Page 3 of Bastard
In my limited experience, most men would be thrilled at having the upper hand in a sexual situation. What’s wrong with this guy? His unpredictability frustrates me.
“Make me feel something, even if it’s pain.”
Silence.
But then I hear him behind me, fumbling with his trousers and lowering his zipper. I cry out in surprise as I’m forced forward with rough hands then repositioned over the sink. I grab hold of either side of it in anticipation of what’s next.
He spreads my legs apart with a knee, shoves a hand between my thighs, and ever so slowly, drags his fingers across my folds. Once satisfied I’m wet enough, he brings those same fingers to my mouth.
His unspoken command fills the silence. “Clean my fingers off.”
Dirty. So dirty.
This stranger knows exactly how to turn me on.
I suck them clean, tasting the evidence of my excitement.
He grunts, low and sexy, before slipping a hand inside my dress. His fingers glide across my skin and I shudder beneath his touch. Ever so gently, he rolls a nipple between his fingers. A rush of lust rips through my body. He cups my breast, feeling the weight of my D cup. I have big breasts that men seem to lose their minds over. By the way he’s fondling me, like he’s memorizing the feel of me in his palm, I’d say this stranger is no exception.
Which is why, when he pauses midstroke, it takes my brain a few seconds to process the reason he’s stopped. With a muffled curse, he snatches the condom from my bra and holds it overhead for a closer inspection.
I shrug a shoulder, like carrying a condom, random hookups, is a nightly occurrence.
One part of me wishes I could see his face. I shouldn’t care what this stranger thinks. Sí,I’m using him. He’s my New Year’s resolution. My angry fuck.
And judging by his reaction, now I’ll be his.
“Non sai cosa ti faccio.”His tone is foreboding, his words muffled, but I’m certain whatever he’s saying is somewhere between a promise and a curse.
Bobby pins scatter across the room as he weaves his fingers through my hair, messing my updo until my heavy locks fall free. Holding me in place, controlling my movements, dominating me. He pushes forward until I feel his cock between my thighs.
I squeeze them together, just to let him know I’m game.
He shoves two fingers inside me from the front and without warning, fucks me with them until my body is on fire.
I raise myself up onto my toes. “Sí. Just like that.” I never believed another man could elicit this kind of response from me. It’s like he knows my body, and the dirty, kinky things that get me off. I never expected to enjoy this.
He withdraws his fingers, then there’s a pause and a rustling of foil. It’s all the warning I get.
He slams inside of me in one punishing thrust.
My shout fills the bathroom as tears spring from my eyes. Not because he’s hurting me, even though hard is what I wanted. No, these are victory-tears. Another man is inside my body. And someday, another one will find his way into my heart. Yet, tears of loss are mixed in too. Of what was. What should have been. What will never be again.
He winds my hair around his hand and tugs hard on his next thrust. Finding a perfect rhythm, fucking me like I demanded to be fucked.
It feels good—he feels right.
I never imagined sex could be this way with anyone else buthim. I never wanted another man in the way I wantedhim.
An arm hooks beneath my knee and he lifts my leg high, deepening his penetration, his dominance over my body. With every thrust, I fold forward further. Accepting his anger or whatever demons that are egging him on.
Another hard thrust and my stiletto falls off to clatter on the floor.
I take every relentless inch of him, needing this brutal assault on my body.
“That’s right. Make me forget.”
I wince, instantly regretting my words. No man wants to hear he’s being used, even if that’s the purpose of one-night stands. He heard me; he’s frozen in place, his cock still inside me.
