I arched unconsciously, drawing a wicked chuckle from him. He collected both wrists in one of his expansive hands, the other trailing down my body, stopping to tweak a hard nipple before descending to my core which he cupped possessively.
“You want me to break through this virgin pussy?” he asked coldly, the heel of his hand digging into my clit deliciously. “You want me to take the last part of you I don’t already own?”
My body and free will were the only things I had left to call my own. So why was I so eager for him to possess them?
I didn’t have an answer.
All I had was a second heartbeat in my sex, throbbing for him. My pussy clenched desperately around nothing, already eager to be filled, already swollen. I wanted him to set his teeth to my skin, his cock to my folds, his hands on my limbs and rip me apart with pleasure.
“Fuck me,” I told him before I lost my nerve. “Fuck me, you monster.”
A shaft of moonlight pierced through the night like a blade and stabbed Tiernan in the eyes, making them glow unnaturally green. A second later, we were submerged in darkness again and Tiernan was moving, dipping down to whisper against my ear.
“Remember, little thing, you asked for this,” he warned.
And then his lips were catching mine, locking them in place and sweeping inside with a hot stroke of his silken tongue. I groaned and surrendered myself to the storm of longing he raged inside of my skin.
He kissed me like he wanted to kill me. Like he owned my very breath and demanded its return. There was no romance in the way he stole my air and claimed my body like it was his right. No love or sweetness. Only animal need and driving force, a desire to conquer me that lit us both on fire.
I writhed beneath him, not because I wanted him to let me go but because I loved the hard cage his body made around mine. He kept my wrists pinned, his other hand disappearing into his pocket. A moment later there was a soft snick and a knife appeared above my heaving belly. I trembled like a pinned butterfly but didn’t protest as he drew the tip of the knife down my exposed belly from the underside of my covered breasts to the band of my shorts. The scrape of metal made me shiver. He pressed the blade harder when it traced over the placket of my shorts, already wet between my thighs. I held my breath, the tiny pop, pop, pop of stitches coming undone under the knife the only sound other than the distant crash of waves and the harsh rasp of our breath.
When my shorts were sliced open from stem to stern, he folded the knife in one hand, replaced it in his pocket, and used his fingers to rip the only barricade between my pussy and the night away from me. My underwear cut into my hips and broke away in his hand, a scrap of blue lace he tossed away. It caught on the air and sailed down the beach.
He hadn’t even touched me, not really, and I was all overheated skin pulled taut over tense muscles. I needed him to unlock me, send the arousal crowding my insides spilling out into the night.
I didn’t have to beg.
His hand was there suddenly, two fingers diving straight into my virgin sex, his thumb at my clit to rub away the sting of the stretch. He didn’t kiss me as he fucked his fingers into me, scissoring them to stretch me for his much thicker cock. Instead, he crowded me, an inch between our mouths, breathing the same breath, his eyes pinned on me even in the dark.
I ached to kiss him, to wrap my legs around him, to give myself to him but he wouldn’t let me.
He wanted to take, not receive.
And I was eager to let him.
“So fucking snug,” he muttered as he played in my sticky wet sex, adding a third finger even though I whimpered at the sting. “Hush, little thing, I know you like the burn.”
Fuck, I did. I loved the ache of being filled up. It built like blocks into something high enough to scare me. Looking off the precipice of desire at the fall I’d inevitably take when he made me come around his dick.
“Fuck me,” I demanded, canting my hips up, fucking myself against his fingers harder. “I don’t need gentle.”
“Don’t tempt me,” he growled, finally ducking down to kiss me, a savage, punishing kiss that I knew would bruise my mouth. “I’ll own this pussy so hard you can’t walk straight for a week. Is that what you want?”
Yes!
I didn’t say a word.
He ground his hand harder into my pussy until I threw my head back and keened with the painful pleasure.
“You want me to fuck you into the sand? Use your tight, wet hole to get myself off?” I was listening for it, so I heard the break in his voice as his own suggestions ramped him higher. He was practically vibrating against me as he pulled his fingers out of me and smeared my wetness against my thigh. “You want to know what it’s like to drip, overfull with my cum?”
The “yes” hissed out between my clenched teeth.
Then the searing hot head of his cock was there between my thighs. He beat his hard shaft against my swollen folds a few times just to hear the wet smack before he notched himself at my greedy entrance.
“After this,” he growled in a ravaged voice I hardly recognized. “You’re mine. When you turn eighteen, when you go off to college, when you think you’ll be rid of me, you won’t. I’ll always own this pretty little cunt and the tears I’ve made you cry. There’s no going back from this, little thing.”
A shudder rattled through me that had nothing to do with the cold wind. His possessiveness ate at me, chewing off pieces of my resolve.
A tiny, dark part of me, abandoned by my father and mother to death and neglect, surged at his possessiveness, craving it almost as much as I craved love.
I knew I would never get the latter and, in that moment, I didn’t care.
I lunged up to grab Tiernan’s lower lip in my teeth, biting hard enough to rend the skin, his blood beading on my tongue. He groaned, the last of his civilized veneer crumbling to ash as he savagely thrust his hips, impaling me in one brutal thrust. I threw my head back into the sand as I cried out to the clouded sky. He grunted as he worked himself deeper, angling his hips, using one of his hands to cant me up toward him so he could delve deeper.
“So big,” I panted, tears in my eyes and thick in my voice. “Jesus.”
“Lord,” he corrected, rocking hard, finally seated at the very end of me, kissing the entrance of my womb in a way that shot sparks through my pelvis. I loved it. “Your lord.”
I answered him by biting the stubbled edge of his jaw, nibbling along the square length until I reached the frayed end of his scar. He continued to pump into me, dragging his entire length in and out of my sensitive pussy, firing every nerve ending I never knew I had. After a brief hesitation, I smoothed my tongue over the line of his scar, from mouth to ear. He didn’t freeze. Didn’t reprimand me. Instead, he cursed wickedly, hunched over me and sunk his teeth into the junction of my neck and shoulder, pinning me in place as he used me.
Tears spilled from my eyes into the sand. Tears of pain and pleasure, but also of acceptance.
This.
This was what I wanted.
Rough-edged, teeth-bitten love.
A body against mine like a weapon, inside me like an invasion. I wanted to be filled up and used because he couldn’t get enough. Couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t be a gentleman.
Now, I understood that love wasn’t soft and warm. It was fire and brimstone and if I wasn’t careful, it would burn me alive.