Page 26 of Hard to Forgive

The burn felt amazing.

By the time he worked a finger in, I was almost desperate. I wanted that burn. I wanted to feel that pain that came with being thoroughly fucked. He withdrew and slammed a second finger into me.

“Fuck,” I groaned. “Fuck prep. Just fuck me.”

“You’re not—”

I cut him off with a glare in the window. “Don’t act like you fucking care.”

Something flashed in his eyes, but he obliged. He withdrew his fingers and reached over me to open the medicine cabinet. I almost slammed it shut on him before remembering he needed a condom. I held my breath that he wouldn’t notice any of the labels on the prescription bottles stored there. He didn’t seem to even notice them. He just grabbed a condom and sheathed himself.

I couldn’t see everything, but I could tell by the way his muscles moved in the mirror that he was getting himself ready. I was dying of impatience, but I refused to beg him to hurry it the fuck up.

Of all the people that deserved to hear me beg, he was probably the lowest on the list.

He didn’t make me wait long. Moments later, I felt his thick head against my entrance and then the burn. I closed my eyes. A new pain joined the one of him breaching me, his hands tugging at my hair.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded. “You wanted this, so watch how you look when you take me.”

My eyes opened immediately. He wasn’t gentle as he pushed past my body’s resistance. It felt like I was being lit on fire in the very best way. My breathing was shallow, and I didn’t have a moment to adjust before he was pulling out of me and slamming home again.

My face was red in the mirror, and I could feel the burn of tears behind my eyes. Silas, on the other hand, looked perfectly contained, if not a little fucked out already. The fucking bastard. I wanted to see the same ruin in his eyes that I did in my own.

After a few thrusts, the pain had given away to pure pleasure. My body adjusted, and he began to fuck me in earnest. He slammed into me hard, never once letting go of my hair. Any time my eyes slipped shut, he’d tighten his grip and tug my head back up to force me to watch us in the mirror.

I tried to hide the fact that I was watching him, but he was breathtaking as he fucked me. There was something almost feral in his eyes, and his lips curled in pleasure as he pumped inside of me. I felt every inch of him. I felt every time he changed angles. When he’d brush against my prostate, the sounds I made echoed around my bathroom and made me almost feel sorry for my neighbors.

Thin walls were nobody’s friend.

“You like this?” Silas asked, his hand tightening in my hair again. I nodded. “I want to fucking hear you say you like this, that you like the way I fuck you.”

“I—” I choked on the words. “Fuck you.”

“Not what I said,” he growled, pulling out only to slam in so hard that my entire body pressed harder against the sink. It bit into my stomach. I grunted in both pleasure and pain. “Sounds like you like it. Now tell me. Tell me how much you like when I fuck you, Jonas.”

“So fucking—so good,” I moaned. He rewarded me with another hard thrust against my prostate that made fire race down my spine and made my balls tighten. “So—” I moaned as he continued to pound into me. “Fuck…”

“That’s right. Let me hear it. Leteveryonehear the way you come apart on my cock.” There was still some of that anger in his voice, but it was so intermingled with lust that I could barely tellwhere one ended and the other began. Maybe they didn’t end or begin. Maybe it was the same thing, two sides of the same coin.

Every word out of his mouth sent something previously undiscovered racing through me. I liked it. I liked the way he took control, the way he fucked me so hard that I doubted I’d be able to walk, the way he pulled at my hair and forced me to look wherever he wanted. It was the most pleasurable form of pain I could imagine, and I let him hear it even though I kind of hated myself for it.

I hated him hearing the kind of affect he was having on me, but I couldn’t help it. He was driving the sounds out of me like an exorcist drove demons out of the possessed. Except I was pretty sure his dick was the demon, and it could stay.

It was like he could hear my thoughts, because as soon as I thought it, he pulled out completely. I growled at the sudden emptiness. He tugged at my hair, and I straightened. He released my hair and tugged me by my arm, pushed me against the linen closet door. The plywood was cold against my sweaty chest. He pulled my hands back up over my head and secured them in one of his. “Wanted to fuck you like this,” he growled into my ear.

And a moment later, that empty feeling was gone.

He fucked me with everything he had. His dick hit my prostate over and over again. The angle was perfect, and I wanted nothing more than to wrench one of my hands from his grip to stroke myself. I struggled to do so, and his hand tightened around my wrist, holding them tighter.

I whined and moved my hips, desperate for friction and finding only the disappointment of a fake wooden door.

“You want to finish?” he asked in a harsh whisper. I nodded. “Tell me how badly you want it. Tell me that you need it.”

“I—Fuck…” The words were lost as he slammed into my prostate again. My balls tingled, and I could feel my orgasmbuilding at the base of my spine. I could feel everything shrinking to that one point where our bodies connected. I didn’t need to fucking beg him to cum.

“C’mon Jonas, tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

It hung there, just out of reach. I could feel it growing, and I knew it would be so easy to get if I could just get friction. I could tell him that I wanted it, but that would give him so much satisfaction. I couldn’t see his face anymore, but I could imagine it. I’d just watched the way he looked when he was fucking me. When he was giving me commands and I listened. There was a hunger in his eyes as he gave those commands, a hunger that seemed sated when I gave in.

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