The promise is poised on the tip of my tongue even though I know I should never let the words escape from between my lips. But they’re there nonetheless, begging to spill so I can have what my body craves. The release building in my core is so powerful I’m beginning to wonder if it’s possible to pass out from the strength of an orgasm, but he means business.
He needs me to make this promise. He needs the assurance I’m not going to try to run from him, even if I should. I can’t really be considering staying with a man like him…can I? Sure, he’s a serial killer, sure, he likes to fuck rough and dirty, and he has a bunch of kinks I never thought I’d be into, but he also looks at me like I’m the only reason his heart beats. Can a man who looks at me like that, who protects me even when I don’t know he’s there, really be that bad for me?
Okay, I’ve officially lost it. But you try being fucked into oblivion by a crazy hot, tattooed psycho. It’s not as easy to resist as you would think.
“Clara,” he growls against my ear, sending a shiver of need through me and making my pussy pulse around him. He feels so fucking big right now, the way he’s taking my body like he’s done it a hundred times before, making me throb with a mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Yes,” I whisper. “I promise.”
Even as the words come out, I know they’re a mistake, and I’m making a promise I probably can’t keep, but right now, I don’t care. All I care about is the man pumping into me like it’s his goddamn job to make me come.
He groans out a satisfied sound, his hips pivoting ever so slightly to allow every single pass of the head of his cock to move across the sensitive ball of nerves inside me, and he doubles his efforts on my aching clit. I’m so fucking overstimulated right now I’m surprised my body is remembering to breathe, or maybe the only reason it is is the constant reminder he controls that too, his scarred hand literally holding my life in it.
“It would be useless anyway, little fawn. I’d find you. No matter how far you ran, how well you hid from me, I’d find you and drag you right back here where you belong.”
There’s an element of fear that springs to life at his own promise, but my heart also stutters in my chest, my entire body clenching at the words I have no place wanting to hear.
“I want you to come for me, dirty girl. I want my little slut to come all over my cock.”
He’s not even finished whispering in my ear when my body detonates, shattering into a million pieces, but held together by the strong arms wrapped around me. A strangled moan fills the room that I vaguely recognize as my own, but I’m too lost, too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed by the sound.
Tommy moves in measured strokes, his strong arms holding me still, tearing every last ounce of release from my body like it’s his goddamn reason for living, and I willingly hand myself over to him, giving him what he’s been asking for, and what I’ve been craving to give to someone else. And it’s the most free I’ve ever felt.
“Jesus Christ, Clara,” he grunts. “You coming apart for me is the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, and the way your pussy clamps down on my cock when you come, fuck, there aren’t words.”
His thrusts become rougher, his body jerking behind mine violently as he chases his own release. His perfect rhythm is out the window, but his hand still holds my throat tightly while the other cups my sex possessively. Even in the afterglow of my orgasm, I’m aware of how fucked up this is. I just don’t care.
Tommy’s cock swells impossibly bigger, and my aching pussy protests, but I make no attempt to move because I like the pain. God, I’m fucked up.
“Are you ready for my cum, dirty girl?”
“Yes,” I rasp.
“I’m going to fill you with me every fucking morning so you spend all day thinking about what I did to you, feeling my cock, craving my cum,” he growls against the shell of my ear, and somehow his filthy words bring my exhausted body back to life.
I’ve never been able to come during sex at all, let alone more than once, and maybe that’s why I promised not to run because somewhere in the back of my mind, I realize there’s no one on earth who makes me feel like this. There’s no one that makes me feel this alive.
“Fuck, Clara. You’re going to come with me.”
“I can’t.”
“You fucking can and you will if you want to come in the next week.”
My eyes widen. He can’t do that…can he? I mean, I didn’t think there were men who were obsessed with blood, but I’ve been proven wrong on that, so I suppose it’s entirely possible he could do that if he really wanted to.
His fingers move roughly over my clit. If my body wasn’t so blissed out, I think it would hurt, but the pleasure he’s already doused me in just makes me crave more.
“Now, Clara. Come right the fuck now,” he grinds out through clenched teeth.
His entire body is tense around me, tightly wound to the point I’d bet on it being painful, but I’m still doubting my own ability to have another release, especially after how intense the last one was.
I shake my head against the pillow. Tears I don’t realize I am crying roll down my cheeks. “It’s too much,” I sob.
“You’re wrong, little fawn.”
Tommy’s hand around my throat tightens and stars dance in my vision. His intentions are clear. If I want to breathe, I have to come first. An unspoken threat that makes me clench around him.
“It will never be enough. No matter how much time I spend with my cock buried in your tight little cunt, it will never be enough. No matter how many orgasms I can wring from you, it won’t be enough.”
His grunts are barely human, his movements jerky and hurried, but somehow the combination has me right there. Right on the edge of a precipice that I’m not sure I’ll survive if I fall.
“That’s it, my pretty little slut, clamp that tight pussy around me. I want to feel you fall apart at the same time I do.”
It’s those words that drag me over the edge. The admission that I have the same power over him as he does me pulls me down into an abyss of pleasure, the ebbs and flows of my orgasm crashing over me, and the fact I can barely breathe just seems to elevate it all.
I’m so lost in my release that I almost miss the roar behind me, the way Tommy’s entire body tenses and releases, and how his cock thickens inside me before pulsing violently. And I realize that no matter how hard I fight, I don’t actually want to get away from this man. Not really.
Because for the first time in my life, someone genuinely cares for me. Sure, it’s a sociopathic serial killer who stalked me for almost a year. But hey, beggars can’t be choosers.
He doesn’t pull away from me as we come down, something I’ve always been accustomed to with men in my past. The second they finish, there’s no need for physical touch. They’d rather roll onto their back, slap their arm across their face, and listen as you do the dash to the bathroom to clean up and pee so you don’t get a UTI. So romantic.
But of course Tommy is different. He holds me against his chest like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held in his arms. The hand that was around my neck before has moved down my body to hold me in place, and the other still grips my pussy in a possessive gesture. His cock is still lodged inside me, stopping our mingled releases from dripping down between my thighs.
“You’ll need to change your alarm for half an hour earlier for work from now on,” he rumbles, resting his face against the back of my neck and letting out a gentle sigh.
“Why?”
“Because that’s how we’re waking up every morning.”
