Page 52 of The Trick

My fingers glide against the zipper of my pants so I can free my cock that’s begging to be trapped in her tight, warm, walls.

Fisting my length, I take the precum that gathers at the tip and paint her ass cheek with it. She moans before clearing her throat. “Maddox,” she begins, her voice sounding uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Yes, hellcat?” I ask, fisting my cock moving closer to her entrance. My fingers move from my stiff length to where her hand is stationed at her pussy. “My turn,” I groan, swatting her hand away. I dip my fingers into her plump warmth, feeling my cock getting harder by the fucking second. I stretch her cunt with my three large fingers before sliding them out and over to her clit, smacking them down to spank her wet entrance.

“You were saying?” Pressing my body against hers pinning her torso further against the tombstone, her body falls forward as I lean closer to her ear. My hand that’s slick with her arousal travels to my cock, as I fist my length once more, coating her slick warmth between the barbells.

“Make it hurt,” she pleads.

“Oh, it will. Remember this changes nothing. You already know how I feel and that’s not fucking changing,” I breath against her neck, letting the words sink in.

Her back arches as my hardened cock teases her entrance, just waiting for her to respond so I can time when I slam into her.

“Good,” she begins, cueing me to drive my first thrust into her.

She squeals as the pierced ridges on my cock begin to stretch her tight pussy.

“Let me feel how much I hurt you,” she whimpers. “Make it hurt, Maddox.”

Her breathy plea, like poison and medicine to my system all at once, is all I need to unleash on her. Her body begins to unravel, just as I want it to. Anger and arousal. Trauma and need all begin to consume me as I drive harsh thrust after thrust into her. The tension that exists between us, mixed with her blood that lingers on my tongue becomes too much. I hate how good she feels. I hate how much I fucking need her to feel alive.

Maintaining my pace into her warm, tight cunt, I reach my hand down to the chains that I always have draping at my side and in a swift motion I release them from where they are stationed at the loops of my pants. They begin to jingle, complementing the soundtrack our bodies are making against each other.

“Look at you. Such a good fucking slut, taking my cock like it was made to punish you,” I rasp, securing one end of the chain, leaning forward so it drapes onto her chest. My grip tightens, pulling either side of the chain tight within my grasp so the steel links press against her neck, like the reigns to a dark chariot.

Her moans shift, turning to a muffled gasp as her pussy begins to practically drip down my leg. Of course, she likes the chains.

Fisting the cool links in one hand, feeling her warm walls tighten as they clamp down on my cock. She is close, I can fucking feel it.

Driving aggressive thrusts into her, making sure the cool metal rungs that adorns my cock scratch at her plump walls, I lean my weight, so the scruff that lines my cheek brushes against hers.

The way our bodies slam and press against the tombstone feels intoxicating, damning even, and when I feel her pussy begin to pulse, it sends vibrations through my cock, making me want to burst with her.

Hand still on the chain, I take my other hand, sneaking it through the small opening between where her thighs bounce against the slate. I can feel her pussy throbbing, so close to release. Fingers anchored at her clit, I begin to circle and massage her bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, lean into your dark side, hellcat.” I murmur. “That’s where you feel at home isn’t it? With your darkness…with me.”

“Yes,” she pants. Orgasm no longer on the horizon but now rippling through her body. Her pussy suffocates my cock, squeezing my orgasm from me. Fuck, it feels so good fucking her the way I’ve always wanted to: raw, with my cum spilling inside of her, so she can wear my release as a form of branding that marks her as mine.

Of course, I had to study up on her routine beforehand to make sure she was on birth control. So, it was all systems go when I discovered that she prefers to take her birth control nightly with a hefty pour of Cabernet. Probably not the wisest combination, but who am I to judge. As long as I get to spill my load into her, I don’t give a fuck how she takes it.

My cock still pulsing in her pussy, I break the silence that now lingers between us. “You know what the best part about fucking you on the grave that started our story is?” I ask, and I can feel her spine stiffen.

“Get off me,” she says, voice quivering.

My hand grazes her ass, squeezing it one more time before I reply. “Not even a please? Sheesh,” I chide before slowly sliding out of her.

Immediately she moves away from me, shimmying up the now useless material of her bodysuit so it partially covers her curves. “What the fuck are you talking about, Maddox?” she asks, jaw tense.

I don’t respond to her just yet. I like when she has to sweat things out. I feel her heated stare on me as I lift my pants up, slowly zipping them while the silence thickens. My chin tilts in the direction of the grave I just fucked her on. “Take a look for yourself.”

Hesitancy flits across her brow as she moves to the other side of the gleaming slate. Her eyes widen as she mouths the name etched into the tombstone.

Ethan Campbell.

“You have fucking problems,” she spews, sounding a bit too judgmental for my liking especially considering she’s the one who fucking killed him.

“What’s the matter? I thought you didn’t like him.” I taunt her. “But enough about him, he’s old news. Although I hope his rotten corpse got a kick out of how loud you moaned when my dick was buried in you.” A shrill cackle sounds from me, as I look to the tombstone. “No pun intended,” I wink.

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