Page 47 of Cruel Cravings

I take the primitive sounds as ayes.

It doesn’t really matter either way—I’m turned on and he’s here, ready to be used.

Some maneuvering later, I’ve tugged off my jeans and discarded my panties. Brontë, for being as defiant and unwavering as he has been, finally breaks eye contact. His gaze dips to my naked lower half as I mount him, and his thick jaw sets.

“See something you like?” I ask, shoving the pistol back against his temple. I flash him a mischievous smile, my other hand working on the button and zipper of his pants. “Enjoy every second of this. It’s your first and last time.”

Brontë’s dick juts out once set free. It’s engorged and fat, veins throbbing.

Every other part of him might be scarred and disfigured, but his dick is beautiful.

Immaculate.

I take him in my hand and lose my breath at how incredibly silky and hot he is. Positioning him at my entrance, I look him in the eye and sink down.

The nerve endings in my pussy fire off all at once. My walls grip at his girth, the fullness immediate. I can feel myself pulsating from within, the stretch so damn good that the rest of my body trembles uncontrollably.

I’m not alone.

Brontë can hardly silence himself. The grunt of pleasure that rumbles out of him sounds rough and barbaric. It doesn’t sound like a noise a man makes. Definitely not a civilized man. It’s the sound of a beast.

A monster.

And as I press the pistol into his head and peer into his minotaur mask for a face, I’m reminded that’s what he is.

He’s a brute, a stalker, a predator who has tormented me and haunted me. He’s made me like this and deserves everything I’m giving him.

I pant as I work my hips and ride him. The fresh scars marring his already scarred skin make my pussy tingle. The remnants of dried blood from last night. The chains clenched tight around his wrists and ankles. All of it drives this dark lust burning inside me.

His pain turns me on.

The sight of me rocking on his dick with a pistol pointed at his head. His intense gaze from behind the slits of his minotaur mask as he lets me use him and takes whatever I give.

My pussy clenches tight and my hips undulate faster. I gouge my nails across his already bleeding flesh and crash down harder on his dick, taking him deeper. As deep as I can go, spots dancing in front of my eyes as he reaches my cervix. Mouth dropping open from the blip of pain I’ve inflicted on myself, it doesn’t slow me down.

It’s a pain that begins to feel good, peppered in between thick waves of pleasure.

I bob up and down on his dick and slide my fingers in his hair. Our bodies slap together and we hold each other’s gaze like we’re in some sort of twisted, lust-driven trance.

He grunts as I bounce on him, his pants halfway down his muscled legs. The rest of him still bound, the chains clink as his muscles flex and bulge and put more strain on the metal binds than ever.

“Fuck… so good… so deep…” I moan when I’m so full of him, my mind goes blank. My pussy tingles, sending shocks of pleasure up my spine. I fist his hair and smash my mouth against his. The mask is between us, but it changes nothing. He can feel the urgency in my kiss, the hunger as my tongue swipes at the minotaur’s wide mouth.

My motions pick up speed, fucking myself on his fat, swollen dick. Sweat slicks my skin, beads clinging to my curves, coating me in a light dew.

I clench my fingers tighter in his hair as my orgasm arrives. It explodes, the pleasure so intense, it vibrates through me. I bury my face in the crook of his neck and cling to him like he is the only thing keeping me from drowning.

Fingers knotted in his hair, my thighs quaking on either side of him, I can’t even bring myself to move. I’ve got the pistol pressed against his temple, finger on the trigger, and my pussy wrapped around his dick. Wave after wave of pleasure hits me. Every time it feels like it’s over, another wave crashes down and tingles tremor through me.

But Brontë hasn’t come yet—something that becomes apparent as I’m collapsed against his chest and his dick twitches inside me. His hips begin to move, his muscled thighs spreading apart as he uses brute strength to thrust up into me.

I’m in shock as it happens. This hulking man, bound and chained, seizes control of the moment and drives his hips up with sheer force and power. His grunts thicken, his scarred body burning hot.

Suddenly I’m the thing being used. I’m being fucked into as his dick pushes deep and my tingling, swollen pussy takes it.

I start moving with him, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and matching his savage energy. He snaps up and I crash down, our rhythm chaotic and desperate. We rock together until he’s bucking into me, growling and grunting like he’s transformed into a real minotaur. He breaks apart in a few hard finishing pumps and then spills his release.

It spreads through me from the inside, warm and wet. Enough to push me over the edge, straight into a second orgasm.

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