Blood to Dust

“Shut the fuck up, Pea.” He disregards me as his cock hits my G-spot hard again, making my mouth water with an impending orgasm. It’s not pretty. It’s not even sultry. His moves are rusty, feral, manic. He is fucking me like he is trying to kill me, each thrust like a knife that sends my forehead banging against the wall. His desperate growls release something that’s been buried deep inside him. It’s angry sex, but it’s not me he’s angry at. No. I’m just a hole he spills the rage he’s collected over the years into.

He fucks me because he wants to ruin what belongs to Godfrey Archer and his son, and I let him, for the exact same reason.

His hand slams my ass, and I arch my back in response, my head thrown to the wall with a bang. It’s like he poured hot water all over me. He doesn’t rub or kiss it better, and after the first shot of pain. . .bliss. Pure bliss.

“Do it again.”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”

But he spanks me again, and I wail his name.

“Beat,” I say with a shudder, chanting like a prayer to the sex god behind me, knowing that I should keep my mouth shut, but also that I can’t stop. He slams so deep into me, my voice box produces groans and sobs unintentionally.

“Yes. . .oh. . .oh. . .Nate.”

No. No. No.

His body stiffens behind me and goosebumps bloom on his skin down to his fingertips. He’s still inside me, his breathing ragged.

I’m not sure what scares me more, the fact that he hasn’t spoken in a few seconds, the fact that he’s still inside me, expanding my body like someone shoved a chair into me, or the fact that my pussy swells around him, hot and even more turned on by my fear. I gulp.

“Ink?” he asks dryly. I nod, partly telling the truth.

“God fucking dammit,” he hisses, still hard as stone. “How long have you known?”

I squeeze my swollen eyelids together.

“A while.”

“Prescott,” he warns.

“A week.”

Body frozen with fear, I feel his hand as he brushes my hair away and kisses the nape of my neck, his other hand still holding my ass up in the air so that I’m on my tiptoes. He releases a long pained breath. I swallow hard as his silence fills every inch of the room.

“Are you going to kill me or fuck me?” My lips tremble.

He fists my hair, bringing my ear to his hot mouth. “First, the latter,” he whispers sinisterly. He’s killed before. “And then, I’ll decide who deserves to be killed for this.”

He’s at it again. Grabbing my ass in a way that’d surely leave a nasty mark, he slams his hips into my flesh back and forth. I keep my mouth shut by biting into my lower lip hard, but even that doesn’t stop the moans from escaping.

I’m working up a solid orgasm, my legs shaking all over, but Nate doesn’t even warn me. He drives into me one last time and empties inside me, groaning against my sweaty back for what seems to be a full minute. I feel his condom expanding with hot cum. It feels like he broke my body and sliced my legs open with a cleaver.

And I love it.

He releases my hips and I slide down the wall until my feet hit the floor. I shimmy my dress down, my wetness sticking my thighs together. What the hell just happened? Technically, it was sex. But physically and mentally, it felt like butchery. Nate takes a step back. He went against Godfrey’s order and fucked me with everything he’s got and then some. His empty balls are in my cute little palm now.

Everyone knows Godfrey has a lie detector in his office. One sit-down with Nate and the needle will be dancing like a hippie at Woodstock. I’m sure we’re thinking the same thing—everything’s changed now that he stuck his dick in me.

“Shit,” he mutters behind me as the new reality settles over the room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Even though my back is still to him, I can feel him pacing the room. I’m trying not to dwell on it, because my plans are so much bigger than being semi-rejected by a weird man-boy with a cock the size of a rocket ship. Still, it stings.

But I know his name.

And he fucked something that belongs to Godfrey.

He is screwed.

“Listen, Nate. . .” Before I get the chance to turn around and launch at him with another pep talk, the door slams shut, the walls around me rattling with the impact. I wait a few seconds before taking off my blindfold and looking around.

He left.

I kick the food and beer he brought for me, picking up the Guy Fawkes mask he forgot to take with him before he stormed away and stare at it, willing it to come alive and fight with me.