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I can tell she’s giving the fight all her best, but even on a bad day for me, it will never be enough. Even with her skills there’s no way to win against my size.
She attempts stomping on my feet, wincing in pain when her heel comes down on the steel toe.
When I lift her from the ground, she kicks and flails, but the pain in my shin hardly fazes me.
“Do you want the fucking dirty details, Lauren? I’ll give them to you, baby. I can tell you all about how they cut me, burned me, electrocuted me, in retribution for the man that died because he raped that girl.”
She looks pained, her eyes starting to shed tears, but I’m too far gone.
“You’re my whore now,” I hiss, our faces mere inches apart. “You created this monster. You’re responsible for me now. Leaving will never be an option for you.”
There is literally nowhere to set her down. We’re too far from the truck for me to wait to get inside of her if I carry her there.
“Angel, don’t.”
I ignore her plea as I shove up the t-shirt of mine that she’s wearing.
I nearly collapse on the ground with need at the feel of her slick cunt against my fingers.
“That’s my dirty whore,” I pant in her ear as I shove three fingers inside of her.
She whimpers. “Angel, please stop.”
Please isn’t a word she’s used with me very often. It’s too close to begging for her.
It’s almost enough to make me pause, but I know that won’t do either of us any good.
We both need this.
I know why she ran, just like I know she’s been searching the house high and low for that stupid fucking necklace and the diary that doesn’t mean shit. I don’t why she’s letting possessions from a dead girl rule so much of her life, but I’m tired of cleaning up after her searches. It took me ten minutes to put my fucking sock drawer back together last time.
I spin her around, pushing my body flush with hers before she can get any more leverage than pounding her fists on my back. In the next second, we’re on the ground.
She claws at me, holding nothing back as I shove the t-shirt under her chin before pulling my dick out.
I wince when she catches me in the eye with her fist, and I bite her neck for it with a hand tangled in her hair.
“This what you wanted?” I snap as I slam inside of her. “This what you needed?”
She gasps at the intrusion, and it’s the sweetest fucking sound she ever makes. I’m addicted, needing it more often than is probably healthy.
She needs it too or we wouldn’t be rutting around in the fucking dirt like goddamned animals.
“You hurt me!” she wails, her arms falling to her side as if she’s giving up the fight.
“Baby,” I say, caressing her cheek.
I don’t stop fucking her because I just can’t.
“Don’t,” she sobs, turning her head away so I can’t watch the pain on her face.
She has to know I need that as much as she needs all of this from me.
I urge her to look at me.
“You want me gone! Why won’t you let me fucking leave?”
This stops the entire world.