At his word ‘this,’ that hand of his on my thighs moves and his thumb touches the seam of my panties.
For the very first time, and I jump.
I rock in his lap, and staring at me with anger, with lust, he presses that digit into my pussy. In the valley between my lips, making me moan.
“Isn’t it, Fae?” he rasps, watching me. “Isn’t that why you want me to fuck you, here.” He presses his thumb again, his fingers on my face moving too, capturing my jaw and squeezing. “Answer me. Isn’t that why you want me to stick my dick in your not-so-innocent hole? So it all ends tonight.”
My lips part and I nod. “Yes.”
“Good.” He pushes his thumb into my core again and somehow finds that exact spot, that bundle of nerves, that makes me whimper and dance on his lap. “So you’ll answer me. You’ll answer me when I ask you. Did he make you cry?”
“What?”
“Did you cry for him, Fae? When he fucked you.”
I shake my head. “N-no.”
“Good. That’s good too,” he says roughly, his fingers squeezing my face again. “Because only I get to make you cry, you understand? Only me. Say it.”
“Only you.”
“Yeah. Me. Only I get to hurt you. I get to make you mad and pink and angry. Only I get to make you dance on my lap. Don’t I?”
And he does. When he flicks at my clit again, rubbing the fabric of my panties over it.
“Yes.”
“Why? Tell me why I get to do that.”
“B-because only you are my villain.”
“Fuck yeah, I am. And you’re my Fae. Mine.”
I claw at his shoulders, at his neck. “I’m not. I don’t want to be.”
“You’ve pissed me off, Fae,” he snaps, his body vibrating against me, his thumb on my clit so urgent and pushy and so freaking maddening. “You’ve pissed me the fuck off and now you’re going to pay for it. You understand what I’m saying to you? I’m going to make you pay for it. I’m going to make you cry.”
His words make me moan. Or maybe it’s his hands, his thumb on my clit that hasn’t quit torturing me.
It could be his eyes too, all dark and aroused and violent and beautiful.
I don’t know what’s making me feel this way. This angsty and lustful and frustrated and eager. All at the same time.
All I know is that I want more of him, more of this even though I shouldn’t want to.
“You know how I’m going to do that? How I’m going to make you cry for me, Fae?”
“H-how?”
“With my dick,” he rasps. “With my big fucking dick. Tell me how big my dick is.”
I can’t tell him anything right now but I try.
I try my hardest. “As big as… my arm.”
“Fuck yeah. My dick is as big as your pretty arm and when I stick it in here.” His thumb makes me see stars at here. “When I pound your fairy pussy with it, it’s going to feel like the first time. It’s going to feel like the first dick you’ve ever had. The first monster dick that was ever crammed into your tiny snatch and you’re going to forget all about your Toby.”
“I —”
“When I fuck you, Fae, it will hurt you but it will feel like magic. And you’ll love it. You’ll love hurting for my dick. You’ll love crying for it. And when you meet that good guy you’re so dying to meet, when he fucks you, your pussy will still hurt for my cock. She’ll still cry for it.”
By the time he finishes, I want all his words to come true. All his lies to become my truth, and this feeling only intensifies when he takes his hands off my body and goes to unzip his jeans. When he pulls his t-shirt up slightly to reveal his cut abs and pushes his jeans down and gets out his dick and I swear to God I want to savor the moment.
I want to look at it, at his cock, at his stomach, his bare skin. I want to memorize everything.
It’s the last time, see. The first and the last.
But I don’t get to do any of that.
Because before I can even blink, he’s pushed my panties aside, exposing me, and then he’s there. At my hole.
The head of his cock is there and, still holding my panties, he raises his hips and pushes in.
He rams his way into my core and all my thoughts vanish. They leach out of my mouth in long groans and gasps as my mouth falls open and my spine arches up against the front seat of his Mustang.
And my hands.
They claw into his forearms, drawing blood. Because I’ve never felt this before. I’ve never felt this kind of pain.
It explodes in my stomach and coats my eyes with thick tears.
Tears for him.
Exactly what he wanted.
And even in this pain, my broken heart smiles. My stupid broken heart smiles and spins inside my chest, knowing that I gave him what he wanted.
After hurting him so much, lying to him so much tonight.
Because yeah, I was lying.
Or rather, I let him make assumptions.
Because I haven’t done this before. No one’s been inside my body before tonight.
Before him.
I did meet a Toby, yes. I did kiss him, but that was it. I couldn’t mislead him when I was still hung up on someone else. I couldn’t kiss him because I wasn’t kissing him, I was kissing the guy who broke my heart.
The guy who’s taken my virginity tonight without even knowing.
He never would’ve done this otherwise. I know that.
His protectiveness would’ve stopped him and I wanted this to end.
He’s so strange, this villain.
Whose hips are raised and whose body is taut and bowed under me and who’s breathing into my neck, puffing out warm breaths.
Who’s lodged so deep inside of me that I can feel him throbbing. I can feel him pulsing as I try to draw breath. As I try to dull my own throbbing.
My own pulsating, beating core that is wracked with pain.
And I think just like I can feel him, feel his dick beating inside me like a heart, he can feel my channel pulse around his rod as well.
He lifts his head and looks up at me. His lips are wet and parted like mine and his eyes are drugged and shimmering as he looks into my wet ones.
His jaw clenches at my tears and I know, despite everything he said, despite all his anger and jealousy, he’s brimming with regret.
And he proves me right when he carefully, oh so carefully, reaches up and wipes off a lone tear that had fallen down my cheek without me even knowing. He not only wipes my tear but he also wraps his big, strong arms around me and hugs me to his chest.
He hugs me so tightly that I can’t stop my tears. I can’t stop myself from crying for him as I burrow my face in his neck.
I feel him open his mouth on my forehead and breathe out in a puff as he shushes me. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll make it better, okay?”
I nod, rubbing my nose in his wet t-shirt.
He rubs his lips on my skin, rubs his arms on my spine, all the while making soothing noises, all the while whispering, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I got… I got carried away. I got so angry. I shouldn’t have —”