Page 64 of My Kind of Monster

I do not shift and I keep my eyes on the view.

“If you want to help in any way, you’re going to have to accept whatever happens next.” I hear him say as I feel his calloused hand slide down my naked spine, barely touching it, but burning through me either way.

“If I tell you, you will involve your fucking department and there’s no way I can allow that.” His fingers reach my ass, and the movement slows as he brings his fingers in between my cheeks, almost coming to a stop at that tight entrance. Almost.

I am not sure what he is doing to me, but this moment here feels like it is much more than every other moment we have shared together. Everything else was animalistic hunger, a relentless devouring of souls. This… this feels like a tempered indulgence and my body softens, sinking deeper into the comfortable bed that feels like such a luxury after my time in the dungeon.

“A woman…” I flinch at the word, just as his fingers sinks in between my folds, inside of me and I clutch the pillow harder, squeezing the walls of my pussy around the intrusion.

He huffs at whatever the other person is saying on the other line, and I cannot help but think that it might be some sort of law enforcement, since he mentioned a “department” earlier. He is talking about me… just as his fingers move deep, but slowly inside of me, drawing out pleasure in a sweet, torturous way and I realize my hips are moving on the slow rhythm of his thrusts.

“It’s not my story to tell... “I flinch at his words and his fingers reach deeper inside of me. I’m getting wet, so wet that I feel it in between my thighs. His fingers fuck me so slow, I think I am moving my hips more than he is moving his fingers.

There is something so intimate and vulnerable about this image right here. The beautiful view, waking up after a violent discovery, our comfortable nakedness on these wheat-colored sheets, basking in the noon sun… too vulnerable. Fear floods my body, a strange kind of subtle fear that hums its way through me. I want to run for vastly different reasons now.

Yet I do not move at all. This… his slow, deliberate, almost gentle touch has me trapped, filling me with an unknown need. I have to know how this ends.

“Yes. All you need to know right now is that he deserves everything that could potentially come his way.” His fingers curl inside of me, hitting my G-spot with a pressure that makes my hips buck upwards, my ass up in the air. I bury my head in the pillow that I am now clutching in my arms, just as a moan threatens to escape my lips.

His fingers continue their slow, delicious assault, rubbing my G-spot hard and slow, his thumb now on my slippery clit, and I feel my orgasm at the edge of my nerves, close, but not close enough.

“Seriously? Yeah, that would be great, just… don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

His fingers move faster, my clit is on fire, I am biting the pillow as my pussy drips all over my inner thighs, and I am holding a scream back, my chest threatening to explode. I feel him shift on the bed, but I do not dare move, the orgasm just at the edge.

“I’ll find out and let you know.”

He rubs harder and I find my hips pushing against his hand and at this point I could not care less what their conversation was about because this feels too good for anything else to matter. I have been deprived of pleasure for months and now, now I am like a beast devouring every last drop that comes my way. I am hungry, ravenous, and he feeds me.

The orgasm builds up, the nerves of my spine lighting up one by one from the base of my neck, faster and faster down my back, until it reaches my pussy and I explode, red stars filling my vision, and I moan into the pillow without even realizing that the conversation ended or that his fingers are not inside me anymore.

The next second, his cock pushes at my entrance and I welcome it. It slips in through my drenched folds, straight to hilt, as I’m still riding that orgasm. Throwing my head back, hair flying everywhere around me, I prop myself on my elbows and I arch my back as my pussy squeezes every last drop of this pleasure.

He stays there, completely still, his cock buried deep inside of me as I am reeling back. With each pulse of my pussy his cock twitches inside of me and my hips roll onto him, up and down, then in slow circles until he rests his front to my back, on his elbows on either side of me, caging me in.

It feels like he is covering me, protecting me when I am at my most vulnerable, unknowingly stripping my soul… bare naked.

My hips move against him slowly, impaling myself, and I feed on the delicious feel of his cock getting harder and thicker inside of me, twitching slightly every time I push against him, my hips rolling slowly when I reach the hilt.

I repeat the delicious torture while he does not move a muscle, rolling my hips more and more. His cock dances inside of me and I feel like he is touching every nerve in my body through this one spot inside of me.

I throw my head to the side, my hair falling on my right shoulder and onto the pillow, yet I do not look at him. I tease him by pulling my hips away, the very tip of his cock the only thing inside of me and I squeeze the walls of my pussy just as I take in a little bit more of him, before I pull away again.

Suddenly his weight is heavier on top of me, just as his right hand catches my hair and holds me still. His hips move, the tip of his cock slides a little further, his breath on my ear, his tongue on my lobe, swiping against it. His teeth catch it, and his cock slides further. His teeth sink a little deeper, my hips push into him, his cock pushes into me, the hand in my hair grips tighter, and the heat in my belly burns hotter.

He pulls out slowly, then in a sudden thrust his cock impales me, before he pulls out again. He carries on this torturous dance while his tongue swipes on my ear, behind it, down my neck, leaving electrifying sensations in its trail. My back arches, my hands clutch the pillow, his hand pulls my hair, bending my neck a little further, my eyes close, his cock rubs my G-spot as his hips keep rolling over and over and over again, jerking in, then slowly pulling out. This torturous dance fills the air with my moans and his low growls until we sing louder and harder and explode on a decadent high note. We finish almost simultaneously around each other, his cock buried inside of me to the hilt, my hips pushing hard into him as he holds me under the delicious weight of his massive body.

He crashes on top of me for a few seconds before rolling to my right, pulling me along with him, his cock still buried inside my body, spooning me. We catch our breath, my eyes stuck on the peaceful view, a massive contrast to the heart I am urging not to shatter under the weight of him.

This was different. This… was a sweet indulgence, this was a whole other level of intimacy and I feel him differently, his touch on my skin, on my soul… He is leaving permanent marks on them and there is no way I can handle that, not now… not after everything that’s happened, no matter how much I wish I could take it all.

His cock comes out of me and the weight of him disappears from the bed.

“Shower?” I hear him behind me.

I decide against refusing him since I can feel what’s sliding out of me, so I run behind him to the bathroom as his cum runs hot on my inner thighs.I stop in front of the mirror and gaze at the carved flesh of my rib and… I smile. A good memory mars my skin… yet its words are foreign—ditt monster—Swedish maybe?

The gorgeous view assaults me yet again, this whole house creating this addiction inside of me. An addiction to this delicious environment, an addiction I will not be able to shake off for a long time… if ever.

And as if the damn view was not enough, facing it now is this man that looks like he was built by the blood, sweat, and tears of his victims. His muscles showing their intentions before the body even moves, one by one flexing like a little dance.

This is when I finally see it properly for the first time, in the light of day, the bust of the woman tattooed on his back. The image of her is haunting. Black and gray, her head tilted slightly upwards, her eyes looking straight at me, terrified and terrifying all at the same time and she is screaming, her mouth wide open, almost unnaturally so. Her hair is wild, flying all over his back wrapping over his shoulders, the beauty and horror of this image is surreal. The level of detail, the contrast of the ink, the sheer talent of this creation makes me feel like my soul can hear her scream.

It is all surreal—the image of this hauntingly dark tattoo against the beauty of the snow-covered landscape outside the window. It does something to me, this contrast…

It marks my soul, a permanent brand that I will carry with me forever, because it feels real…

---