He smirks and reaches between my thighs, stroking down my lips before parting them. “What’s this? A piercing?” he murmurs in shock, his finger circling my pierced hood. It was a drunken dare and hurt like hell. “That’s fucking hot.” He groans. “I’m so fucking close to coming in my pants, it’s not even funny,” he mutters, making me snigger.
He narrows his eyes and tugs on my piercing, forcing a gasp from my lips as pain flares through me, followed by pleasure. “Either get on with it or fuck off,” I snarl, but it’s hard to be intimidating when you’re pinned beneath a man naked and wet.
Without warning, he drops to his elbows, his face right in my pussy, and licks me from clit to ass. I nearly come away from the sofa, but he bands an arm across my belly, catching on the piercing there, and holds me down.
My mind is still whirling, trying to tell me all the reasons why I should stop this, why I should push him away, why I should hate him, but when he presses two fingers inside me, that all melts away to pleasure.
My eyes slide shut as I moan, unable to look at that dark head between my legs anymore. His hands dig into the fleshy part of my thighs, holding me open for him as he lashes my clit, tugging and licking my piercing as he expertly curls his fingers inside me. He plays me like one of his games. Knowing exactly where to lick, where to touch, rub, and fuck.
I’m panting in no time with sweat coating my body, my face and chest flushed. I try to stop myself, but I can’t help it, I rock against his face, needing more. He plays me like a fiddle, his fingers rubbing inside me as he keeps up that maddening pace with my clit. I reach down and flick my nipples, too turned on to care.
“You taste fucking delicious.” He groans. “Too fucking good.”
I shake my head, trying to stop the powerful orgasm I can feel building within me. No. No, this can’t be happening. I try to push him away, but he ignores me, speeds up, and throws me crashing into that release.
It tears through me, ripping a scream from my throat as my thighs clamp his head, my pussy tightening on his fingers. It rolls through me, again and again, my chest arching up into the air as my eyes squeeze closed, until it finally stops.
Dropping onto the sofa, I let my thighs fall open, and I look down to see a grinning, messy-haired Kenzo still lying between them, his tongue lapping casually at my cunt.
He rears up, and self-hatred pours through me at the satisfied smirk curling his glistening lips. He licks his fingers clean as I watch, and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t believe I just let that happen or that I screamed my pleasure for everyone to hear.
He’s my fucking kidnapper.
Rolling off the sofa, I storm away, and when I hear him coming after me, I move faster. My heart is racing, and my legs are still weak from him. I can’t—fuck, I can’t believe that happened. Or that it felt so good. I try to escape him, but he catches me in the hallway and slams me into the wall, holding me there as he leans down, his eyes angry now.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“Get the fuck off me!” I scream, kicking and struggling in his grip. He grunts and pushes me back again, trying to hold me still.
“Why?”
“I hate you,” I snap desperately, and he laughs, but the sound is mean. All hints of teasing disappear in the face of my anger. But this is not all directed at him. Hell, some of it is for making me feel that way, for making me weak, but some is aimed at me.
“No, you hate that you enjoyed that, don’t fucking lie, darling. You were screaming in no time, and you hate that you loved every fucking second of my tongue in your pussy.”
His dirty words infuriate me, and before I know it, I’ve slapped him. It’s loud in the silence, and I suck in a breath as his head snaps to the side. Slowly, he turns back to face me, and all hints of the usual, charming, teasing Kenzo have vanished. I can see the resemblance to Ryder now. It’s the emotions, the wild, uncontrolled feelings.
He’s angry.
Furious.
Well, so am I!
“You shouldn’t have done that,” he warns, his voice low and rough. With one hand, he keeps me pressed to the wall, while he yanks down his joggers with the other, and the sight of his hard, throbbing cock has me freezing. It’s big, really fucking big. Too big.
No.
It’s bad enough I let him taste me. He isn’t fucking me. I channel all that rage, all that hate, and aim it towards him. All of it, from being stolen, to my dad, to these assholes, to my own emotions, I let it pour from me. Uncaring if I hurt him.
I pull back my fist and slam it into his face, then, as he’s reeling backward, I do it again and again, but he catches the last one and slams my hand to the wall next to me, crushing my wrist until I cry out. He pushes his face into mine, his smirk transformed into a snarl. “You want to hate me? Fine. You will still be screaming my name when you come on my cock.”
“Fuck you!” I scream into his face, lunging my head forward. It connects, and we both grunt as pain flows through my already injured head.
He grabs my other hand and slams them together above me, making me stretch up on my tiptoes, chest heaving as I kick at him. He throws off his joggers and presses his naked body against me. I hate the flare of desire that flows through me, or the fact that I want him. The fact that the sight of his pulsing cock has me wetter than I’ve ever been.
He strokes his length, making me watch as I pant. “I was going to be nice and wear a condom, but now?” He shakes his head and leans down, licking my lips. “You’re mine, I don’t have to.”
Releasing his cock, he grabs my thigh and hoists me up. I snarl, fighting against his hold to hit him again. I manage to get them away from the wall slightly, clawing at his hands hard enough to draw blood, before he slams them back.
“Want to act like a fucking animal? I’ll fuck you like one,” he yells in my face.
Before I can retort, I’m yanked away from the wall, spun, and shoved into it once more. My hands land against it as I try to keep myself from falling, and then he’s there, pressed along the length of my back, his cock nestled against my ass as his hand winds through my hair. He tugs on it, and I cry out, drawing my head back until I’m balanced with only his hand holding me up. Gripping my hip, he pulls me backwards and kicks my legs open.
“Get off me,” I demand.
His hand slips between my thighs, finding me wet. “No, you fucking want this just as much as I do, darling, and I’ve had enough of your attitude. I’ll fuck it out of you.”
I struggle again, continuing to fight him, even as I push my pussy harder into his hands. I hate them. I fucking despise these Vipers.
But all this fight, all this hate, has me so needy, that when he lines his cock up at my entrance and slams inside, I scream. Not in pain. In pleasure.
He laughs as he pulls back, fighting my clinging pussy, and slams inside. “Good girl,” he coos, as he licks my neck before biting my shoulder, making it hurt as he thrusts back into me, setting a hard, brutal pace.
This isn’t fucking.
This is hate.
Both of us hate the fact that we want each other. I hate that they took me from my life. He hates that I’m here and have the audacity to not fall at his feet.
It flows through us, guiding us. Each slam of his hips is harsh, his hands digging into my skin as he impales me on his cock. My breasts rub against the wall, the friction making me cry out as I tighten around him.
He’s so distracted with fucking me that he doesn’t notice me turning. I rip my hair from his hold, leaving some strands in his grip, and his cock slips from me as I twist and punch him straight in the face. “You son of a bitch! I’m not yours!” I scream.
He grabs me and flings me to the floor, coming down on top of me. “You are,” he roars as I slap at him, pushing him away before flipping over. I start to crawl away, but his hand circles my ankle and he pulls me back. I slide along the floor with a scream of anger.
Yet not once do I say no.
Because I want this.
And I hate that.
His hands are quick. They yank my hips up, and then he’s there again, pulling me back onto his cock. I groan, I can’t help it. He’s so big, it feels amazing. He slaps my ass hard, no teasing. It isn’t playful, it’s a punishment. He makes it hurt, and I love it.
I cry out, pushing back to meet his rapid thrusts, the sound of our skin slapping loud as he grunts behind me. “Asshole!” I yell, even as I reach between my legs to rub my clit.
His hand gets there first and slaps me away. Leaning over me, he grips my hair once again, balling it up and using it like a leash as he arches my neck, snarling into my ear, “I didn’t say you could come.”
“You bastard,” I cry out as he tilts my hips up further and hits that deeper spot inside me that has my eyes crossing. My breath fogs their perfect floor, my hands scrambling across it as I try to resist, but I can’t.
Not when he’s buried so deep within me, controlling me. Owning me.