Another inch. Another agonizing moan coated by a ripple of painful pleasure.
His hand wraps around my hair, holding it in a ponytail, and he pulls my head up, making me stare at us in the mirror.
I don’t recognize myself.
Tears stream down my cheeks, sweat coats my neck and breasts, and an angry hickey from earlier decorates my collarbone.
My body is flushed, my hands are quivering, but my hard nipples are stabbing the glass, and my arousal is dirtying it all up as my hips rock back and forth the more he thrusts his length inside me.
Jeremy’s face is tight with both pleasure and his beastly need. I’m looking at the beast of a man who’s claiming the last bit of me right now.
Once he’s fully sheathed inside me, he doesn’t give me time to adjust, doesn’t take it easy on me, and he certainly isn’t gentle.
His speed picks up and he fucks me like my custom-made animal. Roughly, violently, like we both want it.
He fucks me like he hates me, wants me, and is obsessed with me. He fucks me with long, harsh strokes, so deep and firm that I bump against the glass with each one.
His eyes never leave mine through the mirror, maintaining a connection so primal and raw that it eviscerates me.
The look in his eyes burns me alive more than his unforgiving touch.
When I attempt to lower my head, he forces it up with his grip on my hair. “Don’t hide. Look at your face when I fuck you like an animal. That’s what you look like when you’re being ripped apart by my cock, Cecily. When you’re milking me and taking all of me like a good girl. You look so ecstatic and pleased, you look like fucking mine.”
He accentuates his words with ruthless thrusts that trigger my pleasure. I’m panting, crying, and begging all at once.
A sharp sensation tightens the bottom of my belly. My muscles clench and my pussy contracts as the orgasm washes over me.
I’m thankful I’m sandwiched between Jeremy and the shower glass or I’d drop in a heap on the floor.
His teeth nibble on the lobe of my ear and then he orders in dark words, “Say my name.”
“Jeremy,” I moan and repeat it again and again, in sync with his rhythm.
He goes mad.
Absolutely and utterly unhinged.
He fucks me with abandon, still holding my hair, forcing me to see my orgasm face, shedding each and every apprehension I had about sex.
I look beautifully ravaged by him.
He looks ethereal while in his beast mode.
Every mode, really.
The sounds of slapping, groaning, and moaning echo around us like a twisted lullaby.
He grips my hair harsher and speaks near my ear in hot, low words, “This is how I look when I fuck you, Cecily. Not a man, not a beast, but both at the same time. I look so fucking mad about you that I can’t get enough of fucking and owning you.”
My heart nearly spills at his feet and a rush of emotions flood my system. The only way I can express it is by calling his name, so I do, repeatedly, and he rewards me by emptying his load inside me.
Jeremy is a sight to behold when he’s in the throes of pleasure. His muscles go rigid, his face tightens, and his teeth clench in what resembles a snarl. He looks no different than a sex god, and I can’t help the tinge of pride I feel for being the one who puts that expression on his face.
He covers my back with his wide chest, lifts my chin, and grunts near my mouth, “Mine.”
We remain like that for a minute, sticky, messy, and smelling of one another.
After a few moments of peaceful silence, he pulls out, wrenching a whimper out of me. I can feel his cum trickling down my thigh to my ankle. I can see him watching the show in the mirror, yet I can’t look away.
Jeremy disappears behind me, gathers his cum at the tip of his finger, then fucks it back into my arse. “You look so fucking beautiful when you’re covered with my cum, Lisichka.”
I stand on my tiptoes, quivering, moaning, and clenching my legs for any bit of friction.
To my disappointment, he stops playing with me and carries me to the shower he just fucked me against. At first, he cleans us all up, then slides into my pussy and fucks me slower against the wall.
Only when I come again, calling his name, and begging him to stop does he finally dry me off and carry me to the bedroom, both of us stark naked.
He lays me on the mattress the covers me with the sheet, but instead of leaving, he lifts the cover.
I touch his arm. “You should probably go. If Papa finds you here, he might kill you.”
“I know,” he says, but he still slides beneath the sheets beside me.
Not only do I not protest, but I also bury my head in his chest and wrap my arm around his waist. As much as I love the intense sex only Jeremy can bring, I also can’t live without these small moments of nothingness right afterward.
I love how he washes me up, how he dries my hair and covers me, but most of all, I can’t live without the way he hugs me, how his fingers stroke my shoulder, or how he kisses the top of my head. Like right now.
It’s unfair how the mere act of his lips on my head is enough to melt me.
“You should really go,” I say, sounding half asleep.
“You’re digging your fingers into my side, Lisichka.”
“I like it.”
“You like what?”
“You. Me. Like this. You can stay just a little, and then you go. Okay?”
“Okay.” He lifts my chin with two lean fingers and kisses me so deeply, I melt all over again.
I lick my lips long after he releases me. “Hey, Jeremy.”
“Hmm?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For getting me out of my comfort zone. I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t pushed me at first.”
He smiles, and I really need him to stop doing things that can endanger the well-being of my heart.
“I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“I’m sure you would, sadist.” I stroke my fingers over his tattoos. “Is there anything you’d do differently about us?”
“I would find you before Jonah and before you developed a crush on that motherfucker Landon.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I kiss his chest. “I think we were supposed to meet when we were both jaded so we could help one another.”
Then I fall asleep with a smile on my face. I think I’m dreaming when I hear his voice whisper, “No one will hurt you anymore, Cecily. You have my word.”
But the beautiful dream slowly transforms into a nightmare where a cruel voice laughs at me for believing that Jeremy and I could ever be normal.
“You’re disgusting.”
38
JEREMY
“Stop glaring.”
A soft voice whispers near my ear, and I’m surprised I’ve suppressed the urge to grab her by the hand and haul her the fuck out of this place.
At Cecily’s request, I’m here to meet her ‘friends’ at the pub they gather in. I’d rather have her all to myself. Meeting her parents two weeks ago and allowing her father to be a dick without any retaliation—aside from promising him that I’d take ‘good care’ of her in a suggestive tone—was the extent of my altruism.