Page 9 of Scarred Sacrifice
“Get over here and fuck me,” I demand. He gets to his feet quickly and unbuckles his jeans as he approaches. He pulls out a condom, ripping the packet open with his teeth, and sheathes it over his thick, hard length. He grabs my hip with one hand and positions his dick at my entrance. “You have seven minutes to make me cum,” I tell him.
“No problem.” He pants as he thrusts into me. I cry out, and using both his hands, he firmly grips my hips and slams himself into me, over and over again in a demanding rhythm. It’s hard, brutal, and fast. It doesn’t take long for the pleasure to build within me as he pounds into me. My walls begin to tighten, and he growls, feeling I’m close. “Fuck, so fucking tight,” he groans.
“Fuck me harder,” I breathe.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says through gritted teeth while still fucking me.
I glare at him over my shoulder. “I said, fuck me harder,” I seethe.
His jaw is set tight as he grabs my arms, pulling them back behind me. I arch my back as he deepens his thrusts, fucking me so hard it’s almost bruising.
“Yes!” I cry out as my orgasm explodes through my body. “Oh, fuck!” I scream.
“Fuck!” he roars as he climaxes. Releasing his hold on my arms, I fall forward, resting my face on the mattress while still kneeling. He gently strokes his hand around the curve of my behind while gently placing kisses along my spine. “I swear, I’ve never had sex as good as that with anyone before. It’s like you were made for me,” he murmurs between kisses.
I stiffen and push up before I move forward, disconnecting us. I turn to face him. “You’re right. That was a good fuck; you can go now,” I say dismissively.
He stands there, a flash of hurt flickering in his eyes, but I’m not about to pretend this is more than what it is. It’s just sex, nothing more. “Jesus, Mor, at least let me remove the fucking condom before you dismiss me,” he snaps before turning and striding to the bathroom.
I get off the bed and grab my clean clothes, wrapping my body in a towel. He walks back out into the room, his jeans pulled up but left undone. His eyes sweep over me. “You know I could help you shower,” he offers with a wink, his mood switching quickly.
“I think this needs to calm down,” I state, gesturing with my finger between us.
“What do you mean?” he asks, confused.
“I mean, you are getting too heavy, and that’s not what this is. I need an itch to be scratched, and I get you or one of the other lap dogs to scratch it,” I state firmly, needing the lines to be clear.
His lip curls in disgust when I refer to him as a lap dog. “Don’t call me that,” he says, shaking his head.
I shrug. “It’s what you are, and it’s what the other guys are. You knew this. You were under the understanding of the rules, which you agreed to. I’m not changing any of that,” I point out.
He runs his hand through his hair. “You feel nothing.” It wasn’t a question. He was stating it.
I stare at him blankly. “I’m sorry if you thought there was more to it.”
He scoffs. “You kept choosing me; I thought we had a connection. Something the other guys didn’t.”
“I literally slept with all three of you last night,” I state.
“It was hot, but it was me you cuddled up to, and it was me you chose just now,” he counters.
I sigh. “Look, you’re a nice guy, but I don’t do the relationship thing. I do the fucking. That is it. If you can’t handle that, then you need to rethink being here,” I tell him honestly.
He swallows, pausing for a moment. “I’m good. I guess I just read your signals wrong.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
I give him a brief nod. “Okay, well, I need to get ready. So I might catch you later,” I say dismissively. He nods, giving me a small smile, and leaves. I exhale a long breath before heading into the shower. I’m going to have to give him some distance for a while, which is a shame because out of the three of them, he is the best at oral. After a quick shower to wash away the smell of sex, I change into my black leggings and black tank top. I put back on my favourite stiletto boots and spritz some perfume, quickly grabbing my denim jacket as I leave my room, not bothering to reapply my make-up.
As I walk into the main bar area, Eden’s head snaps up. She rolls her eyes. “You look like a cross between Catwoman and Sandy fromGrease.”
I look down at my outfit. “It’s just a black top and leggings.” I shrug.
She shakes her head. “In them heels it’s more than just a black top and leggings.”
“Well, I’m comfy, and I like it, so who gives a shit?” I state.
“And that is why you can pull off any outfit. Your level of fucks is at a perfect zero.” Eden grins.
“Well, that is the perfect level.” I smirk.
