Part of me hoped I could fuck the resistance out of her. She’s thinking too much, planning an escape I’ll never give her the opportunity to execute. But I should have known my little fawn wouldn’t make things easy on me. Would I want her with every beat of my cold, dead heart if she did?
I can’t see any version of my life where I wouldn’t have seen my fawn, the beautiful broken woman who looked so vulnerable and afraid the first time I saw her as mine, the second I laid eyes on her. The soul I never thought I had calls to hers, and I’m powerless to fight it. Why would I want to? She’s fucking perfection. And knowing she’s as tainted as I am, knowing there’s a darkness from her past etched into her very being, only makes that more true.
“Tommy,” she cries. “Fuck. I need…I need—”
But her words are cut off when I drive forward, sliding my cock along the front wall of her pussy, and draw a loud, breathy moan from her throat.
“What do you need, Clara? Tell me what your greedy little whore pussy needs. Beg for it,” I grunt.
I’m trying to take it slow this morning, to give her what she deserves instead of a savage fuck like last night, but it’s taking every bit of restraint not to press her into the mattress and fuck her within an inch of her life, to not shove her face into the pillow and relish in her muffled cries as she struggles to drag in a breath.
But not this morning. This morning I want to remind her why this is going to work and shut down some of the doubt I see in her pretty little head. Doc shouldn’t have opened his mouth, it wasn’t his place to tell her how I like to kill my victims, and it’s made her question everything. Well, that and the fact I stalked her, fucked her with my cock covered in our blood, and have just generally been every bit the crazy motherfucker everyone knows me to be.
“I need to come,” she groans, her voice breathy and sexy as hell. God, I could get used to this. The best kind of breakfast in bed I could ever imagine. “Please let me come.”
I chuckle against her shoulder before biting into the soft flesh. The bitter taste of blood touches my tongue, and I drive forward a little harder. She tastes so fucking good. Every bit of her, including the essence pumping through her heart.
“You’re going to have to do better than that, Clara.”
She lets out a frustrated sound, her hips pushing back of their own accord to meet mine. She’s getting desperate, but not desperate enough for my liking. I want her barely able to breathe. She needs the release so badly, and she won’t be coming until she’s right there.
“Please, Tommy. Please let me come. Please. Fuck.”
Her breath comes in on choppy pants, and the sound only seems to make my cock swell inside her. God, she’s perfect. So fucking perfect.
“Not yet.” I move one hand to gently rub her oversensitive clit, while the other one wraps around her throat until her pulse beats against my palm.
Her cunt tightens around me, the sudden oxygen deprivation, despite how lightly I squeeze, turns her on, and I fucking love it. I love that she’s every bit the deviant I am, that she needs me rough and dirty like I need her. The good girl she shows the world is an illusion, but I know better.
“Hmm, my dirty girl likes it when I choke her,” I murmur against the shell of her ear, relishing in the moan that comes in response. “You’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you, fawn?”
She nods against the pillow as much as I’ll allow her with my hand around her throat. “Yes,” she forces past the resistance. “I’ll be a good girl.”
“Jesus,” I hiss.
Those words shouldn’t sound so fucking good, but they do. They sound like fucking heaven, and although I have no place behind the pearly gates, I’ll do anything to keep the woman in my arms. Because she doesn’t make my skin crawl when she touches me like everyone else. Physical touch is foreign to me, but I’d never have been able to hold another human through the night before she came along, proving just how different she is for me.
The hand around her throat tightens, making it just a little harder for her to breathe, and then I’m pounding into her, my cock sliding through her perfect pussy that feels oddly like it was made just for me. Like she was made just for me.
It’s an absurd thought, especially because of the life I’ve lived, but I’m more than willing to lean into the feeling. To live the fairy tale a man like me has no right to live. I’m the villain. The character children are afraid of, but as long as Clara isn’t afraid of me, I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks.
“I need to come,” she chokes out. “God, please, let me come.”
“Not god, baby.” I chuckle, biting down on the flesh beneath her ear. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
She gasps, her breath choppy and labored as I slam into her over and over. She’s close, so fucking close I think all I’d have to do is give her permission, and she’d fly over the edge into oblivion, but she’s not desperate enough yet.
“Tommy,” she cries.
“I know, baby. I know you need to come.”
I increase the pressure of my fingers on her clit, giving her just a little more, making her that much more desperate for her release.
“I can’t. Fuck,” she sobs, hot wet tears falling against her cheeks and dripping on my hand around her throat. “I can’t hold it.”
She’s right where I want her, and even though I know it makes me an asshole, the words I’ve been dying to ask fall from my lips of their own accord.
“Promise you won’t run from me.”
I swear she stops breathing, stops moving, for long seconds as she processes what I’m asking her to promise me, but she doesn’t push me away. I’m holding her tight against me, driving into her very willing body, but if she really wanted to get away from me, she could. And yet she makes no move to do that.
“Promise, and I’ll let you come.”
I don’t slow my pace as I wait for her response, keeping my strokes even and targeting the place inside her she can’t fight. Sooner or later, her need for release is going to get the better of her, and she’s going to give me anything I fucking want. Is it manipulative as hell? Absolutely. But what else can you expect from evil personified?
