Page 28 of Broken Strings

Cash whimpers as the biting cold invades her, and my dick twitches. With my sparrow, I’m conflicted between making love to her and watching as she debases herself at my command. Knowing that she experiences comfort from pain and humiliation makes my cock pound with need. I’m providing a service for her, taking care of her, and I feel ten feet tall.

We gaze at each other, ice blue to warm brown. I tangle my hands in her hair, yanking her head back, and watch her face contort with torment and delight. Placing the tip of her panties to her lips, I force my fingers and the fabric down. Her mouth widens for me, and I shove it all in.

Sex with Cash is the meaning of life. It’s a full-circle experience that transcends all barriers and blockades in my soul. The way we fuck is an exploration of the human condition and unravels why we see the world as we do. Our scars become buttons that unlock truths. The world is created with moments of pure pain and immense joy. The scars we collect in life, both on our skin and in our soul, are the fabric that creates who we are. Without moments of suffering and darkness, there could never be times of happiness and light.

Cash takes a breath, trying to calm her body with the shock of the ice lodged in her warm cunt.

“Use your foot to tap the back of my head three times if it gets too much. Avoid my head if you want me to continue.” My hands trail down her thigh to her foot. Grabbing her ankles, I lift her ass, giving my ravenous eyes a bird's-eye view of her holes.

“Add another,” I order as my hand moves to the lube on my desk—something I’ve made sure to have in my office since meeting Cash. Thoughts of her naked body run through my mind like an all-day movie marathon, making me need immediate relief on the regular.

“I like you like this. Mouth gagged. Ass and pussy open for business. Can’t hear your pathetic screams as I tear your holes apart.”

Placing her ankles over my shoulders, I lube up my fingers and press the tip of my index finger against her puckered hole. Cash squirms as I push slowly into her ass, letting her adjust. Her ankles lock around my neck as I push my finger to the knuckle and add another, stretching her out. “I can’t wait to see my cum leaking out of here, Sparrow. To know I own every one of your pathetic holes. I should force you to walk out of the bar naked, let everyone see what fuck hole slut you are. Let them see how you like to be used, that you’ll do anything to be fucked.”

Grabbing the Gray Goose with my free hand, I pour it into her navel and her pussy before slowly inserting it into her wet, open cunt, pushing the ice cubes in further.

I chuckle as Cash grips the edges of my desk and pushes her sweet cunt up. “Look at my little whore, desperate to get her holes stuffed. I bet if I made you horny enough, you’d go out in that bar and let any man shove his dick in you until he blows his hot load.”

Her eyes widen, but the heaving of her chest and her dripping cunt tells me my dirty talk sets her on fire. One thing I’ve learned about my girl is the filthier the talk, the hotter she becomes.

I move my fingers in and out of her ass as I push the bottle further into her cunt, salivating as the liquor pours inside her. The more she thrashes, the harder my cock gets. Now, the monster is rattling its cage to break free.

I maintain a rhythmic speed with my fingers as her muffled moans become louder, drowning the noise of the crowded bar on the other side of the door. I fuck her until her body writhes and she shakes. With my fingers in her ass, I drop to my knees. Replacing the bottle with my mouth, I drink from her pussy, letting her cream and the vodka drench my face.

Cash’s hips buck, and her legs close firmly around my throat, almost choking me with the sheer force of their grip. If I die right now, I’ll be content because nothing, and I meannothing,is as divine as the taste of her sweet cunt.

“How rude of me, Sparrow,” I say as I shove another ice cube into her pussy. “I should’ve offered you a drink. Let me just fix that.”

I push the lip of the bottle into her cunt again and pour more vodka into her. I pump the bottle into her wet pussy a few times and hold the glass under her ass. “Push it out.”

Dislodging the bottle, I watch as liquid trickles out, followed by two pieces of half-melted ice.

Chapter 14

Cash

The way Gunner manipulates my body is God-like. He doesn’t show mercy in these moments, giving me things I didn’t know I wanted. He knows my body and desires so well that I wonder if he can read my mind. His words of utter humiliation flip a switch inside me, turning me on without even touching me.

Lifting my head, I see the arrogant look on his face masking his need. His nostrils flare and his pupils dilate as he gazes between my spread legs at my pussy. His impressive cock is hard, a clear indication of his discomfort and need.

Gunner holds up the martini glass in one hand while his other is busy with my ass. He maneuvers his fingers in me so nonchalantly, and it’s the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced. His confidence and ease are so damn attractive. He doesn’t care about how others react. He lives his life for himself, something I admire and envy.

His fingers move out of my ass, and a hushed sorrow befalls me. The emptiness I knew before him is a heavy weight on my heart. I never thought sex with another person could fill the barren holes in my soul, but it does with Gunner.

The vacant feeling is short-lived as his hot tongue invades me. The act is taboo and unnerving. I’ve never had a man lick my ass before, but Gunner has his tongue in there, lapping like a man dying of thirst who’s found water. My head falls back, and I relax with the melodic movement of his long, hot tongue. I wonder if Gene Simmons would feel insecure around Gunner’s tongue.

“Fuck, even your ass tastes good,” he growls like an animal.

Cool air hits my ass, and I shiver. Resting on my elbows, I stare at Gunner, emotion and lust consuming me. Gunner opens the lube and pours a generous amount on my ass and his cock. I don’t know when he pulled down his pants, being so far gone in my lust, but I’m glad he did.

He holds the Martini glass to my lips. “You look thirsty, cum dump. Open up.”

The cool glass presses against my lips, and I open. Gunner tips the glass, and the liquor burns a trail down my throat.

“Good girl.”

Gunner praises me as easily as he degrades me. But what shocks me is how my body responds to both, like when he made me come the other day. I’ve never responded to sweet touches and kind words during sex, but I come undone so easily with him.

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