Page 33 of Follow Her Down
The air punches out of my lungs.
“Yes!”I croak.
He’s huge, stretching me impossibly wide, filling me completely.The sudden, brutal invasion borders on pain, a delicious, welcome burn that echoes the violence of the last few minutes.He holds himself deep for a heartbeat, letting me feel every thick inch, before pulling back almost entirely and slamming home again.
The force of his thrusts rocks my entire body, driving my hips against the unforgiving edge of the sink.Our sounds are almost obscene in the small tiled room—the wet slap of flesh against flesh, his guttural groans, my own choked whimpers mixing with the faint, wet gurgle from Rick’s ruined form on the floor nearby.
James’s hands clamp onto my hips like vises, guiding the punishing rhythm, holding me open for his cock as he fucks me with relentless, driving strokes.It feels like each deep plunge hits my cervix, a sharp, bright spark of sensation that blurs the lines between pleasure and pain.
“Tight cunt,” he grunts out, his voice strained.“So fucking wet for it.I knew ye needed this.I knew ye needed me to fuck the pain right out of ye.”
He’s right.Every brutal thrustiserasing it.Replacing the helpless terror from five years ago, from tonight, with this raw power, this shared savagery.
I push back against him, meeting his thrusts with equal ferocity, craving the delicious ache, the feeling of being utterly filled, utterly owned.My cunt grips him tightly, milking his thick, long length, the friction sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating out from my pussy.
One of his hands slides around my hip, his fingers finding my swollen clit.He rubs hard, rough circles, the pressure almost too much combined with the deep, relentless pounding of his cock.
“Come again,” he demands, his voice a harsh whisper against my ear.His teeth graze my earlobe.“Come on my cock, Prayer.Show me you’re mine.”
The dual assault is too much.The rough pad of his finger on my clit, the thick fullness stretching me, the possessive growl in my ear.All of it shatters me.My orgasm explodes, a supernova detonating in my lower belly.
My cunt clamps down on his invading length in violent, rhythmic spasms, drawing a ragged shout from James’s throat.I cry out, a raw, broken sound that echoes off the tiles, my body convulsing against the sink as wave after wave of intense, almost painful pleasure crashes over me.Stars burst behind my eyelids.
He fucks me through it, his thrusts growing even more erratic, more desperate.His grip on my hips tightens to the point of bruising as he chases his own release, pistoning into my spasming pussy.
“Fuck!”He gasps, his voice thick with need.“Mine, Prayer.All mine.”
With a final, brutal thrust that shoves me hard against the bloody sink, he buries himself to the root, pulls out, and comes.The hot, thick pulse of his cum floods across my ass, jet after jet, a scalding claim.His body shudders violently against mine, a low, continuous groan rumbling in his chest as he empties himself.His cock twitches as the last spurts release, his forehead pressed between my shoulder blades, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
We stay like that, locked together, trembling.The only sounds are our harsh breathing and the slow, wet drip from the faucet into the bloody sink.
James’s cum slowly leaks down my ass crack and inner thighs.His hands, still gripping my hips, relax, his thumbs stroking almost absently over the fresh bruises he’s left.The violence of our fucking has smeared Rick’s blood across my ribs, stomach, and back where James’s shirt rubs against my skin.The coppery smell mixes with the musky scent of sex and sweat, creating a dark and dangerous perfume.
Slowly, James turns me around, his bright-blue eyes scanning my face, my body, taking in the mess, the marks, the dazed satisfaction that must be written all over me.
He looks…settled.Like a storm that has finally found its center.He leans in, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s surprisingly tender, a contrast to the brutality of moments before.His tongue sweeps into my mouth, claiming me softly this time, tasting of blood and me and him.
“Okay?”he murmurs against my lips, his voice rough but gentle.
I nod, unable to form words yet.Okay isn’t the right word.I feel shattered and remade.Raw.Powerful.
I slide down the front of him, my legs shaky, my pussy throbbing pleasantly, achingly empty now.He catches me, holding me upright against his solid frame, as he sinks us both to the tile floor.
My pants are half off, tangled at my ankles.His jeans are still unfastened, his cock, now softening and glistening with our combined fluids, exposed.Bruises are already blooming on my hips and ribs under the smears of blood.His knuckles are a raw, bloody mess.We’re a mixture of violence and release, sitting in the wreckage.
I move to straddle him, my bare skin pressed against his damp jeans, my arms looped loosely around his neck.The adrenaline fades, leaving a strange, hollow calm in its wake, punctuated only by the dull throb between my legs.
James’s hand rests possessively on my hip, his thumb tracing idle circles on my skin.His eyes, no longer wild but intensely focused, search mine in the bright fluorescent light.
The silence stretches, thick with unsaid things, broken only by Rick’s shallow, rattling breaths from the floor nearby.That sound, a reminder of the violence that brought us to this point, feels distant now, unimportant compared to the connection thrumming between us in the aftermath.
I tilt my head, studying the sharp angles of James’s face, the blood drying on his jaw, the set of his mouth.The question that has been burning in the back of my mind since the velvet box appeared on my porch finally surfaces.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”My voice is hoarse, scraped raw, but steady.“The hand.David Farley’s hand.”
His gaze holds mine, unflinching, almost challenging.Slowly, deliberately, he nods.“Aye.”
The single syllable hangs in the air between us, heavy with implication.He doesn’t offer reasons.He doesn’t try to soften it.He simply confirms it.He was the deliverer of that grotesque, beautiful gift.He was the one who had seen David Farley—Vincent’s lying, smirking alibi—and decided he deserved to lose a part of himself, literally, for what he did to me.For standing beside the man who broke me.
