Invasion (16 page)

“Yes! And hurt me. I miss the misery. I miss the hand on my throat choking me while I’m being fucked so hard I can feel it all the way to my ribcage.”

My wood is so hot and hard now I’m getting ball ache.

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll hurt you?”

Innocent eyes stare up at me, wide and honest. “What if I need you to? Would you? Can you take me where I fly? Or will you think a woman built for the pain of childbirth can’t handle a man fucking her with intent? Claiming me the way the animals in the wild do?”

She drops her hands and steps away from me, breaking my slack hold. “Gavin, have you ever watched animals do it? There’s no courtship really, they just decide it’s time, and they do it with such abandon that I’m jealous. Ducks are the most amazing to watch. I’ve seen a duck hold his mate down by her neck, biting her until she cries for help, fucking her like someone put a stick of dynamite up his ass and lit it, and then he gets his friends in on the action. In nature when they couple they do it with feral abuse. It’s now, it’s the moment, and they don’t stop until she’s got so much cum inside her she’ll have a menagerie of fuzzy babies trailing her around all spring.”

I sit back down because the blood in my body has gone AWOL. It’s pounding in my erection, my nuts so tight I’m afraid that I’ll speak with a falsetto. “Jesus.”

“I’m a freak,” she squeaks, like her voice is tight, about to cry.

“Nope. Hot as hell and fucking amazing. I’m so swollen right now I think your words ruptured my pride and joy.” Staring at her, eye to eye with me sitting down, I tell her earnestly, “I’ll hurt you. I won’t let you escape. I’ll fuck you up. Don’t cry, Carly, don’t you dare cry if I give you what you just asked for. I’ll break you until there’s nothing left to you but your shadow and a whiff of your perfume. When I release you you’ll be living inside me, living through me, because if I go that deep with you we’re blood, we’re bonded, we’re Siamese twins inhabiting two bodies simultaneously. Comprende?”

She waggles a finger at me, looking annoyed. “See! Why the hell couldn’t Mark do that? Fuck me! Just shut your mouth, sling me over your shoulder and take me up the stairs to my bedroom where all the good shit is, we’ll start a fire and fuck until we can’t anymore.”

I spit on my hand and offer it to her.

She shakes it, smiling like she has a closet of wicked and a drawer of evil, and I’m walking into her black widow trap. I’m not, I’m the black widow in this dynamic.

Grinning, I tell the lady in my sights, “You’ll bleed, just like you asked.” Without another moment standing between me and my new haven, I stand, picking her up, slung over my shoulder, and take to the steps, two at a time.

I’m ready, I need a hit, and the drug of choice is already snaking her hands under my sweater.

Her touch is electric, addictive, and in this moment as we whip up the stairs to her bedroom, deviance consumes me. When we reach the top of the stairs I put her down, my pulse thrashing. This little Pixie begs to be debased.

I grin, visually appreciating her while she looks at me through thick lashes. My focus zeroes in on her neck, her carotid beating vigorously. Carly lowers her head into submission, bringing her tiny hands together in front of herself until they tensely fidget.

Not only do I want her to wear my handprints, but cuts and bruises, scars and evidence for forever of our wretched union. She continues to twist her hands, her pert breasts undulating faster while she attempts to oxygenate her body for what its about to endure.

She briefly opens her mouth to speak, but defers.

She has been trained to be mute, to think she is not worthy of voicing her desires. The difference between others and me, is this; I don’t need her to tell me what she wants.

My eyes gaze over her body. They memorize and count how many times she breathes in and out to prepare herself for auto-erotic asphyxiation. Sweat glistens in her cleavage despite the season in which we live. I can hear the way she shifts her feet, back and forth, timidly waiting to see if I will demean her the way Mark did.

After a few seconds of shuffling she squeezes her legs together to provide marginal relief from the throbbing. That sweet little pussy, pierced and mutilated by her own hand; I can hear the bar of the metal and the ball of the ring rub against her lips.

I feel superhuman, cognizant of more than she realizes.

She whimpers, delicately, so quiet, so fucking soft that my façade of invincibility breaks into a million pieces. I growl. Her eyes meet mine, expressive and beseeching.

She’s starving for pain and famished for fear.

Carly moans louder when she backs up until flush with the wall behind her. Trapped.

Cat and mouse is fun, but I’m done playing with my food.

I stride, one step is all it takes, my face towers above hers.

“You can’t turn back now, pretty Pixie. You don’t know how messed up I am.”

My dick is stretched to its limit, tight against the canvas of my cargo’s. Palming her soft cheek, the sensation of hand to skin garners a jerk reflex in my groin.

Her whimper resonates, bouncing off the walls and pinging in my ears like a record that continues to play, over and over again.

A perfect outline is noted on her left cheek, the prominence of her cheekbones almost unrecognizable as the crimson from increased blood flow to the surface of the skin overwhelms my eyes. The piercing in her nose is so well hidden that it’s almost unnoticeable.

Bending down I lick her earlobe, then take it between my teeth, releasing quickly. “Like that, Pixie?”

She nods her head yes. “Mhmmmm.”

Caressing her neck over the lifeline which thumps violently, I stoop to kiss it, to nibble the agitated pulse. “I’m going to make you bleed in many places.”

“Yes…” Her reply is a low purr, my insides constricting, shuttling blood to my boner.

I push her against the wall, tougher, pulling my utility knife out of my pocket. Flipping the blade, I hold it up so she can see the sharp edge. She smiles, my little devil smiles.

Beneath that demure demeanor is a sick bitch who wants to be fucked seven ways to hell. I laugh, pressing it to her neck, my mouth covering hers, sucking on her shaking exhalations, finding the way she wilts her hips to mine intoxicating, uncaring that I could end her right here and now.

She thrives on danger, lifting her knee and connecting because I’m stooped to meet her. It’s painful, letting me know she wants fight.

Grabbing and flipping her, cheek crushed to the wall, I slide the blade down her spine, holding her to the wall with force to the nape, tracing all the way down her spine, between her butt cheeks, resting the dangerous point in the crotch of her yoga pants.

Using my weight I rest my chest on her upper back, pinioning her, kissing her neck, trailing my tongue behind her earlobe and slowly down her neck, gently sawing the knife edge in her crotch, feeling the resistance go slack when cotton fibers separate.

The sharp edge pushes against the give of her swollen sex. She writhes, arching her back into me, and I stop, inhaling next to her ear, breathing her in, resting temple to temple, clamminess sealing us, the cohesion of lust comforting. We haven’t even made it to the bedroom and I already have her on the verge of cumming.

I am a filthy savage.

With her imprisoned, I suck on her neck while I pocket the blade, running my hand over the bend of her ass, sliding possessively between her legs, prodding my fingers up until they slide inside.

God, why is cunt so addictive? Why is it so narrow and smooth and hot and wet? Weakness burns a path of oblivion up the inside of my thighs, seizing my sac into a brutal clench. The skin is writhing, chaffing against these irritating clothes.

Resting on the arm supporting me on the wall, I hide my face, riding the impending orgasm, killing it, forcing my needs back into hibernation because she needs to be first tonight. She needs to know tenderness while in the throes of pain.

Making an executive decision I lift her up with an arm around her waist, holding her to my front without effort, stalking us to her bedroom, dropping her on the bed face first, covering her with my body hemming hers, and strip her, constantly keeping one hand on her back to keep her down.

With one free hand I yank off my vest and sweater together, chucking them, then bend over the graceful spine beneath me, starting at the base of it and sliding my tongue all the way up her sensitive skin to her nape, nibbling a bite between her neck and shoulder.

Soft coos of ecstasy ripple in the silence, her skin riddled with tense follicles.

Lifting her head off the bed with my hand in her hair, I angle her throat back until my mouth covers her, siphoning the spiritual ether from her lungs while our mouths hungrily copulate.

Kissing like this I rub against her tush with my groin resting on her ass, caressing my need with the cleft, knowing that the cum is going to come really damn soon.

Releasing her I straddle her hips, lift hers up with both hands, and thrust forward by moving onto my knees, impaling her, then sit back, pulling her with me, her back to my front, cradling her neck in my hand, holding her to me, forcing her cranium into the cradle at the top of my pecs.

Where arm joins chest is a crevice in the muscle, an indentation perfect for her head, and instead of spooning I knife into her, glutes wildly clenching and unclenching, bouncing her with the force, her life in my hand by a slim column of throat, preventing escape, preventing air, counting in my head because her life is more precious to me than my memories, jackknifing into her body with a penis with an identity crisis.

My wood thinks it’s in a game of plunder and ruin, while my mind – what’s left of it – melts into the walls of her soft core. No matter how deep and fast I fuck, I can’t reach where I need to be. It’s like mining for miasma, that ethereal spirit hidden in this succulent pussy, far up, when she orgasms, my count at forty-one, and she judders, clawing at my arm in the coma of euphoria, clamping her walls around me and ripping the life right out of my body, spasming uncontrollably, releasing her neck because I can’t breathe. She leaves me broken, weak, muscles quivering, lost to the battlefield of flesh and love.

There’s a ruthless bastard living in my bones and I flip her off me and onto her back, using her weakness against her while I regain strength. I pinch her nipples until she cries into my mouth, my searing kisses snuffing her screams. My fingers are in her opening and I finger her hard, knuckle deep. I add more fingers until there are four, distending as I continue to assault her with my tongue, she yells, shouts, and cries into me. Nails scratch my back yet her hips hilt forward, begging me for more.

Heat bathes my fingers while my thumb manipulates the sensitive nerves of her clit. Crunching up when I give her room, frozen in another obliterating orgasm, she doesn’t breathe, holding her breath until the quivers calm. She collapses, her arms fall flat, breathless and smiling, her exhalations as unsteady as the ocean.

Then I do it again, torture of the sweetest perfection, ready this time, like a quarterback I’m owning this touchdown. More pressure. Faster. Harder. I see it in her eyes, half open, sated and drunk on lust. Then she cums, gloriously as I put pressure onto her g-spot. I rapidly confiscate my fingers, placing my mouth over her cunt as she squirts into my mouth, satisfying me with salty liquid, a delicacy so rare, so fucking exceptional that I keep sucking and fucking her with my tongue.

Unable to stop, I lock her legs around my neck. My mouth remains on her, eating her pussy as she cums, impressively shooting into my mouth.

Her smell is unique, if I could bathe in it I would.

She’s lethargic. Moaning, whimpering and begging between incoherent words for me to never stop. Her body is my only world right now, and I need to deliver pain. I need my cock coated with blood. She is my god. My princess, fuck it, my queen.

She is my home.

Her eyes are fixated on me. She moves up to rest on her elbows, mouth open in that goddamn way she does, in an ‘O’. “You are so beautiful,” she stammers, instantly covering her mouth.

It’s a starter gun for a different race and I crawl over her, determined to feel that mouth again. This is like winning the lottery, or ten birthdays rolled into one. It’s an adventure of endless highs and discovery.

Sinking my half erect boner in her face, she opens up, licking at it with a tongue so silken it’s liquid velvet, coaxing and caressing, sucking, reawakening stamina. Once I’m rigid I take control, sinking my hips all the way to her lips, and god does she take it like a champ. I move in and out, fucking as she sucks me, saliva trickling down the sides f her face.

Her little hands grab my ass, nails piercing my skin. Harder. Deeper. Faster. Pressure builds and the stimulation of my hormones is making me so shivery with pleasure, this orgasm feeling like it’s gonna put volcanoes to shame, when I realize she’s got finger in my asshole, stroking the O-gland, my cock in her mouth, and I’ve never had anything feel better in my life. Though physically fit I’m wracked with breathlessness, chasing a high.

Unlike the previous orgasms this one decimates me, wringing the sentience from my body like a spirit freed of the silver cord and set aloft to float high above where only bliss exists. Jerking and spasming on a dry heave ride which lasts an eternity, my skin is slick with sweat, my heart jackknifing in endless pikes, my pulse unstable.