Page 26 of Massacre
He gripped my arms tightly and growled, “Don’t you ever fucking call yourself that again.”
Sighing, I looked away. “It’s true, Massacre. It’s what I’ve always been. Why do you think King let me stay here? Yeah, he let me choose, but his hospitality came at a price. A price I was willing to pay. It’s what I know.”
Massacre’s eyes darkened, and his jaw clenched. “That’s not true, and you fucking know it. You’re not that person. You’ve never been that person. You’re stronger than that. Don’t let your past define you.” His voice was intense, and I could see the anger in his eyes. “You’re a survivor. A warrior. Don’t ever forget that.”
I bit my lip, feeling a mix of emotions. His words touched a part of me that longed to believe I could be more. That I was worthy of a different life.
“I know you don’t trust easily,” he continued, his voice softening. “But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll proveto you that you can trust me. That you’re more than enough, just as you are.”
I searched his eyes, seeing the sincerity in their depths.
“I want to believe you,” I whispered. “But it’s hard. My past haunts me.”
He cupped my face in his hands, as his thumbs brushed away my tears that had begun to fall. “We all have our demons,” he said gently. “But we don’t have to face them alone.”
Leaning into his touch, I closed my eyes, savoring the feeling of his hands on my skin. “I’m tired of being afraid,” I admitted. “I want to move on. To leave the past behind.”
“Then we’ll do it together,” he promised, kissing away my tears, before his lips found mine. His words wrapped around me like a warm embrace, offering a glimpse of a future free from the shadows that had haunted me for so long, and God forgive me, I wanted what he was offering.
Leaning into him, I gave myself over to the man who haunted my dreams, who protected me the only way he knew how, who whenever I truly needed him, was there to stand between me and the dangers of the world. His kiss deepened, and I felt myself falling under his spell. My body came alive, desperate for what he was offering me as his hands roamed over my body, cupping my ass and pulling me tighter against him.
There, sitting on the floor, me straddling his lap, I gave in to my desires.
Massacre let out a small chuckle, and his laughter rumbled through the dark room. “You gotta stop, baby. I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he admitted, a sheepish grin on his face. “But it’s real hard with you grinding on me like that.”
I craved him—a raw, visceral hunger that clawed at my insides, a thirst that parched my throat and left me gasping. The scent of his skin, a mix of sandalwood and something uniquely him, haunted my senses, a torment both exquisite andagonizing. Every nerve ending throbbed with the need for him. A desperate symphony of want echoed in the hollow chambers of my heart. But a serpent of doubt coiled in my gut; its icy scales whispered of ruin, of a love that might consume us both in its fiery embrace. He was a labyrinth, a man of shadows and secrets, and his allure was as dangerous as it was irresistible. And I, a fool drawn to the flame, knew the risk, yet found myself powerless to resist.
His breath hitched, a ragged rasp against my ear. So close. A hair’s breadth away from the precipice. One syllable, a mere tremor in my voice, and my dam would burst. I’d fall; my carefully constructed defenses would shatter like cheap glass, the simmering volcano of my desire finally erupting. I could almost feel the heat on my skin, the tremor of my anticipation. He was a wildfire, beautiful and devastating, threatening to ignite with a fury that would consume me.
The choice, a knife twisting in my gut, felt less like a decision and more like a damnation. To yield, to succumb to the intoxicating pull of the present...or to sacrifice the incandescent promise of now for the bleak, uncertain landscape of tomorrow.
The weight of it threatened to crush me.
Massacre’s touch, a predatory caress, snaked across my bare flesh, igniting a fire that scorched its way down my spine. The heat of his skin, a branding iron against mine, seared itself into my memory. Each brush of his fingers was a violation, a surrender, a confession whispered in the language of raw, untamed need. The sharp scent of his cologne filled my nostrils. The tangible weight of his arousal pressed against me, a brutal, insistent pressure, a living pulse of desire that hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird, each beat echoing the frantic rhythm of my own racing heart. My skin flushed hot against his. This wasn’t yearning; it was a deep, hollow ache.
I could feel the walls of my pussy contract. My body was desperate for what he offered. My arousal made me slick and ready for him. I could no longer resist his pull. I needed him like I needed air. With a surge of boldness, I reached down to grasp one of Massacre’s hands and nestled it between my thighs. That simple contact sent sparks of pleasure ricocheting through my body. His fingers applied subtle pressure, moving in slow, deliberate circles that ignited a fire deep within me as I whispered, “Who said I wanted you to stop?”
He growled. His reaction was immediate, as a low groan escaped his lips. The sound was raw, unfiltered, a testament to his own pleasure. His eyes were dark and heavy with a need that mirrored my own. He leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he confessed in a low, husky voice, “We do this, Amber, and you are mine forever. Is that what you want, baby? Do you want my dick in your hot pussy forever?”
His words, whispered amidst the heady silence, stoked the already roaring fire within me. It was a declaration of his desire, a statement that I reciprocated wholeheartedly.
Swiftly, I stood, removing my cotton pajama pants, then slipped out of my panties, as he followed my lead and unbuttoned his jeans and slid his pants and underwear down his legs. Straddling him once again, I placed my hands on his broad chest for support and positioned myself above him, and hovered just above his bullous head, the tip at my entrance.
Holding my hips tight, he growled. “Say the fucking words, Amber.”
“I want this.”
And that was all he needed before he arched up and I pressed down as his thick cock filled me to the brim. I gasped, my eyes widening as I breathed through the intrusion, allowing myself a moment to adjust to the sensation of him filling me so completely. My muscles clenched around him instinctively,giving his cock a quick pulse that caused him to groan beneath me. His sharp intake of breath, a low moan of pleasure, sent a shiver of satisfaction through me, a stark reminder of my power over him.
I lost myself in the pleasure of his body as the world outside ceased to exist. All that mattered was the feeling of him inside me, the push and pull of his thick cock sliding in and out of my pussy. As I moved, I rode him with a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. His face contorted with pleasure; his moans and grunts a symphony of gratification that egged me on. There was something profoundly satisfying about watching Massacre lose himself in the throes of passion. His carefully curated exterior crumbled as I ground my hips against his pelvis, sliding his cock deeper into my pussy. I loved the way he felt inside me, the hard length of him rigid and firm. Every stroke, every thrust ignited a fresh wave of pleasure, sending sparks of ecstasy coursing through my body.
Leaning closer, my hand roamed across the expanse of his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath my fingers, letting my finger map every bulge, every muscle. With my other hand, I ventured low between us, my fingers locating my clit, and I started to rub myself, gasping at the added stimulation. The combination of him filling me so fully and my own touch was powerful, a delicious sensation that threatened to push me over the edge.
An ardent fervor consumed me. My body bucked and twisted, the pleasure intensifying with each uncontrolled movement. A symphony of gasps and moans escaped my lips, a testament to the overwhelming, intoxicating pleasure that flooded my senses, each sound echoing the intensity of the experience. Massacre’s hands roamed over my body, tracing a path of fiery desire that left me gasping for breath. His fingers found my breasts, his touch light as a feather as he tracedtheir outline, marveling at the feel of my soft flesh beneath his fingertips. His fingers slowly circled my nipples, teasing them into hard points before he leaned forward and sucked a nipple into his mouth. The jolt of pleasure that raced through my body was electrifying, as he squeezed the other one, eliciting a deep guttural moan from deep within me.
The combination of his thrusts, my slow grinding movements, and his mouth suckling my breasts was a potent mix of ecstasy that had my body humming with desire. Suddenly, the rhythm of my movement changed. Massacre stiffened. His breath hitched deep in his throat. I felt the unmistakable pulsating, each jerk pushing him deeper inside of me. A low, raw moan escaped his lips as I felt the warm rush of his release inside me.
His orgasm triggered my own, and a sharp gasp tore from my throat as waves of pleasure crashed over me. I convulsed around him, my pussy squeezing him in time with the pulse of his own release. I clung onto him, riding out the storm of pleasure, feeling every jerk of his length as he milked his climax inside me.
