Page 81 of Horror and Chill
I grab the hem of her dress and rip it higher. She twists, tries to shove my hand, but her strength is fire without weight. I don’t stop. Black fabric slides up her thighs, black lace flashing where she doesn’t want me to see.
“Don’t,” she snarls, voice breaking.
I laugh, low, hungry. “Say Psalm fifty-one if you mean it.”
Her throat works, but the word doesn’t come. Not yet. Not when she’s wet through the lace already. I can smell her.
The dress goes first. Off her shoulders, down her arms, tossed into the dark. She claws at my chest, nails catching my shirt, but I drag it over my head and drop it to the floor.
She still fights when I pull her panties down. Still cursing, still gasping. But her hips lift all the same, helping even as she shakes her head. My hand finds her thigh, spreading her wide, and I swear I can hear her heartbeat hammer through the mask.
Her hands hit my waistband next. Not to push me away. To tear at my jeans.
“You hate me,” I murmur.
“I do,” she spits.
“Then strip me yourself.”
And she does. Fingers jerking at the button, shoving my pants down, dragging the fabric with enough fury I stumble. She shoves. I laugh. And then it’s nothing but bare skin and her glare under me, both of us stripped and shaking, no more layers left to hide behind.
Her nails rake my chest, sharp enough to sting. I let her. I want the marks. I want proof she’s fighting even as her body betrays her.
Her legs shift wider. Not a surrender. A challenge.
Her eyes burn. “I still hate you.”
“Good,” I growl. My hand fists in her hair, dragging her mouth up to mine. The mask blocks me, rubber pressing between us. I rip it up just far enough to bare my lips, breath hot and sharp against her.
The kiss isn’t sweet. It’s teeth and tongue, but she whimpers into it, anyway. The mask sits crooked, glass eyes staring at her while my mouth claims hers.
Her body arches into me, breasts pressing against my chest, heat slick between us. I grind down, making her feel how hard I am, how long I’ve been waiting for this. She gasps, hips lifting to meet mine.
“You feel that?” I rasp against her lips. “That’s mine. You’re mine.”
“Fuck,” she whispers again, but her voice shakes. Her nails claw my back instead of pushing me away.
I grab her thigh, hitch it high over my hip, sliding bare against her. The contact is molten, my cock dragging against her wetness, and I bite back a curse.
Her head falls back against the slab, eyes shutting, lips parting. “Don’t stop.”
And I don’t. I angle down, push forward slowly, burying myself inside her inch by inch until I’m seated to the hilt. Her cry echoes off the crypt walls, sharp and beautiful, and I hold her there, locked deep, her pussy choking my cock.
With her leg over my hip, I can drive in deeper than I did in the shop, and I don’t waste that blessing. I pump in and out of her hard and fast, letting my dick hit that perfect spot inside of her.
She groans, and I can feel my cock pulse. “Fuck. Such a tight Little Horror.”
“Yes,” she gasps, her nails cutting deeper into my skin.
I slam my mouth to hers, tongue tangling with hers until she sucks mine hard. I drag my hand up, twist her nipple until she whimpers, then grab the back of her neck, holding her down as I fuck her.
My hand slides from her tit to the nape of her neck, anchoring her right where I want her. She’s tightening around my cock so I know she’s close, and from the tingle in my balls so am I. Changing my pace to harder, shorter, thrusts and every one grazes her g-spot is what pushes her over the edge.
Her scream rips out, loud and raw, as her pussy clamps down on me, pulsing, milking. The sound makes me break. My balls tighten, release tearing through me, hot and violent. I spill inside her, filling her, claiming her. Her pussy won’t let go, choking me, dragging every drop out until I’m shaking, still buried deep.
Agatha probably thinks this was a one-man show, but that’s not how we work. And I know as soon as I pull out, one of them will be ready to pounce.
Hope her viewers like trains because this is the Little Horror Express and we’re the conductors.
