Take (Deliver 5)

His hunger blanketed the room, smothered her senses, and turned her body against her. His tongue laved. His fingers adored, and his breathing ran away from him. He was climbing, building to a crescendo, and taking her with him.

Her inner muscles found a rhythm, pulsing, squeezing, knotting, needing. Soon, every part of her locked onto that steady throb, matching it, heightening it, until all she felt was one banging heartbeat against his mouth. It propelled her toward the precipice, gathering, contracting, and launching her in the wrong direction.

No, no, no, no, no!

Tears hit her eyes, clogging her voice. “I won’t give this to you.”

“Then don’t.” He reached beneath his hips and shoved off his briefs, the last of his clothing gone. “Take it, Kate. Take it from me.”

He set his vicious mouth over her clit, clamped back on, and sucked, hellbent on forcing her surrender.

Her body engaged, glued to those lips, everything inside her heating and tightening without her permission.

Seized by resentment, she glared into the face of the beautiful monster as it bored down upon her, tunneling in with fingers, teeth, and tongue. She scrambled away from the edge. Tripped. Lost her grip. Spiraled.

And fell into his dark hell.

He groaned as she plunged, and goddammit, she groaned back, shaking, writhing, unable to stop the orgasm. Then she screamed, and the world exploded as her consent ripped away, and a ballistic eruption of heartbeats blew apart the darkness in shimmery bands of color.

She came until his breath broke. Until his hot mouth left her pussy to the cool air. Until his bare chest appeared over her, his hands tangled in her hair, and the penetration of hard, heavy fullness raided her body.

She was still coming as he thrust, slamming his hips against hers. It happened so quickly. A single swift stroke, and that was that.

He took her virginity.

Buried to the root, he didn’t move, didn’t shift those arresting brown eyes from hers. His fist hung tightly in her hair, as if forgotten amid the joining of bodies. His mouth parted, but there was no breath, as if he were paralyzed by shock.

It didn’t hurt. She wished it did, so she could focus on the pain. The anger. But all she felt was confusion and sadness. And pressure. The pressure of all of him inside all of her.

His girth swelled against her inner walls, stretching her to the point of discomfort. There was so much of him she didn’t think she could hold him in any longer. But instead of feeling the need to push him out, she willed him to move, to slide and rub inside her like her dependable dildo.

Her reaction was so fucked up and shameful she could never speak it aloud. But there was one thing she needed to say.

“Put on a condom.” She squirmed beneath him. “Please, don’t get me pregnant. You don’t want that.”

She didn’t want that. It would be the worst possible outcome, outside of death.

“I can’t have children.” Pain slipped into the creases of his eyes and vanished just as quickly. “I’m sterile.”

“Oh.” Startled, she glanced away, blinking, stalling, and looked back. “What about—?”

“I’m clean.”

Of course, she was, too. Clean as a virgin.

But her virginity was gone. The one thing she had left was no more. She couldn’t stop herself from mourning the loss of it, couldn’t stop the ache in her eyes or the silent stream of tears that ran into her hair.

He watched her, his gaze inches away, chillingly still, barely breathing. Was that look on his face one of contrived regret? Or was it genuine sympathy as the reality of abduction, abuse, captivity, and manipulation rode on the waves of pleasure?

How messed up was she that she craved that pleasure? Not the kind she gave herself at home alone. But a pleasure so filthy and twisted it could only be derived from a rapist’s tongue, lips, fingers, and cock as he invaded her body, weighing her down with his sickness, ruining her in the best and worst way possible.

Staring down at her, he just held himself there, his thick cock firmly seated inside her, with a strange expression on his face. He didn’t speak, but his eyes didn’t shut up, the depths crowded by a storm of churning thoughts. She couldn’t read him, not for the longest time. Then he blinked.

“This means something.” His breath carried the bladed words, slashing them against her lips.

“No. You’re wrong.” She didn’t want to hear this and shook her head, knocking more tears loose.

“It means something to me.” He gripped her chin and wrenched her face back to his. “You have no idea.”

Then he moved. Tiny, shallow, shaky thrusts. Mouth parted, cords straining in his neck, his eye contact was deafening, broadcasting something she didn’t understand.

Soft, secret grunts reverberated from a hidden place inside him. The sounds shivered into strangled noises, reminiscent of fragile things breaking apart. Noises she never imagined coming from such a hardened, vicious criminal.