Page 4 of Mayfly

Cradling her head, she bites down on her knuckle and cries.

I pick up speed until her fat ass is smacking against me.

Reaching down, I drag my fingers through her tears and bring them to my lips. Salt and leather and pain and regret.

I’m such a fucking sadist.

I hate that this is what it takes.

I hate that the more she winces in pain, the better it feels for me.

“Fuck you!” I swear at that son-of-a-bitch Harry that I instinctively need to mimic.

“I’m sorry,” she gurgles, balling her now crumpled shirt into her hands.

I snap, “Not you,” and forgive her speech because its quivering agony makes me feel like a god.

I always hear people say dumb shit like,“This cake tastes so much better than sex,”but nothing that I’ve ever experienced in my miserable thirty-three years on this rubbish dump of a planet has ever compared to the high I get from this precise brand of control.

It’s toxic on every conceivable level, but I crave it.

I need to feel powerful.

I need to see that I can instill fear instead of being the one cowering in a huddled ball, left to lick my own wounds and desperate again for that ten minutes of affection before it all started when I ate those goddamn ice creams.

“Please… it hurts.”

Her plea re-slices each letter of KILL ME into my chest.

Pulling out, I look down and see my dick coated in blood.

It’s a mirror to the fear I felt. To the hushed whispers, heavy breaths, and the crushing pain of his weight on me.

“You dumb fuck,” I sigh and pull her up to stand. “Why did you come in here if it was your first time?”

“I… I…” she stutters, trying to wipe her face clean. “No one like you has ever looked at me before.”

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to get in the van with the man who promised you a puppy?”

“But… You…”

“What’s your name?”

“Lindsay.”

“I’m a bad man, Lindsay.”

“But you stopped when I said—”

I slap one hand over her mouth as the other grips the back of her head so I can shake her. “I amnota nice guy!”

Squeezing her eyes shut, a mass of tears roll down her flushed cheeks and over the back of my glove. Impulsively, my tongue circles my lips, and my dick, which had already moved on, is back at full attention.

“You’re never gonna fucking forget this, are you?” I breathe out, not really speaking to her. “Do you think you can keep crying, but also do exactly what I tell you?”

Nodding the best she can, she sniffles and blinks. Pulling her face nearer, I lean in to catch a tear on her cheek with the tip of my tongue. The taste lingers on my palette as my hand slips from her mouth to push my trousers down my legs until they fall to the ground. Gently cradling her head with both hands, I tilt her back before drawing the flat of my tongue up both her cheeks.

“You’re gonna be on top, okay?” I whisper against her lips, feigning a tenderness I’ve never known. “And I’ll show you how to make it feel good.”

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