Page 91 of Captive Bride

No matter what I will lose.

“Fuck you, Tristan. I hate you.” The venom I spew is real.

I mean everything I say.

I hate him for making me fall in love. I hate him for being the one in control. And most of all, I hate him for threatening to take it all away.

He throws me back down on the bed and spreads my legs open wide.

I stop crying long enough to witness the fierce expression of lust and love and his face.

He slides out of his pants and quickly situates himself between my thighs. My wrists he keeps pinned above my head.

There’s nothing left for me to do but accept this fate of being in love with a man like him.

He forces me to confront the all-consuming desire that I constantly feel for him.

I’m playing with fire and don’t want to get burned. But before I have another second to react, he bears down on me with all his massive weight, and I feel his twelve-inch cock sliding into me hard.

He’s gonna make me pay…for being his obsession, the one that he loves.

And so I stop struggling and let the waves of passionate pleasure come over me in heated spasms.

I am his to consume.

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