Page 18 of Twisted Love

He draws in a sharp breath and his voice is harsh. “Masturbate. Play with yourself.”

My fingertips delicately brush my swollen sensitive clit then circle it. My movements are hesitant to start with, but they quickly become frantic as the tension inside me builds. I hate how easily he’s broken me down, how powerless I feel under his gaze. And yet, I can’t stop.

I shudder, unable to hold back the soft, involuntary moan that escapes my lips. It’s humiliating, the sound echoing in the suffocating silence of the room. My left fist clenches as I will myself to stay calm, but it’s no use. My body is no longer mine, consumed by something I can’t control.

“Now finger fuck yourself,” he commands. His voice seems far away and strange.

My fingers slide deep inside me. In, out. In, out. Relentless. It’s a show. For him. For money. Tears sting the backs of my eyes.

“That’s enough,” he says abruptly, his voice low and commanding. “Come over here. Crawl towards me.”

I freeze.

Crawl?

My mind is screaming at me to walk away from this degradation, to do anything but obey his sick command, but my body doesn’t want to stop. It can’t. It remembers too well the deep pleasures of being with him and it wants it now. And it won’t be denied. He owns my body. He always has. And he always will.

I get down on the ground, and on my hands and feet, I crawl towards him like an animal. The carpet is rough against my palms and there is a fire between my legs as I move myself closer and closer to him. As I reach the side of the bed he reaches down and hauls me effortlessly into the air and plops me on top of him. The sheets are cool against my heated skin. My soaking pussy is pressed onto his thigh and I have to resist the desire to rub myself against it.

He watches me intently, his expression unreadable, his mocking smirk gone. “Are you on birth control?”

I nod slowly.

“Good. We don’t deserve to be parents.”

I gasp with shock.

And he smiles silkily. “I think I’m going to really enjoy being married to you. Now fucking ride my cock.”

CHAPTER11

EARL

She recoils at my deliberately cruel words.

But silently she raises herself and sits astride me. Her soft wet pussy squelches on my thigh and I feel how it throbs for my cock. So … she wants me with every fiber in her body, but she absolutely loathes wanting me. I see it in the way she glares at me, her clenched hands, her pert breasts rising and falling with sharp breaths. And I savor it. Her anger is my feast, feeding that dark, twisted part of me that thrives on knowing I’ve gotten under her skin. And hurt her.

And yet, something in me stirs, an old, buried instinct that flinches at treating her like this. It pricks at the edges of my resolve, threatening to soften me, but I shove it away quickly.

My eyes trail over her body, taking in every detail.

She was beautiful before—achingly so—but now, she’s something else entirely. Time has honed her into a vision so impossibly breathtaking, it’s almost painful. Her curves, her lips, the slight flush coloring her cheeks—I can’t stop looking, can’t stop remembering how utterly consumed I used to be by her.

Even knowing what a shallow creature she is, I can’t fight it. The desire coils low in my stomach, a visceral, demanding force I can’t ignore. It’s maddening.

“Do that thing you used to do,” I say, my voice low and rough.

A sigh escapes her lips—soft, resigned—and she rises up on her knees and repositions herself over my rock-hard cock. Then she lowers the lips of her sex onto the head of my cock and squeezes, then massages it with her inner muscles. I exhale slowly. Only she, only she knows how to do this properly. Her hips move in a slow snake-like dance, teasing, torturing. My control is hanging by a thread. She’s so wet, so warm, so delicious.

Her moans start soft, stifled, as if she’s trying to hold back, but they break free despite her efforts. That sound—God, that sound—it’s been years, but it undoes me, just like it used to.

The way she moves against me is pure memory and instinct, like we’ve fallen back into the rhythm of who we once were. She’s riding me now, and the rush of sensation and sweetness is incredible.

But it’s not sweet. Not really. It’s selfish, raw, a desperate grasp for everything we’ve both lost. Every movement is a demand, a silent plea to take more, to give more, until there’s nothing left of either of us.

For a brief moment, my mind drifts to Charles— she was planning to do all this with him. The thought sets something dark and primal loose inside me.

I grab her hips and impale her fully on my thick cock, savoring the way her eyes widen with the sudden stretch as her body yields and her tight warmth wraps around me. She takes all of me. I meet her gaze, and for a moment, we’re locked there, staring into each other’s eyes, the pleasures of the past and the fire of the present mingling.

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