Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26105 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 131(@200wpm)___ 104(@250wpm)___ 87(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 8
Charley
My stomach flips with anticipation as I raise my ass in the air.
“Spread your ass cheeks for me,” Liam demands. “I want to examine my holes.”
“No.”
Liam grips my hair and brutally tugs. My roots scream in protest as a searing pain shoots through my scalp. The fear comes with a wild wave of exhilaration, and relief washes over me. Bliss and misery take hold. It’s like burning in a wildfire and floating in the bluest ocean.
Liam drags two fingers between my wet, swollen pussy lips before thrusting two fingers inside me. “Look at you, whore. Look how wet you are. A pathetic slut begging to be fucked.”
“No, please. I don’t want this.”
Liam freezes.
I understand how difficult this must be for him. It’s not every day that someone asks you to pretend to participate in a sexy scene that demands the utmost vulnerability and trust.
My stomach churns with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. I know what I’m doing. I know I like rough sex. It’s been at the forefront of my mind for a long time, a primal urge that whispers to me.
Still, the last time I approached it with a man, it went horribly wrong. It went from fun and kinky to mortifying and soul-destroying. The memory still sends a shiver down my spine; a stark reminder of the unexpected turn games can take when you don’t play them with the right person.
But this is Liam. I know he’d never judge or diminish me. He respects me. Even with our history and the pain I caused, Liam Evans cherishes me. He’s a good man. He has honor and integrity.
“It’s okay, Liam. We’re just playing,” I say softly, seeing the doubts shadowing his eyes.
“Can you say something other than ‘no’ for now? Hearing you say it makes me feel like a piece of shit. Maybe that’s something we can work up to. I can fuck you hard, but hearing you say ‘no’ makes me uncomfortable.” He lets out a small chuckle. “Guess I’m activating a safe word.”
My heart beats in a frantic rhythm as I stare into his earnest face, his fingers still lodged inside me. The sheets are a tangled mess around us, reflecting the chaotic state of my emotions. A part of me feels remorse for putting him in this situation, but another part of me, a more brazen and courageous part, believes that my confession will enable healthy communication. Isn’t that what relationships are about, after all?
“Yes, Liam. We’ve got time.”
He adds a third finger inside me, making my body hum with desire. “Say that again,” he demands.
“Say what?” I ask in confusion.
“That we’ve got time.”
“We’ve got time, Liam.”
With a stinging slap, his palm meets the bare flesh of my ass, the impact reverberating through me.
“Good girl.” His voice is rough and commanding. “Now, come again on my fingers. Give me that cum, slut. Show me I can fuck you morning and night, and you’ll always come for me.”
His fingers, deft and sure, dance within me in a silent incantation. My body yields to his ministrations, which slowly, inevitably unravel me.
“This is mine,” he mutters, grazing my back with his teeth. “You hear me? You’re mine. Every part of you is mine to use as I see fit. From this day forward, you’re going to be my pathetic slut, ready to cater to my every whim.”
His fingers move violently inside me while his other hand grips my hip. “Tell me. Tell me what you are.”
“Yours!” I scream, fisting my hands in the sheets. “I’m yours. I’m your pathetic slut. Your whore. Your hole. I’m nothing without your cock or your fingers. Nothing.”
He removes his fingers and replaces them with his dick. One full thrust. I scream at the invasion, trying to adjust to his length and girth.
“This,” he growls as his hand moves to cup my pussy, “is just for me.” He massages my clit while his thumb teases my anus. “Only I taste this. Only I get to be inside this whorish cunt or pathetic ass. You only scream my name. Who owns you, whore?”
“You,” I croak, my upper body collapsing on the bed. “You own me. It’s all yours.”
He clutches my hair, yanking me back until my back meets his chest. His palm finds my face, and I feel the soft burn of his slap. “You’re such a pretty toy, Charley. See how much you love being used by me?”
“More,” I pant as he gently slaps my face. I want it harder, faster, more violent. My body craves the storm. I want to revel in the incredible pain. “Hit me harder.”
The next slap echoes, a sharp crack that makes my cheek flare. The sting blossoms into a searing agony.
“Like that, bitch? Is this what you crave? Ruin, abuse, pain? Do you want to believe I don’t love you? Fine, Charley, I’ll give you exactly what you crave.”