He pulls away and positions the head of his cock at the entrance.
“Spread your pussy for me, little mouse,” he orders. I open my mouth to argue, ready to tell him to just fuck me, but the look on his face renders me speechless.
Frustration mounting, I reach both hands between our bodies and do as he says. A red flush stains my chest as I spread myself apart. It’s demeaning when he knows I’m not supposed to want it.
He knows I want him to force himself inside me. And as punishment for insulting him, he’s going to make me show him how much I want him. By spreading my pussy and inviting him in.
God, I hate him.
His hands tighten on my hips painfully. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up with handprint bruises, and a part of me dreads that. It will be impossible to forget what happened when I’m wearing the imprint of his hands on my skin.
“Don’t you dare move your hands,” he threatens, a second before he’s pulling me down on his awaiting dick.
“Ah!” I shout, my hands seconds from flying to his chest so I can push off of him. He’s too much, stretching me wider than I’ve ever been.
My eyes are rounded into giant saucers as I whimper from the assault. I feel his girth slide between my fingers as he works himself inside deeper. “Stop! It doesn’t fit,” I gasp.
“What a poor little mouse,” he coos mockingly, his tone husky and tight. “Maybe one day you’ll let me treat this cunt like glass and show it all my love, but you’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?”
When I don’t answer, he jerks me down on him harder, earning another pained whimper. “Haven’t you?” he barks.
“Yes!” I shout breathlessly, squeezing my eyes shut against the invasion.
“Are you going to be a good little girl now?”
“Yes,” I mewl desperately. The pain is morphing into something far more intense and breathtaking. He slides out and pushes back in, gentler this time, but no less angry.
It feels like my body is on the cusp of bursting. This isn’t natural to be so goddamn full.
He pulls out to the tip, and then he slams his entire length inside of me, so deep, I swear I feel him coming up my throat. I cry out, my voice breaking from the swell of emotion building inside my chest.
Not fucking natural.
“Goddamn, Addie, I can barely fucking fit.”
Must be why it feels like he’s tearing me in half.
He starts out slow and forceful. Harsh thrusts, then dragging himself out at a torturous pace, before slamming inside me again. I feel my body beginning to relax, sucking him in greedily as he damns my soul with every stroke.
Widening his stance, he braces himself against the mirror, and my stomach tightens, sensing the oncoming damage he’s about to inflict on my organs.
Shockwaves scatter throughout my nerve endings as he quickens his pace, roughly fucking me against the mirror while loud noises I’ve never made in my life fall from my lips. The pleasure is blinding, and the feel of him sliding in and out between my fingers only heightens the potent lust stirring in the pit of my stomach.
“Look at us in the mirrors,” he demands roughly. It takes immense effort, but I pry my eyes open and sweep them over the dozens of mirrors. Every angle imaginable is staring back at me.
It’s too much—watching him drive himself inside me. His ass is clenched from the force of his thrusts, while a red flush is spread up to my rosy cheeks. My eyes are at half-mast, and my face is twisted into undeniable bliss.
He turns his head and our eyes clash in one of the mirrors. My heart drops as I tear my eyes away to look around and see his eyes pinned on me from several directions, it’s the most intense feeling I’ve ever experienced.
Like that gut feeling when you know someone is watching you but multiplied by a dozen.
My eyes lock back onto his, and a slow smile takes over his face. He leans in close, his lips skating across mine as he watches me slowly come apart at the seams, all the while grinning at me.
“Tell me, little mouse, have you ever been fucked by a man like me?”
I bite my lip and shake my head, fighting the urge to roll my eyes to the back of my head. He readjusts our position, sliding each arm under my knees and hiking them up high. An embarrassing scream escapes as he changes the angle of his hips and hits a spot that instantly makes my legs violently shake.
“Oh my God,” I moan. And this time, I can’t stop my head from dropping back to the mirror behind me and my eyes from rolling backwards.
“That's right, baby. I am your fucking God,” he growls before I feel his teeth sink into my neck.
My stomach is tightening and I can feel an orgasm building dangerously fast. It feels like an angry Poseidon is in my stomach, forming a devastating tsunami that will surely kill me.
The mirror begins to violently shudder from how hard he’s fucking me. It feels like it’s going to shatter any second now, but I can’t bring myself to care.
Just as I reach that peak, he pulls completely out. I whimper, the sudden emptiness almost painful.
“What—" he drops me to my feet and steps back, pointing to the floor. My knees wobble, my balance screwed from the sharp pleasure pulsating between my thighs.
“Get on your hands and knees.”
I don’t argue, mainly because the loss of the orgasm is painful and my legs are incapable of supporting my weight much longer.
Angry tears line the edges of my eyelids, but I bite back my snarky comment. He'll only make my punishment worse.
I expect him to slide back inside of me from behind, but his hands dart between my legs and grab me from the underside of my hips, lifting me up until my knees are no longer on the ground and forcing me to catch myself from face planting. I feel his hot breath fan across my pussy a second before his teeth latch onto my clit.
I yelp, jerking from the bite of pain. But he doesn’t torture me like last time. Immediately he suctions my clit in his mouth and laps at my dripping cunt.
He hums, sending delicious vibrations radiating throughout my core. “You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, before flicking his tongue against my clit.
I look up and shamelessly watch him feast on me from behind. I turn my head until I get the best view of him on his knees behind me, eating my pussy like a starved man.
The impending orgasm is renewed and more looming than before. I’m incapable of grinding back into his face like I want, so I’m helpless against his lashing tongue.
“Zade, please,” I beg, my eyes crossing from the pleasure.
“Does my little mouse want to come?” he asks, his own voice breathless and uneven.
I would call him a liar if he ever tried to deny his desire for me, but that’s the thing about Zade—he's never tried to hide how much he wants me. He’s never sugarcoated or denied the fact that he desperately craves me.
“Yes,” I plead on a groan.
He pulls away, and I scream at him in frustration, pounding my fist against the floor. Fury from being denied a second time overwhelms me, and I thrash against his hold.