Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 67722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67722 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
My belly quivers. He lifts up a little, and when he pushes one of my legs up, I look down and I see us, and we’re connected. He’s inside me, at least the tip of his cock is.
He touches my clit with his fingers and rubs, and I close my eyes and feel, feel his fingers on me, his cock stretching me, hard and soft and pain and pleasure.
But then he pulls out and turns me onto my belly. He’s lifting my hips high, and when I try to rise, he pushes my head back down.
“Like this.” He wraps one hand in my hair and squeezes my scalp. “Stay. Ass up, head down.”
His other hand is between my legs, and it feels so good.
I lay my cheek down, and I watch him. He has one hand on my hip, the other underneath me, his gaze locked on my ass as he brings his cock to my pussy and pumps a little, penetrating me, taking a few inches more.
“You’re wet and tight.”
With that, he pulls his fingers from my clit and grips my hips. With his thumbs, he’s pulling me wide open.
“So fucking tight.” He meets my gaze and thrusts into me. The breath I’m taking catches in my throat, and I think I’m going to choke on it.
I grip the sheets, groan into them, and when I try to bring my head up, he again fists a handful of hair and shoves it back down.
Sebastian thrusts again, then draws out. He’s hovering at the entrance of my sex.
He brings his thumb to my asshole, and the fingers of his other hand are at my clit again. He fucks me, really fucks me, and he’s not gentle and it hurts and it feels so fucking good.
I can’t tell what’s what. All I feel is him, him all around me, his scent on the pillow my face is buried in, him behind me, his fingers on me, inside me, his cock tearing me in two, tearing me apart.
And then, when I think I’ll rip apart, when I think I can’t take any more, I come. I fucking come, and the sound I make is strange, foreign and the pain and the pleasure are mixed up, confused. I can’t think anymore, not when I feel him throb, not when I hear him grunt, call out, not when he slams into me one last time, and not when I feel him empty inside me, using me up, filling me up, taking all of me, owning me.
I fall onto the bed when he releases me. The room smells of sex. I feel cum slide out when he gets up and goes into the bathroom. I hear the water go on. I lie there, trying to make sense of this, of what just happened.
He comes back a few minutes later and climbs back onto the bed, rolls me onto my back, and cleans me. He’s so gentle that I want to cry. It makes no sense, but I can’t help it. I just lie there, and I cry. I fucking sob, and I don’t understand why.
I hate him.
This is easy.
Simple.
Fucking simple.
I’m a Willow, and he’s a Scafoni, and I hate him. And that’s all.
But I didn’t fight him. I didn’t even try. He untied me, and I didn’t even try.
I came instead.
My eyes are closed, but I feel him watching me.
Maybe he likes it. He thinks I’m pretty when I cry.
I don’t think he meant sobbing, though. Sobbing is all choked breath and snot, and this is that and I don’t fucking understand what’s happening to me.
He switches out the lights from somewhere beside the bed and pulls my back into him.
I shake my head no, and push off, press the heels of my hands into my eyes.
“Let me go. I want to go to my room.”
“Shh. Lie down now, Helena.”
“Willow Girl. I’m the Willow Girl.”
He shouldn’t call me by name.
“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep.” He forces me down, holds me to him, his arm like a vice around me.
“My aunt…My Aunt Helena, she said there’s a reason I was chosen. Because I shouldn’t have been. I had the blood on my sheath to mark me.”
He’s quiet, listening. I can hear him breathing behind me, feel his heart beating against my shoulder. Feel his warmth, his strength, envelop me.
“She thinks I’ll be the one to end this.”
The crying starts again, but this time, it’s this choked sound, and I have to force down the lump in my throat to keep going.
“She thinks I’m strong, like her.” I touch my ring with my thumb. “But she doesn’t know that when I found out, when my mother told us what would happen to us, what we’d have to do, she doesn’t know what I did.”
“What did you do?”