Sicko

Blowing out a steady breath, I wish for words to come, but they never do.

“I’ve had worse,” I whisper, barely audible.

“Is that a challenge?” the guy in front of me mumbles over my lips. “Because I can meet a fucking challenge.” Is this what they do here? Fuck each other in dark rooms?

My legs tremble with pleasure and they’ve barely touched me. I tilt my head to the side as the guy who is behind me sinks his teeth into where my neck meets my shoulder. A sharp sting shoots out where his teeth are, but instead of flinching away from the pain, I relish in it. I want to soak it in and drown in it. James has never been rough with sex, and the people who he passed me off to he told to be the same—bar one. This feels different. It lights a fire inside of my tired soul, stirring the hunger I hide deep in my belly that has always wanted to expose itself.

“Fuck, you taste good.” He growls over my flesh. I quiver in the spot, chills wreaking havoc over my body. Music plays through the speakers. Not too loud, but loud enough to get lost in it. I recognize it instantly. “Bad for Me” by guccihighwaters.

“Fuck,” the voice behind me growls. “What’s your name?” His hand slips beneath the bottom of my dress, his fingertips grazing my inner thighs. Moisture pools between my legs as I grind forward. I’m panting, sweating, and building to explode.

“I—” The man in front of me reaches forward and yanks down the front of my dress. Warmth coats the bead of my nipple as his tongue swirls over the nub. “Oh fuck,” I whisper, my head falling backward onto the guy behind me.

“Touch me,” he grinds out behind me. “You’re fucking demure. You need to change that.”

I don’t answer, overwhelmed with all of my sensitivities coming to life.

Reaching backward, my palm hits a rock-hard chest. Abs built like bricks jagged over my palm.

“Lower,” he growls softly, his mouth opening against my back. Jesus Christ, who is this man? I scratch my nails down his abdomen, reaching the band of his jeans. Finding the button, I flick it open as the mouth on my nipple sucks harder, his other hand coming to my other breast. Moaning, I press my ass against the man behind me, his thick girth burying between the crack of my ass cheeks.

His fingers dip beneath my panties. “I’ll give you two options.” His voice conjures all of my ghosts and brings them horny and raging to the surface. “Do you want to be fucked or do the fucking?”

I think over his words, playing with them inside of my head. When it comes down to my needs and what I’ve liked about this so far, it all comes down to one thing. “I want to feel good. But I need it to hurt.”

He doesn’t recoil from my words, and the man in front of me unlatches his mouth from around my nipple with a clench of his teeth. He hisses. “Oh, so you like pain?”

I gulp, refusing to let the words leave my mouth. Refusing to admit my confession. The way my clit pulses at the word is enough to make me feel dirty and corrupt. Not the kind of dirty that you can scrub off in the shower, but the kind that digs its claws into your watered-down soul.

When I don’t answer, the man behind me cups my whole pussy in his hand and pulls me to my feet with him. I continue to be blinded by darkness, music thumping and now my skin slick with sweat.

Once we’re on our feet, the man in front of me pulls down my dress until it’s at a pool at my feet. My stomach shudders nervously, my pussy throbbing. So different to James. Does sex exist like this? Before the thought can simmer in my mind, the man behind me is picking me up from the ground and spinning me around to face him. He’s greedy, I sense, which I like. He gives off a dominating vibe. We fall backward until he hits a wall with a thud, his hand still cupping my pussy. My fingers search his face. Short hair, strong, sturdy facial structure. I dip into the curve of his cheekbones, his soft lips that puff out over the rim a little. He doesn’t move, his breath no longer falling on my face. It’s different this time, since we’re facing each other—but again without seeing each other. He’s holding my naked body in his hands, but why do I feel like he can see right through my soul. Moving my fingertip lower, I run it over his sharp jaw, and down to his nipple. A ring pierces his left pec, with a bar going through and two jewelry pieces hanging off. I have to fight the urge to nibble on it. It’s not until the other man comes up from behind me that we both begin breathing again, as if we forgot where we were. Bringing my finger back to his mouth, the curves of his soft lips curl up in a grin, and my stomach hits the ground. Butterflies fly around in my belly and ignite a wind storm that reaches down to the tips of my toes.