Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
He barks a laugh. “Perfect.” Crushing his lips to my cheek, he utters against it, “Every time you looked at him, you’d see me.” Biting my cheek none too gently, he hisses, “You don’t stop shaking and I’ll make you choke on my cock.”
It’s almost worrying that he can do this so well.
Almost.
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I beg, “Please let me go. I’ll never tell anyone about this. Just let me go.”
Grinding his impressive length against my stomach, he reaches down to rub my mound through the lacey material. He tuts, “Bitches like you don’t wear shit like this if you don’t want a man to fuck you. I’m a man, baby. I’m going to fuck you. Whether you want it or not.”
The fear in my voice suddenly feeling real, I tell him, “If you try, I’ll scream.”
I hear the smile in his voice. “Scream all you like.” His lips touch the shell of my ear. “It turns me on when they fight.” Pulling the material to the side, his finger comes into contact with the wet warmth of my extreme arousal and he whispers, “See? You want this. Your body doesn’t lie. Don’t fight me.”
We both know he really means, ‘Fight me, baby. I love it.’
So I do. Pulling away from him, I lift my foot to his stomach and try to gain some distance between us by pushing away. He pulls on the belt, choking me a moment. I gasp then pant heavily, while my heart races and my head pounds. I push at his shoulders. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his body, constricting me. I whimper. He snarls and bites my shoulder. I yelp and cry out in both pleasure and pain. My core pulses. I’m already close to orgasm.
I cry out, “Please don’t hurt me.”
He stills a moment before he utters all too quietly, “I have to.”
Lowering his head, he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, then biting the tender flesh. A moan escapes me as my hands grip the back of his head. Running my fingers through his hair, I realize I’m losing myself, and swiftly grasp then tug on his hair. He growls, “You’re gonna regret that.”
I don’t know what comes over me, but I do something really damn stupid.
Lifting my knee, I take him by surprise when it connects with his thigh. His breath stutters and his arms fall to his sides. This is it. The moment of stupidity.
This is the part where I turn.
And run.
Making it half way down the hall, I hear his trailing footfalls pounding behind me, my heart also pounding in time. I’m truly petrified. Tears blur my vision, and when an arm wraps around my ribs from behind, I cry out. My distress at this point feels very real, even though my mind is very much enjoying what is happening here. Tears slide out of the corners of my eyes and my lips quiver. His other arm comes around my chest and he nips my ear. “Running was a bad choice.”
The fight ensues.
My hands fist and connect with his muscular arms as I try to escape. My body twists fitfully against his. My struggle is very real. Heart racing, I turn and fight to get away. Wriggling, I manage to face him. His hand regains the end of the belt, and he pulls hard to get my attention. But I don’t still. Instead, I lower my head to his collar and bite. Hard. I bite so hard that he lets out a feral growl through gritted teeth and pushes me into the hallway wall. The back of my head connects with that wall with a dull thud.
The dim light from the kitchen makes enough light to see his silhouette.
Panting, his hand touches the place on his collar that I sunk my teeth into. He brings a finger to his mouth. Licking my lips, I taste metallic rust. I marked him hard enough to draw blood. My gut sinks. Stepping forward, he breathes a hostile, “Oh baby. You fucked up.”
Stalking towards me threateningly, and as soon as we’re foot-to-foot, I lean up into his face, and spit.
I watch in slow motion as he flinches, clearly not expecting it. Panting, I grunt, “Fuck you, motherfucker.”
The second he touches me, I know this role play borderlines real life. Twitch fumes. I feel the anger coming off of him like electric sparks. Reaching forward, he throws my body down by his side. My palms connect with the floor, knees throbbing. Suddenly, his body covers mine, pushing me into the ground. I struggle and whisper repeatedly, “Please, don’t. Please, don’t.” But Twitch isn’t acting anymore. He’s done with acting.
His arm circles my waist and he lifts me until I’m on all fours, like a dog. His hand reaches down to find my sopping wet core. He groans, moving the material of my thong aside, I feel the head of him meet my entrance. But I fight.