Ihate the way he looked at me. I hate the pain in his voice. I hate how he flinches and grabs his ribs when he stands up too fast and most of all I hate the stupid looping voices in my head, the voices of my parents and everyone like them, my teachers, my babysitters, the voices of all the people that think they know better telling me to get away from this man, that Angelo’s poison, that he’ll kill me if I let him.
But if poison tastes this good then I’ll drink it all down and die happy.
He gathers me up and pulls me into the bedroom. My top comes off, my pants. His mouth and hands explore my skin, moving down my neck, to my breasts, to my hips. He shoves me onto the bed and licks my nipples before kneeling down before me.
I moan as his tongue laps me top to bottom and dig my fingers into his hair.
I should be scared of him. This man is everything I was taught to fear and to avoid. At Blackwoods, back when I was an undergrad, Brice and Robyn and I tried our best to stay far away from the dark side of the college. From the gangsters, the thugs, the kids with dirty money. I thought I was so much better than them. My hands were clean.
But nothing’s clean.
Nothing’s right.
There’s only people trying their best under bad circumstances.
There’s only what feels good.
There’s only this, with Angelo here in the bedroom, his mouth between my legs, the knee-shaking pleasure, the wetness of his lips and tongue on my soaking pussy. It’s animalistic, it’s intense, it’s pure.
This is all I want.
The world goes away. All those voices are silenced. In that silence, I feel him fill the void, the darkness where I’ve hidden myself away. His moans, his licks, his wet noises as he sucks me. Those cover me, wrap me up, let me float in pleasure and joy. I whimper for him and he growls, loving it. His fingers sink inside of me and I roll my hips, pushing my clit against his thumb as he comes up and kisses me. I taste pussy on his lips. My own taste on his tongue.
“When I wake in the morning, this is what I think about,” he whispers as his fingers keep going, in and out, fucking me to my rhythm as my hips work. Sweat rolls down my back. My breasts shake with each gasping breath. “I roll onto my side and think about you there next to me. I think about kissing your throat, holding you down, fingers deep between your legs just like this. I love the way you move your body, the moans you make, the pleasure in your eyes.”
“Angelo,” I groan and lean forward. I bite his lower lip. “Please.”
He knows what I want. I help him undress, trying to be as gentle as I can, but I’m impatient. Ugly, yellowing bruises mottle his chest and side, and I touch them gently, running my fingers over their misshapen lines. I kiss him slowly, along his wounded and mangled skin before I push him back onto the mattress.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispers as I stroke his cock and take him into my mouth. I roll my tongue along his tip and taste his precum before sliding him deeper into my throat. I gag and pull back, wiggling my hips, losing my mind. The way he looks at me drives me crazy and throws me to a level I never knew existed. I want his man, I want him so badly it hurts.
And I don’t care anymore.
I don’t care about the voices, about the disapproval in my mother’s eyes, about the disgust on my father’s face. I don’t care if I’m letting them down or wasting my potential or any number of ways I could fail. I don’t care, not anymore.
This is mine. This is all mine.
I straddle Angelo. His shaft is dripping with my spit as I arch my back. His hands grip my ass and I slide back, taking him inside. I shudder, moan, and he tries to sit up.
I push him back down. “You’re hurt,” I say and move up and back slowly. “Let me.”
“You have no idea how hard it is to hold back right now.”
“Good.” I grin at him and keep going. “I like that you’re suffering.”
“You’re sick,” he says and pulls my hair. “You like that this hurts? You like what you do to me?”
“I love it,” I gasp as he thrusts into me hard. I ride faster, working my hips, and he slaps my ass hard once, twice, three times. “More,” I whisper, and he spanks me as I lean forward, riding him up and down, bucking my hips. I’m breathless and moaning and panting in his ear and he’s moaning right back.
The noises this man makes, the sound of our bodies coming together, it’s driving me wild. This is what I need, what I want, and I don’t care if it’s wrong. I don’t care if we’re from two different worlds.
Want could turn into love.
Want could turn into so, so much more than just love.
He fucks me deep. I ride faster, faster. “You feel like fucking heaven,” he whispers. “Your slick fucking cunt sliding up and down my cock. I love splitting you in half. God, I want to fill you, I want to come inside of you, I want to make you scream my name. I want you to come for me, beautiful girl, you lovely girl, I want you to come and scream and moan and feel me deep between your legs.”
“Angelo,” I groan and I feel it right there. I keep going, dragging my clit against him, taking his cock as deep as I can go, getting so close. “I want to feel you,” I moan. “Pull my hair. Fuck me. Fuck me, Angelo.”
He growls, yanks my hair, and he rips into my pussy. I gasp, back arching, and I come in a wild cascade of intensity. I come and come, and it feels like it lasts forever, until his own orgasm fills me with a lovely, perfect warmth. I bite his lip and when we’re both finished, I collapse beside him, panting and sweating from all that hard work, and glowing with a beautiful pride.
“Good girl,” he says and pats my ass. “Good fucking girl.”
“Did I hurt your ribs? I didn’t mean to push you, I just got a little carried away.”
He laughs and kisses me. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” I snuggle close to him, grinning from ear to ear, feeling lighter than I’ve felt in a really long time. “You were right, you know. What you said to me.”
“When? I say a lot of really smart, insightful things.”
“You said I needed a release.”
He laughs and squeezes my ass. “That’s all?”
I shrug, nuzzling against him, wanting to crawl into his lap but afraid of injuring his broken rib. I feel so good, so vulnerable, and that scares the hell out of me but it’s also exciting. For so long, I’ve let the expectations of others wrap me in a kind of armor. It’s been a way to keep me safe, a way to keep a distance from anything that might hurt me.
But it also holds me back.
It’s an excuse. It’s a way to avoid getting hurt. If I listen to my parents and do what I’m supposed to do, then whatever goes wrong isn’t my fault. I did everything right. I followed the rules. If things still don’t work, how could anyone blame me?
But this, right here, lying in bed with this man, with this criminal, this is all me. This is my choice, pure and simple. If this goes wrong, it’ll be my mistake, and that’s strangely exhilarating. For the first time in a long time, I want to make my own mistakes. I want to let down my walls.
I want this. I want Angelo.
And want could turn into more.
Maybe into love.
I kiss him and he kisses me, and we don’t say anything, not for a while at least, because I’ve already said enough.
