I was a man who needed to fuck hard. I needed to fuck so hard that the nightmare wouldn’t return tonight or ever again.
Not being able to hold back the fever that scorched me, I demanded, “Spread your legs wider.”
“Yes,” she purred as she obeyed my command.
“You want me to fuck you?” I asked as I danced my fingers inside of her core. “Say it, Fallon. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” she panted.
“Tell me you want my cock inside of you.” I wanted to hear the dirty words come from her perfect lips.
“Fuck me!” she blurted out as a moan followed her command. “I want you to fuck me hard and make me remember the feeling between my legs for days. Make me sting. Make me hurt. Fuck! Fuck me!”
“That’s my good girl,” I praised. “I like that filthy mouth of yours.”
She appeared absolutely desperate at this point as my fingers hit a spot inside her pussy that had her gyrating uncontrollably. I could tell she needed more.
I needed more.
“Please, Rafe. Fuck me. I want to feel you in my bones.”
Hungry as I was, I was prepared to give her exactly as she asked. Not being able to wait any longer, my cock pressed up against her opening, and easily slid in with the aid of her wetness. Wrapping her legs around me, she took complete control over just how deep I would be and how fast I would get there.
Balls slapping against pussy, I was so damn deep.
I had such a craving and an urge that only she could quench.
And with forceful shoves of our hips, I drove my cock all the way in—aggressively, possessively and completely.
“Yes, yes, yes… deeper,” she cried.
In and out, I thrust, deeper and deeper with each pounding action. My moans blended with hers as our bodies merged as one. She was my dutiful soldier in this dark war of lust, and her body would forever be mine to command. I had now had a taste, and my thirst would never be satiated.
Like a vampire knocking, she had opened the door and invited me in. Now it was my time to feed.
“Fucking mine,” I growled as I powered into her, my muscles taut, my eyes closed in pure bliss.
“Yours. Yours,” she groaned. “I’ve never been anyone else’s but yours.”
Her pussy tightened around my dick as her words turned to loud moans that echoed against the haunted walls of our room.
“I’m yours,” she repeated between her orgasmic mewls.
As if I forever had needed to hear those words, a wave of electrical current that had been resting on the cliff since I first put my mouth to hers finally released. Pure carnality shook through my body as I cried out her name.
Her arms slipped around my neck, and I rested my head on her shoulder and closed my eyes, wishing the moment could last forever.
“No more nightmares,” she whispered.
“No more nightmares,” I said as I kissed her again. I didn’t see sweet dreams in my future, but for right now… right now there were no more nightmares.
12
Fallon
I was painting again, for once alone in the room. It was a rarity, but when Rafe had woken up this morning, he’d been withdrawn. Maybe he felt he’d shared too much last night, let me see too much without meaning to?
Last night was so… raw. The things he’d demanded. And I’d given in to him without a second thought.
My hand trembled as I ran it over my bottom lip. When he’d demanded I tell him to fuck me… A shiver quaked down my body even at the memory.
But when he’d woken up, he’d just mumbled that he was hungry and said I should get dressed so we could go to breakfast.
After the intimacy of last night, the intensity, the raw passion, of him finally letting me in an inch, his coldness was like a splash of cold water in my face.
I told him I wasn’t hungry, and he should go alone. After all, men could wander alone in the Oleander, it was only the belles who weren’t allowed to leave the room unaccompanied.
Such patriarchal bullshit. Better to focus on that than the pain of what felt like his rejection. Again.
Part of me had hoped he’d argue.
He didn’t. He’d just nodded and left.
And I’d sat there in front of my empty easel feeling… well, empty.
I stared at the paintings lining the walls. The one in haint blue of a woman being swallowed into the hungry earth, a hundred hands reaching out from a graveyard to drag her down.
There were plenty of others, but my eyes settled on the most recent one: colorful explosive swirls that danced on shattered shards of glass. Some shards were bright as the sun and some were dark as sin. Others were red with pulsing blood and life and on others were sets of eyes, the eyes of God and men watching, always watching. Lust and life and death.