Not wasting any time, he rubbed the tip of his cock up and down my pussy, coating himself with the slickness my body had made to protect itself. It had nothing to do with my weakness for rough-looking men with rough hands.
Rather than plunging into me, he slid in with smooth, slow thrusts that made me want to groan as he convinced my body to take him. He was thick and long, and I reveled in the feel of him inside me, even though I hated that he’d waited for me to be incapacitated.
“Fuck…how did I forget what pussy felt like?” he growled, but it was pleasure rather than irritation. “I watched them fuck you like a rag doll at that sick sleepover party. That seriously fucked me up. I couldn’t get the idea of drugging you out of my head. Are you even awake? Do you even know I’m balls deep in your slutty little cunt?”
Damn, he felt amazing.
Why did toxic men always have the best dick?
He fucked me slow and hard, jarring me against the table, trapping my thighs against the edge to hold me in place. The table must have been bolted down because the force behind each thrust should have slid it incrementally across the floor.
“Your body loves my cock. Such a nasty, gorgeous little whore. Even unconscious, you’re hot for me and dripping down my balls.” He kept muttering to himself in Russian, and whatever he was saying sounded filthy and possibly degrading, and so fucking hot. My toes dragged against the carpeting, and I tried to focus on that, but his hard cock, the wet sounds my body was making, and the sexy roll of his hips left me with too much stimulation. He was bare inside me, and the silky, hot slide of him made me glad I couldn’t make a sound. If I’d groaned for this man the way my body urged me to, it would have probably gone to his head.
The last thing this man needed was an ego boost.
The tension in my lower belly made me desperate for the orgasm I knew he could choose to provide, but he didn’t touch my clit or do anything to make things good for me. He could have been using his hand for all the interest he paid me. For some reason, that made this hotter.
“This beautiful body is my toy now, De-li-lah,” he grumbled, his voice deliciously dark. “Any hole, anytime I please. Mine.”
His rhythm stuttered, but he pulled out and lowered me back to the carpet, lying me flat on my back. It was a lot more comfortable on the floor, but the need he’d created in me was making me want to squirm. Seconds later, hot liquid hit my breasts. Damn it. He might be done with me, but I wasn’t done with him.
Men.
His rumble of satisfaction was humiliating enough, but I felt him crouch down next to me, and then he rubbed his cum into my tits, thumbing my nipples, and I wished I could arch or gasp. He loosened the bag around my neck and rolled it up, exposing my mouth the way the other man had—at least, I assumed it had been the other man.
He parted my lips and rubbed two fingers over my tongue, making me taste his satisfaction while I had none of my own.
“Did he kiss you, Queen of Whores?” he demanded, rubbing his thumb mockingly over my bottom lip. “Are you going to make him love you?” He spat, and it hit the corner of my mouth and slid inside. “I read your file—watched the videos of your medical exams. How do you stay so regal after everything men have done to you? I think your secret is that you enjoy it.”
If it was anyone else, I might have been humiliated at the idea of him reading my psych profile and watching those videos, but he’d been on the Island for the past three weeks. He’d already seen me get abused by several different men.
He left me that way—used, naked, with the bottom of my face hanging out of the bag.
I was too groggy and tired to care.