Page 156 of Unorthodox
On reflex, my hands go to his back, nails digging into his sides.
“Don’t touch me, Addison,” he growls on a jagged breath, but I don’t let go.
He thrusts into me again, harder than last time. Tears fill my eyes, pain and shame about who really took my fucking virginity mingling within me.
I rake my nails down his ribs.
“Let go of me.” He says the words through gritted teeth.
I don’t let go.
His hand comes to my throat as he stares at me, the hand with the gun still beside my head. He fucks me hard, brutal, a punishment for what I didn’t give to him.
If he only knew I didn’tgiveit to anyone. It wastaken.
I dig my nails in deeper, hoping to draw his blood like I know he’s drawn mine.
He dips his head, takes my nipple in his mouth and bites me, still fucking me so hard the headboard hits the wall.
I cry out, arching my neck back as he sucks me, then releases me with a pop.
He grabs one of my arms, forces it backward, holding it just above my inner elbow and gripping me tightly as he fucks me. He picks his head up, his mouth against my ear.
“I care about you,” he says, and it sounds like a reluctant confession. Suddenly, my entire body feels warm with those words, my breath caught in my throat. “I care about what happens to you. But right now, you might forget that.”
I hold my breath, waiting.
“Right now, you’re nothing but my little fuck toy,” he whispers, and my heart picks up speed. “Nothing but a whore for me to use. You don’t get to touch me.” He runs his tongue down my throat. “Now get your fucking hand off of me before you really get hurt.”
But I don’t move my hand.
Through the pain, with his admission of giving some kind of fuck about me, I feel the pleasure. And the wetter I get, the better it feels, until I want to wrap my legs around him. I want him to use me how he sees fit. I want him to control me, make it hurt worse.
I deserve it.
Sleeping with the devil shouldn’t feel like heaven.
Pinning one arm over my head, he glares down at me.
Keeping my eyes on his, I tell him,“Make it hell.”
And he does.
He grabs my free hand, pins both wrists over my head with one of his hands, and he holds the gun to my head while he fucks me.
“Such a beautiful fucking whore,” he says quietly, staring right at me. “You like being used, Addison?” His breath comes out in pants, and it’s mesmerizing, watching him lose control. Watching him ravage me, my body jolting with each thrust, his grip around my wrists bruising, the barrel of the gun scraping against my face.
As he hits deep enough to hurt, I moan, tears welling in my eyes again. He slows, his gaze holding mine.
“You can take it,” he tells me, his breath against my face. “This is what you were made for.” He kisses me, harsh and bruising. Pulling back, and picking up the pace, he says, “I’m going to come inside of you again, nothing between us, because that’s all you’re good for, Addison.” His breath catches, and he groans against my mouth. “You,” he thrusts into me violently, all of his weight against my wrists as he holds himself up, keeping the gun to my head, “are nothing,” his hips collide with mine, “but a fucking,” he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, “beautiful little whore.”
The words don’t hurt like I think they should. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe it’s just what I’ve come to expect from Max.
Even still, and even with the warning of what was to come, pressure builds behind my eyes.
What would it have been like, I wonder, if this was with someone else? What would it have been like to have more sex with a man like Dante? Someone who cared for me? Someone I could tell the truth to?
Max groans again as he comes inside of me, filling me up.
