Page 32 of Follow Her Down
He’s laying hands on her.Touching.Hurting.
And the monster in my skull smashes its leash, roaring.
I’m out of the van before the door’s thudded.Nothing else matters but getting to her.
I storm through the dark, my boots crunching gravel.The night’s sharp, cold, but I’m burning from the inside out.
She’s mine to protect.
And Rick just made himself mine to break.
15
Sera
Icurlmyfingersintothe blood-damp fabric of James’s once-white cotton T-shirt and drag him toward me with a violence that matches his own, my nails digging into the hard planes of his chest.
His eyes—wild, feral, pupils blown wide—lock onto mine.
Raw, pulsing need charges between us, the need to claim, to erase the violation of Rick’s hands and cock with something far more devastating.
Our mouths crash together in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue and the coppery taste of blood.He groans into my mouth, a low, guttural sound that vibrates down my spine and settles deep in my cunt, already slick and aching.
My back hits the cold tile wall beside the urinal, the shock of it a stark contrast to the furnace heat radiating from James’s body.His hands are everywhere, rough, demanding, mapping the curves of my ass, the flare of my hips, the swell of my tits still trapped beneath my thin work shirt.He yanks the hem up, exposing my stomach and ribs, his calloused thumb scraping over the bruise already blooming when Rick knocked me to the floor.
“Mine,“ James growls against my lips, the word a possessive rumble that makes my knees weaken.“All fucking mine.”
He doesn’t ask.He takes, and I have no problem letting him.Only him.
He shoves his hand down the front of my pants, past the waistband of my panties, his fingers, covered in his and Rick’s blood, plunging into my wet heat.I cry out, arching off the wall, my head thudding against the tile.Then two thick fingers curl inside me, finding that sensitive spot with unerring accuracy, rubbing hard and fast.His thumb presses down on my clit in rough circles that send sparks of near-painful pleasure shooting up my spine.
“Fffuck!”The word tears from my throat, ragged and desperate.
My hips buck against his hand, seeking more, harder, deeper.The violation, the fear, the helpless rage I felt moments ago under Rick’s filthy hands is burning away, replaced by this brutal, consuming need.
James’s eyes devour the expressions flickering across my face with obsession, the way my lips part on a gasp, the flutter of my eyelids as he works me relentlessly.He watches me unravel with the fierce focus of a predator claiming its kill.
“That’s it, Prayer,” he murmurs, his Scottish brogue roughened, almost unintelligible.“Let me see ye come on my fingers.Show me what belongs to me.”
His command, the raw ownership in his gravelly voice, tips me over the edge.My cunt clenches violently around his fingers as the orgasm rips through me, a silent scream locked in my throat.My vision whites out, my body shuddering uncontrollably against his, held up only by his arm braced behind me and the relentless pressure of his hand between my legs.
That orgasm is a claiming, an obliteration.Spots dance before my eyes as it keeps shuddering through me, leaving me trembling and gasping, my fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to bruise.
He doesn’t stop.He fucks me with his fingers through the aftershocks, prolonging the intensity until I whimper, oversensitive and raw.Only then does he withdraw his hand.
He brings his fingers, glistening with blood and cum, to his mouth and sucks them clean with a low groan of satisfaction, his eyes never leaving mine.“Fuck, lass.”
The sight of him, the sound of him, the sheer carnality of it, sends a fresh jolt of desperate heat straight to my pussy.
“Off,” he commands suddenly, his voice thick.He slaps my hip, a sharp, stinging blow that makes me jump.“Get these fucking pants off.Now.”
I fumble my fingers with the button and zipper, clumsy with lingering tremors.He doesn’t wait, grabbing the waistband and yanking my pants and panties down my thighs in one harsh movement.The cool air of the bathroom hits my exposed skin, making my nipples peak painfully tight beneath my bra and shirt.
He spins me around, pressing my bare ass flush against the hard ridge of his cock straining against his jeans.A ragged groan escapes him as he grinds himself against me, the rough denim an exquisite torture against my sensitive flesh.His hands grip my hips, his fingers digging deep, holding me immobile as he ruts against the cleft of my ass, his breath hot and harsh against the back of my neck.
“Feel that?”he rasps.“That’s what ye do to me, Prayer.With your online stories.With murder on your mind.Ye turn me into an animal.”
He pushes me forward, bending me over the bloodstained sink.My palms slap against the wet, bloody surface as he kicks my legs wider apart.I hear the rasp of his zipper, the rustle of fabric, and then the thick, blunt head of his cock nudges against my soaked entrance.Before he enters me, he smears one hand down the bloody wall and coats his cock.Then, with one powerful thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside me.
