Page 82 of Broken Souls
“I don’t want to. I want you to stop.”
He starts to thrust them inside of me, his palm hitting my ass, he goes so deep. I close my eyes, fighting back the tears I’m tired of giving him. Burying his fingers deep, he lines his cock back up with my pussy.
I tense, knowing there’s no way he is going to fit without tearing me.
“That’s a good girl,” he groans as he slowly starts to fill my pussy with his cock. “Fuck, if I could make a duplicate of myself, I’d be licking this pretty pussy at the same time.”
Despite myself, I whimper, imagining his head there, his tongue stroking me while I’m filled with his cock. His free hand comes around and wraps around my face, cupping my cheek. His fingers push against my lips. I try to turn my head, but his grip is too solid, and he slips his fingers inside, now fucking me in every hole.
He grunts and groans as I squeeze my eyes tighter still. “Fuck, baby. I’m going to come. I’m going to fill this hot, wet pussy of yours and make you pregnant.”
He thrusts into me, smacking our hips together as he fingers me in my other holes. I try to stop the orgasm from building, the heat from growing in my stomach and making my toes curl. I don’t want this. I don’t want –
I cry out as it splashes over me, spreading out from my pussy to set off every nerve in my body. I jerk and scream and come so damn hard, I forget how to breathe. I can only pant, only drag in great big lungfuls of air that come out as harsh little whispers that leave me light-headed. My eyes close as the orgasm shakes me, even stronger than the last one. He thrusts inside my ass and pussy and mouth a few more times and then comes inside me on a roar.
“Can you feel that, baby?” he pants. “Can you feel my cum filling you up?” He tenses his cock, making me feel it, making me jump.
I whimper as I nod frantically, tears flowing down my cheeks. The release is too damn intense, breaking me apart as all the emotions that have been beating me down for the last few hours come spilling out.
The rage and pain over my torture.
The fear of losing our child after having just learned of her existence.
The agony when he left me broken for hours.
The anger over his thick-headed stupidity when he got back and called me crazy.
The heart-wrenching sorrow over thinking I killed him when I stabbed him in the chest.
The fear when he bit me.
The anger when he ignored my pleas.
The pain where he broke us all over again.
There is also the unwanted lust and the confusion about what is happening, about what he is, and how I feel. And dear gods, I don’t know how I feel.
My hatred of him is clashing with my love. My disgust of him touching me is going to war with my desperation to be held by him, soothed by him. I’m terrified that his treatment of me in that chair was not a one time thing, but I don’t know if I have the strength to walk away. Don’t know if leaving him will hurt more than staying.
All those things get tossed into a massive pot behind my eyes, and it boils over down my cheeks. I cry with my head pressed to the sheets and my ass in the air, sobbing out my heart and all the emotions that are leaving me wrecked.
And fuck, I’m so confused.
So godsdamn confused about what is happening.
He falls to the side, his cock and fingers slipping out of me. There is a softthumpas he hits the mattress.
I don’t look at him.
Can’t look at him.
I’m just consumed by my tears, by the overwhelming emotions that are crippling me.
Hurting me.
Breaking me.
I told him to stop, and yet again, he did not.
