Page 29 of Make Her Bleed
I whimper. My hips have a mind of their own and buck against his touch, begging for more.
"Normally, I'd take that as a yes but you did mentionconsent. Say it. If you want it, tell me. Do you want to come? Do you want me to fuck you, princess?"
Goddamn it. He has me right on the edge. I'm about to orgasm when his hand leaves my aching pussy.
"Yes," I concede, full of shame. "I want it. I consent."
I'm completely fucking insane. He woke me with a knife to my face, cut up my leg, and now I'm consenting for us to fuck.
This is the definition of insanity.
He drops the knife and moves away from me, leaning back on his elbows, giving me a sexy, victorious smirk. He’s shirtless, flaunting his endless washboard abs, in just a pair of low-cut jeans. He watches me knowingly and it’s both confusing and sexy.
"If you really want it, you're going to have to work for it, princess."
I don't miss a beat. My guilty conscience can go fuck off. I'm so horny right now, and I haven't had a good orgasm since—well, since he made me.
I'll worry about feeling dirty later.
I hurry over to him and make quick work of his jeans as he watches me with eager eyes. I pull them down far enough to release his full erection and instantly lick up his shaft, seeing how his breath hitches from my technique.
"Put it in your mouth," he demands.
I take him between my lips, running my tongue under the crease of the head, teasing that sensitive patch of skin.
"Fuck," he curses, smoothing down my wild locks. "Suck it like your life depends on it, princess."
I keep my eyes locked on his as I take his cock deep into my mouth, down my throat, teasing the underside with my tongue, as I stroke his base. I gag as I gain momentum from sucking his dick.
Luckily for me, I had a good friend who was a gay guy named Trevor who taught me how to give the best blow job possible. I'm so thankful for those lessons.
"Fucking God," he hisses as his eyes darken. "You want me to fuck you really bad, don't you?" he asks as he shoves my head all the way down his base, holding me there.
A moment of panic flashes through me at the loss of air but still, I nod slowly and don't push his hand away.
After a moment, he releases my head, and I push his dick out of my mouth, gasping for breath.
"Get on my dick," he demands but a red flag pops up that should've registered before.
From when he forced me.
"I'm not on birth control. We need a condom," I say quickly.
I should've taken the morning after pill the day I was raped but it wasn't a thought then.
I've never had sex without a condom. I can't get on birth control without my dad finding out.
"I don't give a fuck. Get over here, now. Don't make me say it again," he warns.
This is dangerous. On one hand, if I retract my consent, he'll force me anyway. On the other hand, I don't want to get pregnant.
"Don't come inside me," I say as I straddle his waist but he doesn't respond.
I guide his cock to my pussy and slowly push down his length, gasping from how he stretches me.
"Oh, fuck, yes!" I moan as his cock presses against my G-spot, tantalizing my need for release.
He kicks away his jeans and boxers but doesn't move to touch me. He folds his arms behind his head, flexing his bulging muscles.
