Page 11
Story: Ache For Her
His hand came up to pinch my ass. Pleasure and confusion raced through me, and I didn’t know which would get to the finish line first. I didn’t want this. I didn’t. But at the same time, my body trembled with need.
He moved his hand over my hip, tangling in my pubic hair and then lower. He plunged his finger deep between my legs and my knees went weak. “Already so wet.”
“No,” I said, but even as I said it, he started working his finger inside me, and I knew he was right. I was dripping with my juices.
He growled. “Fuck, Delilah. So ready for me. I’m half tempted not to fuck you just because you want it so bad.”
“I don’t,” I said, closing my eyes, warring with myself. This was wrong. So wrong. He hit me. He took me from my home. He didn’t give a fuck about me. He wanted to kill my grandfather. He was sick, deranged. Psycho. “I don’t want this.”
He pulled his fingers from me and in one moment, I thought I’d won.
I was wrong.
His hands yanked at my shirt, and I heard it tear. My back was bare except for my bra. He tore the remnants of my shirt off me, throwing them to the floor. My bra was next. He pulled at it until the clasps gave way, my breasts spilling out as the bra dropped to the floor too. His hands came up to knead my breasts. They were skilled, almost artful as they pinched and massaged. I struggled against him, pulling at his fingers, but all it made him do was move harder, faster, and my body still betrayed me. My knees quaked so that he had to force his hips against mine to keep me standing.
“Stop,” I told him, tears of desperation springing to my eyes. I couldn’t win. I wanted him to stop and to take me at the same time. I was hopeless. There was no end in sight for me, no end that had me coming out ahead.
I heard the zipper on his pants as he pushed his clothes to the floor. His flesh met mine. His impressive cock nuzzled my backside.
“No,” I said softly. Even to my own ears, it sounded non-committal. What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d always suspected I was fucked up in the head. I screwed the guys who worked with my grandfather knowing nothing good could come from it. There was real danger in it. They would get fired—or worse—and I didn’t care. It was all about my own wants. And here I was, the victim of some ransom with my grandfather and the guy was about to rape me and I wanted it, which technically didn’t make it rape it all. My stomach squeezed.
His hands smoothed over my abdomen and down to my pussy again. “Fucking Christ,” he swore, his fingers diving between my legs.
I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. This felt a thousand times better than the vibrator did. This was Simon’s actual hand, his actual cock straining against my skin. Fuck me.
Simon snarled. “This is all your fault, Greenie. I hope you know that all of this could’ve been avoided if you’d just given yourself up already.”
For a moment, confusion swept through me. Then, I looked down, seeing the phone was still open. My grandfather was hearing all of this. “Please help,” I called out.
“Exactly,” Simon whispered in my ear. “Tell him you want to be saved. Tell him I’m hurting you.”
“Gramps, please,” I said, choking on a sob. I did want to be saved. I didn’t want this life. I wanted my old life back. I wanted to touch myself in the fantasy and still wake up in the comfort of my own bed. I wanted to wake up and go to the mall, talk with my girlfriends and buy clothes. “Please, he’s hurting me,” I yelled, not caring anymore about sparing my grandfather the details anymore.
At that, Simon snatched the phone up from the floor and closed it, then threw it on the chair. Returning to his place right behind me, his body rumbled against mine. His fingers dug into my skin. The surrounding air was thick. Simon’s breath came out in thick gasps as if he was trying to control himself but failing.
“I shouldn’t do this because I know you want it as much as I do but that’s the problem. I want it too.”
His hand swept up my thigh and to my pussy again. His finger parted my lips and dove inside. I cried out as he worked inside me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It felt so fucking good. But this was so wrong. “Stop,” I told him.
“I can’t now,” he said, breathless. “It’s not in my nature. I see something. I take it.”
His hips circled against my ass, and his hand came up to fondle my breast again. “Simon,” I said, a warning in my voice. I knew I had nothing to go on though. He had the upper hand, and he knew it. It was obvious how much I wanted him.
“Such perfect breasts,” he purred. “I’m used to having my way, Delilah. There are girls like you back home. We use them for fucking and feeding. We take their blood and revel in their bodies.”
“That’s sick,” I spat.
“They love us,” he murmured, his lips by my ear, sending a shiver up my spine. “We saved them.”
“They’re prisoners,” I said. He dipped two fingers inside me this time, and I bit hard on my lip to keep from crying out. My legs widened on instinct for better access as I fought against the emotions rolling through me. My body reacted, wanting everything Simon was giving me and then some.
He pushed on my back, his hand clamping inside my pussy for leverage as he bent me over. His cock moved between my legs. Oh fuck. This was it. He was really going to do it.
He removed his fingers and pushed inside in one solid stroke. He let out an animalistic growl as my insides clenched him. It was like the purest ecstasy, but fury rang through me at the same time. He’d just penetrated me without my permission. Fucking asshole. “No!” I screamed.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Simon said as his movements lengthened. He pulled out of me and then sank deep inside. My knees buckled. He whirled me around until the arm of the sofa was in front of me. I clasped onto it as he fucked me.
“No,” I said, moving back against him when he came forward. He was not going to do this against my will. I was going to take everything I wanted from him and more. It felt fucking fantastic.
He moved his hand over my hip, tangling in my pubic hair and then lower. He plunged his finger deep between my legs and my knees went weak. “Already so wet.”
“No,” I said, but even as I said it, he started working his finger inside me, and I knew he was right. I was dripping with my juices.
He growled. “Fuck, Delilah. So ready for me. I’m half tempted not to fuck you just because you want it so bad.”
“I don’t,” I said, closing my eyes, warring with myself. This was wrong. So wrong. He hit me. He took me from my home. He didn’t give a fuck about me. He wanted to kill my grandfather. He was sick, deranged. Psycho. “I don’t want this.”
He pulled his fingers from me and in one moment, I thought I’d won.
I was wrong.
His hands yanked at my shirt, and I heard it tear. My back was bare except for my bra. He tore the remnants of my shirt off me, throwing them to the floor. My bra was next. He pulled at it until the clasps gave way, my breasts spilling out as the bra dropped to the floor too. His hands came up to knead my breasts. They were skilled, almost artful as they pinched and massaged. I struggled against him, pulling at his fingers, but all it made him do was move harder, faster, and my body still betrayed me. My knees quaked so that he had to force his hips against mine to keep me standing.
“Stop,” I told him, tears of desperation springing to my eyes. I couldn’t win. I wanted him to stop and to take me at the same time. I was hopeless. There was no end in sight for me, no end that had me coming out ahead.
I heard the zipper on his pants as he pushed his clothes to the floor. His flesh met mine. His impressive cock nuzzled my backside.
“No,” I said softly. Even to my own ears, it sounded non-committal. What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d always suspected I was fucked up in the head. I screwed the guys who worked with my grandfather knowing nothing good could come from it. There was real danger in it. They would get fired—or worse—and I didn’t care. It was all about my own wants. And here I was, the victim of some ransom with my grandfather and the guy was about to rape me and I wanted it, which technically didn’t make it rape it all. My stomach squeezed.
His hands smoothed over my abdomen and down to my pussy again. “Fucking Christ,” he swore, his fingers diving between my legs.
I bit down on my lip to keep from crying out. This felt a thousand times better than the vibrator did. This was Simon’s actual hand, his actual cock straining against my skin. Fuck me.
Simon snarled. “This is all your fault, Greenie. I hope you know that all of this could’ve been avoided if you’d just given yourself up already.”
For a moment, confusion swept through me. Then, I looked down, seeing the phone was still open. My grandfather was hearing all of this. “Please help,” I called out.
“Exactly,” Simon whispered in my ear. “Tell him you want to be saved. Tell him I’m hurting you.”
“Gramps, please,” I said, choking on a sob. I did want to be saved. I didn’t want this life. I wanted my old life back. I wanted to touch myself in the fantasy and still wake up in the comfort of my own bed. I wanted to wake up and go to the mall, talk with my girlfriends and buy clothes. “Please, he’s hurting me,” I yelled, not caring anymore about sparing my grandfather the details anymore.
At that, Simon snatched the phone up from the floor and closed it, then threw it on the chair. Returning to his place right behind me, his body rumbled against mine. His fingers dug into my skin. The surrounding air was thick. Simon’s breath came out in thick gasps as if he was trying to control himself but failing.
“I shouldn’t do this because I know you want it as much as I do but that’s the problem. I want it too.”
His hand swept up my thigh and to my pussy again. His finger parted my lips and dove inside. I cried out as he worked inside me. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It felt so fucking good. But this was so wrong. “Stop,” I told him.
“I can’t now,” he said, breathless. “It’s not in my nature. I see something. I take it.”
His hips circled against my ass, and his hand came up to fondle my breast again. “Simon,” I said, a warning in my voice. I knew I had nothing to go on though. He had the upper hand, and he knew it. It was obvious how much I wanted him.
“Such perfect breasts,” he purred. “I’m used to having my way, Delilah. There are girls like you back home. We use them for fucking and feeding. We take their blood and revel in their bodies.”
“That’s sick,” I spat.
“They love us,” he murmured, his lips by my ear, sending a shiver up my spine. “We saved them.”
“They’re prisoners,” I said. He dipped two fingers inside me this time, and I bit hard on my lip to keep from crying out. My legs widened on instinct for better access as I fought against the emotions rolling through me. My body reacted, wanting everything Simon was giving me and then some.
He pushed on my back, his hand clamping inside my pussy for leverage as he bent me over. His cock moved between my legs. Oh fuck. This was it. He was really going to do it.
He removed his fingers and pushed inside in one solid stroke. He let out an animalistic growl as my insides clenched him. It was like the purest ecstasy, but fury rang through me at the same time. He’d just penetrated me without my permission. Fucking asshole. “No!” I screamed.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Simon said as his movements lengthened. He pulled out of me and then sank deep inside. My knees buckled. He whirled me around until the arm of the sofa was in front of me. I clasped onto it as he fucked me.
“No,” I said, moving back against him when he came forward. He was not going to do this against my will. I was going to take everything I wanted from him and more. It felt fucking fantastic.