Page 249 of Fatality

I don’t guide her onto me, I don’t help her, it would be too fast.

She would win and I hate losing. Even if I already did lose, I won't fucking admit it.

I want her aching as much as I’m painfully fucking aching hard to be inside her.

I simply hold myself here, my eyes locked on hers, waiting for her to stop being a brat and beg for it.

A minute passes, I want to thrust in, I want to feel her tight, wet, warm cunt gripping me until I’m on my knees.

My other hand on her hip slides down, her thigh and finish by enrobing my pulsing dick.

I stroke myself from the base to the tip slowly and position myself at her entrance without entering, I give a sharp slap on her pussy with my cock making her gasp.

I begin to thrust slowly, guiding myself, sliding between those pink wet lips earning me a nail breaking my skin.

Her body is shaking for control, as am I.

My cock is poised at her entrance, she is dripping onto me.

Fuck I don’t know how much time I’m going to be able to hold back.

“Then do it,” She tighten her grip on my wrist and digs her nails in “Or you don’t have the fucking balls?”

That did it.

The sheer audacity to fucking call me—me—a coward.

It hits me like a physical blow, igniting something primal and dark in my core.

My adrenal booster kicks in before she can even pronounce the last syllable.

My eyes flash, painting her face even brighter as the augmented glow intensifies.

“Let’s see how long you last being a brat when I fuck you into oblivion.”

In one quick motion, my hand leaves her skull to clamp back onto her hip.

I don’t let her lower herself onto me, I yank her down, impaling her on my length in one savage, deep thrust.

A guttural groan is torn from both of us—from the blinding tight heat and hers probably from the pain and invasion filling her completely.

I bury myself to the hilt, rolling my hips, my base piercing rubbing her clit and my tip one hitting her cervix.

I don’t give her time to adjust, to breathe.

She wanted me to take?

I fucking will.

I set a punishing, relentless rhythm immediately, driving up into her as I pull her down onto me, using my grip on her hips to piston her body on my cock.

“I don’t have the balls huh?” I grate out, my face a mask of concentration and fury.

I slam her down harder, she is crying out, holding onto the metal bar of the headrest for her dear life.

The sounds of her moans from pleasure-pain—I could listen to them twenty-four hours a day, seven days per week.

My own hips bucking to meet her, the car seat creaking in protest beneath us.