Raw (RAW Family 1)

Breathing heavily, I steady myself as much as I can, slide off my bed, and stand in front of him. Twitch taunts, “Move and I fuckin’ kill you, bitch,” then pulls the belt slowly but firmly closer towards his body. The move makes us impossibly close.

Right now, I believe him; he could hurt me, even though I know this is a game. Right now, Twitch is the most alluring man on earth, as well as the most terrifying.

It all happens so quickly.

His silky boxers are gone. I tremble as he grips the front of my dress, fisting it tight. He looks me in the eye as he pulls with all his might in opposite directions. The sound of material tearing fills the room before it falls at my feet in a heap. I openly gape at him.

I liked that dress.

Now dressed in only a strapless bra and a lace thong, my mind swims in an ocean of bliss as he yanks my bra down below my breasts. The move pushes them high up on my chest, and in the slither of moonlight through the closed curtains, I see his eyes fixed on them. Looking like a starving man eyeing his first meal in months, he steps out of character only a moment to run his thumb down the swell of my breast and mutter, “Perfect. So perfect.”

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he looks down at me through hooded eyes and whispers roughly, “I’m gonna fuck you bare.” My heart stutters. In a good way. He smirks. “Gonna blow inside of you. And you’re going to like it.”

Cue my first line. “No. Don’t. Please don’t. I’ll get pregnant.”

He barks a laugh. “Perfect.” Crushing his lips to my cheek, he utters against it, “Every time you looked at him, you’d see me.” Biting my cheek none too gently, he hisses, “You don’t stop shaking and I’ll make you choke on my cock.”

It’s almost worrying that he can do this so well.

Almost.

Lowering my voice to a whisper, I beg, “Please let me go. I’ll never tell anyone about this. Just let me go.”

Grinding his impressive length against my stomach, he reaches down to rub my mound through the lacey material. He tuts, “Bitches like you don’t wear shit like this if you don’t want a man to fuck you. I’m a man, baby. I’m going to fuck you. Whether you want it or not.”

The fear in my voice suddenly feeling real, I tell him, “If you try, I’ll scream.”

I hear the smile in his voice. “Scream all you like.” His lips touch the shell of my ear. “It turns me on when they fight.” Pulling the material to the side, his finger comes into contact with the wet warmth of my extreme arousal and he whispers, “See? You want this. Your body doesn’t lie. Don’t fight me.”

We both know he really means, ‘Fight me, baby. I love it.’

So I do. Pulling away from him, I lift my foot to his stomach and try to gain some distance between us by pushing away. He pulls on the belt, choking me a moment. I gasp then pant heavily, while my heart races and my head pounds. I push at his shoulders. He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his body, constricting me. I whimper. He snarls and bites my shoulder. I yelp and cry out in both pleasure and pain. My core pulses. I’m already close to orgasm.

I cry out, “Please don’t hurt me.”

He stills a moment before he utters all too quietly, “I have to.”

Lowering his head, he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, then biting the tender flesh. A moan escapes me as my hands grip the back of his head. Running my fingers through his hair, I realize I’m losing myself, and swiftly grasp then tug on his hair. He growls, “You’re gonna regret that.”

I don’t know what comes over me, but I do something really damn stupid.

Lifting my knee, I take him by surprise when it connects with his thigh. His breath stutters and his arms fall to his sides. This is it. The moment of stupidity.

This is the part where I turn.

And run.

Making it half way down the hall, I hear his trailing footfalls pounding behind me, my heart also pounding in time. I’m truly petrified. Tears blur my vision, and when an arm wraps around my ribs from behind, I cry out. My distress at this point feels very real, even though my mind is very much enjoying what is happening here. Tears slide out of the corners of my eyes and my lips quiver. His other arm comes around my chest and he nips my ear. “Running was a bad choice.”

The fight ensues.

My hands fist and connect with his muscular arms as I try to escape. My body twists fitfully against his. My struggle is very real. Heart racing, I turn and fight to get away. Wriggling, I manage to face him. His hand regains the end of the belt, and he pulls hard to get my attention. But I don’t still. Instead, I lower my head to his collar and bite. Hard. I bite so hard that he lets out a feral growl through gritted teeth and pushes me into the hallway wall. The back of my head connects with that wall with a dull thud.

The dim light from the kitchen makes enough light to see his silhouette.

Panting, his hand touches the place on his collar that I sunk my teeth into. He brings a finger to his mouth. Licking my lips, I taste metallic rust. I marked him hard enough to draw blood. My gut sinks. Stepping forward, he breathes a hostile, “Oh baby. You fucked up.”

Stalking towards me threateningly, and as soon as we’re foot-to-foot, I lean up into his face, and spit.

I watch in slow motion as he flinches, clearly not expecting it. Panting, I grunt, “Fuck you, motherfucker.”

The second he touches me, I know this role play borderlines real life. Twitch fumes. I feel the anger coming off of him like electric sparks. Reaching forward, he throws my body down by his side. My palms connect with the floor, knees throbbing. Suddenly, his body covers mine, pushing me into the ground. I struggle and whisper repeatedly, “Please, don’t. Please, don’t.” But Twitch isn’t acting anymore. He’s done with acting.

His arm circles my waist and he lifts me until I’m on all fours, like a dog. His hand reaches down to find my sopping wet core. He groans, moving the material of my thong aside, I feel the head of him meet my entrance. But I fight.

Struggling, I push my body away from him. On his knees behind me, he shuffles forward, but I escape him once more. His hand shoots out and circles my throat, squeezing. The fight in me fades when I realize it’s about to happen. I have nowhere left to go.

Gritting my teeth, my chest heaves and my eyes water. The head of him touches my entrance once more; I feel the balls of his piercing as he runs the head up and down my slit. He pushes in. Just the tip. Lips softly kiss my shoulder blade. “I win.”

My arousal makes light work of him pushing into me, all the way in.

Simultaneously, we cry out in ecstasy.

Placed in a position that demands submission, I know I should be furious, but I’m not. My eyes flutter as he loosens his hold on my throat. I’m ecstatic when he keeps his hand on my neck while he grinds his cock into me. Seated deeply on him, I sigh silently. It feels amazing. So deep it feels like it’s found a home in my stomach.

No one loses here. We both win.

And yet, I fight still. Struggling weakly, he begins to thrust, and from this angle, my arousal spikes. The balls of his piercing rub all the right spots, and in mere moments, I’m panting, “No. No. No.”

I’m going to come.

Tightening around him, bright light blurs my vision and my entire body trembles with a pleasure high. Tipping my head back, mouth parted in a silent moan, I hear Twitch pant heavily. “That’s it, Angel. Let go. Come on my cock. All over my cock.”

The dam breaks. My face bunches in both pleasure and pain. I convulse around him. Moaning, my head thrashes from side to side in what is the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had in my life. With every pulse of my release, my body warms in complete bliss.

I’m suddenly exhausted.

Holding my throat with a gentle firmness, he pounds into my now limp body. I couldn’t participate even if I wanted to. I’m spent both emotionally and physically. Holding an arm under my belly, he pulls me back into every thrust. A full minute of thrusting like a madman

, he groans and holds himself deep inside of me for a long moment before he thrusts again and again. Wet warmth trickles down my thighs. His thrusts slowly. His panting follows suit. He finally stills inside of me.

Standing, he pulls me up and into him.

I feel dirty, used, and abused.

And I’ve never felt better.

So many thoughts rush through my head.

What have I done?

Wrapping my arms around his neck, he lifts me. My legs circle him as he slowly walks me over to my bed. He lays me down and slides in next to me. We don’t bother to clean up. Something needs to be said.

Allowing another minute of awkward silence as we lie side-by-side, I ask quietly, “What just happened?”