But I still have that moment of doubt anyway.
A minute of silence stakes its claim between us and he looks at me like he’ll feast on my flesh. Under the dim light of my side table lamp, his eyes appear nearly black, hungry with lust and other raw emotions.
Desire.
Possessiveness.
Obsessiveness.
Adoration.
The last is merely a hint, but I see it. I saw it earlier, too, at the dinner table when he told Mum that I listened to him like no one else has.
I saw a feeling I’d never dreamed of associating with a hard, cold man like Jeremy. A feeling that I would sell my left kidney for at the prospect of witnessing it again.
And here it is once more, so soon and under different circumstances.
The moment of silence comes to a crashing halt when he removes my shirt with one savage tug and throws it aside. His fingers splay out on the back of my neck and he kisses me.
No, he claims me.
His kiss is both of adoration and possessiveness. A flickering emotion that alternates between softness and harshness. He slams the front of my body against his, crushing my breasts with his chest and stabbing my stomach with his cock.
It’s not pretty. It’s not nice. It’s animalistic and intense. It’s a clashing of teeth, a stamp of ownership, and proof to the changing of our dynamics.
When we started with sex, chasing, and kinks, he never kissed me. We merely used each other for our sexual needs. We fed off one another’s depraved tendencies and drew each other’s blood. We both ran—me to be chased, him to hunt. But maybe that’s not the only reason. Maybe we were also running from the feelings we saw in each other’s eyes.
What we shared all those months ago couldn’t have been only physical. At least, it wasn’t for me.
Maybe it wasn’t for him either, because ever since we got back together, Jeremy always kisses me before, during, and after fucking me. Sometimes, he kisses me for the duration of it.
He, too, is probably telling me that it’s never been physical for him either. He couldn’t have gotten those releases and satisfaction if it were anyone else but me.
Or that’s what I hope.
He wrenches his lips from mine but speaks against them as he grabs my arse, fingers digging in the flesh. “I’m going to claim this hole tonight, Lisichka. It’s going to be mine, too, like your cunt, your mouth. You.”
That sense of apprehension about his size returns. He’s always played with and fingered my back hole, but he’s never gone beyond that. It’s hard when he fucks me in the pussy. I don’t think I’m physically able to take him in the arse.
But, on the other hand, I want him to own every part of me, too.
Sometimes I wish he was chasing me, taking me against my will in our twisted play. That way, my busy brain wouldn’t have a say in it.
“A-are you going to hurt me?”
His fingers thread in my hair, pulling, twisting, keeping me in place. “Probably.”
I shudder, my heart nearly falling to my feet from the nerves. “Take it by force.”
“By force?”
“Like when you chase me. That way, I won’t be able to think about it.”
A slight smirk lifts his lips. It doesn’t matter how civil Jeremy tries to be. He’s first and foremost a monster, and he gets off on the chase.
On scaring me.
Of having me be completely his.
“You’re my perfect little whore, but you’re also my good girl. I’m going to fuck you like you’re both.” His fingers unclench from my hair and he releases me. “Now, run.”
I stumble from the lack of his touch, catching myself before I hit the wall. He remains in place, arms crossed, and his chest rising and falling in a controlled rhythm.
His outside demeanor doesn’t fool me, though.
If anything, my muscles lock, and every fiber of my being rises to the surface at the promise of being chased.
Of being thrown down and taken.
I’m absolutely sick in the head, but as he stares at me with a fire that matches my own, I don’t care.
I run to the only other place available—the bathroom.
The moment I fling the door open, he’s behind me, the sound of his steps barely audible compared to my raging heartbeat and the roaring in my ears.
I throw something at him, a towel, but he merely ducks, letting a cruel smirk paint his sinful lips.
“You’re trapped, Lisichka, so how about you give up?”
I run behind the bathtub, grabbing my breasts to stop their jiggling, but my plan to go back to the room is put to an abrupt halt when I find him standing at the door.
My harsh breathing fills the bathroom as I stare at his dispassionate eyes, at the promise of pain behind them. I make the snap decision to go right.
He goes left, meeting me in the middle.
I squeal when he reaches out to catch me, but I manage to duck, then sprint forward.
Before I can celebrate escaping him, a strong hand sinks into my hair, wraps around my nape, and knocks me against the shower glass. My whole body glues to the cold surface, and my eyes zero in on the mirror opposite us.
Jeremy looks like a giant beast behind me, his muscular tanned thighs visible on each side of my pale ones as he pins me in place. The tattoos undulate and revolt on his abs, biceps, and chest with each intake of air.
I try to fight and push against him, but he pulls me back and slams me against the glass again, knocking my breath out of my lungs.
“Shhh. I’m going to need you to be real quiet for me when I fuck your ass.” He slides his hand to my stomach and exerts force so that my arse cheeks press against his groin.
A low grunt rips from him, and I don’t know if it’s due to the friction or the fact that I’m downright shaking against him.
He glides his fingers from my pussy to my back hole. “Mmm. Such a dirty little slut. The chase made you so wet, you’re dripping with it.”
He does it again, smearing my wetness over my back hole, but this time, he thrusts a finger inside and I gasp. He’s often played around with it, even drove a knife handle in it once, and I had an intense orgasm.
But this is the first time that he’s actually fucking me here.
He adds another finger, filling me until I’m unable to breathe. I glue myself against the glass door as if that will be able to save me from the clutches of his man.
No, not a man.
He’s a beast now.
He fucks me with his fingers in a savage rhythm, but when I start to adapt, he seamlessly removes them and spits on my back hole. I go up on my tiptoes at the sudden act and how erotic it feels.
Just when I think I’ll come because of it alone, he thrusts his cock inside. My palms slam against the glass door for balance. Only the crown is in, but it’s so tight that it burns and hurts.
Despite the chase, arousal, and the spit just now, I don’t think I can do this.
He slaps my arse cheek, and I gasp, so he does it again.
And again.
“You can take me.” He adds another inch, more easily this time. “Don’t push me out. Swallow my cock like you’re asking for it.”