My Darling Arrow (St. Mary's Rebels 1)

But when I see the muscles of his abdomen flex and his hips jerking forward, I can’t anymore.

I can’t watch because he’s inside of me and I have to shut my eyes tightly.

Because oh my God, it’s so big and good and fuck, it hurts that all I can do is grind my head into the wall and moan.

My pussy pulses over his massive length and he grunts loudly, louder than he’s ever grunted before, and his forehead drops to my shoulder and my own head somehow comes back to rest on his.

When his other hand, the one not gripping my hip, settles on my bare stomach, I gasp out, “It’s so big. Why does it feel so big? Like this…”

His dick jerks inside of me and I gasp again.

“Because you’re still tight as fuck. Like a virgin. Even after I’ve stretched your hole a hundred times,” he groans, rolling his forehead on my shoulder. “And because I’ve never had you like this.”

“Like what?” I pant, my hands slipping on the wall.

He raises his head, his rough cheek brushing against mine, and whispers in my ear, “Like a dog in heat.”

My channel pulses at his crass words – crass and delicious and somehow so erotic – and he has to pump into me. Once, twice, short and jerky motions.

And I have to put my hand over his where he’s grabbing my belly. “I feel you in my…”

“Where?” he asks when I don’t pick up the thread.

I was going to say stomach. That I feel him in my stomach but that’s… wrong.

I don’t feel him in my stomach.

I feel him somewhere deeper.

Much, much deeper.

I turn my head to look at him. “In my womb.”

His chest shudders at my back and his face grows mean with lust. I think even his cock swells inside me, grows to insane, obscene proportions as it presses into my womb, my very femininity.

The very thing that makes me who I am.

The girl with all the feelings, all the emotions.

The girl in doomed love.

With the guy who’s fucking her.

Who presses his hand on her stomach and strokes it, as if feeling for the ridge of his thick cock invading my body in such achy and wonderful ways.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks, his eyes narrowed, his hand massaging.

“In a good way.”

He digs his fingers into my belly as his eyes go dark, darker than before. “Good.” He moves his hips, his pelvis grazing against my bare ass, making me whimper with the pressure. “Because I want to fuck that womb too. I need to fuck that womb. I need everything you have. Every fucking thing, Salem. Everything you have belongs to me. It’s mine. All of it.”

His words, possessive and growly, hit me in the very thing he wants to fuck, my womb, and I push my hips back.

I take him in further while moaning, “Yes, all of it. All of it belongs to you.”

He takes me then.

He stretches me in new ways, making space for himself in the corners that I didn’t even think existed before.

He presses his palm on my stomach, as if squeezing out my juices and greasing up his cock even more, and I moan again.

I squeeze his fingers on my stomach and bring my other hand away from the wall and over to the back of his neck as he moves inside of me. He’s slowly picking up the rhythm and his body is pushing into me with every ram of his cock.

And I let him ride me as I hold onto him.

He pounds, pounds, pounds inside of me and I realize that he goes in so easily now. So wonderfully as if he’s slicing through creamy, soft butter.

Every time he goes in, he jabs me in the womb and I scream. And every time I scream, he pushes harder inside of me, his hand digs deeper into my stomach, massages it in broad strokes as if soothing the hurt he’s causing.

But the hurt is so good, so delicious that I only want more of it.

So I surrender.

I go flush with the wall, my nipples scraping against it as I writhe between the bricks and him.

All the while he keeps fucking me, practically bouncing me in his lap and I realize that the wall I’m stuck to is pulsing too.

Both with our violent, passionate fucking, and the music.

The sad love songs.

I can’t be sure what song it is but I hear violins and melancholy and I let the years and years of love wash over my body.

I let the music – the one he’s creating with his grunts and his slapping hips, and the one seeping through the walls – soak into my skin.

Letting go of my hip, he reaches his hand up and wraps it around my throat. Then he bends my neck to the side and for the first time ever, sinks his teeth over my pounding pulse and sucks on it.