Pound of Flesh

“Thinking this is normal!” I shout the words at her, but she doesn’t so much as flinch. “Thinking I’m normal.”

Understanding breaks across her face, and I want to sink down into it. Lap it up. Gather it to my chest and crush it close until that understanding can’t ever leave me. The impulse to scare my beautiful doll is waning, vanishing into thin air. “You’re the one scaring me now, Delilah,” I whisper hoarsely.

“A big tough man like you, scared of a virgin?” She peels down the straps of her tank top, rolling the tight material to her waist so her two little cherry-topped mounds are exposed to my hunger. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

I explode down toward her like a wild creature, sucking her tits into my mouth, raking my tongue up and down her nipples. Each breast fits into my mouth completely, and I gorge myself on them, my hips pumping in the air, as if I’m already inside her untried cunt, molding it to my cock. Personalizing it.

I’m braced on my forearms alongside her wiggling body, even though I want to pin her down, imprison her. But that would mean hurting the doll and no one—no one, not even me—hurts the doll. I can’t believe I even considered it. At this point, if she’s tricking me into thinking us being together isn’t a sickening sin, I’m going along for the ride. My cock is so thick and pissed off, I have no choice.

“I-I-I…” Delilah breaks off on a moan. “I like the way that feels. I didn’t know…”

“You better not know.” My tongue is moving everywhere now. Over her tits, along her shoulders, up the slope of her neck. I’m marking her. Claiming her. Figures I would accomplish it the same way an animal does. She tastes like spun sugar and I’m never going to get enough. Mine. My fucking doll. Mine. “You better not know how it feels having these titties sucked on, you hear me? I’ll kill anyone who’s thought about it with my bare fucking hands and leave them at your feet.”

I chance a look at Delilah, worried the stone-cold murder in my voice will put the fear of God back into her, but she seems…hot for it? That can’t be right. This girl can’t possibly be more perfect than I already imagined.

“Raider,” she breathes, searching my face. “Can I tell you something?”

“Anything.”

The curves of her feet come to rest on my hips, rubbing side to side, and I groan long and loud “When I fantasize in the dark, alone in my room, I don’t think about nice things,” she whispers. “Sometimes I think it’s because of the…activities that go on in my house. But other times I think there’s something wrong with me.”

Am I hearing this correctly? This slip of sweet and light thinks there’s something wrong with her? “Ain’t nothing wrong with you,” I rasp, wishing I could smash her insecurities to pieces with my fists. “Tell me what you think about in the dark, alone in your room.”

A flush creeps down her neck, shading her tits. “Not sex. I wouldn’t know where to start, really. Yet.” Her voice drops so low, I have to bend my head down to catch every precious word. “I think about someone protecting me. In the brutal way you do it.” A pause. “I dressed like a boy because I always felt like someone was watching me. Warning me to stay covered. Or else. And I loved it.” My balls jerk tight, air rattling in and out of my lungs at her confession. “Was that you? Warning me all the way from prison?”

“Yes,” I growl, reaching down to grab my cock through my jeans, rubbing the heavy bulge of it against the tiny strip of her panties. “And were you a good girl, Delilah? Did you keep this safe and tight for me?”

The streetlight flashes outside the van, giving me a hit of dilated pupils, glazed eyes and flushed pink virgin. “Yes, b-but I don’t understand. We never met—”

I put a stop to the searching question by stamping my mouth over hers, letting my tongue push between those tempting lips. She makes a mewling sound that goes straight to my head, and finally—fucking finally—I let my hips drop. And I hump that sweet pussy, drunk on the knowledge that it’s all mine. We never met face to face and she still felt the force of my possession from miles away through the cinder blocks. Maybe there is a God, after all.

Power and gratitude flows in my veins as my hips work in a frenzy. I’m not going about it quietly either, snarling and snapping my teeth with the force of my lust. Delilah doesn’t seem scared by my baser qualities, though. Not with her smooth thighs parted wide, her tits shaking with the impact of my dry rutting.