Page 90 of Meet Me in the Dark: The Complete Series

I thrash my head back and forth. “No, no. Please don’t stop.”

“You’re a sick fuck too, aren’t you?”

I don’t answer and he bites on my inner thigh. Just as I scream out, he finally gives me what I need and thrusts his tongue into me. I try to arch again, can’t really help but arch, but his hand pushes down, holding me tight to the bed as he slides his tongue in and out of me, flicking it from side to side inside of me.

I watch him as he eats me, feasts on me, mouth moving, hands digging into my thighs, eyes on me. The intensity in them is its own kind of foreplay. How he looks at me like I am the best thing he has ever tasted. Like he’ll never get enough of me on his tongue. He moves back to my clit, letting go of one thigh to slide two fingers into me. It’s too much. It’s just enough. I let my head fall back, eyes closing, giving into the pleasure mounting in me. My mouth drops open with the beginning of my orgasm rushing through…

A whimper escapes me with a desperate pitch as his mouth leaves me. My eyes snap open, looking down my body to see him raising, getting farther and farther away from me. My orgasm flees, even as I rub my thighs together, searching for anything to make it come back. He just snickers while beginning to unbutton his pants.

“I never told you that you could come,” he says. “You come when I allow you to. Unless,” he pauses, along with his hands, “maybe you want to beg this sick fuck to fill you with his cock, to fuck you until you cry out in both pain and pleasure. Maybe that’s what you really want.”

He begins dragging his pants down, erect cock springing out and making me lick my lips. I follow his movements as he bends down, craning my head to look over the end of my bed when he steps out of his pants. He brings his hoodie over his head, and then he’s naked. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen the tattoos covering his thighs, chest, and abdomen. Even the V leading to his cock is covered in ink. Just knowing that canvas of vibrant art is about to be against my skin is making me even hotter.

He begins to crawl between my thighs again, and I quickly widen them for him. His face is within inches of mine a moment later, eyes boring into mine, lips ghosting against my own.

“I don’t think you want me to leave at all,” he says harshly. “You begged me to go, but what you really want is for me to use you until you’re nothing but a broken whore beneath me, moaning and screaming.”

He leans back and pulls me until the ropes jerk tight around my wrists. I yelp at the pain even as it makes my body tremble with the arousal rushing through me. He yanks my thighs apart, wrapping them around his hips. I clench them tight, trying to force him to come closer to me, but he digs his fingers into myskin, warning me, reminding me who has the control in this situation, and that it definitely is not me. The unfulfilled orgasm still taunting me assures me of that.

“I think you want me to stay right between your thighs and treat you like a dirty slut. To choke you, slap you, abuse you. To keep going even when you tell me to stop.”

He leans over, finally getting closer to me, close enough that the tip of his cock is rubbing against my pussy.

“Are you gonna admit that you want everything I just said, or are you gonna make me prove it to you?” he asks low against my lips.

“I don’t want it,” I whisper.

“Then I’ll show you what a liar you are.”

He thrusts forward, filling me, stretching me, making me ache and moan.

“That’s right. Moan for me.”

He grunts each time he slides into me, his grip on my thighs bruising.

“Tell me how good it feels.”

I shake my head, even as the words are right on the tip of my tongue.

“You’re a monster,” I cry out instead.

He chuckles darkly. “Your monster though, bitch. Your monster.”

He pants the last word while slamming into me. I scream, hands pulling on my ropes, wanting to reach for him, wanting to pull him even closer. Wanting to push him away just to see what he would do to drag me back to him. But at least in this position, I can arch into him, make his body grind harder against myclit and once again begin to chase the orgasm he took from me before. And hope he lets me have it this time.

He pounds into me, faster, harder, groaning dirty words, all while telling me again and again just what liking him fucking me like this makes me. His whore. His bitch. His slut. Telling me to take every single hard, wide inch of his cock, as if I have any choice in that anyway. All I can do is strain against the ropes while my pussy begs for more.

And he gives it to me, leaning forward to capture my mouth with his. I open for him immediately, and he wastes no time sliding his tongue against mine, but also quickly dominates the kiss, just like he is my body. He drives into me, grunting into my mouth as he stays there, rubbing on my clit, making my breath shudder. He swallows the sound, slides out of me, then slams in again.

“Please,” I beg with a shaky breath.

“Please what? Say it. Or I’ll come inside you and leave you with nothing.”

The thought makes me want to cry. To think that he would leave my house tonight without having given me an orgasm. Without having made my body thrum with the pleasure that I know only he can give me.

“Please make me come. Please. Please.”

“There we go. You are a whore, right? Right?”

---