Page 42 of Dark Ink

“Beg.”

“Oh God, fuck me,” I moaned.

I cried out when Rian thrust into me. There was no preamble. No circling of the precum slick head around my folds. No gentle easing inside of my pussy. No whisper against the sensitive lobe of my ear, “Are you ready, Eithne?” Just a flare of painful pressure. A wave of apprehension and excitement. A low, drawn-out groan from deep inside of me that I was at a complete loss to control. Exactly how I wanted it. Exactly how I needed it.

“Yes. More,” I begged.

He chuckled, his hands caressing my back like penance. “Such a perfect little slut.”

“Yes,” I moaned. Why did I fucking love it when he called me that? Why was that word so terrible coming from anyone else’s mouth except for his?

Why did I want to be his perfect little slut? His greedy whore.

“Fuck me like a whore,” I begged. I wanted it. All of it. I wanted him to tear me apart.

I heard a growl from behind me, felt another smack on my ass, before he began to thrust. His balls slapped against my ass as he fucked me. My tits bounced roughly as his brutal pace only seemed to quicken, drying clay crackling off me onto the floor.

He bent over me, pinning me down to the floor with his body, reaching around to wrap one hand around my throat, clay and skin slapping between us. I felt degraded and wild and so fucking close.

“You like that?” he asked with a squeeze of my throat.

“God, yes.” I gasped as I struggled to keep my arms from buckling.

“Such a good little whore.”

I grunted as he squeezed my throat just a little tighter. Sparks danced in front of my eyes, my lips tingling.

His cock driving into me was rough and brutal and I bucked back against him.

“Oh God, I’m so close.”

His hand squeezed around my neck as my insides tightened. I felt myself hurtle over the edge. I let out a scream as I came, as his hand released, that rush of blood through my body like a second wave meeting the first. I had been too loud, but I didn’t care. The entire school could walk in through that door and I’d just keep right on coming.

Rian pulled out and let out a long growl. I felt his hot streams of cum against my thigh. He collapsed against me and we fell onto the floor, a puddle of limbs, wet clay and cum.

I trembled in Rian’s arms as he ran his hands over me softly, over my neck, my breasts, my ass, over the places that he’d smacked.

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Are you okay?

“It’s fine,” I said turning toward him.

Worry laced his beautiful features. “You make me…so fucking crazy.”

I grabbed his hand and laced my fingers through them, stopping him from tracing the places on my body where he’d marked me.

“Rian, honestly. I liked it. More than liked it. But…”

Surprised flashed in his eyes. “But?”

I pulled myself from his embrace. “But now we’ve got each other out of our systems. It’s…over.” I stood and began dressing without looking back at him. I ignored the urge to taste his cum as I pulled my skirt. I tugged my dirty sweater back over my bare chest when I heard Rian say, “This will never be over.”

I peeked over my shoulder. He was beautiful. On his side. Thick cock still semi-hard on his thigh. Tattoos flashing in the streaks of sunlight. Clay deepening in the streaks of shadow. He was art himself. But wasn’t that what I had to give up…art?

“Sign the paper, Professor Merrick,” I told him, my voice as cold as the hardening clay.

I picked up the crumbled registrar’s form and placed it on his pottery wheel on my way out. Maybe he’d have mercy on me after all.

But as the door closed behind me, closed on him, I knew he wouldn’t.

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