Page 26 of Don't Trust Him

She doesn’t look afraid. She’s pure spitfire. Eliza looks like she’s ready to kill me, and something about it tells me that, no, this couldn’t have been her.

Would she tell me after me pushing? I don’t know.

Most people would, but Eliza is fucking strong, and strong willed.

So, no, the reason I believe her is something else.

I mean, I can’t trust that. I shouldn’t. I won’t. I’m filing it away for later as intuition trying to tell me one thing and likely my cock trying to tell me that same thing and leading me along.

She’s my enemy. And she’s my every waking thought. She’s in my dreams.

I know in my bones that if I don’t bury my cock inside her soon I’m going to lose my fucking mind. I want to tear her clothes off. Claim her as mine.

My thumbs dig into her, pressing circles into her.

“Let go of me!” Eliza yells, pulling against me.

No way I’m letting go of her. I need her. I need her so much that without releasing her for a second I press my mouth against hers, crushing it, devouring it, stealing a kiss that I feel her more than enthusiastically return. I crave the taste of her, sustenance for my tortured soul. She’s the salve to every wound.

Eliza moans into my mouth. Fucking moans. No goddamn way I can stop now. Her whole body melts against mine, the electric currents of hate and lust shooting sparks between us both.

I’m so hard that when she presses harder into me, I grunt with the pure animal need to be inside her.

I let go of her arm to tear off her robe. And I do mean tear. I grab it with one fist, balling it and tearing it violently from her body. Eliza doesn’t skip a beat in wrestling my belt and pants free, pulling down my boxer briefs, gripping my cock and sliding it deep into her pussy as fast as she can, mounting me like I’m a trophy she’s nailing to the wall.

Fuck, this woman had me all twisted up in her before? I’m not fucking killing her. I have this desperate need to fuck her. And now I’m deep inside of her and it is goddamn heaven. Her legs are trembling in tremors around me, at once desperately holding on while her hands seek purchase too, and the next they’re floating freely through space, unable to hold onto anything.

Me? I’m fucking gripping Eliza with everything I have. I’m ramming my cock into her like I have a wax seal to imprint.

But that’s the fucking truth. I’m claiming her body, owning this bitch’s perfect pussy in every way I need to because I cannot fucking stand the sound of her one more moment, and I can’t stand not hearing the way she moans like a greedy whore for my cock. Her inner walls are clenching around me like they’re robbing me, and sure enough, her juicy cunt is going to rob me off every last drop of my cum, for sure.

My real fucking undoing is her looking at me. Her eyes peer so deep into mine, and I’ve never felt more naked in my life, more expose

d, fucking vulnerable. The worst part is that when I feel this way with Eliza, like I have a raw, exposed nerve, I trust her. I fucking trust her against all reason. Like I could let her in.

It pisses me off. I grab her wrists, pull my cock out of her, and turn her around, pulling my cock to squeeze between her ass cheeks before I ram in back in that perfect pussy. I slam so hard into her again and again I know I’m marking her forever. She’s yelping, and I’m squeezing her wrists tight above her head, slamming Eliza’s tiny body into mine hard enough we’re both getting bruises from our hips impacting.

We’re hate-fucking right now. My mouth on her neck right now? Growling, nibbling on her. No sweet tender kisses.

Eliza’s moans are guttural, low, throaty sounds of sex, nothing romantic here.

I’m cold eyed and hate-fucking my natural enemy.

So why does the taste of her skin set me on fire? The scent of her all around me gets me impossibly harder?

Those sounds she’s making undo me. She’s cumming, hard, squeezing my cock so tight it would break a lesser man.

Me? I fucking bolt thunderous, hot jets of my cum inside her, practically roaring as I do, the sheer force of what she does to me enough to damn near knock the wind out of me.

I pull out of her and turn her around, and she drops down to her knees, looking up at me with this incredibly slutty look, sucking every last drop of our cum off my cock, then turns around and heads for her shower.

“See you tomorrow,” Eliza says on her way out, not turning around. I watch how her hips sway and how perfect her ass looks, and how she’s definitely walking a little funny after how hard I fucked her.

Class act way to get rid of me, for sure. I’d be impressed if I wasn’t so fucking stunned right now. I can’t believe Taylor is gone when he was the only person I’d really call a friend.

I know the woman I just fucked into oblivion didn’t do it.

And I know this shit has gotten so much more complicated on every level.

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