Page 87 of Unmade

“Don’t stop if I beg you to stop,” I croaked.

He stopped. Right there, with the head of his cock pushing in.

I drew a ragged breath. “Rapefuck me.”

He cursed under his breath and sank his teeth into my shoulder.

I moaned like a whore and wriggled my ass against him.

Keep going, keep going.

“We need another word, then,” he murmured huskily. “Like a stop word.”

I nodded. A safeword. I’d seen it in kinky porn. “BDSM folk say red.”

“BDSM folk,” he chuckled. “Are you into kink?”

“Not really. Just rough sex. And I really hate that you’re not balls deep in me now.”

He smiled against my neck, and he didn’t say anything else. But I felt the shift in the air around us, not to mention his hold on me. He became forceful. Even when he moved slowly, he grabbed at me painfully, letting his fingers dig in, his blunt nails scraping my skin…

And his cock pushing deeper inside me.

I bit down on my lip and let out a soft cry as the pain flared up and pummeled through me. So much pain, so much anticipation, so much need. I sucked in a deep breath, and my lungs actually filled up properly. I’d missed the relief of that. Nothing weighed me down.

He grabbed my hips hard and picked me up a few inches, so I had to stand on my toes, and that was all the warning I got. He pulled out from me, only to push in again, and he set a fast pace.

I had to hold on to the doorframe so he didn’t push me forward again; I was dangerously close to knocking my head against it.

Holy fuck, it hurt so good. My sounds just didn’t freaking stop; it was one moan after another, groans turning into whimpers, gasps and choked pleas, and— I did a double take at the mirror next to my closet, and I saw him. I saw all of him. How he railed me, his fingers digging into my hips, his cock pushing in and out of me, his head tipped back, the pleasure written all over his face, the definition of his muscles, especially in his arms and chest—goddamn, his shoulders and forearms…

As if sensing I was watching him, he opened his eyes, and we locked gazes in the mirror.

“S-stop,” I exhaled.

He let out a chuckle through his nose and peered down at my ass. Nothing more, nothing less. He just kept fucking me, changing the pace every now and then to whatever suited him at the moment.

“Stop,” I gritted out.

Nothing. No response, other than a quiet groan as he rammed in.

I flinched and held back from touching myself. I wasn’t ready, fully aware I’d blow my load in under a minute.

Instead, I wanted to see how far he was willing to take this. I asked him to stop again, and I tried to move away from him—and that set him off. I saw a flash of fury in the mirror before he shoved me up against the nearest wall and slipped a hand up my throat.

“You don’t get to say no to me, Leighton,” he whispered in my ear. I gulped for air, pain and pleasure erupting inside me. “You’ve been fucking with my head for over a month. It’s my turn to have fun.”

Holy shit.

I choked on a breath, but right as I anticipated his next move to be pressing me harder against the cold wall, he pulled out from me and shoved me toward the bed.

“No, stop it,” I panted. “I’ll fucking scream.”

“Who’s gonna hear you?”

I shuddered violently, and he pushed me down on the mattress. Heat took over; I swam in it, rolled around in it, and still wanted more. I even tried to fight him. I thrashed against his hold and did my best to roll off the bed, and he wouldn’t have it. He grunted and flattened me to the mattress using his body.

A traitorous moan left me, and he spat in his hand, slicked up his cock some more, before he went back to fucking me. Hard. Brutally. Making the bed squeak and protest.

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