A gasp fills the air, but this one sounds more like pleasure than pain. It's all the confirmation I need to start moving.
“I want you to come again, with my cock inside you. Can you do that?” I pant into her skin while moving my cock in and out of her.
I thrust my hips upward and pull back, lifting her by the ass, forcing myself deeper. I want her to feel me for days...for the rest of her fucking life.
“Yes…” she mewls, her core tightening around my length, causing specks of black to form in my vision. Fuck yes. It's like she knows exactly what I need.
I slip my arms under her and snake them behind her back, gripping onto her shoulders from behind so I can hold her in place and push myself in deeper. I grind into her, my cock so fucking deep inside of her, he might get lost. I speed up my movements, my thrusts becoming rougher, my panting louder and moans deeper while I lose myself in her.
Her nails dig into my skin probably drawing blood, it feels like it, and maybe it makes me sick because and I want her to. I want her to mark my body like I want to mark hers. I want everybody to see that she belongs to me and I belong to her.
I push into her relentlessly until her pussy starts to quiver around my shaft. There's a bite of pain to my thrust, but there's also pleasure and right now I'm banking on getting her over the edge.
She cries out in pure bliss, her whole body stiffening underneath me as her back arches off the bed. Her walls squeeze me so tightly practically pulling my orgasm out of me. I can’t breathe for a moment and I know there's no holding back now. I slam into her pussy a few more times, holding her so possessively I'm sure I'm bruising her.
She whimpers in my arms, but I'm too far gone to care.
My impending orgasm hits me so fucking hard, I think I might pass out. Wave after wave washes over me while I continue to thrust inside her, coaxing out every last drop of sticky cum.
I only stop moving when I know my muscles are depleted and every last drop of cum has left my balls and is now deep inside of Sophie.
I’ve never fucked anyone without a condom before, but I’ve never had the urge to either. Not like I want her. Now, after having her, I don't think I can ever go back. Sophie has ruined me for all other women. She’s it for me, and what a terrifying thought that is. Collapsing on top of her, I bury my face into her hair, her skin.
Thick strands tickle my nose as I breathe her in. I can barely keep my eyes open after the intense release that claimed me, but I don't want to fall asleep on top of her, so I roll to the side, taking her with me.
I settle her on my chest and pull the blanket over us before closing my eyes again. It's been a long time since I felt this tired.
And that euphoric feeling only claims me more when she nuzzles her face into my chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask her, half asleep. I was rougher than I intended to be, but I don't think I tore her or made her bleed any more than she was supposed to.
“Yes...that was…it felt really good.” Her voice sounds just as sleepy as I feel.
“Good, ’cause I’m planning on doing this many more times with you.” This and more. My mind is already conjuring up all the other ways I will have her, and I will have her, again and again.
30
Sophie
I try to digest everything that has happened over the last few days. I’ve spent most of my time with Roman. He took me to the gym with him when he went to work out yesterday. I stayed in his office most of the time reading, and when we got home, he ordered Chinese and we watched a movie. It almost felt like we were a couple—a real one.
The highlight of it all is him letting me sleep in his bed, cuddled deep into his side. I tried to initiate sex, but Roman said I would be too sore and he wanted to wait a few days before we did anything again.
Thinking about my first time with Roman has my insides on fire. It was unlike anything I felt before. Roman touched a part of me I didn’t know existed. He claimed me, and I don’t even know if he realizes he did.
Roman’s confession to using drugs and fear of hurting me swirled around inside my head. I slowly pieced the puzzle together, and Roman’s weird mood swings made much more sense to me now.
I’ve never really seen him taking the drugs, but I can tell by his mood if he is high or not, among other things. Sometimes, there’s a look in his eyes, a darkness that surrounds him. Other times, he seems unhinged and barely in control, and in between those times, he acts like he doesn't have a worry in the world. He jokes around, laughing, even though it doesn't always seem genuine.
Besides my constant worry of him using too much and losing control, I have had one other thing on my mind.
“What happened to that man the other night?” I ask Roman as we sit in the kitchen eating breakfast together. I chew the piece of apple until it’s all but liquid.
“Why does it matter?” His response makes me frown.
“Because I want to know what happened.” The look in Roman’s eyes tells me I shouldn’t push for an answer, but I want one. I narrow my gaze, meeting his with the same determination.
“Seriously, you can’t just let it go?” He shakes his head. Anger surges deep inside me. Why doesn’t he want to tell me? Everything feels like a secret with him, and I hate it.
He kills people every Friday night, wears their blood on his fists like an animal, so why is it so hard for him to tell me what happened?
“Why won’t you just tell me the truth?”
“You really want me to say it out loud?” he yells, twisting toward me. I can see the mask of fury overtaking his features.
“Yes,” I yell back, trying to brace myself for what he is about to say. I know it’s not something I’m going to want to hear, but I still want him to say it.
“I fucking killed him!” He stands up suddenly, the chair tipping over and crashing to the floor. His body vibrates with anger. “I fucking killed him because he touched you. Is that what you want to hear? That I strangled a guy with my bare hands?”
His hands grip onto the edge of the counter, his knuckles turning white. I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise. He’s teetering on the edge, and I don’t want to push him over, because I don’t know what will happen. Right now, I wish I could find those pills and flush them down the toilet.
“You didn’t have to kill him, Roman. You chose too. Yeah, he was being a jerk, but you can’t go around killing people just because they do something you don’t want them to.” My voice comes out weak, soft.
Roman’s once soft gaze hardens. “Why does it matter why I did it? I fucking did it, and I’d do it again, and it’s already done. Scum like that doesn’t deserve to live. Would you rather I had let him touch you? Hurt you? Killing him was easy, like a slow jog.” He smiles, but it’s not his typical warm smile. This one is dark, sinister.
“I didn’t even blink. Do you know how many people I’ve killed, Sophie? How many men I’ve made bleed?”
I have no idea, but knowing he killed two in one day without any guilt chills me to the bone.
“No, and I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see you as a killer, Roman.” My grip on the spoon in my hands is hard, the metal digging into my skin. Roman leans into me, his eyes roaming over my body, like he’s trying to decide where to take his next bite.