Sordid (Sordid 1)

I swung my gaze away from him and closed my eyes, desperate to shut him out. But how could I do that when he was deep inside me, making me ache and throb? Or with his hand clasping my wrists tightly together, his bare chest pressed to mine?

Inch by burning inch, Luka crept in and out of me. He was at least true to his word and went slow. The pain lessened to a point I could think over it. How had I been this stupid? I was almost as angry with myself as I was with him.

The leather couch squeaked to match his slow rhythm. I couldn’t keep my eyes closed any longer. I stared blankly at the soft leather cushion back and tried to shut everything down. Like I could pretend he wasn’t on top of me, his dick surging inside my aching body, or his mouth latched onto my ear. With all that was happening, it was his uneven breath that became too loud to ignore.

“Does it still hurt?”

I gave him nothing. Not even my attention.

He’d asked me softly, but this time he sounded annoyed. “Answer me.”

No, not in a million years. I was done taking orders from him—

His hand on my jaw clenched and tugged my face to meet his. His eyes were chaos. Desire flashed and anger smoldered. He was devastating like this. Aggressive and predatory.

“If I’m hurting you and you don’t say anything, I’m going to keep hurting you and not know it.”

“What difference does it make?” I snapped. I was weak. My self-imposed silent treatment lasted all of a minute.

His eyes narrowed. His hand let go of my jaw and reached down, finding my knee. He pushed it up and back at the same moment he thrust deeply, and I gasped in pain.

“Does that hurt, or should I keep doing it?” he demanded, knowing full well it caused me pain. He was pushing me to respond to him, or punishing me for not answering sooner.

“It hurts.”

He looked strangely relieved as he released my knee and my wrists. I yanked my hands down and put them on his shoulders. I couldn’t push him off of me, so instead I drove my fingers into his flesh. The muscles along his jaw flexed, telling me he’d clenched his teeth, hopefully in pain.

“Ease up on the nails, or I’ll rethink letting go of your wrists.”

He shifted, rising up on his straightened arms. We were still connected at our lower bodies, but he had slowed to a snail’s pace. He glanced down, and issued a noise of surprise.

“Fuck, look at that.”

I’d told myself I wasn’t going to take orders from him, but it was unavoidable. My gaze went to where his was, and I swallowed hard.

There was dark blood smeared on his thick cock, which he pulsed in and out of me in long, languid strokes.

“So fucking sexy, seeing proof that you’re mine.”

This time when I dug my nails into him, it wasn’t to cause harm, it was simply a reaction. He thought I was his? The thought detonated in my mind like a mushroom cloud. I was. He’d linked himself to me forever with one dark act.

I found myself staring up into his coal-colored eyes, unsure of anything. Luka would always be my first. He’d pushed and taken, but maybe he had done me a tiny favor as well? Everyone I’d talked to confided their first time had been terrible. The girls said it hurt and they were glad that it was over and done with. Sex apparently felt much better after you’d done it a few times.

Wait, no. That was the dumbest thing ever.

His mouth hung slack as he moved against me, breathing heavy. Satisfaction streaked his face. In the low light, it played up the sharp angles of his nose and jaw. Why did he do this? Why did he stare at me like I was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen?

My eyes fluttered closed. This wasn’t a favor. Holy shit, I’d said no and he’d done it anyway. That was pretty clear-cut, wasn’t it?

His hot skin was against my chest and his hands noisily slid beneath me, scraping over the leather. His fingers splayed on my backside, tilting my hips, so when he pushed down into me this time, there was new contact.

“Oh,” I sighed, wishing instantly I could take it back. What the hell was wrong with me? Luka’s body ground against my clit, sending warm shivers up my spine. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy what he was doing.

His hands pushed and pulled, getting me to rock my hips against his. His tempo picked up until it was a steady pace, and the ache began to shift and give way to heat. My heart pounded furiously, but it matched his. I could feel his through my chest.