zipper as he shoves his jeans down his thick thighs.

He doesn’t stop for a condom.

He always goes in raw. It only serves to make this more depraved and dangerous for me.

For both of us.

My heart rate ratchets even higher. My clit throbs and my abdomen clenches. I feel the deep-seated heat of my orgasm already beginning to gather like storm clouds on the horizon.

With his cock now free, he slides back down and over me. “Time to pay the piper,” he grinds out before lining up and thrusting viciously inside. He buries himself straight to the hilt, fast and with unerring accuracy. No preparation—only the generous lubrication of my fear-induced arousal.

But just like the knowledge that he’s taking me with nothing between us, the pinch and burn only adds to the experience.

Then he’s dropping his upper body, swiftly pinning my arms between us using only his large chest instead of his knee. I’m completely prone. He then slams that free hand down by my head, using it for leverage.

Each subsequent movement, like his initial intrusion, is hard and aggressive.

Dominating.

Almost like he has something to prove.

I’ve never been so turned on.

“Fuck. Yes.Tightest little snatch around,” he says with a strangled groan, before pulling back and plunging back in.

I feel that groan everywhere our bodies meet. The feverishly warm skin of the seal still in place across my mouth. The crushing weight of his chest against my back. The firm lines of his pelvis pressing into my ass. The cold steel of his Jacob’s Ladder as it drags across my battered G-spot.

I can feel my climax still gathering steam. And not quietly. It won’t be gentle. No, this one’s going to re-arrange my fucking psyche.

The snaps of his hips become sharper and more combative as he begins to rut with total abandon. The slap of our flesh rings out in the pitch black that still surrounds us and his pounding propels us deeper into the destroyed room.

“You’re soaking my dick, filthy girl,” he pants out against my neck.

My eyes roll back, and my walls contract sharply in response to his words.

Right there. Right there.

I moan desperately against his palm.

“Yes, right there, I felt that.Right fucking there.Feel’s so fucking good. Sofucking good. You’re going to cream all over my cock and I’m going to drench your insides. Because you love this, don’t you?Dirty. Little. Cum slut.” He delivers each word against my neck through gritted teeth, between increasingly frenzied thrusts.

I’m done. I’m cooked. Fucking serve me up.

“Here it comes, all for you, baby,” he grits out, before burying himself deeply one last time. Everything is so heightened, I swear I can even feel his cock pulsing, his piercings rippling along my sensitive walls as he fills me. Just as he promised.

My orgasm barrels into me with all the force and finesse of a fucking freight train. The darkness behind my eyelids—now squeezed firmly shut—crackles and whites out with its sheer intensity. For a long, blissful eternity, I don’t hear or feel anything but the limb-shaking pulses of pure pleasure. I release the strained grip that I’ve been holding on to each of my remaining senses with, and just let go.

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