Page 48 of Betrothed in Fury
“Then say the fucking words. Say you don’t want me inside you right now.”
Another opportunity to tell him to stop, and I open my mouth to tell him, but something in me fights against it.
“Fucking knew it,” he whispers before nibbling against my earlobe.
Fire surges through me, the burn so intense, I can only imagine what it’ll feel like to have him dominating me, really making me his.
He reaches into my pocket, retrieving the condom and lube packet, and slams them onto the desk beside me.
I continue fighting to get him off me because the only way he can have me is if he can maintain control over me—it’s the only way I want him, and how messed up does that make me?
With his free hand, he unfastens my pants, shoving them down, expertly using a foot to pull them to my ankles.
Now there’s real terror flaring up within me. I don’t know anything about being fucked, or how much it might hurt, especially when he’s this worked up…and knowing how big his cock is. I gulp as he takes the lube packet. I glance over my shoulder to see him tearing it open with his teeth. He drips some onto my lower back and lets it slide into my crack before massaging his fingers against my hole.
“There’s that wet pussy,” he breathes, as though he’s saying it for his own pleasure.
I’m radiating heat. “It doesn’t matter what you do to my ass, I’ll still fucking hate you,” I assure him.
“That’s fine. I’ve never given any fucks whether you like me.”
“You’re a psychopath.”
“And you’re mine.”
There’s that flare in my chest again, but as he slips a finger into my ass, I find it quickly shifts to something else.
“Can feel the tension here,” he says. “You need to loosen up, or my cock is gonna tear you up.”
He works his finger, and I close my eyes, enjoying the sensation while disconnecting that he’s the one offering it. He’s a monster, but he knows what he’s doing in this department. As he slips in farther, I feel his touch against what I assume is my prostate by the wave of eagerness that pulses through me, reaching out to my toes and fingertips.
“There it is,” he mutters, teasing that spot. “All that talk, yet I know all it takes to make you submit.”
“I think anyone could make me enjoy that,” I challenge, and he grunts.
“You’re a prickly thing, aren’t you?”
Despite the anger in his tone, he continues stimulating that spot tenderly. I can barely concentrate with the way my head rushes with sensation, my thoughts fixated on the overexcited nerves throughout my body. I don’t even try to stifle my moan as he presses on my prostate even more. Fucking hell, it feels criminal that I’ve never known these sensations before.
He gives me a few more rubs before pulling back, and when I can think straight again, I’m livid for what he’s depriving me of.
“That all you got?” I ask, and he snickers, like he’s laughing at me for this power he has over me.
He presses two fingertips against me, and I tense as he works them inside.
“Trust me, I’m just getting started with this ass,” he warns as he pushes deeper, his fingers stretching me. He still has my arm behind my back, but I’m not fighting anymore, so it doesn’t hurt. And he’s clearly not trying to hurt me as he moves carefully, until he’s back against that spot, twisting his fingers to make space for what I hope will be his cock next.
Fuck me, I shouldn’t want this.
I should be resisting.
I should be screaming no at the top of my lungs, but I can’t deny that, for whatever reason, I knew I really wanted this, even before our date. It’s why I grabbed the condom and lube. And despite all my resistance, it feels like I’ve basically bullied him into doing this to me.
He settles on my prostate, granting me that pleasure I’m hoping to become more familiar with. Again, I can’t disguise how it feels as moans force past my lips.
“Thought it’d take longer to get this cunt ready, but I guess it needs it.”
I should hate the way he refers to my ass as a pussy and cunt, but something about it feels so naughty, and I crave it.
